Close Calls
| Zine | |
|---|---|
| Title: | Close Call |
| Publisher: | KnightWriter Press |
| Editor: | |
| Author(s): | Linda Knights |
| Cover Artist(s): | |
| Illustrator(s): | |
| Date(s): | 1997 |
| Series?: | yes |
| Medium: | print zine, fanfic |
| Size: | |
| Genre: | gen |
| Fandom: | Blake’s 7 |
| Language: | English |
| External Links: | |
| Click here for related articles on Fanlore. | |
Close Call is a 51-page gen novel by Linda Knights. "A 4th season story in which Avon's increasing obsession drives him to manipulate Tarrant in an indefensible manner." [1]
It was originally published in Something Unfriendly.
Series
This zine is part of a series of mini-zines, each with a story that has been published previously in another zine. Each mini-zine has a full-color photo cover.
In alphabetical order:
- Bad Blood by Peggy Hartsook
- Blind by Linda Knights
- Close Calls by Linda Knights (1997)
- Crucible's Flame by Linda Knights
- Endgame by Peggy Hartsook
- Fate's Final Act by Linda Knights
- Prelude to an Interview by Linda Knights
- Returned Favors by Linda Knights
- Surprises by Linda Knights
- Waves Upon a Mirrored Surface by Linda Knights
- Yesterday: Memories of Tomorrow by Linda Knights (1997)
Excerpt
It had been too near a thing this time.Del Tarrant carefully didn't move. The pain that had burned like a laser probe up his left side and coursed through his chest for most of the last week was under control, for once, and he wasn't about to do anything that would upset that tenuous balance.
Without moving from his position in the medical unit's bed, he could see little more than five feet of unimpressive ceiling, but that was fine. For a little while longer he'd simply lay, enjoying the very fact that he could see anything at all.
"Is the pain coming back?" Cally asked as she rose from the computer terminal where she'd been working.
One of them had been in constant attendance since the accident. A further sign of how badly injured he'd been. "No, I'll be all right a little longer." Tarrant's voice was still a coarse whisper.
"There's no need to suffer." Cally gently brushed curly bangs back out of his eyes, feeling for a fever as she did, trusting her touch far more than all the machines at their disposal. "I could give you something..."
A twitch of his head in denial. "A little longer," he begged.
"Okay," she conceded. "I'll just be over at the desk if you need me."
Tarrant drew a careful breath. Yes, it had been rather too close a call for his comfort. He wasn't at all ready to surrender to the bliss of the drugs. Because every time he closed his eyes he saw -- again -- how near a thing it had been.