Work Text:
After the events on Albian Blake was intrigued by Anna Grant.
He had liked Del Grant, who had accepted the option of a future trip on the Liberator – which would probably remain theoretical. Grant had explained just enough about his shared past with Avon to clarify Avon's aloofness somewhat. Blake regretted not knowing Avon then, though he sensed the other man had always had a strong desire for privacy.
#
Blake knew he was acting out of curiosity which he might well regret when he took Orac to his room. He locked his door--if he was going to do something which he knew to be slightly unethical he didn't want anyone barging in. He would ask Avon whether he would care to discuss the matter afterwards.
Blake switched Orac on.
'I know I am interrupting your investigations...' Which Orac might be persuaded to reveal one day.
'Then why do so?' Blake smiled at the response.
'Because I want you to find some information that I could not otherwise.' Orac usually responded better when the request was phrased in such a manner. Or if its curiosity was appealed to directly.
'Very well then. What is it?'
'Del Grant's sister, Anna Grant. What can you find out about her?'
'Be more specific.'
'Her connection with Kerr Avon.'
'A certain amount of the information is classified.' It was rare for Orac to volunteer any information, and the remark was strange.
'Why? And how come you know that already?'
'It is in my interest to know what those I work with are likely to be interested in, which involves knowing something of their past history.' Would Blake ever ask Orac to reveal something of his own obliterated past? Could he do it?
'But you would only reveal such information if specifically asked?'
'Are you still interested in Anna Grant?' Blake had the distinct impression that Orac was fobbing him off.
'Yes.' A picture of an attractive young woman appeared on the viewscreen. Blake approved of Avon's taste. There were a few biographical details, nothing to explain Orac's behaviour.
'Is that all there is? What about her is classified?'
'It is not advisable that you proceed further.' There was a warning note in Orac's voice, which Blake chose to ignore.
'Orac: give me the information.'
'If you insist.'
The viewscreen started displaying a mass of information. Blake started feeling sick as he read it. Damn his curiosity!
Del Grant had said his sister had had connections with Security--not that that was unusual. It was obvious though that neither he nor Avon had known precisely what she did, or they would have behaved differently. It was not even clear when, or if, she had died.
Grant could be ignored for the present, but how could Blake face Avon now, knowing what he did? It was not information that could be kept hidden, even if he could maintain a mask as well as the other man. Grant had said -to Blake's unconcealed surprise - that Avon had loved Anna deeply. What would Avon make of the double betrayal - Anna's and Blake's? Not that Blake would blame him for what would happen should he learn of it.
'What shall I do Orac?' He felt nauseous, realised he was weeping. Poor, poor Avon. 'I understand you were trying to protect... us Orac.'
'What do you wish to do?' Orac was just a machine, as Avon regularly said, but it seemed to convey compassion. 'The evidence shows that neither Kerr Avon nor Del Grant know about this.'
'Can you ensure that they do not find it through the ordinary methods of computer searches?' Blake doubted that Avon would ever wish to do so. 'I think it would not be in their best interests to find out.'
'They might find it through some other method.' Such as himself.
'That as may be. Do what you can to delay it.' Avon - and Grant, Blake decided - deserved it. 'Sometimes it is best not to know everything.'
'That is a fascinating idea. It is also interesting how members of sentient species can make logically correct deductions on far less information than a computer would require...' One of Orac’s tangents.
'Please conduct that line of research at some other, more convenient, time. Assume that both aspects are part of the survival instinct.' Blake felt physically sick.
'A valid starting point. I will consider the matter latter. As to the matter at hand...' Orac's next remark sounded almost hesitant. 'There is one route you might consider.'
'What?' Blake would consider almost anything.
'I could mindblock it.'
Would he dare it? Which was worse, trying to live with Avon with an undercurrent of betrayal which the other man would surely pick up, or to have another part of his memories excluded from his conscious mind? What would he do for friendship's sake? Blake made his decision, knew it was the right one.
'Orac, I want to forget this.' It was worth it. 'Never tell Avon that I looked - unless you think it best to do so, and make it clear I was doing it for what I thought was good reason. And while I still remember -thank you for letting me know, and then enabling me to forget. I made the decision freely, Orac, as some things are more important than the possession of information. I am doing it for friendship’s sake.'
'Is possession of information the same as knowledge?'
'You asked the question--so you know it is not. Information and the uses made of it are two different things.'
'True. Look into my interior.' Orac's lights began to pulse in a pattern Blake could not quite grasp. Perhaps if he concentrated he might see it...
#
Blake awoke with a start. The last thing he remembered was seeing the picture of Anna Grant. His brain tickled in the way that usually heralded some memories breaking through, but he could recall nothing unfamiliar.
Orac flashed gently to itself.
'Sorry Orac, must have dozed off. Can you tell me anything more about Anna Grant?'
'Not at present. There is nothing more that I can tell you. I have some very interesting things to consider.'
Blake felt he was missing something significant. It would come back to him. Anna Grant had died at the hands of the Federation, and perhaps that was why Avon gave his services, if not his support, to the rebellion.
He would go and ask Avon if he wished to say anything about Anna Grant. Avon, pensive, refused to do so, unsurprisingly. An almost unreadable expression flickered across Avon's face before he stalked from the room.
Blake shook his head and smiled. He had not expected Avon to answer the question, but he was pleased it had been asked. Sometimes he was more open than he acknowledged.