Blake’s 7 [Redux] // S01E06 – Seek, Locate, Destroy

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Blake wanders around dirt patches and random industrial edifices like a kid [me] waiting for his dad to stop fucking around with that fibreglass mould inside the hangar.

A robot on wheels appears and fails to spot Blake due to only using its face to do the checking.

Blake comes out of hiding and tells Vila to teleport down and open the gate.



Vila contractually complains a bit, grabs his toolkit and stands on the pad.

‘Tell Blake to be careful,’ says Jenna.

‘What about me?’

‘And tell him Callie and I have come up with some targets for our next mission…’

‘Am I not important?’

‘And tell him we understand why he ignored us this time, and why he went down to the planet while we stayed here and why he insisted on meeting in the sauna last night and why he had to sit between Callie and I and why Avon was on his lap and…’

‘I was stretching, actually,’ corrects Avon. ‘Near his lap, not on.’

‘Can’t you tell him all this yourself, over the comm?’ asks Vila.

‘He won’t listen to me,’ answers Jenna with a frown.

Vila says ‘ah’ and looks at Avon, who nods and beams him down.

‘Do you think it worked?’

‘Your pursuit of more screen time? As long as they don’t introduce a sociopathic, power-hungry yet slinky female villain twenty minutes into this ep, sure. It worked tremendously.’

Jenna sighs. ‘I should’ve stayed on Earth and become a lobbyist.’

‘We all should’ve.’

Avon and Jenna glance at each other and then at the camera. It’s still on, the crew hasn’t left, the director is staring at them.

‘Should we keep talking?’ asks Jenna, confused.

The director doesn’t say anything.

‘Is this real?’



Vila arrives, opens the gate, dodges the robot on wheels and, together with Blake, knocks out two very fragile guards.

‘Right, let’s get inside and nick the thingy.’

‘Good plan.’

They rush in and make it to the control room, where they take everyone hostage and then marvel at the set.

‘Looks futuristic…’ says Blake.

‘Mundanely futuristic…’ adds Vila.

‘Just like the future will turn out to be.’

‘Frugal fascism.’

‘With a clown at the helm!’

‘Actually, I’ve never really asked before but…who is the leader of the Federation? Like, now, the current leader?’

Blake opens his mouth to say ‘Servelan’, then stops. ‘Now that you mention it…’

‘You don’t know either?’


A guard coughs. ‘It’s a faceless entity.’

‘No cult of anyone?’ asks Blake, confused.

‘Not recently.’


‘Ja, very strange.’

‘I quite like cult figures,’ mumbles Blake.

‘I liked Mao.’

‘Zapata, for example…’

‘Who?’ asks Vila.

‘Mexican revolutionary, he’s the basis for my-…’

‘Not him. Mao.’

‘Chinese despot,’ said the guard, raising his voice to drown out Blake. ‘Ruled for 20 odd years, died, got revived, ruled again for 127 years, died on Pluto, got cloned, exercised a bit then ruled again as Emperor of the Kuiper Belt.’

‘I never learnt any of that in history,’ says Vila, right eyebrow up.

‘No one did.’

‘Grrr…damn Federation censorship.’ Blake shouts into his watch. ‘Get down here Avon, and bring the Gan with you.’

‘The Gan?’

‘Ganster. Big guy. Get him down here.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘Very little.’

‘Should we prepare for a hostile reception?’

Blake looks at the guards and tech workers in the room. ‘Nah, they’re pretty cool. Except one guy…he looks like he might try something later.’

‘Kill him.’

‘Ah, let him be. I’m probably imagining things.’

The guy who looks like he might try something later tries to smile and look frightened at the same time, but instead comes off as a cornered sleaze.

Avon and Gan beam down, along with Callie, who immediately tells Blake that she’s there to do something active, not just sit on the ship and read Portuguese textbooks.

‘You’ve been reading my textbooks?’ asks Blake.

‘Sim, eles eram bem grossos, mas divertidos…’

‘Sim, sim…they are mine. I told you that. I told everyone. Don’t use them again.’

‘Okay, não fique tão bravo.

‘Take these six or seven men to another room, preferably a small, enclosed, claustrophobic one, and guard them until we’re ready to blow everything up.’

Callie nods and jabs her gun at the men. They move out, confused, checking back one last time to see if Blake will grope her as she walks out. He doesn’t. He doesn’t even try. Some of the men consider rebelling there and then, for the sake of the 70’s, but there’s still a script and, besides, they’ll get their own chance in the store room soon.

‘Okay, people, let’s get the transponder communicating thingy.’

‘The one that will let us listen in to all the Federation messages…?’

‘Is that what it does?’ asks Blake, surprised.

‘That’s what I read,’ replies Gan.

‘Fantastic. That means we can know all the evil schemes they’re hatching. As well as the pervy stuff they do behind closed doors.’

‘I’m not sure I want to know that…’ says Vila.

‘Me neither,’ adds Gan. ‘I have kids.’

‘It’ll be other kids, relax.’

Everyone stares at Blake, forcing him into a retraction.

‘It won’t be kids, or animals. I was joking. It’ll be women. Young, vulnerable women. Some enthusiastic, some drugged. Some technically seventeen.’


‘Relax, it’s all part and parcel of guerrilla surveillance. Besides, they’re the ones doing all that pervy shit, we’re the heroes…’

‘I suppose it can’t be helped if we’re watching their channel and that’s the kind of thing they do in their free time…’ says Vila.

‘And seventeen is practically eighteen when you think about it…’ adds Blake.

‘My eldest daughter is seventeen,’ says Gan, his face whiter than ‘Friends’.

Blake purses his lips, stuck.

‘Actually, we can filter the pervy stuff out,’ says Avon, already working on the transponder communicating thingy. ‘Just input key words and it’ll be skipped.’

‘They’ll probably use code.’

‘Okay. Modification: if we watch a video with a young girl sitting in a stable, clothes off, with a horse nearby, we’ll delete and move on.’

‘Yeah…’ says Blake. ‘Move it into the delete pile.’

Avon stops fidgeting with the transponder and looks up at the ceiling. ‘I wonder…is it power that creates perverts or perverts who seek power to…be more powerful perverts?’

Blake nods and leans in next to Avon’s shoulder. ‘You know, they tried to frame me as a paedophile…’

‘How strange…’

‘They drugged and hypnotised some kids to say I did things…’


‘Primary school kids.’


‘Definitely not seventeen.’

Avon ignores him and continues fidgeting, trying to force a ruler down the side of the transponder thingy and dig it out. After several failed attempts, he throws the ruler across the room. ‘Blake, I can’t get this thing out of the table. It’s wedged in tight.’


‘Yes, boss?’

‘We need your mass.’

‘Got it, boss.’

Gan waddles over and tries to yank out the device. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve watched the episode so I can’t remember if he manages to get it out or not…let’s assume he does.

‘Okay, now let’s blow this place up and hope they don’t notice it’s gone.’

‘What about Callie?’

‘Tell her to warm up the sauna, we’re coming up.’

‘She’s in the other room, with all the men.’

‘Ah, what a slut…’

‘Guarding them, like you told her to do…’

Blake blinks as if he’s just woken up. ‘Right. Right. Well, get her to beam up too.’ He lowers his voice. ‘Don’t tell Jenna I said that. The sauna thing.’

‘How about the kids stuff?’ asks Vila.

Blake ponders for a moment. ‘That too.’

‘Gotcha,’ says Avon, smiling.



Callie holds six or seven men at bay with her twirly gun.

The man who looks like he might try something tries something. One of the guards quickly assists him and they overpower her.

To show her who’s boss, the guard backhands her.

‘You enjoyed that,’ he says.

Callie wipes blood from her mouth.

‘If I had more time, I’d put on my Viking costume…we all would…but we have to go and stop that permed hippy from smoking crack in the control room. Guards, let’s go. Guy who looks like he might try something, you stay here and keep an eye on her.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘No fucking though, and no muff shots…’


‘It’s inappropriate. Implied violence only, please.

‘Can I backhand her like you did?’


‘Why not?’

‘You’re far too grubby.’

‘But we’re working for a fascist regime, I’ve got to do something.’

The guard thinks for a second then nods. ‘You may grope her accidentally when you move her to the other side of the room.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

The guards leave and try to break into the control room. They fail due to Blake and co shooting back. Meanwhile, the guy who looks like he might try something tries to set up his groping manoeuvre, but forgets to check if Callie is tied up properly…or knocked out…can’t remember which…and she fights back. The two of them grope each other and wrestle until Callie kung fu kicks the guy into a shelf and then rips his throat out [original episode cut].

In the other room, Blake and co beam out with the device and immediately tell Zen to get them out of there.

Either due to poor character writing or Jan Chappell’s lack of charisma, none of them notice that Callie is not in the teleport room.

A few hours later, they notice and Blake tells Zen to turn the ship around and go back.

‘She’s not interested in you, Blake,’ shouts Avon.

‘We can’t leave a member of the crew behind.’

‘She’s an illegal,’ shouts Jenna, grimacing as she says it.

‘Don’t be xenophobic…’

‘I can’t help it.’

‘We’re going back, I don’t care who objects, this is not a democracy.’

‘Anarchy would be closer to the mark.’

‘Fuck anarchy, I’m the boss, we’re going back.’

‘Great idea, we’ll all die.’

‘No one believes that.’

‘Callie’s probably dead already.’

Blake pauses. ‘That could be true.’

‘The explosion would’ve killed her.’

‘Yes…unless…’ Blake holds up a finger, a gesture trained into him by the RSC on the very first day of pretending to be a postbox. ‘…unless she managed to seek cover behind a shelf.’

‘From an explosion designed to blow up half the base?’

‘Zen, link up the machine we nicked and tell us what the Federation are saying…’



Jacqueline Wilson sits at her desk, complaining to two British fascists/Tory backbenchers about the casting process for Superman 2.

‘I had it, I had it, I had it…then they took it away and gave it to that other short-haired bitch.’

‘That’s very sad, but what about this Blake character?’

‘Yes, how can we stop him?’ adds the other. ‘His ship is state of the art, whereas ours were cobbled together in Sunderland.’

‘Don’t worry, gentleman. I’m taking care of it.’


‘I’ve called in a complete psycho to hunt him down, as well as push for regime change in Iran.’


‘Commander Travis.’

Both fascists look shocked.

‘You don’t like him?’

‘He’s a bit camp.’

‘His costume is full body leather.’

‘That’s all?’ asks Servelan.

‘And he massacred a bunch of peasants on one of our colonies. Even after they’d surrendered.’

‘They probably deserved it,’ replies Servelan coldly.

‘We prefer people to be shot in abandoned quarries, not town squares.’

‘Exactly,’ confirms the other fascist. ‘Travis puts a nasty face to our nastiness.’

‘I think his face is quite attractive.’

‘What? Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with him?’

‘Gentleman, logic, please. He hasn’t even got here yet. My twat’s not that cavernous.’


‘Too vulgar? Okay, I’ll tone it down.’ Servelan stretches back in her chair, showing some side boob. The two fascists lean forward, pretending to look at her neck. ‘Now, he’ll be here soon and when he gets here I’m gonna take him to that couch over there and…tell him to seek, locate and destroy Blake.’

‘Is he capable of doing that?’

‘Undoubtedly. They’ve met before, and Blake took out Travis’ eye.’

‘You mean he lost?’

‘Technically, yes, but he did well generally and deserved to win. I’m certain he’ll succeed this time.’

‘Well, if it all goes wrong, it’s on your head.’

‘Double ‘it’ conditional. Clumsy.’

‘We mean it, Servelan. Travis can’t be given free rein to catch Blake. He has to operate like a normal Federation Commander.’

Servelan grins, rejecting all possible comebacks cos the director told her to be sharp, but not that sharp.

‘Okay, we’re leaving now,’ says the smaller of the two fascists. ‘Remember our warning.’

‘Zero responsibility on your part?’

‘Good girl.’

They leave and an officer comes in, telling Servelan that he’s heard the rumours about Travis and won’t serve under a man so inept.

‘He’s ept sometimes.’

‘I won’t do it. He massacred innocent people that were about to go back to being oppressed.’

‘You’ll follow his orders or I won’t use the skipping rope on you ever again.’

‘That’s harsh…’

‘And no more free roaming under my gown…’


‘No more fucking either.’

The officer glances at the couch and bites his lip. ‘No. The man is a monster. I won’t do it.’

‘You really think you are that special to me? I can find fifty officers willing and able to take your place. Most of them with the same haircut. Law of averages says they’ll probably have bigger dicks too. Not that any of you know what to do with it, but…one of you might. I’ll just keep plucking you off the tree until I find an ept one. In fact, I’ll do it this very minute, right here. Are you sure you won’t follow Travis’ orders?’

The officer doesn’t reply, cos I’ve forgotten what his reply was. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t killed though.

‘Right, tell me when Travis gets here, this episode is becoming oddly paced.’



Blake and co sit on the couch and sip cocktails. There’s a bleak silence as they try to remember the best of Callie.

‘Remember that time Yaphet Kotto turned up and got arrested?’ asks Jenna, looking hopeful.

‘That was pre-Callie.’

‘But do you remember it?’

‘Ya,’ says Avon. ‘Episode 3 redux. A good one.’ Avon stares at the top of his drink. ‘Yaphet Kotto. What ever happened to him? Did they let him out in the end?’

‘I think he’s back in the US, doing an Arnie film.’

‘Bad guy?’


‘Or sidekick who dies halfway through?’

‘Sounds more plausible.’

Blake stands up and puts his arms on his hips. ‘Stop talking about things I was barely present for. Callie is dead. We’re in mourning.’

‘How long will that last?’ asks Gan.

‘Until we find out she’s alive again.’

‘Got it.’

Blake stands a while longer then sits down again. Silence. Jenna gets a weird smile on her face.

‘Callie memory?’ asks Vila.

‘No. Teleport Room.’


‘Me and one of those twirly guns…’

The whole cast, crew and cleaning staff lean in closer, all men, all ready to hear the secrets of women and masturbation.

‘Never mind,’ says Jenna, crossing her legs and zipping up her jacket.



Servelan tries different positions on her chair, then sits on the table, then gets up and looks out the window.

She stares at black cardboard for a bit then angrily pushes a button on her desk. ‘Where’s Travis?’

‘He’s just arrived, Sir.’

‘Tell him to wait outside until I call for him.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

Servelan sits down again, pulling her gown down a bit so the top of her breasts are exposed. She looks down at them, frowns and covers up again.

The door hisses open and Travis walks in.

He’s tall, dark and Etonian, though that could possibly be a façade as all non-posh British actors are coerced into becoming Eddie Redmayne eventually [sorry Eddie].

He has a ridiculous ring on his finger which can only be a laser gun.

‘I told you to wait outside.’

‘Bitch, I wait for no one.’

Servelan growls, considers executing him on the spot, then purrs sexily as she’s written by men.

‘Are you ready to hunt Blake?’

‘Course I am. We only have twenty minutes left of this episode. Time is of the essence.’ Travis pauses, adds a sneer. ‘Bitch.’

‘No more bitches, Commander…’

Travis nods, adjusting. ‘Tell me, Sir…where is Blake now and how much like Zapata is he?’


‘Mexican revolutionary. I read in the script notes that Zapata is the basis for Blake’s character.’

‘I never read that.’

‘You don’t need to know.’

‘I’m the boss of this whole operation.’

‘You sit on a chair, scheme and when you’re bored enough horse ride young men on that couch.’

‘Half true.’

‘I’m a field agent. I have to know what and who I’m dealing with, his character, his history, his role models, or I will end up dead.’

‘As will I if you fail…’

Travis reviews what he just said along with Servelan’s line and nods. ‘True. I’ll pass you my script notes later. Now, where’s Blake?’

‘Well, he’s just blown up a base in Surrey…on planet Surrey…planet something…so you can go there first.’

‘How many light years?’

‘Not far, just down the road.’

‘I’ll get right on it.’



Just down the road is about right as Travis examines the wreckage of the control room, which appears to be mostly in one piece except for the table/control panel, which an extra has gone over with a spanner.

The guy who might try something later comes in and does a half-assed salute.

‘Sir, they blew this place up, but took a really long time to do it.’

‘What were they doing in here all that time?’

‘Sliding across the floor?’


‘I’ve seen clips on YouTube, Sir, of Blake and Avon running down a set and then sliding to a stop with a little flourish. It actually looks quite impressive…’

‘No…something else…they were doing something else…’


‘Didn’t you see anything?’

‘We don’t really know, Sir, we were in the store room with the girl. She had a bazooka, but I finally overpowered her and then the captain of the guards backhanded her and told me to watch her, but he wouldn’t let me do the things soldiers usually do to POWs, which was weird as he’s pretty fascist in every other way, just not sex-related stuff, actually, Sir, I suspect he may be a Mormon.’



‘Mormons are pervs too. Remember the Mitt Romney Mark 7 scandal? After he died, they found the Croatian gymnastics team tied up in his living room.’

‘I vaguely remember…’

‘And Rene Russo in his basement.’

‘Ah, that. I remember now.’

‘Good. Now stop messing around and tell me what really happened in here.’

‘Well, if you’re pushing me for an answer…they probably nicked the transponder communicating thingy. It’s pretty vital to our whole empire.’

‘Where was it?’

‘In that rectangular space there, in the table.’

‘That means he’s listening in to everything we say.’


Travis flinches at the ‘o’ and strokes his chin. ‘Okay, you stay here and look busy. Go and relive your wrestling encounter with the girl in the store room…’

Another guard bursts in, sweating.


‘Sir, the girl is still alive.’


‘A shelf shielded her from the explosion.’

‘Fucking ridiculous, Terry…’ says Travis, looking off-camera.


Travis composes himself. ‘Sorry about that. Lack of sleep. Okay. Pick up the girl, no groping, and tie her up in a room that isn’t this one. Preferably one with corridors outside it, see if we can make this look like an actual, sizable base. Go.’

The guard runs off.

‘Can I go and help him, Sir?’

‘No. I said I wanted you to look busy. Wait. I’ve changed my mind. You’re quite smug. Go and disappear for the rest of the episode. Never act again.’

‘But Sir…’

‘Is that fascist enough for you?’



Servelan sits on the couch, stroking the arms of a young officer who looks very much like the old one.

‘…and then I poisoned the whole team and adopted the mascot. He was young and supple. Shame about the brain.’

‘Not very bright?’

Servelan shook her head. ‘No, no. Big Clement Atlee fan. Eugene Debs. Shirley Chisolm. Etc etc.’

‘I despise Clement Atlee.’

‘Of course you do.’

‘My mum died because of him.’


‘Got hit by a bus with an NHS ad on it.’

‘He was truly a monster.’

Servelan moves in for a kiss, but then the door hisses open and…no one comes in. Servelan and the officer poke their hands round the arm of the couch and check, but there’s really no one there.

‘Now, where were we…’

‘My mum…’

‘Oh yes…’

Servelan peels off the man’s uniform and sticks his hand between her legs. Then his face. She scratches his neck hard until he gets better at his job, then pushes him away, grabs him and pulls him back onto her. He tries to take off her gown, but she slaps him away.

‘You don’t have clearance to see me naked…’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Just keep pumping.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘And vary speed a little…’

‘Yes, Sir.’

After it’s done, the officer lies back and stares at the ceiling. Servelan does the same for two seconds then gets bored and stands up.

‘You have two seconds to get out or I’ll have you shot.’



The officer stands up fast, grabs his uniform and runs out of the office, almost bumping into Travis hiding behind a plant on the way.


‘Hello, Sir.’

‘How long have you been there?’

‘A few seconds.’


‘Half an hour.’

‘That’s why the director didn’t say cut.’

‘I’m as surprised as you are.’

‘Ah well, it’s in character. And they’ll never show it anyway.’ Servelan moves round to her desk and sits down. ‘Have you found Blake yet?’

‘No, but I have a way to catch him.’

‘Newspaper ad?’

‘He took the device we use to do all our communications.’

‘What? That means he can listen to everything we say.’


Servelan strokes her cheek with a long nail. ‘Yes…I sense what your plan is, but I have to pretend I’m thick to make you look smart so, shit, we better change the communication codes immediately.’

‘Aha! That’s what you shouldn’t do. Think about it. We can set a trap. Tell him we have his crew member tied up at the base. Then he’ll come back and try to rescue her, and at that point I can surprise him and fuck things up somehow.’

‘Genius,’ says Servelan through gritted teeth.

‘Yes, it is rather.’

‘I hope such genius can be sustained for the entire episode.’

‘Course it can. I’m Travis, a man so cunning I know how to…where to…I know about how to…when to massacre those-…’

‘Good luck, Commander.’

Travis straightens up. ‘I’m gonna need lots of ships though.’

‘What for?’

‘I’m not sure.’ Travis thinks for a moment. ‘There’s a chance that’s dialogue left over from our previous scene.’

‘They can cut and paste later.’

Travis nods and leaves.

Servelan pushes a button and smirks.

‘Yes, Sir?’

‘Send me the new officer, the one who looks like Graham Gooch.’

‘He’s sleeping, Sir.’

‘Wake him up.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Oil him up too.’

‘Right away, Sir.’



Blake stares at the open pages of his Portuguese textbook like a man who doesn’t understand a word of Portuguese staring at a Portuguese textbook, waiting for Zen to do something.


‘Yes, Travis has finally caught up with us. He’s holding Callie at the base we half blew up. She’s still alive, but is now a foot shorter.’

‘You mean, her head…’

‘Joke. She’s okay. They’ve tied her to a slightly uncomfortable chair, but no serious injuries.’

‘Great, let’s go and rescue her.’

‘You idiot, it’s a trap,’ says Avon.

‘Not if we get there first.’

‘You underestimate the speed of Travis. He is capable of traversing light years in one scene.’

‘Then so are we.’

Blake and Avon glare at each other, while everyone else chills on the couch. Jenna edges to the left a bit to make sure she’s not out of shot, but doesn’t say anything, not even ‘I’m with you, Blake.’ It doesn’t matter, she thinks, the rest of the season will be all mine.



Travis breathes on Callie and tells her not to worry, he won’t hurt her unless the series switches to BBC2.

‘Blake won’t come.’

‘But he will…’


‘I know him well. He’s a loyal guy. And if I’m not mistaken, you are the one who usually warms up the sauna, so…’

‘Wow, you’re psychic…’

‘I hide behind plants sometimes.’


‘I did it earlier, with Servelan. You haven’t met her yet, but she’s the main villain of the series. I’m her muscle. Yeah, she fucked a guy on the couch and I saw everything.’

‘Is this still sci-fi?’

‘Have you never seen Barbarella?’

‘I don’t remember…’

‘Fine. They’ll cut the scene anyway. Jacqueline will insist on it. Back to us. Do you know what I’m gonna do to Blake when I catch him?’

‘Kill him.’


Callie shrugs and pretends to sleep. Travis reviews his answer and growls, clearly not happy with himself. He rubs his giant ring and tries an evil smile. It works cos he’s British.

He leaves the room, waits outside for a minute then comes back in and gasps when he sees Blake untying Callie.

‘You pimp!’

Blake and Travis fight. Blake wins and points a gun at him.

‘Kill me Blake, I’m bored already.’

‘No…killing’s too easy for you.’ Blake moves forward, takes out a tattered copy of ‘Old Man and the Sea’ and starts reading.

Travis moans and aims his ring at Blake’s perm.

‘Zapata, bitch!’

He fires and misses cos Callie pushes Blake out of the way. The two of them tie Travis to the chair and tell him he doesn’t deserve free reading sessions, then beam out of there.

Travis slumps in the chair and growls.



Blake sits on the couch with his arms around Callie and Jenna, telling them it’s great to be together again and next time all females will stay locked in their rooms on the ship while the men go off to have adventures.

‘But Blake…’

‘That’s me.’

‘You said we would follow mine and Callie’s plan for the rest of the season.’

‘Does your plan involve saunas and condom-less sex?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Man on man violence?’

‘Not really.’

‘Incompetent and ill-researched attacks on Federation bases?’


Blake strokes his chin, intrigued.

‘How about we go far away and steal something valuable?’ offers Avon.

‘No,’ replied Blake firmly, ‘the Federation must be taken down, and I’m the only one to do it.’

Jenna and Callie slip out of Blake’s grasp and move over towards Gan, Vila and Avon.

Blake watches them go, sips more of his cocktail and mutters over and over ‘Zapata, bitch’ in different tones.

‘Report,’ says Zen.

‘What is it now?’ asks Blake, annoyed.

‘As requested, I have found an archived copy of ‘School of the Holy Beast’ in one of the Federation Colonies’ Database. Shall I transfer it to your quarters.’

Blake looks at the others and says ‘Religious satire.’

‘Is that an affirmative?’

‘Yes, Zen. Transfer and I’ll watch it when I have time.’

Blake sits back on the couch, sips his cocktail, looks at his thighs and waits about four minutes before asking Zen what time it is.

‘4 in the afternoon.’

‘Right. Time for a nap.’ Blake stands up. ‘Jenna, you take command.’

‘We’re not doing anything.’

‘Lucky you. See you guys in 94 minutes.’

Blake skips off as Avon finishes searching for ‘School of the Holy Beast’ on a nearby screen. He clicks on images and tuts. The others come over and look at the same thing, a naked Japanese woman wrapped in what looks like barbed wire, surrounded by nuns.

‘Satire…’ mutters Vila.

‘…with tits,’ adds Jenna.

Avon claps his hands, startling Gan who’s still deep in the nude shots. ‘Anarchy anyone?’



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