On a B7 mailing list, we were discussing various ways in which Blake could survive the Gauda Prime shoot-out without yet again killing off the unfortunate clone.
Avon smiled as he faced certain death. A volley of shots rang out, but it was the Federation troopers who fell, not him, as the rest of Blake's followers poured into the tracking gallery. A little too late, Avon realised that he was in a somewhat compromising position, standing over their dead leader holding the projectile weapon which had killed him. A variety of excuses rushed through his head, none of them particularly convincing: "He told me he set me up. I thought he betrayed me. I've had a bad year. I was aiming at Tarrant. I thought it was Travis..."
"You're Avon, aren't you?" one of the rebels said. "You haven't seen Blake around, have you?"
Avon looked down and flinched with revulsion at the pile of bubbling green goo at his feet. A dead Andromedan.
"I wouldn't step in that," Vila said, sitting up. "You'd never get that off leather."
The end