STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Blake's 7 and its characters
are the property of the estate of Terry Nation and the BBC. This
story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged
hands. No infringement of their copyright is intended. The character
of Rahabtoth was created for the Space City mailing list's anniversary
party by the listmom. This story first appeared on the electronic
mailing list, Space City. It was subsequently published in the
fanzine, Tales From Space City (1), which is no longer
in print. The story is the property of the author. Please do
not distribute or reprint this story in any medium without the
consent of the author.
NOTES: This story was written as part of the 1997
Labor Day anniversary party on the Space City mailing list. The
basic premise was as follows: An omnipotent alien from another
dimension (Rahabtoth) enters the Blake's 7 universe trying to
learn about love. To accomplish this, Rahabtoth enters the dreams
of the various characters and influences them to dream about love.
Rahabtoth drifted purposefully down the narrow gray corridor. In its perambulations through the subconscious thoughts of humans, it had learned all sorts of things. Mostly disgusting, true, but what could one expect from lower lifeforms? Unfortunately, the concept of love was just as bewildering as ever. It had decided that it needed a subject a bit more primal. Maybe then it would get to the root of the matter.
In some of its subjects' minds, it had picked up the idea that some humans were considered less civilized than others, and that one group in particular was considered especially loathsome. It was from this group that Rahabtoth had chosen its next subject; they seemed suitably primitive for its purposes.
Rahabtoth came to a closed door, passed through it to enter a claustrophobic chamber and hover over its sole occupant. Shifting its visual perceptions into the electromagnetic spectrum, it took a good look at the man lying on the narrow cot and considered what little it had inadvertently learned from other humans about this tribe.
The creature certainly looked human. Of course, given the narrow sensory spectrum utilized by humans, Rahabtoth had difficulty telling them apart. This one appeared to be a particularly unattractive (at least by human standards, the only guideline Rahabtoth had) male. His hair stood up from his head in vicious orange and green spikes. He was dressed in neon dyed, metal studded leather. Spiked leather bands adorned his neck and wrists, and colorful tattoos decorated his face. Various body parts were pierced with metal hoops and studs, some connected by thin lengths of chain.
All in all, he was a typical representative of his social group. A Space Rat.
Well, time to take the plunge. Rahabtoth altered the rest of its perceptions to fit the human sensory norm, then immediately shut off the sense of smell. Didn't these Space Rats ever bathe?
The Space Rat stirred as Rahabtoth dipped gentle tendrils into his unconscious mind. It immediately discerned that the creature's name was Bomber. His thought patterns were basically the same as those of other humans, although there was a thicker film of violence layered over them than Rahabtoth had observed in the others it had studied so far. Probing a little further, Rahabtoth was immediately impressed by the creature's lack of intellectual capability. To put it bluntly, this human was an idiot. The mixture of violence and arrant stupidity shocked Rahabtoth, and it began to wonder if this was really such a good idea. The things it did in the name of science! Well, it had been looking for a more primal specimen. This Bomber certainly qualified. Might as well get it over with...
Rahabtoth fused into Bomber's worldview and issued the now familiar command: "Show me Love."
Bomber shifted again and smiled, a rosy glow pervading his dreams as he complied: In his mind's eye, he was walking down a long, narrow corridor, on his way to see his truest love...
Rahabtoth settled into the background to observe the dream.
Bomber paused by the door, resting his hand against it. She was inside, waiting for him. He could feel the anticipation building in his belly. It was absurd, but he felt a little nervous. He tried unsuccessfully to banish the butterflies fluttering so haphazardly in his stomach. He knew she wouldn't object to him; she would love him as much as he loved her. She was just so perfect, and he would be the first to ride her.
He opened the door and stepped into the darkened room. He could barely discern her outline in the dim light. "Hey, baby, it's me," he called. His movements were sensed by the motion detectors, and light flooded the chamber, illuminating the object of Bomber's deepest desires.
She stood there proudly, waiting for him in solitary splendor. A Goldwing Jr. 2000 Space Chopper.
The Space Chopper was a thing of beauty, her elegant curves beckoning enticingly to him. Bomber had never seen anything which so excited him. The sight of her quite took his breath away. He walked over to the small ship, crooning endearments to her.
Circling the ship, Bomber admired her clean lines, her bullet-shaped body. He trailed his fingers along her brand-new weapons pylons...
For an instant, the absurdity of the notion struck him: weapons pylons on a space chopper? Choppers were too small to mount anything larger than a single attack laser. Bomber's reality wavered, threatening to dissolve. Observing this, Rahabtoth immediately asserted its control over the situation. "Come on, you moron," it thought irritably. "This is a dream, it can be anything you like." Rahabtoth carefully reset Bomber's dream. "Now get on with it, already..." Rahabtoth settled back again to watch.
Circling the ship, Bomber admired her clean lines, her bullet-shaped body. He trailed his fingers along her brand-new weapons pylons, caressing the ZR-116 laser-guided anti-radiation missiles possessively. Closing his eyes, he leaned over and rubbed his cheek against the Radar Warning Receivers and Jamming Pods and sighed ecstatically. He moved along, his hands gently stroked the side mounted TAU-13/T Equalizer laser guns, fingering the gun barrels thoughtfully. She was everything that Bomber had ever wanted. Absolutely everything.
He reached up and rubbed along the TORCH Navigation and Targeting Pods, panting at the thought of what this new equipment could do for him. The navigation pod would provide exquisitely sharp computer-enhanced imagery. He tried to control his ragged breathing as he gazed wonderingly at the delicately calibrated laser designator in the targeting pod. Oh yes, this system was marvelous. It would enable the laser-guided munitions to be delivered with pin-point accuracy. Absently, he wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. It was every Space Rat's fantasy.
He moved to the rear of the little ship and removed an access hatch. Always save the best for last, he mused, gazing worshipfully into the shadowed recess. And there lay the beating heart of his ship, his truest love: the Mark One photonic drive prototype. Plaxton had just installed it this morning, and he would be testing it soon. He extended a hand towards the transparent casing, not quite touching it. Oh, the speed that would soon be his! He would be faster than anything in the known galaxy. He carefully replaced the hatch and returned to the front of the chopper, smoothed over it with gentle fingertips.
Returning the front of the chopper, Bomber ran his hands along the smooth skin of her hull, pressing his lips to the cool metal. "Ooooh, baby," he crooned. "It's gonna be so good between us." He opened the hatch, climbed into the cockpit and seated himself. He strapped himself in, imagining how good it would feel to fly at Time Distort Twelve.
Suddenly he couldn't wait any longer. He had to fly her now. Fingers moved rapidly, punching buttons, activating the flight computer, initiating the launch sequence. Indicators lit up throughout the cockpit. Bomber reveled as the ship came to life around him, shuddering as the Rocket-Assisted Take-Off pack ignited. He activated another control and the circular exit portal in the hangar roof irised open, revealing the sunlit blueness without. Engines throbbing, the little spaceship rose slightly off the pad, then gently lifted upwards. Bomber leaned back against the flightseat as the ship's nose angled towards the sky.
"OK, baby. Now you're gonna show me what you can do." He wrapped his hand firmly around the control stick, stroking it, thumb idly circling the weapons release mechanisms at its head. The telltale lights flickered as the ship launched, shooting through the round aperture and up into the fluffy white clouds.
Bomber laughed aloud even as the mounting acceleration from the rocket thrust pressed him back into his seat. He deliberately kept the compensators off-line to enjoy the sensations. Three gees, four... The chopper shivered violently even as the blue of the sky darkened to indigo. And then they were truly free, surrounded by blackness and the stars: Bomber deactivated the RATO, delighting in the zero-gee environment. This was total, absolute freedom. Pure bliss.
Now it was time for some pure excitement. Bomber stuck a finger in his ear, idly reaming it as he considered what toy to play with next. As he wiped his hand on his shirt, his ears were assaulted by a shrill alarm: the proximity detector. He immediately turned towards the flashing instrument, hitting a few switches and running ID checks on the three bogies it displayed. The system identified the bogies as Z8B/S-45 Federation Pursuit Ships, running in standard formation. Apparently on a routine patrol, the pursuit ships appeared to be unaware of Bomber's presence.
"Well, well, well," he smiled to himself. "Federation gooks. Baby's gonna get a proper workout, after all." Bomber grinned ferally, displaying yellowed teeth -- if all the new enhancements worked as advertised, those gooks would never know what hit them.
He slaved the weapons systems the targeting computer, starting the system autotracking, programming a low alpha attack angle and a firing pattern to take out the pursuit ships sequentially. What could be better than explosions at TD-12? He rubbed his hands gleefully and cackled, "Three of them. Heh. Two more and I can change my name to Ace." He initiated the target run.
The space chopper thrust forward as the photonic drive activated. The autotracking locked onto the first of the pursuit ships. A stream of brilliant greenish light shot out from the laser as the small craft strafed the pursuit ships at TD-12. The three explosions were simultaneous in real-time, merging into one large, expanding ovoid of glowing gas.
At one spatial, Bomber's attack program deactivated the drive
and brought the inertial dampeners online, stopping the chopper
dead in space so Bomber could get a good look at his handiwork.
He leaned over and kissed the flight display, then lounged back
and lit up a cigar. "Oh baby, that was soooo good."
The dream ended abruptly.
"Barbarian," Rahabtoth sneered in disgust at Bomber's
sleeping form. "You dolts really don't care about anything
but speed and blowing stuff up, do you?" As it took its
leave of the Space Rat, Rahabtoth resolved to stick to creatures
higher on the evolutionary scale. Like possum. Opposable thumbs
were obviously wasted on this lot.
September, 1997