100 Days After
Beneath the once powder blue skyline now tinged a ghastly ochre from the remnants of starship reactors four former 'revolutionaries' sat. One a Federation turncoat, one an outer-world pilot, the third a medic and the fourth represented the last remnant of 'Blake's people'. Amongst the lush green plants that grew from the freed planet of Earth, the signposts of an apocalyptic scale battle jutted out; each one a grave marker for the fallen tyranny of the Federation. Anachronistic gardens of native grasses, trees, shrubbery and technology watered by freedom, liberty and human blood. Every-so-often large pieces of space debris arched through the atmosphere like artificial meteorites. Man-made shooting stars.
Kira, an Alpha grade ex-Federation strategist of average height and non-descript build who, when the chips were down, was designed specifically not to stand out nonchalantly pawed through a patch of synthetic irons and other assorted metals in a way a child in a sandpit would. An aerial strike had turned every structure in a five mile radius into the consistency of moon dust. Not entirely content with his latest venture he voiced aloud a rhetoric to the aging rebel beside him. "Do you remember what it was like to be… depressed? No, that's not the right word. Drugged? Artificially compliant? You know, when we were stuck in those… things… over there?" As he spoke he guested to the crumbling bio-domes and sifted charred remnants through his scarred and mottled fingers. A constant reminder to never again trust timers.
Kerr Avon, the last known rebel to fight alongside the legendary Blake, feigned interest. "What? Oh, you mean the domes we blew up." Once more he bent his head and his tools to the mangled mess that was once the (self-proclaimed) most advanced super computer ever designed and/or built by human kind. The bad-tempered Orac now sat silent in a tangle of melted and sheered wires and other assorted electrical components. For Avon had, in his own mind, never been "artificially compliant" as is associate had put it. Cocooned within his leather armour he had earned a reputation as ruthless and forbidding as the former Supreme Commander. Do not be deceived; beneath that cold exterior beats a heart of pure stone. It was a clever and necessary defence. Caring was not an option. Nether-the-less, it hurt. Anna, Blake, Jenna, Cally, Dayna, Soolin, Tarrant, Vila… Hell, even Servalan, Gan and Orac. The Liberator. Scorpio. Some things, whilst best forgotten, cannot ever be.
Kira watched with pangs of jealousy as young children played in the garden for the first time.
"Hard to imagine how long ago it was when we were right little terrors. Boy did we have to grow up fast."
"Speak for yourself. I bet there's a few of us whose brains are becoming a bit age-addled." Iber, the daughter of Ro, leader of Horizon and a decent pilot in her own right stuck out her bottom lip and smirked across at her companions.
Avon shot her back a look of pure disgust. Sure his hair may have been greying at the temples but when the chips were down, Avon was a born survivor. Blake may have been right, being a civilised man was not a survival characteristic, but being adaptable sure as hell was.
"Some of us still haven't grown out of it." Dravis, the medic, playfully pulled at Inat's plaits. "Show me one law we haven't yet broken."
"Bigotry?" Kira ventured.
Sure, Inat was no Jenna. Not even Tarrant. Kira was no Blake and Dravis was no Vila but they got by.
It seemed the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.