Blake's 7, Series Four

Dayna:
Don't you ever get tired of being right?

Avon:
Only with the rest of you being wrong.

Avon:
Stay here.

Vila:
You wouldn't like to leave the gun?

Avon:
That's right, I wouldn't.

Dayna:
Cheer up, Vila. You've got a lot of very bright associates too.

Vila:
Oh yeah? Name six.

Dorian:
You're going to kill me anyway. Sooner or later.

Avon:
You would prefer it sooner?

Dorian:
Everything has it's price, Avon. You have to decide whether you want to pay it or not. That's all.

Vila:
Well, I don't believe in paying.

Dorian:
You mean you're here by choice?

Avon:
He who trusts can never be betrayed, only mistaken. Cally once told me that that was a saying amongst her people.

Dorian:
Cally?

Avon:
Cally was murdered. So were most of her people.

[Dorian has found Orac to be uncooperative]

Dorian:
Who designed it?

Avon:
His name was Ensor.

Dorian:
I should have known. He was never a gracious man. Orac reflects his personality.

Avon:
Orac was the culmination of his life's work. [Avon removes Orac's key] He bequeathed it to an associate of mine who bequeathed it to me.

Vila:
[Drinking a glass of Dorian's wine] There's something very suspicious about a man who keeps his booze under lock and key.

Pella:
You must be very clever.

Vila:
That's what I keep telling everyone. They even believed me in CF One.

Pella:
CF One?

Vila:
A sort of academy, when I was a boy. They chose me as technical advisor for the escape.

Pella:
Escape? From an academy?

Vila:
Perhaps academy was the wrong word.

Avon:
What is it, Orac?

Orac:
You asked me to report any extension of the Federation Command Network. Magnatrix Terminal 406 is now programmed in.

Avon:
What planet does the terminal serve?

Orac:
Heliotrix.

Avon:
[Astonished] Heliotrix.

Orac:
It is the main terminal for the planet Heliotrix. The fact is checked and confirmed.

Avon:
That means the Helots are back in the Empire. But they aren't the sort to cave in so quickly. It took the Federation years to subdue them on the first expansion.

Dayna:
They've retaken Lubus and Porphia Major in the last few weeks. If Heliotrix has gone, that means the Federation now control most of Sector 4.

Vila:
If they keep expanding at this rate, Avon, we don't have as much time as you thought. They'll be knocking on the door in a couple of years!

Avon:
How are they doing it?

Vila:
I don't know. But maybe we should start running now.

Soolin:
[Discussing Vila] He doesn't have much time for Tarrant does he?

Avon:
Ah well. Tarrant is brave, young, handsome. There are three good reasons for anyone not to like him.

Avon:
[To Slave] Don't be sorry. Be Quiet.

Avon:
I'd rather be sure that dying is the best option we have!

Avon:
Well, Orac, what do you think?

Orac:
I think you have brought back a most fascinating recording.

Avon:
We are looking for conclusions, not critical acclaim.

Vila:
Why do I get all the dirty jobs?

Soolin:
Typecasting?

Dayna (To Og):
Og. I mean no harm, Og. I want to help. I am your friend, Og. I think Justin is also your friend. You're very hungry, aren't you? Very, very hungry.

Og Grrrrrrrr...

(After Muller has seemingly been killed)

Avon:
Set up a decent orbit and you can teleport down.

Tarrant:
Muller can`t !

Avon:
Well we`ll give him a refund on his ticket.

[Vila and Tarrant are stranded on Scorpio, without life-supportt]

Avon:
Orac?

Orac:
They must be left there!

Avon:
To die?

Orac:
There is no option. To reopen teleport contact could expose the base to undefined systems influence.

Avon:
Oh, you'll have to do better than that, Orac, if you expect me to kill them.

[Tarrant destroys Muller's android]

Tarrant:
Gone to the great cyberneticist in the sky.

Avon:
You fool! It's superstitious half-wits like you who hold back every advance we make!

Orac:
And arrogance, like yours and Muller's, Avon, which threatens to destroy -

Avon:
Shut up!

Orac:
Yes, master!

Servalan:
Domo, the ninth. Five subjects.

Tarrant:
Good is he? This 'Cancer'?

Avon:
You can imagine how much it pains me to use the word 'infallible'.

Tarrant:
Oh, come on. No-one's infallible.

Avon:
Alright, then, he's not infallible. It's just that up till now he's never failed.

Avon:
[Discussing Academician Gerron] As well as being a respected geologist and an expert on mining techniques he's also greedy, avaricious and a crook.

Vila:
Does he have any faults?

Avon:
Orac, are details of the orbiter contained in Belkov's computer?

Orac:
I do not yet have enough data to reach a conclusion.

Avon:
If it had the information, could you extract it? [Orac says nothing] Come on, that's a simple enough question.

Orac:
[Hesitantly] There may be problems.

Avon:
Why?! You've extracted information from Federation computers before, this is just a hotch-potch of three or four of them. You have already stated it is inferior to you.

Orac:
It is not a question of superiority, but one of... attitude.

Avon:
The logic of it's creator.

Tarrant:
You're possibly the most unscrupulously venomous woman in the galaxy. Being shut in here with you is rather like being locked in a cage with a panther. A black cat with large golden eyes, and longer silver talons.

Servalan:
Oh Tarrant, I'm just the girl next door.

Tarrant:
If you were the girl next door, I'd move.

Servalan:
Where would you move to, Tarrant?

Tarrant:
Next door.[1]

Egrorian:
Now, then, Avon. What would you say if I offered you mastery of the galaxy?

Avon:
Oh, I would say thank you.

Vila:
For a whole galaxy? Oh, come on, Avon, show the man some gratitude.

(regarding ejecting weight from a shuttle to make it light enough to reach orbit)

Avon:
Not enough! Not nearly enough! Dammit, what weighs seventy kilos?

Orac:
Vila weighs seventy-three kilos, Avon.

Avon:
Vila, are you here? I need your help.

Vila:
Avon's idea of diplomacy is to break your legs then say "Lean on me."

Avon:
Figureheads aren't too difficult to come by. Any idiot can be one.

Dayna:
On your feet, Vila, this could be your big moment.

Avon:
Any idiot within reason, that is.

Tarrant:
A 'strategic withdrawal' is running away. But with dignity.

Vila:
So lay in a course and let's get the dignified hell out of here.

Avon:
I think we can find ourselves another figurehead. Someone we can use to unify and expand the rebel alliance.

Soolin:
Just like that?

Avon:
More or less. He is strongly identified with rebels, you see. And very popular with rabbles. They will follow him and he will fight to the last drop of their blood. Idealism is a wonderful thing, all you need is someone rational to put it to proper use.

Avon:
In the end, winning is the only safety.

Tarrant:
Are you going to stop playing games and tell us who it is, Avon?

Vila:
It's Blake, isn't it? You think you've found Blake.

Blake:
Nobody's indispensible."

Blake:
I find it hard to trust, it's a failing I admit!

Tarrant:
What on earth happened to you?

Blake:
Oh, most of it wasn't on Earth. Not what happened to me.

Avon:
Orac, what proof do we have that Blake is on Gauda Prime?

Orac:
That is where his trail ends.

Tarrant:
What trail? Explain.

Orac:
The chain of cause and effect amounts to a trail, if you can follow it.

Vila:
I can't even follow you.

Orac:
Everything has an effect on everything else around it. It is not easy to trace one line through the pattern of infinity. But in this case, I have. Blake is on Gauda Prime.

Tarrant:
He sold us, Avon. All of us. Even you.

Avon:
Is it true?!

Blake:
Avon, listen to me...

Avon:
Stand still! Have you betrayed us? Have you betrayed *me*?

Blake:
Tarrant doesn't understand.

Avon:
Neither do I!

Blake:
I set all this up!

Avon:
Yes...

Blake:
Avon, I was waiting for you...[Blake steps forward, Avon shoots him, three times. Dying:] Oh, Avon...

Vila:
I'm completely harmless and armless.

Tarrant:
Vila rescued me?

Avon:
You were injured trying to rescue Cally. He rescued you. Suddenly I am hip deep in heroes.

Dorian:
The name's Dorian. And in case you hadn't noticed, I just saved your friends' lives.

Avon:
You know what they say: no good deed goes unpunished.

Tarrant:
[as the surface of the planet Terminal is being rocked by earthquakes and volcanic eruptions] All pilot systems are green. Count is two minutes and running. Better strap down tight, I haven't lifted these into orbit too often.

Dayna:
How often?

Tarrant:
...once.

Vila:
When was that?

Tarrant:
...in about one minute and forty five seconds.

Avon:
If we last that long.

Avon:
[pointing his gun at an unconscious Dorian] Wake up now or sleep for good, the choice is yours.

Vila:
I'm going to give up drinking, you know. It'll be pink asteroids next.

Gunn Sar:
What's the tally of challenges?

Cato:
Twenty-five dead and one missing, sir.

Gunn Sar:
Oh, come on, Cato. Don't quibble. Marquin fell backwards off the cliff.

Cato:
Yes, sir.

Gunn Sar:
So he's dead. Like, you can't say someone's missing as such. Not when they've taken a dive into a bottomless gorge.

Cato:
No, sir.

Gunn Sar:
So, it's twenty-six dead.

Cato:
The council ruled it was twenty-five, sir, and one missing.

Gunn Sar:
[turning to face Avon] Twenty-five men lie dead who tried to stand against me. And one, if he's not still falling, is no more than a greasy spot on the rocks, right?

Avon:
Impressive.

Gunn Sar:
You killed two men.

Avon:
If I'd known we were keeping score, I would have brought more ammunition.

Gunn Sar:
Pick a weapon.

Avon:
I'll have a neutron blaster.

Gunn Sar:
No neutron blasters.

Avon:
In that case I'll have a glove.

Vila:
Have you ever seen a nuclear compression charge go off? Everything gets sucked in. It's like a mini black hole. Looks good...from a distance.

[Avon aims his gun at Pella's head]

Pella:
That always was the easy answer for the man - the Hommik!

Avon:
If you didn't want the answer, you shouldn't have asked the question.

Avon:
[musing to himself] It's a problem, isn't it? You can have war between races, war between cultures, war between planets. But once you have war between the sexes, you eventually run out of people.

Slave:
It is beyond my humble capacity to offer an opinion, Master.

Avon:
[smiling] Oh, that's very good. You may turn out to be my kind of computer after all.

Soolin:
[Discussing Orac] I thought he was keeping unusually silent.

Avon:
Probably sulking. One of the almost human things about Orac is that it does not like to work.

Vila:
Well, that's it. With those ships out there we can't wait.

Soolin:
They might not be looking for us.

Vila:
Are you crazy? You said yourself that was a search formation.

Soolin:
They haven't picked up Tarrant, so why'd they assume a ship's out here?

Avon:
Just a minute. Orac: that message from Space Centre - how was it relayed here?

Orac:
Through Terminal Four-Zero-Six.

Avon:
The terminal on Helotrix.

Orac:
Of course, Avon. That is the nearest terminal to our position.

Avon:
That's it. They must have intercepted the transmission.

Soolin:
Computer logic, the nearest terminal.

Vila:
So Orac's thick - we all know that. Let's move!

Servalan:
What do you want, Leitz?

Leitz:
[as he embraces her from behind, his face in her hair] The presidency.

Servalan:
Anything is possible.

Leitz:
After all, somebody has to take Practor's place. You could use your influence, I'm sure. And of course you'd know that your secret would be safe with me - Servalan.

Servalan:
I'm sure it would. But I don't submit - to blackmail.

Leitz:
There's always a first time. And it's better than being executed.

[Servalan turns to face Leitz as they embrace and begin kissing]

Leitz:
After all, how many people have you killed to conceal your secret?

[As they kiss, Servalan produces a small crystalline energy weapon and holds it near the back of Leitz's neck]

Servalan:
You mean now?

[Servalan kisses Leitz one final time before pressing the weapon against his neck, killing him]

Servalan:
Twenty-six. So far.

Avon:
There are times when even the most cynical must trust in luck!

Vila:
[Drunkenly] Fourteen I was, when I was first sent to a penal colony. Ship was hit in the main drive by a meteoroid, bang! Y'know what they did to repair it?Activated the force wall and generated an atmosphere inside the force wall so the repair team could work in a vacuum without spacesuits, 'cause it wasn't a vacuum any more if you see what I mean. Very clever, those old prison hulk skippers.

Soolin:
[after Avon and Tarrant have left to put Vila's "force wall atmosphere" plan into action] Out of the mouths of drunks ...

Vila:
[standing up, instantly sober] Drunk? Who's drunk?

Dayna:
You are.

Vila:
Show me how to get drunk on plain water and I won't waste time.

Dayna:
Well then, why pretend?

Vila:
Because, my lovely Dayna and Soolin, no one ever tells someone who's drunk to volunteer.

[Dayna and Soolin laugh]

Vila:
I don't like to work in main drive chambers! Especially main drive chambers that are separated from space by one of Slave's force walls.

Vila:
It's a Space Rat!

Soolin:
Friends of yours?

Vila:
Friends? Space Rats? There's no such thing as a friend of a Space Rat - they even hate each other!

Tarrant:
What else do you know about them?

Vila:
They're maniacs, psychopaths! All they live for is sex and violence, booze and speed. And the fellas are just as bad.

Vila:
Well, perhaps we could hide under here. [Pulls the drape off a Space Chopper, then picks up a small device from its cockpit] Wonder what this thing does?

Bomber:
(pointing gun at them) Tell you what this does - gook. It goes bang. And you go splat.

[Dr. Plaxton is outside the ship, in a force wall bubble, installing the stardrive as the Scorpio is being engaged by Federation ships]

Vila:
Plasma bolt fired.

Soolin:
Thirty seconds to impact.

Dr. Plaxton:
[over communicator] One more connection to--

[Avon cuts her off, then begins pushing some buttons]

Tarrant:
[shocked] What are you doing?

Avon:
Programming in the main circuit drive.

Dayna:
You can't do that! That main drive will fire as soon as she makes the final connection!

Soolin:
Fifteen seconds.

Avon:
We can outrun that bolt. She's dead either way.

Avon:
At least now we can outrun the opposition. That should make you happy.

Dayna:
What about Dr. Plaxton?

Avon:
Who?

Orac:
Random fluctuations in circuit pulses.

Avon:
Cause?

Orac:
External influence.

Tarrant:
[Over comm from Scorpio] We've nothing visible on the detectors or the scanners.

Dayna:
Could they be faulty?

Orac:
Detector and Scanner circuits record normal function.

Avon:
So how is it external?

Dayna:
A freak magnetic storm?

Orac:
That would have been observed.

Vila:
[Over comm from Scorpio, panicked] So what have you observed?

Orac:
A paradox.

Avon:
In other words, nothing.

Orac:
Correction: the pulse influences are external to the circuits, but could be internal to the craft.

[Avon punches a switch]

Avon:
Tarrant, what have you got up there apart from yourself, a half-wit and a corpse?

Tarrant:
A box.

Tarrant:
I suppose it has occurred to you that, without Slave, we can't land Scorpio.

Avon:
Set up a decent orbit and you can leave Scorpio and teleport down.

Tarrant:
Muller can't!

Avon:
Well, we'll give him a refund on his ticket. Just get that ship back, Tarrant. We'll worry about the details then, out! [Snaps the comm off]

Orac:
It would be prudent to worry about the details now.

Avon:
When did you start offering gratuitous advice?

Orac:
I am obliged to do as you tell me, even though I know it to be wrong.

Avon:
Only following orders. That's not very original, Orac.

Orac:
There is nothing very original about domination, as you will discover.

Orac:
Join us, Soolin. We can fulfil your every desire. (Soolin deactivates Orac)

Soolin:
You wouldn't know where to start.

Orac:
A new era, Avon. Mankind is now mastered by the fruits of his lustful creation. Accept slavery, or return to the caves stripped of all but the wheel, the plough and the sword, to compete once again as savages against nature.

Neebrox:
By the way, what's become of our little friend?

Soolin:
She's found Cancer's cabin and made herself cozy for the duration.

Neebrox:
Ah.

Soolin:
Why? Do you fancy a little chat about the good old days on the chain gang?

Neebrox:
Oh, it's terrible to think of a poor little thing like that being a slave, don't you think?

Soolin:
No more terrible than to think of you as one.

Neebrox:
Oh no, no, I'm an old man. She's merely a helpless little child.

Soolin:
Well, I expect a little suffering will have helped to make her a better artist. [smiles]

Belkov:
[showing Servalan a necklace made of feldon crystals, inside a display case] The Mecronian high priests used these as a symbol of their power. Now, there is a legend about the feldon necklaces. A chief once stole one, the gods became angry and struck him down. Of course, the gods' anger was merely an electrical storm, in which a hunk of polished feldon crystals that size would absorb enough energy to blow holes in any number of recalcitrant chiefs.

Servalan:
[sarcastically] How fascinating.

Belkov:
Yes, but you see, the priests have been cashing in on this piece of luck for generations, so I decided to join them! I said their gods had sent me to collect the crystals. Well, not unnaturally, they were not particularly impressed, well not at first anyway.

Servalan:
I can imagine.

Belkov:
So I borrowed a necklace. All it needed then was a well-placed remote-controlled laser rifle to ensure that only the chosen one could wear it. After six of them had died in the attempt, they found my survival quite miraculous.

Servalan:
Your survival is becoming more miraculous by the moment.

Avon:
I don't mind playing games, but I do object when the opposition makes up the rules and decides to be the referee as well.

Avon:
Belkov trusts no one, which is a strength, because that means that no one can betray him. But it is also a weakness, because it means that he is the only one who can defend what is his.

Soolin:
So, he makes everything self-protecting, the booby traps, the force fields.

Avon:
Exactly, everything automatic and therefore predictable, and therefore vulnerable.

Avon:
[after ordering Slave to plot a new orbit that blocks Belkov's detectors] If we leave our present orbit, as far as he is concerned, we're pulling out - we're cutting our losses and we're running for it. He'll turn his attention to more important matters and leave his automatics to track us. Once we have that moon between us and the scanner, we can start back down again. Since his automatics won't be able to track us, they will merely inform him of what he thinks he already knows - we have gone.

Soolin:
What happens to Tarrant and the others in the meantime?

Avon:
Well, during the manoeuvre they are entirely on their own, but once we are back in our new orbit, the teleport system should function quite normally. Oh, it's a calculated risk. But at least you and I can be certain that we can get away when we want to.

[A Federation guard searches Vila and discovers the Mecronian knife Vila had found]

Guard:
Four of our men have been killed with a knife like that.

Vila:
You don't think - I mean, I'm not the violent type, really I'm not.

Guard:
Then why do you carry that?

Vila:
I found it.

Guard:
Where?

Vila:
It was stuck in one of your men.

[while fighting with a Federation guard, Tarrant knocks him into a pressure container, which instantly spews out a reddish dust]

Vila:
Nasty way to go, all that dust. Very bad for the chest.

Gambit:
Control system feedback is through the weapon. The game adjusts to meet and, on the last shot, exceed the proficiency of the players.

Soolin (understanding):
You have to outshoot yourself.

Tarrant:
Stupid game.

Soolin:
Not really. Finally, a game worth playing.

[Vila brainstorms an idea to open a fingerprint lock, and grabs Tarrant by one of his boots]

Tarrant:
[taken by surprise] Vila, what are you doing?

Vila:
Dust! I need very fine dust! [shaking the dust from Tarrant's boot into his hand, before looking at it] That's probably half the guard you threw in that machine, Tarrant.

Tarrant:
I'm glad we didn't get too close.

Dayna:
But after all that, we go home empty-handed.

Vila:
Er, not entirely empty-handed. (He produces Belkov's necklace) Well, I saw it lying about, seemed a pity not to take it. After all, Belkov won't be needing it where he's gone.

Avon:
Let me see that.

Vila (pleased with himself):
I'd say the last game was mine, wouldn't you?

Avon:
I have bad news for you, Vila. (He smashes crystals with his gun butt) It's a fake. (Savagely) End game to Belkov!

Reeve:
No moonlight. What a pity.

Servalan:
I have nothing to gain by tolerating you, Reeve.

Reeve:
Oh, you sure of that?

Servalan:
I suggest you go back to the fire. The alternative could be frostbite.

Reeve:
I don't believe that. A woman like you?

Servalan:
There is something you should realise. There are no women like me. I am unique. That makes me rather dangerous. Good night, Investigator. Sweet dreams.

[Reeve is sitting on a rock, fiddling with his gun.]

Servalan:
Afraid it won't work, Investigator?

Reeve:
[Points the gun at her] Afraid it will?

Servalan:
You would be able to report, presumably, an excellent reason for killing me?

Reeve:
One more casualty on Virn. You did kill the other one, didn't you? You might have had a motive. Something he found out.

Servalan:
Reeve, you apparently think this is a new, exciting experience for me. It isn't. I've confronted several maniacs with guns.

Avon:
Orac, teleport.

Orac:
Teleport? I am not programmed. Three squared to the principal.

Dayna:
Oh, no.

Orac:
I love you.

Vila:
Orac!

Orac:
My emotions are deeper than the seas of space. One times one is only possible in the ultra-dimensional.

Avon:
Turn Orac off.

Orac:
I love you.

Avon:
Off!

Orac:
We will be lovers for a little while, or maybe for a long while, who knows?

Soolin:
I do. [Pulls key]

Avon:
Presumably the sand up here has compared Vila's wits and stamina with mine and concluded that I am the dominant male. On the herd principle therefore, it decided that Vila was superfluous and it could kill him. You two, of course, would have been allowed to live.

Soolin:
Don't say it, Avon.

Avon:
I wasn't going to say anything.

Avon:
[Discussing a plan to rescue Tarrant and escape the hold the plant has on the ship] Where we are now, we are causing massive atmospheric disturbance. Let us get closer. Let us make it worse. Eventually there may be enough of a build-up to create some kind of rain.

Soolin:
Or to knock us out of the sky.

Avon:
This is not just a rescue mission for poor gallant Tarrant! While the sand remains active, the planet will not let go of us. The instruments are unreliable. We have Virn hanging on our heels. How do you think we are going to get away?

[Dayna and Soolin rush to their positions]

Avon:
I take it that means yes.

Dayna:
Well, how could we refuse, Avon? You are the dominant male, aren't you?

[Avon smiles]

Keiller:
Seventeen billion. That's what it's worth in direct exchange for cash.

Soolin:
That's a lot of cash.

Keiller:
The mine on Zerok, it's underground.

Dayna:
Like most mines.

Tarrant:
It's all clear. Maybe Vila should be here, to give us his professional opinion.

Keiller:
Vila?

Dayna:
He's one of us. He stayed on Scorpio.

Soolin:
In case of misunderstanding.

Keiller:
This Vila, is he, uh...

Avon:
He's a thief, and a good one. But we don't need Vila to tell us the obvious, do we? That no one, but no one allows a fortune like that to travel in an unarmed crate with just two plainclothes guards! So what's the snag, Keiller!?

[two guards approach Keiller, Soolin, and Avon, and are shot down]

Keiller:
I say, you two, that was good shooting.

Avon:
[to Soolin] Not bad. [turning towards Keiller] Soolin killed them both.

Keiller:
Your friend, Vila, he wants no part in this?

Soolin:
He doesn't trust you, Keiller. He thinks it's a trap.

Keiller:
Suspicious.

Avon:
And frequently right.

Keiller:
[to guard] It's all right, it's only Keiller. [steps aside as Avon enters] But this is Avon.

[Avon shoots the guard]

[as Avon and Keiller open a crate containing the processed gold, a small explosion goes off]

Keiller:
Avon, get down!

[the explosion flings several small objects into the air, some of which land on Keiller's jacket]

Keiller:
[panicking] Avon, quick help me get them off! Quick! Quick! Avon, help me get them off! Get them off! Get them off! [Avon begins reaching with his hand to brush them off] Not with your hands! Not with your hands! Get something and get them off quickly! Quickly!

[Avon retrieves a cloth covering one of the nearby crates and starts brushing the objects off Keiller]

Avon:
What are they?

Keiller:
[still panicking] Killers! When they're fired they ignite! If they hit you they go right through you, you've got about ten seconds! Am I clear? Am I clear?

Avon:
You're clear!

Keiller:
[almost sobbing] Make certain! Some of them don't ignite right away!

Avon:
[shouting] YOU'RE CLEAR!

Servalan:
Avon, would you be careful with the gun. My guards have orders to shoot you first. The price of my life would be yours.

Avon:
Well, now. The sacrifice might be worthwhile.

Vila:
This guy's gonna need careful handling. You want someone with tact. I mean, you know me.

Avon:
Oh yes, I think so.

Vila:
Blunt, always speaking my mind, I'm just the sort to upset him.

Avon:
Well, you'll just have to try not to, won't you.

Vila:
You should take one of the girls, Avon. Hey, why not? A girl might...you know, interest him. He's probably forgotten what they look like.

Avon:
Vila, if I didn't know you better, I would think you were trying to get out of this.

Pinder:
I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am.

Vila:
[to Avon] I think he's talking to you.

Egrorian:
Thank you, Pinder, go back to your place. I fear language doesn't come easily to him. He thinks mostly in symbols.

Vila:
Doesn't he have symbols for men and women?

Egrorian:
Apparently not.

Vila:
What's the matter with you?

Avon:
I was thinking about Pinder, and the way he said "pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am".

Vila:
Is that worrying you? Listen, if it'll set your mind at rest, I never thought you were a woman.

Avon:
He said it as though it were a phrase he had been taught.

Vila:
Maybe Egrorian gives him lessons in etiquette as well as judo.

Avon:
Or maybe he has been taught that that was the way of addressing a stranger. Servalan, for instance.

Vila:
Servalan? She wouldn't do any deals with Egrorian. He's like us, outside the Federation.

Avon:
We know how much she would like to get her hands on Orac.

Vila:
Not enough to hand us a weapon like the tachyon funnel.

Avon:
No. That's why this time, Vila, I think we have to play this one very cagily.

Tarrant:
Pinder's old?

Vila:
Late seventies. Why?

Tarrant:
After you'd gone, I got Orac to do us one last service. This is a printout from Central Records, all that's known about Egrorian.

Avon:
Interesting reading?

Tarrant:
Yeah, very interesting. After he vanished, they started finding the bodies. He was never a simple scientist, Avon.

Vila:
What was he?

Tarrant:
Power mad from his earliest days. He was at the center of a conspiracy to take over the Federation.

Avon:
This is the man who says he wants to spend the rest of his life in the advancement of science.

Tarrant:
The other interesting thing is Pinder.

Vila:
What about him?

Tarrant:
He was a mathematical prodigy, apparently. He was eighteen when he disappeared with Egrorian...ten years ago. Now, I'm not a mathematical prodigy, but it seems to me that makes him twenty-eight.

Egrorian:
You really are an excessively cautious person, and so mistrustful.

Avon:
That is because Orac has read your security file on Central Records.

Egrorian:
Disconnect the funnel, Pinder. Lies! All lies! Base and perfidious slander! I never conspired... I, I swear this is nothing but a tissue of falsehood and calumny designed by my enemies to blacken my reputation. If Servalan has read this, I hope she...

Avon:
Why do you mention Servalan?

Egrorian:
What? Well, she was the head of Federation when these fabrications were compiled.

Avon:
Didn't you hear she was dead?

Egrorian:
Ah, yes. But then I was told she had assumed a new identity. One never knows what to believe these days. Anyway, this is, this... this is a load of distortion and rubbish, and when I return to earth, I will hound down those responsible, and...

Vila:
Break their arms?

Egrorian:
I suggest we get on. The tachyon funnel is disconnected. Place Orac here. Orac, what was the subject of my degree thesis at Belhangria University? Orac, what was the subject of my degree thesis at Belhangria University?

Orac:
Your paper e stroke nine on stroke six zero four four was on particle physics and dealt specifically with the properties of rissions. It was marked Beta plus, Egrorian.

Pinder:
Only beta plus, Egrorian?

Egrorian:
Pinder, you're to be seen and not heard, remember?

Avon:
If Orac has a fault, it is a tendency to give more information than is requested.

Vila:
Or less information than requested.

Avon:
But seldom just the information that is requested.

Orac:
That degree was subsequently rescinded for gross misconduct.

Egrorian:
That's enough, Orac!

Avon (In "calm and reasonable" voice):
Vila? Vila? Vila? Vila, are you here? I need your help. (Vila is curled up, hiding, in a small compartment) Vila, I know you're here, come out. Vila, I know how they did it, but I need your help. Please help me. (He stubs his toe on something on the deck, pauses to look at object)

Avon (to himself):
Plastic. High tensile plastic. Vila? (He tries to kick the object out of the way. It doesn't budge. He drops to his knees, thinking out loud) Couldn't possibly be that heavy. Unless there's something in it, and there isn't. Unless it's very tiny, in which case it wouldn't have...the weight! (He puts the gun away, and shouts) Vila, I really do know how they did it! It's a speck of neutron material, but I need your help to shift it! (He picks up the plastic object he handed to Vila earlier, which is conveniently nearby, and uses it to push the heavy object) Vila, help me! Vila, you have got to help me, come on! (Cut to Vila, still motionless in the compartment)

Avon:
Vila! Vila, where are you? (With much difficulty, he pushes the object to the airlock and in. He manipulates the airlock controls and runs to the flight deck of the shuttle)

Orac:
When we reach the appropriate coordinates, I can simulate the necessary signals to open the silo and allow this flyer to enter.

Dayna:
That sounds good.

Vila:
No it isn't. Sooner or later, we're going to drop into one of these holes in the ground, and never come out.

Avon:
Sooner or later, everyone does that, Vila.

Tarrant:
What on earth happened to you?

Blake:
Oh, most of it wasn't on Earth. Not what happened to me.

Arlen:
Do you want him killed?!

Blake:
No, of course not! When he knows as much about this as you do now, he'll join us, like you did.

Arlen:
He passed the test, then.

Blake:
I'm satisfied.

Deva:
These stupid games you insist on playing, Blake, will get someone killed eventually.

Blake:
I have to test each one myself.

Deva:
No, you don't have to! I set up systems for that. I broke the security codes on their central computer. I got us access to official channels, information, everything we could possibly need! You don't need to be involved at all.

Blake:
All right, I find it difficult to trust. It's a failing, I admit--!

Deva:
And any one of our people could select the people you've collected. You don't need to do the bounty hunter routine, either!

Blake:
Indulge me.

Deva:
Do I have a choice?

Blake:
Oh, there's always a choice, Deva.

Deva:
Not for me, there isn't. I said I'd follow you, and I will, until the Federation's finally destroyed. But if you're killed, where does that leave us?!

Blake:
With a base, the beginnings of an army!

Deva:
All of it useless if you're not there to lead it.

Blake:
You worry too much, Deva.

Deva:
Somebody has to.

Arlen:
It might be an idea for somebody to start worrying about the one we just lost.

Blake:
Why? He isn't armed.

Arlen:
I didn't notice that slowing him up.

Blake:
That's true. Relax, Deva. Nobody's indispensable.

Vila:
Oh, now, look, I've never been against the Federation. I mean, I've only ever been along for the ride. I'm not even armed. You can't kill me. I'm completely harmless, and armless. (He then proves he's anything but by smoothly disarming and disabling Arlen...then he is shot)