Work Text:
The air outside was sharp, cold enough that it almost hurt when Avon sucked it in through his teeth. There was a scent to it that was different from any other planet he'd been on - almost floral, but there were no plants to be seen among the rivers of lights, the distant flashes of vehicles passing far below. Perhaps it was some property of the atmosphere. The balcony railing under his hands was coated with a sheen of frost, and realising that his fingers were beginning to freeze, he raised his hands to his mouth and breathed on them to warm up. The walls of the building were sound-proofed, no doubt to keep the workers inside from being distracted by the noise of the traffic. From here, he could not hear any hint of what was going on behind the balcony door.
It was the kind of planet where a man could easily disappear - civilised, but not so central to the Federation that he would be likely to attract notice. Unfortunately, there was no convenient way down to the street below, and Blake was in the room behind him. Avon contemplated the sheer wall of the building with resignation.
"Somebody might have seen you out here."
He didn't turn, but continued to gaze out over the cityscape. "Seen what? A man innocently enjoying the evening air. I doubt they can tell we're wanted criminals from all the way down there."
"The archive is meant to be empty at this time of night."
"Meant to be empty. As we've already discovered, it isn't." It seemed to be a law of the universe that their plans never went off without at least one life-threatening hitch, although this was hardly surprising when they spent their time fighting a galaxy-wide regime with an army of seven.
"We're finished here."
"Then I suggest we contact the Liberator before we get caught in a Federation building."
"That shouldn't be a problem."
At that, Avon did turn. "You – killed them? Both of them?"
When Blake had insisted that Avon be the one to accompany him on their little fact-finding mission, he'd assumed that it was because he didn't trust him on the ship with the others so soon after his attempt to leave. Perhaps he had thought further than that. Avon couldn't imagine that the rest of the crew would have responded well to the events of the evening.
Blake didn't answer the question, but his expression told a story. "You know, Avon, I'm surprised. I didn't think you were the squeamish type."
"I'm not," he snapped, "but you seemed to be doing perfectly well without me."
They'd successfully teleported down to the room where the full information on the Lindor strategy was supposedly stored, only to find that the records they wanted weren't there after all. Things had gone from bad to worse when they were surprised by two researchers there long past the end of their work shift - for reasons Avon could only speculate on. Subduing a pair of Federation administrators had hardly been a task worthy of their rebel prowess, but where there were two people out of place there might be more.
Avon had advocated aborting the excursion immediately, but then Blake had the bright idea of asking their captives where the records on Lindor had been moved to. One of them had made the stupid mistake of saying that he wasn't going to give that information to a criminal, thus indicating that he knew the answer to the question.
"The important thing is that I got what we needed," Blake said.
"Which is all that matters?"
For the first hour, Blake had simply argued with the glorified file clerk. Avon was surprised the man hadn't given in out of sheer boredom with the speech about freedom and liberty. For the second hour, he had threatened. At the start of the third, he had made good on the threats. Avon had decamped to the balcony for some fresh air soon afterwards.
He had seen worse things. If he was surprised by Blake's actions, he was certainly not innocent enough to be disappointed by them. But the other researcher was a woman, light-haired, and when Blake had broken her colleague's finger she had screamed and begged. Avon had not listened for more than a minute before he had turned on his heel and gone out for some fresh air.
"I didn't think that you had any high morals to offend."
"I merely have a distaste for your hypocrisy. I find that I prefer your naïve idealism"
Blake laughed mirthlessly. "You think breaking a few fingers makes me as bad as the Federation? Have some sense of proportion."
"I merely think that you have demonstrated the weakness in your own principles."
"This information may save thousands of lives, build a better world."
"I see. Do you think it wise to build your better world through torturing civilians?"
"What I want is a world world where nobody ever has to do anything like that again," Blake said quietly. He stepped forward and put his hands on the railing, leaning out to look at the city below. "Long way down," he remarked.
"You must know that will never happen. Even if you tore down this regime, managed to build your own – any empire must be defended. What would you precious democracy do with its rebellious elements?"
"I happen to think there's a better way than the one the Federation has chosen."
"With you in charge?"
"With the people in charge."
Avon sighed. This conversation was pointless, as usual. "I take it back. I do not prefer you naïve idealism. What are you going to tell the others?"
"That we succeeded."
"And if I tell them more?"
"That would be entirely up to you." Avon frowned. He'd been telling the rest of the crew that Blake was a mad fool who was going to get them all killed for months, and they never listened. Adding that he was more ruthless than Avon had anticipated seemed unlikely to sway any opinions.
Blake straightened up and walked back to the balcony door. "You know, the records had only been moved three rooms over. Refiling. I thought they'd taken them off-world, to some other storage facility at least."
"You should have looked harder."
"Yes," Blake agreed. "I should. Come on, Avon, we need to go."
Avon didn't move towards the door. He could just as well be teleported back to the ship from here. "Are they likely to find the bodies soon?"
"They're likely to find the researchers in a few hours when the archive opens."
Avon started. "I thought -"
"You assumed that I'd killed them."
"They could have already reported our presence!"
"I gagged them and stuffed them in a cupboard. They won't be telling anyone we've been here for a while yet, and by then the Liberator should be well away." Blake was back to wearing that annoying look he got when he was certain of his moral high ground. Avon decided that he definitely did not prefer the idealism.
"Are you sure that it was a good idea to leave them alive and unattended?"
"I didn't think it necessary to kill two civilians for no good reason," Blake said.
"Your have strange ideas about what is and isn't necessary, Blake. That's going to get you into trouble."
The ghost of a smile flickered across the other man's lips. "I think we could safely say that it already has. Now, shall we get out of here?"
Avon let Blake go inside to pick up the data they needed and contact Jenna. He wondered what report the researchers would make of their encounter with the fearsome rebels, of how it would be used to fuel the propaganda against them. He wondered if he cared. One more Federation planet they'd made a mess on, and there would be another one next week, with a different scent in the air. Avon took one last long breath of as the city shimmered and faded into the oblivion of teleportation.