WHEN TRAVIS MET BLAKE

Written By Alan Stevens and Fiona Moore

This short play was commissioned by Massive Events, and was  performed before an audience at the "Aftermath" Blake's 7 convention by Gareth Thomas and Brian Croucher on 6 September 2008.

 

(SETTING: A ROOM. THERE ARE TWO CHAIRS AT THE CENTRE OF THE STAGE, ABOUT EIGHT FEET APART)

(BLAKE ENTERS ROOM FROM STAGE LEFT AND LOOKS AROUND. HE APPEARS TO BE CONFUSED. A FEW SECONDS LATER, TRAVIS ENTERS THE ROOM FROM STAGE RIGHT, STANDS SEVERAL FEET BEHIND BLAKE, AND RAISES HIS BLACK-GLOVED LEFT ARM, STIFFLY POINTING IT AT BLAKE)

TRAVIS: (SHOUTING) Blake!

(BLAKE TURNS AND TRAVIS’ARM JERKS, AS IF “FIRING”. NOTHING HAPPENS. TRAVIS WAVES HIS ARM ABOUT, STILL POINTING IT IN THE GENERAL DIRECTION OF BLAKE, AND HITS IT ONCE OR TWICE WITH HIS OTHER HAND)

TRAVIS: Damn!

(HE SITS DOWN ON ONE OF THE CHAIRS, LOOKING DEJECTED)

BLAKE: I know you! Don’t I?

TRAVIS: Yes, Blake, you know me.

BLAKE: Now… (BEAT) where have I seen you before?

TRAVIS: I am…

BLAKE: (INTERRUPTING) No, don’t tell me. (BEAT) The eyepatch seems familiar.

TRAVIS: Does it?

BLAKE: And the arm. (BEAT) You’re…. (BEAT) you’re…. (GETTING IT) Trevor! Am I right?

(BEAT)

TRAVIS: No, Blake, I’m not Trevor. Would you like another go?

(BEAT)

BLAKE:  You couldn’t give me a clue, could you?

TRAVIS: (HEAVY SIGH) Eyepatch (POINTS TO EYEPATCH)… artificial arm (POINTS TO ARM)… sworn enemy (POINTS TO SELF)… what else can I say?

BLAKE: All right. (BEAT) I’ve almost got it, give me a minute… (LOOKS THOUGHTFUL) no, lost it again…

TRAVIS: (SHOUTING) Travis!

BLAKE: (HAPPILY) Yes, Travis! That’s it! (BEAT, REALISING) Travis. And we don’t get on, do we?

TRAVIS: You could say that.

BLAKE: So what happened? What is it between us?

TRAVIS: (WARMING TO HIS THEME) Well, for a start, Blake, you seriously injured me…

BLAKE: Hence the… (INDICATING EYE) um, and the… (INDICATING LEFT ARM) um?

TRAVIS: Yes, it’s coming back now, isn’t it?

BLAKE: Sort of.

(BLAKE WANDERS OFF A FEW STEPS)

BLAKE: (REMEMBERING SUDDENLY) The Freedom Party. Yes? There was a meeting… (BEAT) and you turned up… (BEAT) and you tried to arrest me!

TRAVIS: And…?

BLAKE: And…(BEAT)  I…. (REMEMBERING) picked a gun up and shot you with it.

TRAVIS: Yeah. You did. (BEAT) How does that make you feel?

BLAKE: Well, you were… (BEAT) the enemy, and… (CHANGING TACK) look, if it’s any consolation, Travis, I thought I'd killed you. It wasn’t as if I wanted you to suffer or anything.

TRAVIS: That’s very considerate of you, Blake. I’m glad to see that my suffering was of some small concern to you.

(BEAT)

BLAKE: Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But you’d have done the same to me.

TRAVIS: I was trying to arrest you.

BLAKE: But you’re a soldier. You expect to be shot at sometimes. You’re paid to risk your life. In this case, you got injured. But, so what? (GESTURING VAGUELY) Look at you. You’re still wearing a Federation uniform. Looks good on you.

TRAVIS: So you don’t remember what happened next, then?

BLAKE: It all seems a bit cloudy for some reason.

TRAVIS:  All right. The Liberator? Star One?

BLAKE: Ah! Yes. Star One. Hm. (BEAT) I shot you again, didn’t I?

TRAVIS: You shot me again. (LOUDER) In. The. Back. Blake.

BLAKE: But I didn’t kill you.

TRAVIS: You shot me in the back. What kind of hero are you supposed to be?

BLAKE: Look, Travis—

TRAVIS: (INTERRUPTING) You’re a back-shooter, Blake.

BLAKE: But hang on, wait a minute. It’s coming back to me now. You had sold out the human race! You were deactivating the antimatter minefield. You were letting in a huge alien fleet to eradicate humanity.

TRAVIS: So?

BLAKE: What do you mean, “So”? (BEAT) Actually, you shot me first.

TRAVIS: No, you shot me first, Blake.

BLAKE: No, on Star One. You shot me first.

TRAVIS: Of course I shot you. You were pretending to be me.

BLAKE: (BEAT, UNBELIEVING) what?!

TRAVIS: (IRRITATED) Just forget it. I’m not interested in carrying on this conversation.

BLAKE: (STILL FIGURING IT OUT) You shot me because you thought I was you?

TRAVIS: No, that isn’t what I meant.

BLAKE: Sounds like some kind of death wish.

TRAVIS: That’s the problem with you, Blake, you’re a bloody politician. You twist everything around to suit yourself. First you go swanning around the galaxy in the Liberator telling everyone how you’re going to destroy the Federation, but when I actually come close to doing exactly that, you suddenly turn up and shoot me in the back.

BLAKE: You were going to kill everyone. You were going to wipe out the human race!

TRAVIS: And…?

BLAKE: What do you mean “and”?

TRAVIS: You just don’t get it, do you? I was a boy soldier. I’d been in the service all my life. And they betrayed me. They sold me out. You can’t reform hypocrites and traitors… you’ve got to… you’ve got to…

BLAKE: Kill them all? Kill everyone?

TRAVIS: All right. What did you do, Blake,  with your folk-hero status and your band of jolly followers? And who were they? You had a psychopath, you had a kleptomaniac, you had a smuggler, there was that terrorist and then Gan, Olag Gan the bloody Cat Strangler.

BLAKE: They were good people. Well, perhaps Gan was a bit dodgy, but, you know, I would trust them all with my life. And we were fighting for justice.

TRAVIS: Did you ever get any? And justice for whom? You and your band of intergalactic yobbos killed thousands of people. Not just soldiers, but civilians as well. Anyone in the way, they got killed.

BLAKE: We only attacked military installations.

TRAVIS: Star One wasn’t—

BLAKE (INTERRUPTING AND RAISING A FINGER) Or installations of strategic importance.

TRAVIS: That covers a lot of sins, doesn’t it?

BLAKE: You can’t lecture me, Travis, you tried to destroy the whole human race. And yourself.

TRAVIS: Yes, I did, didn’t I? And now I’m here. Why don’t you think about that for a minute.

BLAKE: (CONFUSED AGAIN) There’s a lot of things I’d like to think about, if only my head would clear… (BEAT) Hang on a second. You were killed, weren’t you?

TRAVIS: Was I? Where? When?

BLAKE: On Star One. I shot you... er, in the back, and then Avon shot you—

TRAVIS: (INTERRUPTING) –yeah, in the front—

BLAKE: So, what? You’re saying that Avon was an honourable man now.

TRAVIS: At least he wasn’t a back-shooter.

BLAKE: Actually…

TRAVIS: (INTERRUPTING) … he was. But he didn’t shoot me in the back.

BLAKE: And that makes a difference?

TRAVIS: To me? Yes, it does.

BLAKE: All right. You were shot twice, but that didn't kill you.

TRAVIS: What do you mean by that?

BLAKE: Well, we  knew you were still alive afterward because we kind of… (BEAT)  heard… (THINKS BETTER OF IT) doesn’t matter.

TRAVIS: No, what? What did you “kind of hear”?

BLAKE: Well, all right: you screaming, as you fell into the nuclear reactor.

TRAVIS: And that’s supposed to make me feel better, is it?

BLAKE: Yes. No. I don’t know. Look, I have no idea why we’re having this conversation.

TRAVIS: I thought you were trying to recover your memory.

(BEAT)

BLAKE: Travis... You died on Star One.

TRAVIS: But I’m here.

BLAKE: You were shot twice, you fell thousands of feet into the core of a nuclear reactor. And then, a little bit later, the entire planet was blown up.  (INCREDULOUS) How did you survive that?

TRAVIS: (DISMISSIVE) Details.

BLAKE: That’s not an answer.

TRAVIS: (MEASURED) I’d be less concerned with why I’m here, than with why you’re here, Blake.

BLAKE: (REACHING) Well, that’s obvious… (BEAT)  you’ve kidnapped me… (BEAT) and injected me with some mind-altering substance… (BEAT) and now you’re trying to play some psychological game with me so you can… (BEAT) I don’t know, take over the Liberator, or something?

TRAVIS: Blake, (LOUDLY AND CLEARLY) I’m dead.

(BEAT)

BLAKE:  (PUZZLED) Yes, you are, aren’t you? So, the question is…

TRAVIS: (INTERRUPTING, LOUDLY) So the question is, how the bloody hell could I have done all of that while… (EMPHASISING THE WORD) dead?

(BEAT)

BLAKE: You’re a clone.

TRAVIS: No, Blake, I’m not a clone.

BLAKE: Well, it’s possible. There was a clone made of me, once.

TRAVIS: Two, actually.

BLAKE: What happened to the other one?

TRAVIS: I blew its head off.

(BEAT. AWKWARD PAUSE)

BLAKE: But still, that just proves my point.

TRAVIS: (SIGHS) Why would I have a clone made of myself that also had an eyepatch and an artificial arm?

BLAKE: Perhaps you like having an artificial arm and an eyepatch?

TRAVIS: I chase you halfway around the galaxy to get revenge on you for the injuries that you caused me… and then I have a clone made of myself with those self-same injuries?

BLAKE: (DOUBTFUL) Well, it’s possible. Your real self was psychologically scarred, and you wanted to ensure that your new self carried on the vendetta against me.

TRAVIS: I’m not a clone, Blake.

BLAKE: Perhaps you’ve been conditioned to believe that you aren’t.

TRAVIS: (INCREDULOUS) I don’t believe this.

BLAKE: But then, perhaps you should believe it. I think it’s true. Listen, Trevor--

TRAVIS: (INTERRUPTING, SHOUTING) Travis!

BLAKE: Listen, Travis (SQUARING UP TO HIM AND LOOKING HIM IN THE EYE, SPELLING IT OUT) You—don’t—have—to—do—this—any—more. You—are—your—own—man. We—can—be—friends.

TRAVIS: (IMITATING HIM) Is—that—right—Blake?

BLAKE: Yes—it… you actually are Travis, aren’t you?

TRAVIS: Yes. I am Travis.

BLAKE: Now, that present something of a problem for me, because, as we both know, you’re…

TRAVIS: Dead?

(BEAT)

BLAKE: Ah... You’re a robot? No, forget that.

TRAVIS: What do you remember happening after Star One?

BLAKE: Uh. Well, there was the aftermath, of course.

TRAVIS: Aftermath, yes. And then what?

BLAKE: Hm. I think of them as my wilderness years, to be honest.

TRAVIS: What’s the last thing you remember?

BLAKE: The last thing I remember… (BEAT) Hm, I remember thinking, that ceiling needs painting.

TRAVIS: So, you were looking up?

BLAKE: (THINKING ABOUT IT) Yes, I must have been.

TRAVIS: Now why do you think you’d be looking up at a ceiling? Taking into account, of course, that most of your life was dedicated to establishing yourself as the opponent of a brutal totalitarian regime. Why would you be looking up, thinking of paintwork?

BLAKE: Do you know, a lot of people think I was an engineer before I established the Freedom Party. But I wasn’t. In fact, I was a painter and decorator.

TRAVIS: So you’re saying to me that you gave up politics and went back to painting and decorating?

BLAKE: No, that would be ridiculous.

TRAVIS: And yet, you’re looking up. At paintwork.

BLAKE: That’s what I remember.

TRAVIS: So again, why do you think you’d be looking up at paintwork, if you’re not a painter and decorator?

BLAKE: Um…

(BLAKE LOOKS UP)

BLAKE: Yes, looking up is the last thing I remember. Perhaps I was lying down.

TRAVIS: So why would someone lie down and stare up at the ceiling…

BLAKE: (INTERRUPTING) I was in bed. I died in my sleep. I di— (REALISING) I died?

(BEAT)

TRAVIS: No, Blake, you didn’t die.

BLAKE: Well, thank you, Travis, that’s one hell of a relief….

TRAVIS: (INTERRUPTING) Not in your sleep, that is.

(BEAT)

BLAKE: I died? (BEAT, REALISING) I’m dead. (BEAT, MORE REALISATION) Like you.

TRAVIS: No, not like me, Blake, you’re nothing like me. In spite of the scar.

BLAKE: (TOUCHES HIS FACE) I can’t be dead. I’m Blake. I had so many plans.

TRAVIS: Not anymore.

BLAKE: But this isn’t how it ends. This cannot be how it ended.

TRAVIS: Why not? You think you're somehow special?

BLAKE: I’m Blake.

TRAVIS: Yes, and I’m Travis, and we’re both dead. Get over it.

BLAKE: Dead. How did I die?

TRAVIS: The same way I did.

BLAKE: You were shot. (BEAT) I was shot.

TRAVIS: Yeah. You were shot…. (BEAT) By a member of your own crew.

BLAKE: Avon.

TRAVIS: Yeah. So much for trusting them all with your life.

(BEAT)

BLAKE: No. I don’t believe it. Avon would never do something like that.

TRAVIS:  He shot you three times.

(BEAT)

BLAKE: Avon was my right-hand man.

TRAVIS: You were unarmed at the time.

BLAKE: He had his hang-ups, yes, but… (REMEMBERING, SHOUTING) The bastard! He did, didn’t he?

TRAVIS: Yep.

BLAKE: That’s shocking.

TRAVIS: Okay, Blake, so we’ve  established now that you’re dead, and I’m dead, and that Avon killed us both. So, what does that tell us?

BLAKE: We’re both dead.

TRAVIS (SARCASTICALLY) Good. We’re both dead.

(BEAT)

BLAKE: Well, I expected more than this.

TRAVIS: (SARCASTICALLY) Did you?

BLAKE: Yes. I mean, two chairs that look like they come from a hotel foyer, carpet that… needs a bit of cleaning, to be honest… four blank walls.

TRAVIS: What did you expect?

BLAKE: Well, I don’t know. I was never really a religious man. Didn’t have a chance, really, as all the churches were destroyed by the Federation. They don’t like the competition. (BEAT) But if there is an afterlife, and that’s where we are, then I’d expected something more than four walls, two chairs, and a stained carpet. And don’t take this the wrong way, Travis, but (SUCKS AIR IN THROUGH TEETH), don’t you think you just might be, um… in the wrong place, here?

TRAVIS: In what way, the wrong place?

BLAKE: Again, don’t take this the wrong way, but you didn’t exactly lead what I’d call a good life, did you? What anyone would call a good life, come to that. So… why would you be here?

TRAVIS: And where exactly do you think “here” is?

BLAKE: Well, heaven of course.

TRAVIS: (LAUGHS) And what makes you think we’re in heaven?

(BEAT)

BLAKE: Oh.

TRAVIS: Yes.

(BEAT. The  STAGE LIGHTS DIM GRADUALLY OVER THE NEXT FEW LINES)

BLAKE: But… (BEAT) shouldn’t it be worse?

TRAVIS: Worse?

BLAKE: Worse than this, I mean.

TRAVIS: What, Blake, could be worse… than you and me… together, in this room… for all of eternity?