Stiletto Bits 3

    Pavra sat at the recreation room table, idly spreading out her Tarot cards to admire the brightly colored, intricately detailed illustrations. She was in no hurry to get back to her normal ship-board duties. Reading the Tarot for the IRK men had stirred a memory. Most of her family were practical, down to earth, folks, but Pavra had shared a love of the fantastic with Grandma Djin. When the old lady died in her sleep, her Tarot cards vanished, not to be found until that horrible day when the raiders came to slaughter Pavra's family. They were thorough, burning the buildings and destroying what they could not steal, even killing the household pets and poisoning the crops, right down to the small plot of kitchen herbs. Which made it all the more remarkable that in sifting through the rubble afterwards, Pavra had found the cards, along with the dog-eared guidebook, nestled inside an old iron pot. Of course, Grandma hadn't needed the book. Pavra had felt that Grandma left the guidebook and cards for her deliberately, somehow knowing Pavra would be left alone and needing guidance.
    But Pavra hadn't used them. Grandma Djin had said that the cards were best read by a dispassionate soul and clear mind. Her need for revenge made her anything but dispassionate. Later, she didn't dare use them. If someone had seen her, it might have jeopardized her position with the rebel movement. Bad enough to be physically unimposing without hinting at possible mental aberrations. She needed to belong somewhere, to be needed by someone.
    On Stiletto, she was needed and did belong. She could be herself without fear of censure. And could even take Grandma Djin's cards out in the recreation room and lay them out on the table. In plain sight of anyone who might walk by.
    "What's that?" Soolin asked. The blonde leaned forward for a better view of the cards. "Some kind of game?"
    Firmly, Pavra restrained her impulse to shove the cards back in their box. She was disturbed to realize that she had been so intent on them that she had not noticed Soolin's entrance. Of course, Soolin habitually walked quietly, but she should have been more alert.
    "No, not really." Pavra smiled at Soolin. She considered the younger woman the sister she never had, and enjoyed sharing things with her. "It's the Tarot." At Soolin's blank look, Pavra added, "Fortune-telling cards. You know, a lot of people on G.P. believed in them."
    "I didn't." Soolin sat down across from Pavra and picked up one of the cards. "What's this one?"
    "The Queen of Wands. If you were older, that card would represent you."
    "Why?"
    "Because the Queens are for women over forty and the Wands are for people with fair skin, yellow or auburn hair and blue eyes."
    "You mean it actually matters which cards you get? I thought fortune tellers just made up stories as they went along." Soolin put the Queen down and began sifting through the scattered cards.
    "Of course it matters. Here, this is you." Pavra tapped her finger on a card depicting a young person with short blonde hair standing beside a staff that sprouted green leaves, with three pyramids of mounded sand in the background.
    "The Page of Wands", Soolin read. "Does it mean something?"
    "By itself, not much. I could do a full reading if you like." Pavralooked up at Soolin. "I promise not to read anything that isn't in the cards."
    "Why not. Just about everyone else got to go down to the carnival. Yes, Vila told me the difference between a carnival and a circus." Soolin grinned.
    "Why didn't you join us?"
    "Oh, Avon wanted someone to stay to keep an eye on Fearless Leader. He was afraid that Blake might get restless. So, I was elected to baby-sit and now I'm restless. Go on, read the future for me."
    Pavra hesitated. "I haven't done it in a long time and I never was as good as my Grandma."
    "That's all right, Pavra. It is only a game, after all."
    Pavra gathered up all the cards except for the Page of Wands. That card she turned so that Soolin, seated across from Pavra had an upside-down view of the Page. "I'm doing the reading, so I orient the cards toward myself," she explained. "First we each shuffle and cut the cards three times."
    Soolin complied. "You know, if you do this with Vila, you'll have to explain to him that stacking the deck doesn't work in fortune-telling."
    Pavra laughed. She took back the cards, reversed a random handful and did her share of shuffling and cutting. Then she began dealing the cards, suddenly serious. "The Page of Wands is your significator. It represents you. Generally, the Page of Wands is faithful and a message-bearer. The first card covers you. This is the general atmosphere in which all the other currents work." She placed the first card turned up from the deck directly atop the Page.
    "Grisly." Soolin commented.
    "The Ten of Swords. A prostrate man, pierced by all ten swords. A card of pain and sadness, sometimes treason on the part of friends, not necessarily indicating violent death."
    "Not too cheerful a start."
    "This crosses you." Pavra had got into the spirit and was determined to finish the reading. She did hope some more pleasant aspects emerged. She laid the second card horizontally athwart the Ten of Swords. "This shows the nature of your obstacles. The Eight of Pentacles. Generally meaning employment, skill in craft and business, sometimes a young man or it could mean a dark girl."
    "He looks like Blake." Soolin tilted her head to see the card better. "Well, he is an engineer and I suppose it makes sense to show him sitting on a crafter's bench, carving stars out of gold coins. Or are they medals?"
    "Everything is open to interpretation. And each card is affected by the others, so the final meaning may be much different than the individual cards'." Pavra placed the third card directly above the others. "This crowns you. It represents your ideal, the best that can be achieved under the circumstances, but what is not yet actual. The Seven of Pentacles. This signifies money, also a possible quarrel. It may also mean innocence or ingenuity."
    "Now that's Vila. He's leaning on a hoe, standing beside a vine sprouting gold coins. You can see he doesn't really want to work at cultivating the vine, but he's planning to harvest the fruit." Soolin was enjoying this. Everyone told her she hadn't any imagination, and here she was making up stories just by looking at some oddly posed and strangely dressed people.
    "This is beneath you." The fourth card was placed directly below the first. "It is what has already passed into actuality, what you have made your own. The Two of Cups is favorable in things of pleasure, and business and represents love in all its aspects from friendship and sympathy to passion and the inter-relation of the sexes. It also refers to wealth and honor."
    "A woman with short curly hair exchanging cups with a tall man, really that must be Tarrant and Dayna. Are we all in here?"
    "Everything is in the Tarot. All you have to do is see clearly enough." Pavra pushed the Ten of Swords slightly to one side and noted that the Page of Wands beneath it was facing right. She laid the next card to the left of the Page of Wands/ Ten of Swords/Eight of Pentacles pile. "This is behind you. This is the influence that has just passed, or is now passing away. The Seven of Cups. Which is visions, reflections, nothing permanent or substantial. Also a fair child, idea, design, resolve or movement."
    "That's Avon. Just the back and all in black, but I'd know the way he stands anywhere. And all his dreams, and nightmares, too. Seven cups filled with fantasies. A woman with curly hair and a sharp chin, a castle, jewels, a laurel wreath, a dragon, a snake beside a woman obscured by a draped cloth." Soolin shook her head. "Let's go on quickly. This is getting too weird."
    On the right of the Page of Wands, Pavra placed the sixth card. "This is before you. It is the influence that is coming into action and will affect the near future. The Six of Wands. It is victory, great news and hope. It may also mean a young lady betrayed by a friend."
    "I don't much care for that. At least it doesn't remind me of anyone. Just a man on a white horse, wearing a laurel wreath and carrying a staff with another wreath on it, and he's surrounded by other men on foot carrying similar staffs. Only his has a wreath. I guess he's the boss, since he's the only one riding."
    Pavra moved her hand to the right of the Six of Wands and about a card and a half lower than it. She laid the next card down there. "This signifies you and shows your position or attitude in the circumstances. The Lovers."
    Soolin grinned. "That shouldn't be too hard to interpret."
    "Attraction in love, beauty and trials overcome. Also it is youth, innocence, pure love before it is contaminated by gross material desire."
    Soolin said, "I thought the other pictures were odd. Here these two young people are standing stark naked in front of a pair of trees. Her apple tree has a snake around it and his tree is bare, except that it has twelve things that look like leaves made of fire. And there's a strange winged person hovering over them."
    "You have to remember the interpretations are even older than the cards, Soolin. The woman is standing before the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and the man before the Tree of Life. The serpent is there to cause trouble." Pavra turned up another card and laid it directly above the Lovers. "This signifies your environment and the things within it that have an effect on the matter. The Emperor, reversed."
    Soolin was able to see the Emperor quite well as it was the first card that had been dealt right side up from her point of view. It showed a man with a long white beard wearing a gold, jeweled crown and holding a scepter in the shape of a long cross topped with a loop in his right hand. His left held a gold orb. He was seated on a stone throne with carved ram's heads at the arms and to either side of his head. "He's a rather stern fellow, but I think he has Avon's eyes."
   "Reversed, the Emperor's meaning is weakened. He is a rule by intellect, will in its embodied form. And benevolence, compassion, confusion to enemies and destruction. Also immaturity."
    "I'm definitely glad Avon isn't here to listen to this."
    The next card went above the Emperor. "This gives your hopes or fears in the matter. The Knight of Swords."
    "A rather dashing fellow." Soolin admired the silver armored knight urging his gray steed forward, holding his sword aloft, his helmet visor raised so his determination could be seen.
    "This Knight represents skill, bravery, and predicts a heroic action for a soldier. If proximate to cards of death it may indicate fatality."
    "Well, that wouldn't exactly be a surprise, considering my line of work." Soolin patted Pavra on the shoulder. "Come on, I was only joking."
    Pavra laid down the last card. And said nothing.
    "What's the matter?" Soolin was becoming irritated.
    "This is the final result, the culmination which is brought about by all the influences shown by the other cards. The Four of Swords. It is not generally considered a good card. It may mean nothing worse than unwise administration. Also it means vigilance, retreat, solitude, a hermitage, exile, a tomb or coffin."
    "Yes." Soolin twisted the final card around so that she could study it. A statue of a knight, lying at full length atop his stone coffin, with a sword below him and three other swords on the wall above. In the left corner was visible part of a stained glass window. Soolin shook her head. "This has been interesting. But I still don't know what it all means."
    "Well, to begin with, you have a pair of sevens which indicates news. The conjunction with the Six of Wands indicates that the news should be good. There is violent death, in both your past and future. Attachments toward others, and your honor, have committed you to use your skills in a dangerous cause under a leader who should prove victorious, provided his followers remain loyal. You have chosen a lover who is basically innocent. Although you may quarrel with him over money, if you are wise you will remain with him. You were close at one time to another man, but that is over now, and it is just as well. The relationship was based on illusions, mostly his. Nothing permanent could have come of it. In the future, you must beware a false lover. He will appear as a great leader. You will be warned against him by a impartial observer, but it will be difficult for you to credit as your hopes will cloud your reasoning. Someone will die. You may be betrayed and seek solitude, both to mourn and as a form of self-exile, a penance for what you see as failure."
    Soolin sat back. "Well, that was interesting. Of course, I don't believe a word of it. And the parts that made sense, you already knew."
    Pavra picked up the used cards and replaced them in the box containing the others. "I admit it is easier to give a clear reading for a total stranger."
    "But how did you find out about me and Avon? That was over before you joined us. And neither of us ever let the others know." Soolin looked at Pavra seriously. "If Vila knew and he told you…"
    "Oh, no, nothing like that," Pavra was quick to assure Soolin. "I just read the cards. You provided the names yourself."
    Soolin recalled the fortune- true, there were no names given, but the events seemed uncannily close to her life. "As long as it's you, Pavra, I don't mind, but don't tell the others about Avon."
    Soolin was leaning over the table, but had not kept her voice down, thinking that they were alone. Unfortunately, Tarrant had chosen that instant to wander into the room and overheard the last few words. He asked, "Tell the others what about Avon?"
    Pavra decided that the acoustics in the recreation room definitely should be adjusted. It was all very well that the sound absorbing panels made it easier to have several different games going on at once, but she disliked being surprised.
    "What he did down on Lucre," Soolin supplied smoothly and took Pavra by the arm. "Come along, Pavra, you remember you promised to help me try out that new hair-style you saw on Lucre."
    "Yes, of course."
    The hasty exit of the two women left Tarrant with a burning curiosity. What could Avon have been up to? Considering that he had Vila to help him and a computer to fiddle with, almost anything was possible. Hmmm- a computer. That gave Tarrant an idea. He'd seen Vila drop Orac off in the recreation room with instructions to analyze Galactic Monopoly. He rather suspected Avon was about to lose his crown as game-master. Now, where was the plastic pain?
    "Ah, there you are." Tarrant located the computer sitting where the thief had left it, plugged into the recreation room sub-computer. He picked up the actuator key from the table and slipped it into Orac. "How are you doing, Orac?"
    "Tarrant, I insist you disconnect me from this system at once!"
    "Why, don't you like Galactic Monopoly?"
    "This is totally irrational and a complete waste of my time. And besides that, this system has been corrupted by Andromeda. It is getting altogether too familiar."
    "How familiar?" Tarrant knew that Andromeda liked Avon. Did the recreation computer have a crush on Orac?
    "Tarrant, do you have a question for me?" Orac sounded nearly desperate. "If you disconnect me, I will answer whatever you wish."
    "That is too good an offer to turn down." Tarrant unhooked the connections, freeing Orac from the other computer.
    "I want you to tell me what Avon did down on Lucre."
    "You already know that."
    "I can hook you back up in ten seconds, Orac," Tarrant threatened, holding up the cables he'd just removed.
    "Avon arranged for the transfer of Federation funds into rebel accounts."
    "And?"
    "What is it precisely that you wish to know?"
    "Anything that Avon doesn't want me to know, Orac. Just remember, Avon let Vila borrow you."
    "That is true. Very well." The machine chuckled to itself for a few seconds. "One of the accounts receiving funds belonged to Avon."
    "That's all? I'm disappointed in you. Avon had to be up to more mischief than that."
    "Avon did have me devise a selective adjunct to the normal IRK profile- what he labeled a ‘benefactor list'. Certain high officials' taxes have been raised by the simple process of disallowing marginal deductions and the total collected revenue from these individuals has been set aside for various projects."
    "Let me guess- Servalan was one of Avon's ‘benefactors'."
    "If you already know the answer, why do you bother me with the question?"
    "Hah! What did he disallow for her? And who, besides himself, gets the benefit?"
    "Servalan may no longer write off her wardrobe as a legitimate business expense. Nor her jewelry. These are the main items. Her funds are designated to provide scholarships for young Deltas of criminal tendencies and high intelligence ratings."
    " Avon, I wouldn't have thought you had it in you. What else did our resident Robin Hood accomplish?" Tarrant pulled up a chair and took out a stylus and paper from a handy game. He was going to keep these notes separate from computer records. This ammunition was too good to waste.

    Vila sat back in his seat on Stiletto's bridge. He was quite pleased with life in general and his pet, Del, in particular. The curly-furred creature was also feeling quite chipper, to judge by the speed with which it scampered to and fro over the navigation console controls, depressing levers and switches with its tiny pink paws as it did so. Andromeda sighed and complained again, "Vila, would you please remove Del before he has an accident. I don't trust the waterproofing on the navigation console."
    "It's not the waterproofing you don't trust, Andy," Vila said. "Not to worry, Del is perfectly well trained. Besides, you've already taken control of navigation, so he can't really do any harm."
    "What is that thing doing on my console!" Tarrant strode onto the deck, blind to all except the hamster and Vila. He was ready to commit mayhem on rodent and owner alike.
    Vila stood his ground, albeit with leg muscles tensed to leap out of Tarrant's chair if necessary, and hands poised near little Del, just in case. "Avon wants him there!" Vila ducked as Tarrant swung, but the pilot was merely moving to confront Avon, who was sitting beside Vila.
    Avon looked up calmly from his monitor. "I am conducting an experiment."
"Get…that…thing…off…my…console!" Tarrant's gritted teeth, low growl and narrowed eyes produced no noticeable reaction from Avon. Avon didn't have to react. Puss was also there and while Tarrant drew himself to his full height, Puss drew herself to her full height and gave a low growl of her own. Tarrant paused in the act of reaching for little Del and retrieved his hand before Puss could do it for him. He considered the situation. Then he sighed, much as Andromeda had earlier.
    "All right, you three have had your little joke. Ha, ha. Very funny. Now can we get serious here? We are noted rebels on the run for our lives, you know."
    "You noticed." Avon returned his attention to the monitor for a moment, then frowned. "Kindly back away from the navigation console, Tarrant, you are distracting the animal. If your presence compromises the results we shall have to start over."
    "You've got to be kidding."
    "No. This is an experiment in randomly chosen course changes. We are, as you have mentioned, noted rebels. Your style of piloting, and Jenna's, are known to the Federation. Andromeda's piloting, although it isn't always apparent, follows logical parameters which can be deduced. I am attempting to teach Andromeda a truly random pattern, in the event our enemies learn to anticipate us." He smiled. "They surely can not take into account 'Del, the Rebel Rodent'."
    Tarrant's jaw dropped. " 'Del, the Rebel Rodent?'" His voice went up two octaves. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"
    Avon shrugged. "The idea came to me while we were on Lucre. As I recall, once we returned to the ship, you had some… difficulty with your costume and required Dayna's assistance. Under the circumstances, I thought it best not to wait."
    Vila grinned at Avon. "After all, it looked like Dayna had her work cut out for her."
    Dayna had followed Tarrant, and was enjoying the conversation. While she was sincerely fond of Tarrant, she did admit that at times his ego needed taking down a peg or two. Besides, it was fun to tease him. She said, "Oh, it wasn't that difficult, Vila. It was like peeling a banana." She smiled innocently, with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
    Tarrant looked the group over , then suddenly saw the humor of the situation and smiled slowly. "All right, Avon. Since 'Del' is flying the ship, I suppose I'll have enough free time to tell Blake exactly what it is you did down on Lucre."
    Vila and Dayna were merely puzzled by this, but Avon blinked and pursed his lips, obviously disgruntled. He said, "I did what I told Blake I would do. I arranged for the transfer of Federation funds into rebel accounts."
    Vila looked from Tarrant's smug grin to Avon's annoyed frown. "Avon? You didn't…"
    "Yes, I damn well did." Avon glared at Tarrant and folded his arms across his chest, no longer even pretending to watch the monitor. "One of those accounts was mine. I have worked for Blake's ridiculous 'Cause' long enough without remuneration."
    Tarrant shook his head. "Orac told me all the little details. You must be slipping, Avon, you didn't tell him to keep quiet. I must say, I thought it was quite philanthropic of you. I wonder what Blake will say when he learns that you've arranged for Servalan's taxes to fund scholarships for Deltas?"
    "You did?" Vila was unexpectedly touched.
    Avon shook his head. "Obviously, you think I did that out of sentiment. On the contrary, an educated Delta is likely to be a rebellious one. I am merely creating trouble for the Federation where they least expect it, in their so-controlled home-world."
    Tarrant continued, "And the money donated to the medical missionaries and the relief programs for the worlds devastated by the collapse of Star One? Do you think one of the starving urchins they save will attack Servalan in the street?"
    "Stranger things have happened. Besides, it amused me to think that some of the tax money will be used as the citizens who pay it have been told it is used."
    "And cutting out Servalan's wardrobe as a legitimate business expense. That was a stroke of genius."
    Despite himself, Avon smiled at Tarrant's words. "I imagine that alone could rehabilitate a few thousand of Blake's huddled masses. Best of all, Servalan may be reduced to wearing standard military uniform. I doubt the woman can even walk in flat shoes and that tender skin is probably allergic to off the rack fabric."He smiled broader. "Why she may have to change her name again."
    Vila laughed along with the others at the thought of Servalan in uniform. Then he glanced down at the console before him and stopped laughing. Del was gone. "Del!" he shouted and Tarrant turned, then blushed as he realized his mistake. "Del's missing!"Vila was on his hands and knees looking under chairs and about the bases of the consoles. "Help!"
    "So help me Avon, if that thing's got into the works, you'll clean the mess up yourself with a toothbrush. Unless, of course, it's chewed through a live wire, then Vila can claim the body," Tarrant said.
    Vila cried out at that and began yanking at the access panels.
    "Really, Tarrant," Dayna said, "That wasn't necessary." She went down to her knees and began helping Vila search.
    Avon said, "You've spoiled the experiment, Tarrant. We'll have to do it again tomorrow."
    "Without 'Del'?" Tarrant said, smiling. He hadn't wanted to see the animal hurt, but it was Avon's and Vila's fault for not leaving it safe in its cage.
    "With Del." Avon looked down at the two searchers. "Vila, you can leave that panel and get up now."
    "What?" Vila looked up, hoping Avon had good news for him.
    Avon turned his head slightly, to Puss. The great cat was curled up on the floor, lying on her belly and purring as Del roamed over the expanse of fur. The hamster was sitting up, washing its face, when Vila grabbed it up with a glad cry.
    Dayna stood up and brushed off her jumpsuit. " You could have told me I could get up."
    "I was enjoying the view," Avon commented.
    Vila popped little Del back into his pocket and stood up. "That was enough excitement for Del and me. We're going back to my room for a little rest and refreshment."
    "Don't tell me you've taught the beast to drink Adrenaline and Soma," Tarrant said.
    Vila smiled. He didn't care what Tarrant said. He had Del and Del had proved himself as a rebel. So now, no matter what Tarrant said, Del was staying. Also, he had Avon and Puss on his side. Whistling, Vila left the flight deck with his little friend.

    "All right, Jenna, you can tell me now." Blake stretched and yawned, giving the process full play, as unaffected as a bear shaking off the slothfulness of hibernation. He resented the weakness his illness had forced upon him and was impatient to return to his full vigor. Jenna had been feeling deprived herself and had told him, in no uncertain terms, how much she had missed his company.
    "Tell you what?" Jenna asked. She lazily reached out to caress Blake's smooth chest. He grunted and folded her into his embrace.
    He leaned close and whispered, "Tell me how the mission went, of course."
    "Blake!" Jenna pulled slightly away. "You do know how to spoil a mood, don't you."
    Blake chuckled as he stroked her hair and she relented, moving back into his arms. "Come now, Jenna, be fair. You know I was worried about you, about all of you, while you were gone. And when you come back, you've obviously had a hell of a good time and all you'll say is that there weren't any problems. You can't blame me for feeling left out."
    Jenna ducked her head to hide her smile. "If you're still feeling left out, I am going to be insulted."
    Blake ran his hand gently down the side of Jenna's face. "Oh, you needn't be insulted. I do care for you, you know. Very much."
    Jenna looked at Blake for a long moment, then sighed. "Um, Blake, what were we talking about?" she said at last.
    Blake grinned. "You were about to tell me what happened and explain the outfit you were almost wearing when you came back, and why you were singing that ridiculous song about the human cannonball and the lady lion -tamer."
    Jenna grinned back. "You can't blame me for the costume, that was Avon's idea."
    Blake raised an eyebrow. "Oh, well, that explains it," he remarked.
    Jenna dug an elbow into Blake's well-upholstered gut. "It was camouflage. We had to blend in, not to be noticed by the IRK."
    "Excuse me. That outfit helped you not be noticed?"
    Anyone other than an experienced spacer/smuggler would have blushed, but Jenna merely nodded and said sweetly, "Certainly, the locals paid absolutely no attention to me. Mind you, I wasn't alone. Tarrant was the show-stopper."
    "Hmm."Blake nibbled on his thumb. "What was he wearing?"
    Jenna laughed. She raised her voice. "Andromeda, could you show Blake?"
    The computer always listened in, unless specifically told not to. (And sometimes despite being told not to, if she thought her people might need her). Andromeda said, "Of course, I saved that for my memory book."
    Blake and Jenna turned to the small monitor at his bedside. The screen blinked once then cleared, showing the assembled crew prepared to go down to Lucre. Blake choked, then laughed, a rich, hearty belly-laugh that continued for several minutes. Finally quieting himself, Blake wiped the tears of laughter away from his eyes. "And this was Avon's idea? I knew he had it in for Tarrant, but that…" He shook his head, grinning.
    "You were lucky, Blake,"Andromeda told him. "Avon thought at first that you would recover in time to join the mission. He had your costume all ready for you."
    "I don't want to know." Blake knew that Avon had a wicked sense of humor. He wouldn't be satisfied merely to humiliate Tarrant, not when Blake was also available.
    "Oh, but I do," Jenna said. "Show me."
    Before Blake could countermand the order, Andromeda had produced another image. This one was a computer generated construct, but appeared as real as the video it replaced. A smiling Blake was barely recognizable, under the coating of white greasepaint and exaggerated black painted eyebrows and broad, red-lipped grin. His round cherry- red nose matched the small rubber balls which he was ineffectually juggling, dropping as many as he caught. His baggy red and white spotted costume sported rainbow-striped ruffles around his wrists, ankles and neck. He wore a ridiculously tiny black hat perched atop a green, riotously curled wig. His shoes were bright green also, so long that they flopped with each staggering step he took after the balls.
    "Oh, Avon," Jenna said, "I wish he could see this."
    "Andromeda, don't you dare," Blake growled. The monitor blanked. Blake turned back to Jenna. "So, I'm a clown, am I?"
    "That depends, do you still feel like a bit of clowning around?" Jenna leaned in close for a kiss.

    Normally, Vila knew better than to sneak into Avon's quarters. Especially when Avon was in there. Most especially when Avon was asleep in there. But this was an emergency.
    "Vila, what are you doing?"
    "Shh, Andy, don't make a fuss." Vila continued to work at the door. Avon had modified the original lock, so it was much harder to pick. Probably take another five or six seconds. "I need Avon."
    "You'll need the medical unit after he's through with you." The ship's computer wasn't really worried, but she resolved to keep a monitor open on Avon's room, just in case.
    "Yeah, fine, now be a good computer and be quiet." Vila slipped into the room, standing just inside while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Avon didn't sleep in the dark either, Vila noted with relief. Probably would say it was just so he wouldn't stumble on his way to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
    Vila stood there for what seemed ages, getting up the nerve to wake Avon. He didn't sleep with a gun under his pillow, did he? Well, he probably used to, but he'd been more mellow lately. I'm waffling, Vila thought, I don't know as this is such a good idea. But then again…
    There was an interruption in the soft, regular breathing Vila had heard since he entered. The figure on the bed turned. "What?"
    "Um, Avon?"
    "Who else would be in my bed at this ungodly hour." Avon struggled upright. He was nude, which mildly surprised Vila who had the impression that Avon's leather suits grew on him, like a second skin.
    "If you didn't always put the ladies off, there might be a whole party in here."
    "Takes too much energy. I'd be like you, Vila, falling asleep on watch." Avon yawned. "I take it there is no earth-shaking emergency, or you would have mentioned it by now. Why are you here?"
    Encouraged by the fact that Avon hadn't bitten his head off, yet, Vila said, "Well, it's what you might call a minor emergency- a personal emergency."
    "If you have had a quarrel with one of ‘the ladies', then I am the last person you should go to for advice. Try Blake, or maybe Tarrant."
    "No!" Avon lifted an eyebrow at Vila's vehemence. "It's nothing like that. It's just, well, Puss…"He trailed off, knowing how ridiculous and petty his problem would sound.
    "Vila," Avon growled, "I have been patient with you, too patient, it would seem. Tell me what you want, then get out and let me go back to sleep."
    "Puss has taken Del and she won't give him back, and she's acting very strange, Avon, scary almost, and I want you to get Del back for me." He ran the whole plea out in one sentence, then gasped for breath.
    "You woke me to rescue your hamster?" Avon drew a long breath of his own, then counted to ten, in base two, to calm himself. "Fine. What else can I do for you?" He said the words sourly, but got up and slipped on a robe. "Would you like me to make you a nice cup of cocoa to soothe your frazzled nerves?"
    "Just get Del back, please." Vila was almost dancing with impatience now that Avon had agreed to help. "She's in the rec room, making funny noises and washing Del."
    "Washing…"Avon shook his head. "No, no more details. Let's just get this over with."
    "I'll just wait out here." Vila backed away from the open door of the rec room. "Where I can keep the corridor clear."
    "Why am I not surprised?" Avon tied the cloth belt tighter around his robe. He had not got dressed, as he knew that would wake him up too thoroughly. As it was, the whole situation was like something out of his less unpleasant dreams. He hoped to be back in his bed and asleep in a few minutes. With his loins girded both figuratively and literally, Avon entered the room.
    "Puuurrrrrowrrrrrrr." Puss said as Avon entered. Her fur was slightly fluffed, not bristled in anger, but still indicating some sort of emotional stress. She was lying on the deck, half curled around a small, very damp, agitated hamster. Puss trapped Del between her paws and gave the luckless creature another long, wet slurp. For an instant, the squealing rodent disappeared.
    "Avon!" Vila's heartfelt plea got Avon moving again. He had been staring, wondering if it might not be better simply to let Puss have the rodent and buy Vila another pet. But Vila was sentimental and would carry on so…
    "Puss?" Avon stayed near the door, ready to jump outside and seal the door, if necessary. Vila's hypothetically hurt feelings weren't important enough to risk getting himself mangled.
    The tigris looked up from the hamster, and seemed pleased to see Avon. He hoped. She rose to all fours, arched her back and repeated the noise she'd made before, only with more emphasis. Momentarily forgotten, Del seized his opportunity and fled. Fortunately, he ran straight for the doorway. Avon scooped up the rodent and handed it back to its eager owner.
    "Take Del and go." Avon didn't look away from the rhythmically squirming big cat as he spoke to Vila.
    Satisfied that Del was unharmed, although remarkably askclean, Vilaed, "Aren't you coming, too? I don't like the way Puss is acting."
    "Neither do I." Avon sighed. One way or another, he didn't think he was going to get much sleep. "Don't worry, Vila. I know why she is behaving this way. It's nothing to concern you. I'll - take care of the problem."
   "Oh, well, if you're sure." Vila trotted back to his room, cradling Del against his chest and thinking much more charitably of Avon than usual. Never saw ol' Avon as a good Samaritan, two good deeds in one night. A record for him, I'm sure.
    Avon was thinking much the same thing. He entered the rec room cautiously, hoping that Puss was not aggressive.
    The tigris rose to her hind legs, with some difficulty, as she continued to sway and wriggle uncontrollably. Her fur fluffed out even further around her face and her eyes were wide and glowing, blue-white as steel in the smelter. She minced toward Avon, taking tiny, meticulously precise steps, almost dancing.
    "It's all right, Puss, I know." Avon stood absolutely still while the big cat approached. She touched his face delicately, and he sighed in relief. He should have practiced more. The Vulcan who'd unlocked Avon's embryonic empathic abilities had told him he would either learn to control the ability or it would control him. Puss's need was overwhelming. Even if she had been violent, he would not have been able to resist that need. He ran his hands gently over her face in return, interested to discover that even the texture of her pelt had changed, and was more lustrous and softer than normal. He disengaged briefly, to close and lock the door.
    Puss took his hand and led him to the rec room couch.
    Her scent, wild and musky, surrounded him, and he began to take more than a clinical interest in the proceedings. She was beautiful and she did love him, he read that clearly. If not, she could easily have lured Vila but she wanted him. Warmth rose within Avon, and he thought, "Heat. Yes. She's in heat, and so am I." He only had an instant to wonder how long a tigris remained in season, before an affectionate whirlwind descended on him and thought was driven entirely out of his head.

    "Jenna, did you hear something?" Blake was walking arm in arm with his first pilot, heading to the dining area for a snack.
    While passing the recreation room Jenna was thinking of the latest delicacies Vila had acquired and their purported erotic qualities. Not that she necessarily believed in aphrodisiacs, but Antarean Chocolate- Raspberry Hot Ices sounded like fun, especially served the way Vila recommended- on your lover's torso. "I didn't hear anything." She tugged at Blake's arm. "Come on, Roj, dessert, remember?"
    "Just take a sec, Jenna. Maybe it's a malfunction." Blake opened the recreation room door and froze, startled into complete immobility by the explosion of unmuffled noise and the lively enthusiasm of the two participants of the room. Cooler air from the corridor flowed into the room and over the bare, sweating skin of the one on top. Instinctively, Avon lifted his head from the small pink nipple he was suckling, the teat near hidden in the damp fur surrounding it, to seek out the disturbance. Blake met Avon's gaze, and flinched as surprise changed to sudden fury.
    "Oh, my." Jenna reached around Blake and shut the door, hastily. She peered up into Blake's face. The big rebel was blushing. " I don't think there's anything wrong with any of that equipment," she teased.
    "I'm dead," Blake said. He leaned against the wall, his knees suddenly weak. "Avon will have my hide for this- flayed off a strip at a time. By his tongue."
    "I don't know. He seemed to have other uses for his tongue, at the moment." Jenna smiled. "Roj, people don't die of embarrassment."
    "They do when they embarrass Avon." Blake wiped his face. "Is it my imagination or is it suddenly very hot in here?"
    "Really, Roj," now Jenna was getting annoyed, " you're making a big deal out of nothing. So you saw Avon and Puss together. It was an innocent mistake."
    "That'll look good on my tombstone."
    "Avon won't say anything. How can he, without embarrassing himself? And I don't think Puss's people care about such things. Come on, let's go have dessert." Jenna resumed her interrupted journey. "I don't know why you're so surprised, Blake. You had to know that pussycat's been hanging around hoping for a chance at Avon."
    "Oh, I knew how she felt. I'm just surprised that he responded to her." Blake shook his head and followed Jenna. "You know, he never seems -interested- in much of anything besides computers, and money."
    "That's not entirely fair." Jenna linked arms with Blake. "Of course, I don't mind being unfair to Avon, but … well, Roj, you ought to think of him as a man, with a man's needs, not just your computer expert. Just because he's so good as playing Ice Prince, doesn't make him a robot."
    Blake looked at Jenna silently, speculating. Then he said, "And whence comes this insight into Avon's 'needs'?" He didn't sound entirely amused.
    "We were on Liberator for a long time, Blake," Jenna snapped. She softened when Blake pulled back, looking hurt. "He offered at first, before he realized that I was waiting for you to come to your senses. It was a damn long wait, too."
    "Yes." Blake sighed. "I didn't think it was right to love any one of my crew more than another."
    "Oh? What changed your mind?" Jenna said archly.
    "You did. And Avon. Not in the same way," he added hastily. "But when I finally stopped fighting the universe for a moment and looked around, I saw that I'd been hurting my friends more than my enemies by refusing to allow myself to express my feelings. And I hurt the two of you most of all. I haven't really found a way to make it up to Avon, yet."
    Jenna tugged Blake into the dining area and began looking for Vila's stash. "Don't worry, you'll think of something. You always do, where Avon is concerned."
    Blake lifted an inquiring eyebrow, and Jenna said, "Now, what about making it up to me?" She pulled out an insulated container that was wreathed in curls of pink and green vapor. "I want my just desserts."

    "Where's Avon?" Vila peered around the side of the console that Blake had taken to bits. "He's much better at this sort of thing than I am, you know. He'd have this synthesizer put right in no time."
    "You and I can do it." Blake held out his hand. "Left-angled probe, Vila."
    Vila gave a long-suffering sigh and handed the instrument to Blake, who grunted in acknowledgment and wedged his way back into the exposed circuitry. There were sparks and a puff of blue smoke.
    "Damn. No, that wasn't it." Blake wriggled in a bit closer.
    "Come on, let me go get Avon. What do we keep him for, but to be useful with the gadgets?" Vila said.
    "Yes. Why do you ‘keep' me?" The sardonic voice at Vila's shoulder made the thief yelp, leap, and drop the assortment of tools to cascade onto Blake. "Do you require any assistance, Blake?" Avon purred as he leaned down to remove a small probe from its tangled nest amid Blake's curls.
    "Now that you mention it." Blake pushed himself out from under the console. "I know what's wrong, but there isn't enough room for me to get at the problem." He was relieved to see that Avon was not in a killing frame of mind.
    "Too many of Vila's imported delicacies, no doubt." Avon prodded a finger into Blake's stomach, which stiffened at the affront. "I can see the difficulty. You had best watch your caloric intake, Jenna may like padding but this is getting a bit excessive."
    Blake amended his thought- Avon was not in a mercifully quick, killing mood. Avon smiled at him, waiting for a retort. Behind the smug grin, Blake realized Avon was hoping Blake would retaliate with Puss- which would give the computer expert all the excuse he needed for a knock-down, drag-out fight. "Perhaps you're right," he replied mildly. "I could use some exercise. We all could," he said, eying Vila.
    "Exercise? That's something you Alphas do for fun. We Deltas don't believe in sweating for fun. Well, at least, not without a warm, friendly exercise partner," Vila said, "and maybe a couple of drinks, first, to loosen things up. Which reminds me, Blake this is the only decent synthesizer on this ship and I'm dying of thirst."
    Avon shook his head and smiled, this time in honest amusement. "What he means, Blake, is that this is the only synthesizer which I have programmed with his favorite intoxicants. Surely, this repair must be our highest priority. Step aside, and let me get on with it."
    Gratefully, Blake rose to his feet and stretched. "All right." He gathered up the tools neatly and prepared to act as Avon's assistant.
    Vila brushed off his hands, and grinned. "Well, now, the two of you will get that sorted out in no time. You don't really need me anymore, do you, Blake?" He put on a wistful look. "I did promise to help Pavra and I really ought to be going."
    Blake shook his head. "Go on, then." After the grateful thief's rapid exit, Blake turned to Avon- well, his legs, which were all that was protruding from the console. "He is right about one thing, you know, Avon."
    "Oh? That would make an interesting change- Vila being right. Tell me, what earth-shaking discovery has our resident soothsayer made?" The voice was muffled, but had the combination of sarcasm and affection which Blake usually heard in Avon's tone when discussing Vila.
    Reassured of Avon's tacit declaration of a cease-fire, Blake said, "He's right about the necessity for us to relax from time to time."
    Avon snorted, while continuing to work on the machinery. "He relaxes all the time. Magnetic driver, Blake. "He snatched the tool, inserted it into the circuitry and made satisfied noises at the result.
    "But we don't. Not you and I, Avon."
    Avon backed out of the console, and wiped his hands fastidiously on a clean cloth which Blake offered. "I am not a Delta. I do not require constant recreation to stimulate my senses." He accepted the assistance of Blake's hand and stood up. "The synthesizer is fully functional. And likely to remain that way until the next time Vila spills a litre of Adrenaline and Soma into it."
    "But can you be sure it works?" Blake held a hand up at Avon's glare. "Not that I think you didn't fix it, Avon, but one should always test one's work. Don't you agree?" He activated the synthesizer, producing two small glasses filled with a topaz colored liquid. He swirled the glasses, gently and flickers of blue flame appeared at the surface, then thinned to green mist curls.
    Avon cocked his head. "Well, now, it seems you have made some additions to the programming yourself. What is that?"
    "Jenna's favorite- a Flaming Collision." Blake held one glass out to Avon.
    Avon accepted it, but looked at it dubiously.
    "Down the hatch, Avon. You have to drink it before the mist vanishes." Blake tossed his drink back, swallowed hard and smiled brightly at Avon.
    Avon shrugged and followed suit. He coughed and went red. His voice was a squeak when he sputtered, "Blake, you …" then choked.
    Helpfully, Blake pounded him on the back. "It takes some getting used to," he commented, his voice much hoarser than usual.
    "I see." Avon narrowed his eyes. "Another round, then."
    Blake grinned.

    "Blake? Avon?" Vila shook one limp body and then the other. Blake grunted, smacked his lips, then collapsed, his head falling back into the curve of his arms on the tabletop. Avon was even further out of it. There was a barely perceptible interruption in the rhythm of his snores. Vila didn't see how he could be so comfortable on the floor, but his attempts to get Avon into a seat were confounded by the computer tech's amazingly boneless and floppy body. "How come no one ever invites me to the party?" Vila complained. "And you drank every drop," he mourned, seeing the empty glasses and empty pitcher. Apparently, at some time, they had decided individual glasses weren't efficient and went to the jug method.
    Vila scratched his head, then brightened. "You must have fixed the synthesizer, or you couldn't have got into this state. So, all I have to do is recall the last order." Cheerfully whistling, he went to the machine and punched the recall button. Nothing happened. No jug, no glass, not even an alcoholic fume. Annoyed, Vila thumped the top of the console. The front panel popped off, and Vila stared in dismay. Someone had filled the machine with Adrenaline and Soma, thoroughly shorting out the works. Worse than that, the Soma spurted out of the machine and all over Vila. Reeking of the drink he hadn't got, Vila stormed off to his quarters to change.
    "They did it on purpose. I'll get them back," Vila muttered. "You just wait. We'll see how you like the Federation Marching Song played at full volume, tomorrow. And I think I'll have sausages and kippers for breakfast." Vila snickered. "In front of you. With lots of grease and ketchup."

    "Blake," Avon whispered. He cradled his head delicately between his two hands, quite convinced that without that support it would explode.
    "Avon." Blake's reply was slow in coming and barely audible. "Am I dead?"
    "Not yet."
    Blake wasn't sure if Avon meant that as a threat or a reassurance. At the moment, the only thing keeping him going was the hope of a painless death. He considered going to the medical unit for an analgesic- or quick poison- whatever he found first. He looked up. The door was kilometres away. And he'd have to step over Avon. He twitched, beginning the laborious process of rising to his feet.
    "Don't you dare." The famous glare wasn't quite as intimidating as usual, mostly because Avon was lying curled on his side on the floor. "If you jostle me, you will live to regret it." He swallowed convulsively. "And so will I."
    "You are a bit green," Blake admitted, then lowered his head gingerly back onto the table. After another minute he said, "Avon."
    "What," came the infinitely weary reply.
    "Shouldn't we do something?"
    "What?"
    "Dying comes to mind."
    "Fine. Do it quietly."
    "Avon?"
    "What."
    "I don't think it's going to be quiet."
    The desperation in Blake's voice prodded Avon to action- as always. He groaned softly, then made it to his hands and knees. Clinging to Blake's leg and the table support, he attained verticality, by infinitely slow degrees. The altitude made his head pound worse. He attempted a step, wobbling dramatically. "What the hell is in a Flaming Collision?" He snatched Blake's shoulders to prevent his abrupt return to the floor.
    "I don't know."
    "What?"
    Blake sighed. "I told you it was Jenna's favorite. I never had it before last night. She programmed it into the synthesizer. Told me it wasn't for groundlings."
    Avon closed his eyes for an instant. His voice was satin soft when he said, "Blake. She was right. "He swayed further. "Get up, Blake."
    "No."
    "I can't get to the door alone. I need another pair of legs for balance."
    Blake peeled an eyelid back far enough to see Avon. His computer expert was getting greener by the moment. "So much for relaxing." He struggled to his feet and with legs wide spraddled and arms wrapped around Avon, began the epic journey to the door.
    "I said it was for Deltas."
    Blake kept silent. The last thing he needed was a shouting match with Avon, who could get incredibly fish-wife shrill. The door was the only important thing- his goal, his Grail. "Another step, Avon," he encouraged. "Almost there."
    His partner ignored Blake's irritatingly reassuring words. The last thing Avon needed was a shouting match with Blake, who bellowed like a bull when angry. He stretched out his hand to the door, which sensed him and slid back- only it didn't. He touched the panel, then tried the manual control next to it, then the intercom button. Nothing.
    "What?" Blake asked, dimly realizing that something was wrong. He hung tighter onto Avon, noticing how chilled the other felt against him. He was overheated himself, and wondered why Avon was shivering.
    Avon slipped forward to lean his head against the unyielding door. "The door is locked."
    "But it doesn't lock from the outside," Blake protested.
    "It does now. After I kill you Blake, I'm going to kill Vila. And maybe Jenna for good measure."
    Blake raised his fist to pound on the door, but halted when he saw Avon flinch. "Use the intercom, Avon."
    "Doesn't work either." Avon slid down out of Blake's grasp, winding up slumped on the floor. It looked like a good idea to Blake so he allowed gravity (artificial, of course) to take him. He pulled Avon close against himself, muffling the complaints against his chest. "I'm hot, Avon. And you're cold. Be sensible. Someone will come by and let us out."
    Avon stopped struggling. It only made him more nauseated. "Eventually." He allowed himself to be settled more comfortably against Blake's well-padded side. The warmth penetrated Avon's chilled soul and eased his knotted stomach muscles. The nausea faded and he felt himself succumbing to the urge to sleep. He muttered, "You've found your true calling, Blake."
    "What?" Blake asked sleepily, relaxing as his excess heat bled off, sucked up by Avon.
    "Hot water bottle," Avon replied, then began softly snoring.
    Blake gave as much of a chuckle as he dared. He sighed and curled around Avon, suddenly too sleepy to care about much of anything.

    "Vila! How could you?" Pavra scolded as she bounced impatiently behind the kneeling thief, jostling his elbow.
    "I said I was sorry, didn't I?" He picked up his tools again and completed the repairs to the recreation room door. "Besides they had it coming. High and Mighty Alpha snobs. Always think they don't have to rely on anyone. Well, maybe now they'll see they could lean on me sometime." Still kneeling, he activated the door and it slid open. Slower than usual, but still fast enough that Vila was unable to get out of the way of an Alpha avalanche.
    "Ge' off!" Vila cried. His startlement changed to terror as two hands wrapped themselves around his throat. "Blake! Stop him."
    "Avon's not doing it," Blake growled and shook Vila by the throat. "Any last requests?"
    "Help!" Vila squealed.
    Avon winced. "Let him go, Blake."
    "What?" Blake's eyes were wild.
    "He can get us some medicine." Avon put his hands over his ears. "And I can't take the noise."
    Reminded of his own painful headache, Blake released the thief. "Vila."
    "Yeah. I know. I know just the thing. Be right back." Vila fled in the direction of the med-unit.
    Pavra stared after him, then looked at the two crumpled on the floor. "Oh, my. Shall I get Jenna? And Puss?"
    Twin glares met her kind offer. Pavra decided they were in no danger, but she might be. "I think I'll go and tend to- er- well, something or other very important." She scurried off in the opposite direction from Vila.
    "Avon?"
    "What."
    "Do you think we've just undermined crew morale?" Even sick as a dog, Blake could worry.
    "Frankly, Blake," Avon said, pulling away from the other man, to prop himself against a separate section of wall , "I don't give a damn."