Work Text:
In the end, nobody heard it – Zen took the message with him to his grave, though Avon had spent almost an hour working on it and reworking it.
*
“I’m surprised – someone amongst you must have more sense than I realised. I won’t bother to guess who, because I don’t care. The fact is you’ve gone, and we won’t see each other again. So I may as well tell you what has been going on.
“For some time now, Zen has been receiving messages, claiming … to be from Blake. I know that will probably excite some of you. You may even want to turn back – do not. I don’t want Blake anywhere near the Liberator, and he hasn’t asked to come back. Wherever he is now he’s found something that could destroy the Federation financially, and set me up with several million credits. There’s a small matter of a computer key that needs to be unlocked, apparently. That’s why he’s willing to share it with me – I am not willing to share it with you.
"Zen will come back to this system if and only if I signal via the teleport bracelets. Otherwise – if I see any of you again, it will be too soon. Good luck – you’re going to need it. Zen – end recording.
“How was that?” he asked the computer, which had been acting as a recording device.
“Information,” Zen intoned, “the wealth currently aboard the Liberator amounts to more than twelve times the amount stated as your inducement in the message.”
“Erase it,” Avon said, without pausing – he’d made the same mistake before. He knew he was getting tired, but he couldn’t bear to rest. “All right, Zen, start again recording in five seconds.” He felt the countdown ticking away like the beat of his heart against his chest. He schooled his expression to stillness again.
“I’m surprised,” he told the monitor. “Someone amongst you must have more sense than I realised. I won’t bother to guess who, because I don’t care. The fact is you’ve gone, and we won’t see each other again …”