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Current Poll

Who is your Favourite Guest Rebel?

Avalon - (Project Avalon)
Avalon - (Project Avalon)
23% [35 Votes]

Selma - (Horizon)
Selma - (Horizon)
4% [6 Votes]

Tyce - (Bounty)
Tyce - (Bounty)
14% [22 Votes]

Norm One - (Redemption)
Norm One - (Redemption)
1% [2 Votes]

Bek - (Shadow)
Bek - (Shadow)
7% [10 Votes]

Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
Kasabi - (Pressure Point)
14% [22 Votes]

Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
Hal Mellanby - (Aftermath)
18% [27 Votes]

Hunda - (Traitor)
Hunda - (Traitor)
5% [7 Votes]

Deva - (Blake)
Deva - (Blake)
9% [13 Votes]

5% [8 Votes]

Votes: 152
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Started: 09 July 2016

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Jul 2019 Fanfic Challenge
Joe Dredd
Two clicks will enlarge the image.

Joe, that is genius! I love it Grin
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
A statement of fact cannot be insolent
Love the Blake's 7 Monopoly!
Zil: Oneness must resist the Host.
M1795537 OC Virn
Wow! Thank you so much Joe - now I know what to do with the Make-your-own Monopoly we were given at Christmas. I sense a great evening of B7, food, colouring-in, glue and mass discussion/arguments coming up here on Virn.
"Never assume anything, Section Leader."
Nice one Virn, back to two colluding thieves!

Joe - that's just the best use of the internet, ever! :-)
"Imagine you're standing on the edge of a cliff."
"As long as you're not standing behind me."
Great stories, Hugbot and M1795537 OC Virn.
Joe, if I had anyone to play Monopoly with, that set would be top of my list!

Now; can I join in? I may have gone a few words over, but that’s what happens when you attempt to combine both prompts!


“I don’t like it.” Vila’s protest as he joined Blake and Avon in the teleport bay was automatic; they ignored him. He twiddled nervously with the temperature dial on his thermal suit. “What if it’s not right?”

“We have already established that if anything was faulty the last time you had that on, it was not the suit,” remarked Avon. Vila stopped fidgeting, looking awkward.

“Put us down, Jenna,” instructed Blake, before any more could be said. An instant later, they were standing in the blizzard sweeping the surface of Castaron.

“Now what?” Avon was half-shouting to make himself heard over the wind; Blake answered similarly, digging his heels into the snow to stay upright.

“The signal was from somewhere over there.” He pointed.

“We couldn’t have got a bit closer?” Vila looked unhappily at the snowy expanse before them.

“Not unless you want to risk walking straight into a trap.”

There was no answer. They needed all their breath to reach the signal relay; putting one foot in front of the other was hard enough. Every so often the wind picked up enough to make walking impossible; the rest of the time it was merely an unequal fight. Reaching the squat concrete relay station, they collapsed against the wall, grateful for the little shelter it offered.

“You really think there’s someone in there?” Avon sounded sceptical.

“That’s what we came to find out.” Blake edged towards the door; the others followed. “We need to get inside.”

Vila was beyond speech, but he took his cue. The door opened; they entered, blinking as they adjusted to darkness after the blinding snow. Inside was as cold as outside, for all they had left the weather behind.

“Face it, Blake; there’s nobody here.”

“We’ve come this far...” Blake still paused to check their communications. “Jenna, can you hear me?”

“Just,” came the reply.

“We’re inside now. Be ready to get us out if there’s trouble.”

“We will.”


On board the Liberator, Jenna and Cally exchanged glances.

“What do you think?”

“It seems strange,” said Cally. “That message... that someone is there, with something important to the Federation, and needing help...”

“It’s too convenient. Even if it were true, why should it have anything to do with Central Control?”

“Castaron was known as a hiding place for many valuable things, in the past...”

Jenna looked disbelieving. “I know the old legends. But Central Control? Surely not.”

Cally shrugged. “Perhaps not. But there is something.”


There was.

“An automatic transmission,” said Avon. Blake nodded. They regarded the fading, ancient transmitter, neither mentioning the ragged skeletons who still sat around it. Vila hovered by the door, trying not to look; his relief when a glint in the corner distracted him was obvious.

“Look!” He drew out an old, but clearly valuable necklace from a dark pile.

“The Castaron treasure,” remarked Avon.

“That old story!” Blake exclaimed. “Worth a fortune, but cursed for anyone who tried to take it.”

“Well, the story seems to have come true for them.” Avon gestured to the table; Vila looked faintly sick. He dropped the necklace hurriedly, jumping as the disturbance shifted one of the skeletons. The atmosphere seemed to drop several degrees.

Blake waited no longer. “Jenna, bring us up.”

Rarely had the teleport section seemed so welcoming.

“Anything?” asked Cally.

“No,” replied Avon, walking towards the flight deck.

“We keep looking.” Blake followed. Cally and Jenna looked at Vila; he shivered.

“Just some old jewellery.”
Great story, Stormypetrel - very much in character, very B7! Location and dialogue spot on Smile
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
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A statement of fact cannot be insolent
Really good stories this month. Well done you guys and gals. I have enjoyed reading them all.
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
M1795537 OC Virn
Extreme Drizzle

The weather was mild, but damp. Low cloud filled the valley. The air hardly moved. Clouds of biting gnats rose from the ground. Three people huddled in the shelter to escape them.
“How long will it stay like this?” one of the visitors asked, glancing at the threatening grey blanket above.
“Hard to say,“ his host answered, “Once it’s set in.”
“But we need dry weather, Tom,“ said the other visitor, “Otherwise it won’t work.”
“Can’t tell,“ Tom replied, “Best get some sleep.”
They tried, but space was limited: only Tom seemed unfazed.
“Dayna,“ whispered Tarrant, while Tom snored gently, “I can’t take much more of this.”
Morning brought no relief. To avoid the continuous drizzle, the gnats took up residence inside the shelter. Tom left early, promising to return with food. The gnats now had fewer victims. Tarrant couldn’t decide which was worse – getting wet outside or being eaten alive inside. Dayna tried to ignore him. The drizzle continued.

That day, and another night, passed.
“Is this really worth it?” hissed Tarrant, “Avon made it sound like a holiday. Why not just leave?”
“We promised,” she fired back, “Go to sleep.”

By the end of the fourth day, tired, wet and itching, they had stopped talking. Finally Tarrant lost it.
“When?” he cried, “When will it stop?”
Tom took offence.
“Don’t like it? Leave,“ he responded grimly.
“It is what it is, Tarrant, “Dayna pulled herself together, “It can’t go on forever.“
“Known it stay like this a fortnight, “Tom added unhelpfully, with a private grin. Tarrant groaned, and went outside.

On the sixth day the sky finally cleared.
"Dayna!” Tarrant shouted, waking and scrambling out of the shelter, “Quick – the rain’s stopped.”
Tom was waiting.
“Better mornin’, “ he commented, offering some fruit, “Not long before you can start.”
“We’re starting now!” Tarrant insisted.
“Ground’s wet,” Tom objected.
It was afternoon by the time the ground dried. Dayna dragged out the bag they’d tried to keep dry.
“Where, Tom?” she asked, opening it.
“Oh, not here,“ he replied, infuriatingly, “Keep it closed.”
“But I’ve – “ Dayna bit her lip. After all, this whole thing was their fault. She held the bag shut and followed him. A fortnight ago, Scorpio had briefly landed to make repairs: the site was now surrounded by a circle of dead vegetation, including Tom's crops.
“Nasty,” commented Tom. Dayna blushed, and Tarrant managed a shrug.
“Yes,” he replied, we certainly made a mess,” he took a handful of white powder from the bag, “Hope there’s enough.”
The mites that had been accidentally carried in Scorpio’s landing gear had reproduced quickly in the warm, moist atmosphere of the valley. Thankfully, the diatomaceous earth that Avon recommended did the trick. Soon the battle of the mites was over.
“What a place!” Tarrant sighed, when they’d teleported back to the ship, “How do they survive down there?”
“Probably build up an immunity,” the girl replied,“Have a break, he told us. Mountains, forests, lakes, wildlife. Tarrant, do you think Avon knew?”
“Oh, yes, he knew, “ agreed Tarrant.
"Never assume anything, Section Leader."
Two more corking entries this month!
"Imagine you're standing on the edge of a cliff."
"As long as you're not standing behind me."
Great story, M...Virn! Unrelenting drizzle can be as debilitating as any extremes of heat or cold - especially with added bitey things. Reminded me a bit of the Ray Bradbury short story The Long Rain.

Good to know they carry a supply of diatomaceous earth on board Liberator - very useful stuff, we've employed it to great effect against ants and ground-dwelling wasp nests. Angry
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
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A statement of fact cannot be insolent
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