It's Your FuneralBy Deirdre Hughes
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|Blake was awakened by Avon, who dragged him out of the medical unit at the highest speed the wounded rebel could manage. "Wh--where are we going?" he gasped, though he had gained a good idea from the bits of debris lying in the corridors.|
"We're having to abandon my ship," the computer tech snarled. "Because I couldn't enjoy it properly in a galaxy filled with Andromedans."
"And here I thought you'd stayed for me," Blake joked, struggling to keep up. They were heading for the life pods.
"You're a fool," Avon hissed. "You thought I believed what you told me? You were wrong, Blake, wrong."
"I'm a man of my word," Blake said stiffly, as Avon struggled to open a life capsule. "You should know that.'
"Oh, I'm absolutely sure of it. You won't take Liberator back, because you'll be dead." He fired into Blake's stomach, then hurriedly shoved the wounded man into the capsule, muttering, "And no-one will ever suspect."
There were footsteps-he looked up, too late. Jenna had seen and was reaching for her gun. He made a lucky shot and the pilot tumbled dead to the floor. He hurriedly placed her in a different capsule and ejected them both. There was no time to see if Blake was actually dead; the ship was coming apart around him. But if he ever saw the rebel leader again--he could make sure easily. Should Blake survive, it wouldn't last.
"He should have believed me," Avon growled as he ran to find Orac, "when I told him I hated him."
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