them, she was able somehow to disengage from her immediate surroundings.
Within a couple of minutes, she blinked back to into life. ‘It’s no wonder we couldn’t find the comms controls,’ Cally said. She led Blake across a couple of the connecting bridges to one of the equipment islands at the very edge of the cavernous room. ‘They stored it away, because they knew they would never use it again.’ She drew a cover from what appeared to be a simple wooden box, and lifted out an antique-looking comms desk with an integrated monitor and speaker. ‘And no, they didn’t want to contact the Federation for us.’
Blake plugged in the comms desk and powered it up. ‘Thanks for asking, anyway.’
‘I was joking. They’re the trigger for a bomb,’ she said. ‘They don’t do requests.’
It had been a long time since Blake had used such old-fashioned equipment. He took for granted that he could bark commands at Zen, and have the ship’s computer handle the connections. Or bark commands at his crew on the Liberator . Perhaps he’d started to take them for granted, too.
The equipment was set up for an all-points broadcast to Federation channels. Blake had to wonder whether the same channels had survived for hundreds of years, or whether he had made the right connections in the comms desk to ensure that his message was getting outside of this room. ‘This is an urgent transmission to all Federation vessels. Do you copy?’
Only a static hiss came over the speakers. The oval view screen showed a zigzag pattern of interference.
‘D’you think this thing’s even working?’ Blake struck out with his open palm, and the equipment jolted.
Cally slapped his hand away. ‘That won’t help. You’ll break it.’ She repositioned the speakers and adjusted the camera lens.
‘I think it’s broken anyway,’ grumbled Blake. ‘It can’t have been used for centuries.’ He raised his voice again. ‘Federation vessels, do you copy? This is an urgent transmission from the security facility on Megiddo.’
Cally sat beside him at the comms desk. ‘Perhaps they are not yet in range.’
‘We saw them starting to arrive,’ he reminded her. ‘Back on Liberator .’
‘Unless they did not survive their first engagement with the enemy.’
‘You’re full of cheery thoughts, Cally. But it is odd that they would ignore us.’
He pressed the comms link one more time. This time, the static hiss was abruptly interrupted by an incoming signal. Blake tried to tune out the interference and boost the voice signal.
‘This is Escort Group Nine. We receive you. Barely.’
Blake whooped with delight. ‘They are out there! But the signal is corrupted…’
‘Switch to channel alpha-epsilon,’ the voice said. ‘Those antediluvian systems are so antiquated as to be an embarrassment.’
‘Alpha-epsilon?’ Blake puzzled.
Cally reached past him and cranked one of the handles. ‘I suppose it must be this one.’
‘We read you, Escort Group Nine.’
‘Your signal is clearer, now.’
‘This is Megiddo facility. My name is…’
‘Roj Blake,’ said the voice. ‘I know.’
‘Oh.’ Blake stared at the comms speakers. Then he stared at Cally, as though she might explain it somehow. ‘Did you hear that from Space Command HQ?’
The zigzag interference was clearing now. An oval face with short hair was coming into focus. ‘You seem to be in regular contact with me, Blake,’ it said. ‘I’m touched.’
Blake groaned. ‘Look who it is, Cally.’
‘Oh, splendid.’ On the view screen, Servalan beamed with apparent delight as the camera showed her who sat beside Blake. ‘You have Cally with you on Megiddo. All friends together. Quite a reunion.’
Cally scowled at the camera. ‘I am no friend of yours.’
Servalan sipped delicately at the elegant drink in her hand. ‘And yet, here we are, Cally. Chatting away.’
Blake stared at the woman on the screen. They had rarely met in person, and if they did it meant
Within a couple of minutes, she blinked back to into life. ‘It’s no wonder we couldn’t find the comms controls,’ Cally said. She led Blake across a couple of the connecting bridges to one of the equipment islands at the very edge of the cavernous room. ‘They stored it away, because they knew they would never use it again.’ She drew a cover from what appeared to be a simple wooden box, and lifted out an antique-looking comms desk with an integrated monitor and speaker. ‘And no, they didn’t want to contact the Federation for us.’
Blake plugged in the comms desk and powered it up. ‘Thanks for asking, anyway.’
‘I was joking. They’re the trigger for a bomb,’ she said. ‘They don’t do requests.’
It had been a long time since Blake had used such old-fashioned equipment. He took for granted that he could bark commands at Zen, and have the ship’s computer handle the connections. Or bark commands at his crew on the Liberator . Perhaps he’d started to take them for granted, too.
The equipment was set up for an all-points broadcast to Federation channels. Blake had to wonder whether the same channels had survived for hundreds of years, or whether he had made the right connections in the comms desk to ensure that his message was getting outside of this room. ‘This is an urgent transmission to all Federation vessels. Do you copy?’
Only a static hiss came over the speakers. The oval view screen showed a zigzag pattern of interference.
‘D’you think this thing’s even working?’ Blake struck out with his open palm, and the equipment jolted.
Cally slapped his hand away. ‘That won’t help. You’ll break it.’ She repositioned the speakers and adjusted the camera lens.
‘I think it’s broken anyway,’ grumbled Blake. ‘It can’t have been used for centuries.’ He raised his voice again. ‘Federation vessels, do you copy? This is an urgent transmission from the security facility on Megiddo.’
Cally sat beside him at the comms desk. ‘Perhaps they are not yet in range.’
‘We saw them starting to arrive,’ he reminded her. ‘Back on Liberator .’
‘Unless they did not survive their first engagement with the enemy.’
‘You’re full of cheery thoughts, Cally. But it is odd that they would ignore us.’
He pressed the comms link one more time. This time, the static hiss was abruptly interrupted by an incoming signal. Blake tried to tune out the interference and boost the voice signal.
‘This is Escort Group Nine. We receive you. Barely.’
Blake whooped with delight. ‘They are out there! But the signal is corrupted…’
‘Switch to channel alpha-epsilon,’ the voice said. ‘Those antediluvian systems are so antiquated as to be an embarrassment.’
‘Alpha-epsilon?’ Blake puzzled.
Cally reached past him and cranked one of the handles. ‘I suppose it must be this one.’
‘We read you, Escort Group Nine.’
‘Your signal is clearer, now.’
‘This is Megiddo facility. My name is…’
‘Roj Blake,’ said the voice. ‘I know.’
‘Oh.’ Blake stared at the comms speakers. Then he stared at Cally, as though she might explain it somehow. ‘Did you hear that from Space Command HQ?’
The zigzag interference was clearing now. An oval face with short hair was coming into focus. ‘You seem to be in regular contact with me, Blake,’ it said. ‘I’m touched.’
Blake groaned. ‘Look who it is, Cally.’
‘Oh, splendid.’ On the view screen, Servalan beamed with apparent delight as the camera showed her who sat beside Blake. ‘You have Cally with you on Megiddo. All friends together. Quite a reunion.’
Cally scowled at the camera. ‘I am no friend of yours.’
Servalan sipped delicately at the elegant drink in her hand. ‘And yet, here we are, Cally. Chatting away.’
Blake stared at the woman on the screen. They had rarely met in person, and if they did it meant
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