Blake's 7 Coda

fracture_childSun 20/01/08 15:32

I wrote this B7 a few years ago, for someone I worked with who was also a fan. In fact I wrote it when I was supposed to be working!

No Way Back
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The old man found it difficult to stand. He was forced to lean on the balcony for support as he watched a city that never seemed to sleep. He chose to leave his bed early and watch the sun rise every morning, even though there was little left with which to fill his days. It was a habit from richer, more dangerous times. Kerr needed a regime to cling to. It made each stone he gained and each new grey hair easier to tolerate.

Today it was doubly important that he should watch the day begin. It was The Anniversary. The only date that had lived on in his mind after the memories of treacherous lovers and burning enemies had faded.

Twenty years ago, they had all died, one by one. Tarrant, Dayna, Gan..no, not Gan. That had been earlier, much earlier. It must have been Vila. Yes, that was right. And Soolin of course. For a few brief moments, he had gazed without flinching at the circle of gun muzzles, staring oblivion straight in the face. He had known it was his turn next and he had smiled. Naturally.

Why had they spared him?

Each day that question haunted him. Had it been mercy or cowardice? Had they known that his time was spent and that he would never matter again?

Five years later, the Federation he had fought because...well, he had given up thinking about that one a long time ago...had finally torn itself apart. The Sleer Protectorate was deposed amidst gleeful anarchy and joyous destruction. The jubilation was short lived. A new enemy had appeared from the Outer Darkness. Like the Andromedans only even more alien. Humanity had come to an uneasy alliance with itself to face the new foe.

There should have been a war. He would have understood that. Kerr Avon had always understood the need to win against an opponent. Instead, mankind had...merged with the aliens. A new order had been established, with insights and corruptions all its own.

He had watched all of this unfold, ever more certain that such sights had never been intended for his eyes. This newborn world confounded and confused him. A quirk of fate had somehow turned a once proud and ruthless warrior into a shambling, forgotten wreck.

Sometimes he wondered if he had died after all. This existence might be a final purgatory to pass through before final, merciful oblivion. Perhaps his corpse lay next to Blake's, their blood congealing together. It would have to be Blake of course. There was no other suitable...what was that phrase...Companions for his Death.

She had told him that was an insane thought. But it was no stranger than the dreams the drugs gave him - disjointed fancies of ancient crowns and purple robots.

He was taking more and more of the wretched pills each day. If he wasn't dead already, they would soon finish the job.

A hand touched his shoulder, overlong nails scratching his skin. He turned to look into her lined and haggard face. Like him, she was crumbling away, but with a little more grace They were bound together still, even after the hate had gone. She was the only one left now who could remember those times. As long she was still here, he could be certain that it had all been real.

'It's cold out here' croaked Gia Servalan. 'Come back into the warm'

By Damian Whittle