Weekly Blake's 7 Ficlet Challenge

Ficlet: Legends Never Die

2019-08-26T17:33:43Z

Posted by: zephron1

Title: Legends Never Die
Author: zephron1
Theme: Avon
Word Count: 688 (sorry, a little over 500)
Category: Gen/Angst
Rating: PG13 (due to one swearword, not the 'f' one)
Spoilers: This is set after the last episode of Season 4 and therefore contains potential spoilers for all seasons
Warnings: Character deaths (offscreen)
Characters: Vila, Avon (though he's more an intimated presence)
Summary: Take one recording device, plenty of pain medication, add the best thief in the galaxy, and voila, one ficlet.

( Legends Never Die )

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The Death of a Friend (G)

2019-06-10T21:29:22Z

Posted by: executrix

"And where's Vila?" Giroc asked.

Avon shrugged. "Asleep, of course. I can only admire his ability to sleep up a tree while being hunted. Still, I suppose we're not in much danger until daybreak."

"It's not very interesting here," Sinofar said. "So we're conducting a little experiment. Here is what is going to happen if you stay on the path you now tread."

The Avon standing in the cave looked every bit as appalled as the Avon in the flickering image, but only one of them stood over Blake's body, and one was riven by guilt and the other wasn't.

"Dear God," said the one who was solid flesh rather than image. "What is your experiment? To see how long it takes to drive me mad thinking about that?"

Giroc screeched with laughter. "We're ratty, but we're not that ratty. No, we're offering you a deal."

"I like deals," Avon said. "As they form the essence of human conduct, perhaps they also form the essence of conduct of--well, whatever you are."

Sinofar, annoyed at losing the spotlight, said, "You can prevent what you see. We can send you back to your old life, before the crime that condemned you. You can turn away. Surely--as you can see--it would save one life. Perhaps it will cost others, or compromise those lives."

"And what do you get out of the deal?"

"We've got a little bet on," Giroc said. "Go back, and you'll lose what you valued most at the time. And you'll never have what you value most now."

"Ah." After a moment, Avon said, "What happens to Vila, in the here and now?"

"He'll have no memory of you. He'll think he's alone with Travis. I don't much fancy the odds, do you?"

Sinofar and Giroc watched, trying to quantify the fractions of seconds when Avon calculated the odds, and discarded the thought of sticking around to improve them.

"Of course, I'll go back," Avon said.

Two days after his return, he told Anna that there was no point in attacking the banking system, it was too dangerous. She had no hesitation in terminating their relationship, because that was not a satisfactory result either for a Central Security officer or someone who wanted a luxurious life far, far away from (then) Parliamentary Representative Chesku. When she closed out Avon's file, it wasn't damning enough for him to be arrested, but it still kept him from being promoted past the tedious job at the Aquitar Project he had been so keen to leave.

Three years after that, Roj Blake died on Cygnus Alpha. His efforts at organizing the prisoners had fallen on stony ground--of which Cygnus Alpha had an infinite supply. Blake's most loyal lieutenant, Olag Gan, tried earnestly to point out that Blake had died of cancer. Blake's loudest detractor, Vila Restal, said that he knew it all along, the priests were right about the Curse of Cygnus and Blake was wrong.

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Avon Lives

2019-06-10T10:55:34Z

Posted by: ann7121

“We never saw the body. Or found Orac. We can’t be sure.” Vila moved restless around the featureless room, a glass in his hand. The light was bright, too bright and he had screwed up his eyes against the glare. Or was it to stop himself from crying, Soolin wondered?

“ Face it Vila,” she said brusquely. Better to lance the wound as quickly as possible, “Face it, he’s gone.”

“But..Avon,” Vila threw himself dejectedly onto a vacant chair and took a sip from his glass. “ Not Avon. I thought he’d live forever.”

“Wasn’t that your boast?” Tarrant asked rather nastily. He was aware that he had played a role in the events that culminated in today’s ceremony and his guilt made him irritable. “ You'd live for ever, “ he continued, “or die trying? And why are you acting so sad anyway? According to you, he attempted to throw you out of an airlock. Or had you forgotten that?”

Uncharacteristically, Vila didn’t rise to the bait, but just slumped further into his chair, and it was Dayna that took up the cudgels on his behalf.

“Shut up Tarrant. We all miss him..he was a difficult sod...”

“But he was our sod..” Soolin chimed in, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

“And if wasn’t for him, we’d all be dead,” she reminded. The room became even emptier as they recalled the vis tape of his last, berserker stand, teeth bared and bloody, shooting and shooting until the remnants of Blake’s army arrived and mopped up the rest of the troops. And the final closeup as he dropped...

Tarrant grunted morosely.

“We don’t blame you, you know.” Vila spoke softly to his hunched back. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Surprised, the younger man dashed a hand roughly over his face, and nodded a kind of acknowledgement.

“ I wish they’d hurry up,” Dayna complained, fidgeting in her chair. She felt lost without a weapon. Soolin, she noticed, had positioned herself with her back to the wall, facing the door and near a table. Old habits die hard. Or as she would say, “those that don’t keep them up, die harder.”

On cue, the door opened, and Avalon popped her head around it.

“We’re nearly ready for you. Five minutes. Sorry it’s taken so long. It’s been a headache getting everyone seated. The place is packed.” She vanished again as quickly as she had come.

“Do they know, Avon shot him?” Tarrant mused aloud.

“ They need a hero.” Vila spoke with all the cynicism he’d acquired during his long career on the other side of the law. “Avon would...would have... laughed.”

Avalon reappeared in the doorway, her demeanour now grave. “It’s time, “ she said.

They braced themselves. Put aside their own feelings. Out there a throng of people waited to hear their stories of the man they were assembled to honour; all eager to catch a few fragments of the gilding of his legend to fortify them in the struggles ahead.

And yet, as he left the room to face them, Vila felt certain that somehow Avon had managed to fool them all. Spirited away by Orac, somehow, unlikely as it seemed, he had survived, and was out there, living his life, as he always had, on his own terms.

And laughing at them all, the bastard.

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Topic Post: Avon lives on

2019-06-07T05:14:35Z

Posted by: vilakins

There can only be one topic this time: Avon, more specifically let's make it Avon lives on.

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Topic Post: Curtains

2019-03-30T10:18:35Z

Posted by: thisbluespirit

Time for our next topic, which is:

Curtains

Whether it's curtains for your favourite character, time for curtainfic, something to do with the theatre, or actual curtains or whatever is up to you! Interpret the prompt as you wish.

All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Topic Post: Catch Up

2019-03-17T10:32:37Z

Posted by: vilakins

We're overdue for a catch up, so here it is. Pick any of the following topics which you might have missed or want to have another go at. Interpretation of topics is entirely up to you.

Mystery
Crossover
Holiday
Memories
Servalan
Public opinion
Falling
Random first line of prose or dialogue
Terraforming and planetary weather
Familiar
New beginning(s)
Disappointment
Home
Unconventional Courtship Generator

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Topic Post: Unconventional Courtship Generator

2019-02-22T17:25:13Z

Posted by: thisbluespirit

Whoops, apologies, I am going one better than vilakins and making this two weeks late! And as we have missed Valentine's Day, what more could you ask for than the wonderfully cracky

Unconventional Courtship Generator?

You can find it here. Simply tick Blake's 7 in the fandom options to filter it to display only B7-related results (although here at b7friday we're never opposed to a crossover if you're so inclined) and have fun.

Feel free to interpret the summary in any way you wish - romance is not required and is probably prohibited in some cases. All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Topic Post: Home

2019-01-25T22:42:49Z

Posted by: vilakins

I'm a week late, sorry. Anyway, the topic is Home - past ones, future ones, longing for, lack of - up to you!

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Ficlet Aperitif to Execution

2019-01-05T06:12:24Z

Posted by: lyssie

Title: Aperitif to Execution
Author: ALC Punk!
Word Count: 500+
Rating: PG
Spoilers: mild ones for Blake and Weapon (more background for the two characters)
Characters: Carnell, Soolin
Prompt: disappointment
Warning: Character death
Notes: I had no intention of writing this, but the first paragraph was already in my head when I read the prompt, so I went with it.
( Read more... )

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Topic Post: Disappointment

2019-01-04T10:05:44Z

Posted by: thisbluespirit

And after the hope and the new beginnings, what more inevitable than...

Disappointment

(What? This is Blake's 7!) Feel free to interpret as you wish. All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Topic Post: New beginning(s)

2018-12-21T21:16:41Z

Posted by: vilakins

Your topic for the next two weeks is: new beginning(s).

Why not a little hope?

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Topic Post: Familiar

2018-12-07T10:13:39Z

Posted by: thisbluespirit

Your topic for this fortnight is:

Familiar

Feel free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish - old, familiar things, familiars (or Daemons) etc. etc. All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Topic Post: Terraforming and planetary weather

2018-11-24T23:18:48Z

Posted by: vilakins

This round's topic is terraforming and planetary weather. Why are so many planets stony wastes? What happened after the destruction of Star One? Anything about planetary conditions, exploitation, quarrying, weather, rockiness, whatever you like.

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Topic Post: Secrets

2018-11-16T18:01:36Z

Posted by: thisbluespirit

My apologies! A week late again, but this time's topic is:

Secrets

Feel free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish. All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Topic post: Random first line

2018-10-26T03:05:03Z

Posted by: vilakins

This challenge is to use a random first line and go from there. Have fun! I've had a play and they're some of the best I've come across.

Generate a first line
or
A first line of dialogue

Please post your work as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Topic Post: Falling

2018-10-14T08:50:14Z

Posted by: thisbluespirit

This time's topic is:

Falling

Feel free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish. All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Topic post: Public opinion

2018-09-28T08:01:39Z

Posted by: vilakins

What did ordinary people think of the crew, Liberator or Scorpio - or for that matter, Servalan|Sleer or Travis, or anyone else who might strike you as an interesting subject?

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b7friday @ 2018-09-25T13:04:00

2018-09-25T12:07:31Z

Posted by: ann7121

"May I?"

She frames it as a request but she's leant forward and wiped his mouth with her napkin without waiting for a reply and a familiar expression, part gratitude, part affront, crosses his face. Affront wins out. He'd intercept her hand if he could but he's not quick enough, and anyway his own shake too much today. He can only glare at her and even that response has lost its diamond hard edge...the eyes no longer quite so bright, the mouth less tightly compressed than they were last year. He's failing fast.

As if to deny that realisation, she leans forward again, without even the pretence of request and places her hand firmly over his, guiding his fork to his mouth. The sound he makes, like an offended stork, amuses her and she lets it show. The fork clatters onto his plate and immediately a servant materialises at her elbow.

"Go away," she commands and the shadow steps quickly back.

He smiles at her now, enjoying her display of command and despite his frailty she sees the man she has protected for forty years. Laboriously he forces himself to capture her hand, wrinkled and blotched as is his and she sees him steel himself to bring it to his lips. The kiss is dry, tree bark brushing her skin, but the contact makes her shiver with pleasure. He takes each finger in turn, each with its perfectly manicured blood red nail and flamboyantly places his lips to them: a gesture edged with contempt. Then he lets the hand fall and his eyes begin to close.

She signals and the shadow is at her side helping her to rise. Once vertical she waves him away and then steps around the table towards her....partner in crime...soul mate...lover? Briefly she enjoys the joke. Prisoner of course. Never quite tamed but broken enough to allow her a measure of intimacy these days. As she helps him to rise, she can feel his attention wavering, sees him slipping into his own twilight world of memories and regret.

"Come," she commands him. "Time to return you to your cell."

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The Barren Queen

2018-09-25T12:01:03Z

Posted by: ann7121

She would have welcomed rain but indifferently the sun shone all that week. In the end she retired to her chambers and refused to allow them in, ignoring their increasingly desperate requests. Let them think she was mourning the man rather than the opportunity he represented.

It was not her way to give up her hard-won controls and so she did not rage, break things or curse when she knew for certain that there would be no miracle. Instead the pain of sadness settled in her heart and she curled herself around it like a sick animal. She felt emptied, hollow yet heavy as if someone had altered the gravity controls and the earth was pulling her down.

She had waited so long for someone suitable to come along - a man with acceptable traits, disposable yet not contemptible, with no political leanings or allegiances. It had not been enough just to look for someone outside the system: Avon had shown her that when he proved too politically astute to be seduced. When Jarvik appeared on her flight deck as if by magic, she had seized the chance he offered.

Such a rare beast. Physically impressive, clever, but no threat to her power either. He was unencumbered by allies or family so there would be no one to claim a share in any miracle that might occur; no-one to question or protest when, after successfully impregnating her, he was made to disappear. Then, stupidly, he was dead, killed by her own troopers saving that little Mellaby tramp. And despite the primitive fury of their mating, she was still empty.

It wasn't surprising. Her physicians had explained frequently and in detail the gradual atrophying effect of age on her eggs. She was doomed to die barren, with no heirs to inherit her kingdom.

The week dragged on. The sun forced its way through the chinks in the shutters that darkened her room and she tossed restlessly under its probing beam with a misery that she could hardly contain.
Yet even as despair threatened to consume her, an element essential to her core of being was re-emerging: a determination not to be bested by fate; to achieve her desires at whatever cost to others.

Like the rays of the sun, ideas burned feverishly through her brain, igniting, then fizzling out. And suddenly one came to her, a flame strong and steady, burning away her misery. She had remembered a report compiled by Travis on the rebel Cally and the breeding processes devised by her people.

Immediately, she rose from her bed and made her way to the Assembly Hall, startling her counsellors hovering there, so many lost sheep, as she flung open its doors and addressed them.

"Gentlemen," she announced. "I have plans for us to annexe the cloning facilities on Auron."

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Alexandria (G)

2018-09-15T17:48:33Z

Posted by: executrix

She was too small to see the top of the table (and she knew better than to try to perch on one of the shelves of the bookcase) but she could hear the slither of the cue on the baize, the pock! of stick on sphere, ball on ball, the swish and thump of a billiard ball dropping into a net.

“Might as well have a last frame, before it’s all packed up,” her Pater said. He was being transferred back to Earth, to work at Headquarters. Mother started to say that it was an insult, what was the point of being an Alpha if you had to live in a wretched snerp-hutch in the Dome? but Pater looked over at Sumila and said, “Little pitchers have big ears!”
Of course the walls also had ears, but pointing that out would cause those who listened at the walls to make notations on their clipboards.

Pater liked to say that, at her Registration party, he claimed that Sumila Catarina had been chosen so her monogram wouldn’t change when she became Supreme Commander. His status was high enough that no one told him not to be ridiculous, there wouldn’t be a female Supreme Commander in our lifetime. They didn’t even roll their eyes when he could see them. At any rate, they conceded that S.C. on the nameplaque on her uniform might pass for a graceful compliment to Space Command.
The governess opened the billiard room door. “Come along, Miss Sumila. Plenty of work to do packing up all your clothes and things.”

Sumila didn’t like the governess. She made Sumila do lessons and pulled her hair when she braided it. And why should Sumila have to pack things when they had dozens of servants and relatives of servants hanging about?

Sumila didn’t like Voskov either. Voskov was her brother Torquil’s pet Centeran Dragon. It was ugly, and it smelled bad, and it was cold when you touched it, not even lovely and furry, and it wouldn’t listen when you told it to do tricks.

The very last day, when they had to take the shuttle to get to the spaceliner for Earth, Torquil was sulky because he couldn’t find Voskov. The door to the cage was open. “That damn thing cost three hundred credits!” Pater said. Sumila really had wanted a Moondisk. Torquil said that those cost *four* hundred credits and they did even less than Voskov.

“Sumila said that Miss left the cage door open,” Mother said. (Well, actually it had been Sumila who opened the cage door, and the window of the nursery, on the third floor.)

“Well, fire her, “ Pater said.“That’ll shut Torquil up, and we’ll save on her fare and her salary.”

“But who’ll look after Sumila?”

“Find someone when we get to Earth. You can pick up a Delta nursemaid at any Labour Exchange. Or send her to school.”

“She’s not old enough to go to school.”

“Figure something out. That’s your job.”

“Now look, you’ve set her off sniveling. Don’t cry, Sumila. We’re going to Earth. That’s *much* better,” Mother said unconvincingly.

Sumila was five. She wept because she had no more worlds to conquer.

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Topic Post: Servalan

2018-09-15T16:17:26Z

Posted by: thisbluespirit

This time's topic can only be one thing, in honour of Jacqueline Pearce and all that she brought to the series:

Servalan

Feel free to interpret the prompt in any way you choose. All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Topic post: Memories

2018-08-31T05:07:53Z

Posted by: vilakins

The prompt for this fortnight is:

Memories

All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm.

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Topic Post: Holidays

2018-08-17T07:44:03Z

Posted by: thisbluespirit

Your prompt for this fortnight is:

Holiday

Feel free to interpret the prompt in any way you choose. All fanworks are welcome. Please post your responses as a separate entry to the comm. (See profile for posting guidelines).

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Saving people, hunting things

2018-07-23T15:41:07Z

Posted by: natasha68

Standing among the monuments and the graves of the last of their race, Giroc and Sinofar were looking at the night sky. A space battle was raging there, one large white ship surrounded and mercilessly bombarded by three smaller ones. Soon the two weird sisters would stop the battle, trapping the ships in a stasis beam and disabling all the weapons. Then they would enter the minds of the ships' crew and choose contestants for a duel – in order to teach the lesson of war, death and loss that everyone who entered their sphere of influence was fated to learn.

Suddenly, their concentration was broken by the sound of footsteps and voices. Sinofar diverted her gaze from the sky and turned to see two young men approaching between the rows of headstones. One was tall, with long hair and a somewhat melancholy expression. The other, shorter and dressed in a worn-out leather jacket, was looking at Sinofar with a rascally grin. Nevertheless, she quickly regained her composure and began chanting the ritual greeting.

'Listen, newcomers! We are Sinofar, the Guardian. We are Giroc, the Keeper. Everyone who comes to our planet must learn a lesson. The first part of the lesson is the d–'

The speech was interrupted by a blast from the young man's sawed-off. The figures of the two women suddenly dispersed and vanished, leaving behind nothing but whiffs of smoke and mist among the ruins.

'Sorry, ladies,' the young man said, still grinning. 'Can't stand a pep talk coming from a ghost, let alone a ghost who sounds like a teacher and wants to give me lessons.'

'Dean, man,' said the taller one. 'You know that shot of salt you've fired has only sent them away momentarily. They'll be back unless we find out where they're buried and finish the job.'

'Yeah, Sam, I know, I'm on it.'

Finding the graves of the two women turned out to be quite easy: they had been buried on a privileged spot among the menhirs, and each of the headstones was topped by a statuette made in their image. Sam and Dean dug underneath until they found the skeletons. They covered them with a fair amount of salt, poured gasoline and struck matches, setting the remains of Giroc and Sinofar on fire.

'Let's get out of here, dude,' Dean said, dragging away Sam who was still brooding, staring at the flames. 'I have no clue where this is, but I have a hunch we're not in Kansas anymore. And haven't you heard that younger ghost chick talking about us being on their planet?' He cast an uneasy glance at the rows of statues holding broken weapons, as another bolt of lightning struck the ground in the distance. 'We never should have gone through that transdimensional portal that opened in Bobby's house.'

'Yeah, except that the readings on our EMF meter went off the scale, and we had to find out why,' Sam reminded him. 'And, you see? We were right to do so. There was a job for us here. Ghosts. After all, this is our family business, isn't it – saving people, hunting things.'

The portal that would lead them back to their own dimension was shimmering faintly among the ruins. Before entering it, Dean paused thoughtfully. 'Speaking of saving people – I wonder who we saved this time?'

'Who knows?' Sam shrugged. 'But I'm sure that someone was endangered by those ghosts, and will be glad to know we got rid of them.'

Aboard the Liberator, as the flight deck shook with the blasts of plasma bolts fired from the Federation pursuit ships, Blake explained his strategy to Cally and Avon. They were going to ram Travis's ship at full speed; he was confident that the Liberator would withstand the impact. Everyone agreed that it was their only chance.

It was only a few seconds before the collision that Cally suddenly had a premonition and knew for certain that Blake's confidence had been ungrounded. The Liberator would not hold out and none of them would survive.

There were no mystical powers on the planet below that would freeze the ships in time and prevent them from clashing. The two guardians of the dead race were gone, their spirits finally laid to rest by Sam and Dean. The Liberator and Travis's Pursuit One collided in a blinding explosion. Only their debris remained, silently floating in space.

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Madness...Takes Its Toll (G)

2018-07-22T17:48:55Z

Posted by: executrix

"I'm sure we can trust him," Cally said brightly, pushing the dark-framed windowpane glasses back on her nose. She adjusted the collar of her raincoat. "He was one of the most politically active students when he was a transfer student at the Upper Auron Technical Academy with me, and Orac says that he's taken an active opposition role since then."

"It's surprising that a prominent scientist would place so much importance on superstitions," Jenna said. Cally smiled at her: she looked very fetching in her white half-slip and bra.

"Vila, stop fidgeting, your hump is shifting about," Cally admonished. She wondered whether she should have recruited Vila as well as Jenna, but she didn't think he'd be able to keep his mouth shut.

"I hope you're right, Cally, I should hate to have to run from the Federation in this...footwear," Avon said.

"No higher than your usual heels," Vila said. "And, you've put on a few kilos, so you might keep that thingummy around your waist afterwards."

"I do rather envy you your mackintosh, Cally," Blake said. He was about to adjust the gold bikini but couldn't think of a way to do it unobtrusively.

Orac said that just because the "Ancient Customs" wheeze had been one of the most successful Senior Ditch Day pranks at UATA didn't mean she'd get away with it again, but it seemed to be working.

Blake raised the teleport bracelet to his mouth. "Very well. Let's do the Time Warp again."

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