Stiletto Bits 4

    Puss stretched out her arm and appropriated the platter containing the rest of the mock roast that Pavra had concocted with the aid of the Andromeda's extensive recipe library. She sank her claws into the 'meat' and proceeded to devour the entire fifteen pound chunk of protein while her crewmates frankly stared. Then she licked all the juices neatly from her claws and her whiskers and turned her attention to Vila's plate.
    "Aw, come on, Puss." The thief didn't really want to argue with the cat, but he had been looking forward to the treat Pavra had worked on for hours.
    The tigris gave him a cold stare and he flinched, letting her have the plate.
    "You are becoming a glutton, Puss," Avon remarked, lounging safely against the far wall. The cat had mellowed remarkably in the past months. He had no fears for his safety. No matter what he said, or did, lately she simply purred and preened herself at him. She hadn't even made any sexual advances of late. Which was just as well, as he would have had to have been an Olympic athlete to keep up with her on a regular basis.
    "She is putting on quite a bit of weight," Pavra said, concerned. Like Avon, she had no fear of the big cat. She looked at the cat's torso. "You are getting rather round." As Puss made no objection when Pavra held out her hand, the woman pressed her hand firmly into the swelling fur-covered abdomen, testing for abnormalities. "Oh, my!" she drew her hand back, and stared at Puss, her eyes round with shock.
    "What is it?" Blake asked, concerned. He'd become fond of Puss. For one thing, she was the one member of the crew who'd never given him an argument. She'd growled at him fairly frequently, but he didn't count grumbling as argument.
    "I felt… I felt it kick." Pavra was pale. She turned to Avon.
    "It?" Avon shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
    "Puss is going to have a baby."
    Fortunately, when Avon realized what she had said, he was standing next to a padded bench and didn't injure himself in his faint. When he came around, Jenna, Soolin, Dayna, Vila and Pavra were gathered around Puss, talking excitedly. Tarrant and Blake were at Avon's side, trying to revive him, but distracted by the commotion of the others.
    Vila was kneeling at Puss's side, his head pressed against her abdomen. "I heard it!" he said, happily. "No, wait, there's another, and another, I think. This is going to be great, Avon," Vila said, noticing the other had awakened. "Three little babies, and I bet they'll be cute."
    Avon fainted again.

    Avon lost weight and took to prowling the corridors late at night as insomnia claimed him. Everyone else seemed to think Puss's pregnancy was just marvelous. Blake was even distracted from his rebellion and Vila had sworn to give up drink if he could be allowed to play with the babies. Babies, Avon shuddered. They'd run a complete medical check on Puss and found that the… children… would be healthy, if not quite human or quite feline. He hadn't thought it possible or he would never have touched Puss. Bad enough to bring human children into existence in the middle of a war, on the losing side, in all probability. But these children - if captured they would be treated like animals. And whatever else they were, they were his.
    He had to think of some way of giving his children a chance. Maybe that research Orac had turned up on the possibility of time travel. There might be another age, a kinder, gentler age in which the different might be accepted. In the past, perhaps. Orac could look through the records- if any feline/humanoid crosses had been accepted, Orac could find out and tell Avon where and when to send the children for safety. He sighed and returned to his bed. Puss would be sensible, once he explained. She was warrior enough to understand the necessity.

    Avon looked down at the mewling bundle of brownish fur he held awkwardly.
    "He has your hair," Pavra commented.
    "And his mother's eyes," Avon replied, gazing into the sharp blue gaze of his first born son. Even as a newborn, the child gave signs of his intelligence and strength to come. Avon hoped that strength would be enough for him and for his sisters. They would be scattered in time and space, to be reared by strangers who would never know their origin. They would need to be strong. He touched the infant on the forehead. "Your name will be Vincent."

    Puss cocked her head to one side. Since her babies had been sent back in time, she'd been disturbed by unusual feelings, even though Avon had convinced her that it was not only the best thing to do, but actually inevitable. Orac had been thorough. He'd even found the diaries of her boy's lover, popularized years after her death. Vincent must have taken after her, as the romantic in Avon was deeply buried. The girls hadn't gone so far into the past, but been accepted by the planet Helotrix during its colonization days. Their fighting spirit remained through the generations, undiminished by the human mates they'd taken. Their descendants looked human, but the Federation had to drug them into docility to defeat them. Her whiskers bristled at the thought. The Federation would pay for that, too, she promised.
    She lifted her ears again. There it was again, a soft, reassuring sound. Rather like her own purr only on a much smaller scale. She whirled, this time catching sight of a moving black and white shape. It was translucent, but clearly visible. She fell to her belly in instant reflex, recognizing the Amiow- the spirit guide of her people. She propitiated the spirit with an answering purr. It approached her with measured, yet graceful steps. She was pleased with her Amiow. It was at least three times the size of most, and there was a calm wisdom in the saucer-round yellow eyes that gave her the courage to stretch her neck forward, offering the traditional meeting of noses. The Amiow accepted, and Puss breathed in the otherworldly scent of herbs and delectable prey. The spirit appraised her, bobbed its head to wash its spotless white bib, then looked over its shoulder. Puss dared to follow its gaze. As translucent as the Amiow, a human form stood there, smiling at the two of them. The Amiow turned and went to the woman, tail carried in a self-assured curve. They met, turned to gaze upon Puss with approval, then vanished.
    Puss stood up and cocked her head to one side, considering. She hadn't known humans had Amiow. She wondered whose guardian the woman was.

    "Really, Avon, this is ridiculous. I'm no more than a glorified servo-mech to you. "
    "Shut. Up. Vila."
    "No, I won't." Vila had taken quite as much abuse as he intended for one day. He dropped the component he was holding, sort of accidentally on top of Avon's head, which snapped back from the console the tech was currently immersed in repairing. Attempting to repair, rather. With Vila's dubious help.
    "Vila." Avon's growl was more than irritated now. He reached up to investigate a tickle creeping down his scalp and brought back his fingers daubed in red. He stared, blinked, then turned on Vila. Who wasn't there anymore.
    Avon buried his head between his arms and sighed, lying motionless on the cold, hard deck, feeling all the aches of a long day spent maintaining equipment while listening to Vila's complaints and occasionally hearing Blake's hearty commands and Tarrant's glib comebacks over the announcer system. A few moments alone didn't seem a bad idea at all.

    Vila crept back to peer around the corner, surprised that he hadn't heard Avon's bellow of rage. He was further surprised to see the other lying motionless on the deck. It was only a little component, it couldn't really have hurt anyone. On the other hand, Vila remembered the story about the repair tech who dropped a small tool on the head of a rich lady's pet and killed the beast. And Avon's skull had been a target for lots of things in the years Vila'd known him. Maybe he had a weak spot and Vila's tiny tap was enough to break him open and let all his marbles out to play. On the other hand, Avon was sneaky; maybe he just was lying in wait for Vila.
    "You know," Avon said, and Vila jumped a foot, before realizing the other was talking to the floor. "At university, the professors told me I'd make something of myself." He shook his head. "Ah, if they could only see me now. A virtual slave to Blake's idiotic ‘free the universe' campaign. Spending my days as a mechanic. I never even talk to anyone properly educated." He sighed again. "I can see me reciting a list of my accomplishments to my old school chums." He reached into the pocket of his jacket to extract a folded sheet of paper. "Not much point in it, is there?" He ripped the paper in half, tossed the bits to one side and returned to his work. "Might as well finish this, before Blake wants another heart-to-heart chat on the feasibility of equipping entire planets with the anti-detector shield."
    Vila waited until Avon was safely engrossed in the repairs before slipping into the room just far enough to gather up the torn paper. It wasn't the same paper as the one Avon had kept reading on the London. Vila never did get to see what that was, which was probably the reason he risked Avon's ire now in order to find out what this was. He fled with his booty clamped to his chest, heart racing as it always did after a successful heist.
    Only a few steps away from his private cabin, and safety, Vila bumped into something. "Yipe," he cried and automatically clutched at the other to keep his balance.
    Pavra chuckled and hugged Vila back. "I'm glad to see you, too, Vila. How's the job going? "
    Vila wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. "Avon's a slave driver. I've only just now got away from him."
    "But not empty-handed, I see," Pavra commented. "Teasing Avon again? You really shouldn't. You know how good he is at getting revenge."
    Vila shuddered. The last time he'd ‘borrowed' some of Avon's tools without permission he'd found the shower in his quarters put out nothing but ice-water for a week. Avon did have his little ways of getting even. "He won't care about this. Why, he threw it away. See, it's torn." He handed the paper pieces to Pavra, who fitted them together.
    "Oh, my." Pavra smiled. "I think we'll have to step very carefully around Avon for a while."
    "Why? What is it, bad news?"
    "Not exactly. But people don't always like to get reminders."
    "Reminders? Of what?"
    "Might-have-beens, mostly. It's a University Reunion notice."
    "I wonder how they tracked him down. I mean, it's not like we send in our change of address forms regularly." Vila grinned suddenly. "It would be something, wouldn't it, to see Avon with his old classmates?"
    Seeing the glint in Vila's eye, Pavra said quickly, "Now, Vila don't be absurd. It's impossible. Why, the reunion is on Earth!"
    "Being held at the most luxurious hotel in EuroDome. With trained bartenders, and caterers, and waitresses."
    "And waiters." Pavra sighed, thinking of the suave, polished men in their tightly cut archaic evening wear at her beck and call. "It would be lovely, Vila, but it simply isn't safe."
    "What is?" Vila shrugged. "But this at least would be fun. I'm going to have a chat with Orac," he called over his shoulder, heading for Avon's room and the computerized sulking machine.
    "Wonder what I have that's suitable to wear to the most luxurious hotel in EuroDome?" Pavra muttered.

    "Avon." Blake's voice was louder this time. Avon turned in annoyance to shut down the volume on the announcer and came nose to nose with the big rebel.
    "Well, you wouldn't come out and talk to me. So I came in," Blake answered Avon's scowl reasonably.
    Avon waved a laser probe at Blake. "I told you I was busy. What do you want?" he snapped.
    Blake spread his hands, in appeasement. "I'd like your input on our latest mission."
    "Yes?" The tech looked back at the dismantled anti-detector shield. He'd just had an idea which should extend its effective range. Maybe.
    "There's a meeting of important, influential people being planned."
    "And you want to attend," Avon said impatiently.
    "Well, yes. But there's a matter of identification papers. And invitations. And proper clothes. And it will be tricky getting there undetected."
    "I would like, just once, not to be indispensable," Avon said. "I am working on the detector shield. If I am not disturbed, I should have it properly functional in three days. When is this meeting?"
    "In five days. Cutting it a bit fine, aren't you?"
    "Me? Yes, of course, this is my mission, isn't it? I planned it, I had my heart set on it. And now , I'm slacking off and ruining it. How remiss of me."
    Blake chuckled. "I see your point. Tell you what, Avon. You just worry about the detector shield. Orac and Vila can handle the forgeries and Pavra has told me she and Andromeda can do the outfitting. Tarrant and Jenna should be able to hide us near the meet-point until the shield is ready."
    "And what if I want to be in on the planning?" Avon asked, suddenly resenting the usurpation of his position as Blake's chief advisor.
    "Fine. So long as you get the detector ready in time."
    Avon glanced back at the disassembled machinery. "On second thought, let the others pull their own weight for a change."
    Blake shrugged. "Just thought you might like to know what's going on. You always complain about me springing little surprises on you."
    "Well, now that I know, I don't much care. By the way, where is the meeting being held?" Avon asked, offhand, already thinking about the detector shield improvement.
    "Oh, some little out-of-the-way place called Dorado."
    "Never heard of it."
    "Does it matter?"
    "No. Go away and let me work, Blake."

    "Well?" Vila asked. Blake leaned against the door opening of the recreation room. With the exception of Jenna, who was on the flight deck, the rest of Stiletto's crew was present, awaiting Blake.
    Blake grinned and made a thumbs- up sign.
    Dayna frowned. "I don't know, Blake. Avon may not be happy about this."
    "Hey, don't I count? I'll be happy," Vila said.
    "Actually," Tarrant replied, "you don't count. Still, I like the plan. Avon can be a hermit if he likes, but I like to get out and party once in a while. And this is going to be one hell of a party. The Dorado Palace is the most famous entertainment complex on the planet. The food alone is worth the trip." He smiled. "Not to mention the friendly personnel."
    "It is dangerous." Soolin was outwardly calm, despite her objection. "After all, Blake, Earth is the last place we should be."
    Blake nodded. "Which is why we can do it. They won't be expecting us."
    Pavra hugged Puss. "This is going to be fun. I never gate-crashed a party before."
    "I have," Vila said smugly. "Stick close to me, ladies, I'll show you how it's done."
    Soolin and Pavra exchanged glances and laughed.

    Avon rubbed the back of his neck. It had been a long three days reassembling the modified anti-detector shield and he was tired. Still, it had gone better than he expected. For once, no one had come to him with an 'emergency' which meant he had to leave his own project half-finished to correct the mistakes they'd made in theirs. He frowned and switched to massaging his cramped hands. He also hadn't been disturbed by Vila stopping by to put in his inane comments or Pavra bringing a bowl of hand-made soup for him to 'test'. Even Andromeda had refrained from informing him of the lateness of the hour and hinting broadly that he ought to get some sleep. Not that he needed anyone fussing over him… still, he was uneasy when well-established behavior patterns inexplicably changed. He shook his head. The rest of the universe might be hostile, but he refused to mistrust anyone on this ship. They might make mistakes, but they would never betray him. It had taken a long time, but he had learned that lesson too well to doubt it. He yawned and grinned. Wouldn't he surprise them if he simply went along with whatever they were scheming? It couldn't be anything too serious. One advantage of having Andromeda- the computer heard all and had a finely developed survival sense, complaining loudly about anything remotely resembling a suicide mission.
    So Avon neatly packed away his tools, gave his finished work a final inspection and went to bed.

    Avon woke after sleeping fourteen hours straight. He rather regretted it when he woke with a pounding headache and a stomach so shriveled in on itself that it was reduced to pitiful squeals of protest. He groaned and muttered his way to the lav. A hot shower loosened his muscles and he was feeling slightly less grumpy when he emerged in his robe. He smiled at seeing a tray set up beside his bed. Undoubtedly, one of Andromeda's ubiquitous robots had been there. A cup of hot coffee followed by apple pancakes with butter and syrup completed the cure. "Thank you, Andromeda." He seldom indulged in breakfast, but Andromeda had learned how to entice him with his favorite dishes. But where did she get apples and maple syrup? Best not to ask.
    "You're welcome, Kerr. Oh, by the way, the others are ready for the mission. They're waiting for you in the recreation room."
    "By the way?" Avon shook his head. This did not sound like one of Blake's gung-ho missions. But what could it be? Giving in to his curiosity, he dressed and went to the recreation room.

    "Well, Andy?" Vila asked nervously, tugging at his too-tight collar. Soolin smacked his hand down and carefully straightened the points. They were in complementing outfits, he in rich russet velvet, picked out with gold, her in gold with russet embroidery in a delicate trellis pattern interwoven on the bodice and long sleeves which flowed down to her fingers- completely covering the tiny weapons she'd considered the least she'd wear. Pavra had opted for a full-skirted gown, hooded and caped, made of gold and russet brocade. Soolin was also pleased by the implication that they belonged together and they convinced Vila to go along with it. Secretly, he liked the idea of being a family man.
    "Well is not a question," the computer replied in a fair imitation of Orac. Then she giggled. "This is fun, Vila. I've never been to a fancy party." Each person wore small sensors which fed sights and sounds directly to Andromeda. They were disguised as jewelry, pendants, belt buckles, even the larger buttons. She'd also made teleport bracelets in the shape of expensive, fully functional, chronometers cum calculators cum communicators. Vila had said they were likely to get robbed for them alone
    "And you won't get to go to this one, if Avon spoils it," Blake informed her. He was in brown and green, naturally. Jenna had Andromeda make his fawn suede pants fit like a second skin and the brushed velvet forest green pirate shirt left a generous expanse of smoothly muscled chest visible. He balked at wearing it until she suggested it was a ploy to draw attention away from his too-recognizable features. He had grinned wickedly and said she was on nearly as many wanted notices as he. Then she showed him her gown and he lost all objections. She was in a floating confection of chiffon silk, rainbow iridescence shifting with each breath. You couldn't actually see through it- but you imagined you could. He had to admit no man with a drop of red blood in his veins would be able to look at her face for long.
    "There won't be any problem," Andromeda assured the group. "Avon is in a good mood."
    "We are talking about the same Avon," Tarrant asked. "You know, short-tempered, leave-me-alone- Avon?" He ran his fingers down the sky blue velvet of his jacket, sleeking the nap the right way. He admired the trim fit, which he considered made him look several inches taller, and he liked the way the color made his eyes brighter. Oh , he was going to impress the ladies tonight! With or without Avon's company.
    "He's been much nicer lately," Dayna protested, smiling. She had never been to a real party either. From what she'd understood, there wasn't any hunting, but she wouldn't mind playing with some pretty young men. She was fond of Tarrant, but he intended to look for new company and she thought a little variety wouldn't hurt her either. Andromeda had made a hunting outfit for her, sleeveless, foamy black lace over satin, floorlength and so sheer that the wind from a butterfly's wing would make the fabric tremble. She grinned at Puss.
    The tigris gave her a brief cat-smile in return. She was also feeling pleased with her garment. Earth was sophisticated enough- at least at the Alpha levels- that she needn't pose as a dumb animal. She was dressed in moonsilk, produced by alien spideroids. It was so rare that only the wealthiest wore it. It was an indescribable smoky color that changed to best suit its wearer. When warmed by body heat, it gave off a sweet perfume designed to attract luckless insects to the web. Andromeda's synthesizing skill could make them a fortune.
    "Oh, I have, have I?" Avon's voice startled the group. He entered the room slowly, taking his time in examining each Stiletto crewmember from head to foot. " 'There's a meeting of important, influential people being planned' wasn't that what you said, Blake? What kind of meeting?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He folded his arms across his chest and glared.
    "Some of the best minds in the Federation will be there," Blake said.
    "Best educated, anyway," Vila put in.
    "Educated?" Avon froze. He remembered a scrap of paper he'd intended to destroy quite thoroughly. But when he went to retrieve it for disposal, it was gone. He'd assumed Andromeda had done it, picking up after them as she always did. "You didn't."
    "We did." Tarrant cheerfully waved a beautifully gold-embossed invitation, comp-u-factured by Andromeda with Vila's help. "Say hello to your fellow alumni from Bellhangria University."
    Pavra smiled and held up a midnight blue suit, trimmed with silver. "We even found out your school colors."
    Avon closed his eyes and groaned. "No, no, no! I am not sociable, I am not reminiscing and I am not going."
    Vila grinned and whispered to Soolin, "We got him."

    "This is insane!" Avon hissed. He looked around the expanse of dining hall at the milling people. All were expensively dressed, chatting amiably while sipping imported liqueurs and nibbling on canapes offered by attractive human servers - of both sexes - uniformed in striking jet black suits.
    Vila had already wandered away to investigate the buffet stretching down the center of the hall, escorting Soolin and Pavra, one on each arm. His eyes had lit up at the glitter and flash of the jewelry adorning the guests, alarming the women into latching onto him. He was torn between strutting with pride at their possessiveness, and giving them the slip to practice his trade. Envious glances from an elegantly attired Alpha with a sour-faced frump at his side gave Vila a thrill that made him opt for the rarer pleasure.
    Avon shook his head. "Look at that fool!" he said as Vila paused to shake hands with a military governor in full uniform.
    "Oh, come on, Avon," Jenna said, "loosen up." She twined her arm with Blake's and tugged. "Look, Roj, I see a dance floor just waiting for us."
    Blake smiled at Jenna's enthusiasm. "Avon, go on, relax. Do you good." Then he disappeared into the crowd with Jenna.
    "Bye, Avon," Dayna said cheerily as she left in a swirl of skirt. She'd spotted a pair of identical twins, tall, lean, and muscular. She wondered if she could interest them in a game of doubles.
    Tarrant went in the opposite direction. He was in high spirits and fully intended to cut a wide swathe through the more attractive female alumni.
    Avon shook his head in disbelief. Actually, he wasn't surprised at them, but at himself. He hated parties and here he was, standing in an alcove of the Dorado Palace, watching the rich and infamous pool and eddy around him. He turned to his remaining companion. Puss was fascinated by the scene, her ice-blue eyes bright, her talons flicking in and out with excitement. He sighed. Whatever else Kerr Avon was, he had been brought up a gentleman, and the atmosphere was bringing back memories of his mother tugging at his collar and urging him to mind his manners.
    "Puss, would you care for some refreshment?"
    Puss's whiskers twitched as she narrowed her eyes slightly in the tigris' equivalent of a nod. He accompanied her, amused by the respectful distance the other guests gave the large carnivore. With an imperious gesture, he stopped a waiter bearing a platter of wafer-thin sliced fish, rolled and tied with slivers of fresh herbs, garnished to appeal to the eye as well as the mouth. Puss purred, and delicately speared the tidbits on her long silver talons, eating with decorum until the tray was bare, while the waiter trembled and watched her with wide eyes.
    Avon snagged a brandy for himself, thinking he would need it before the night was done. All his nerves were on edge, expecting imminent discovery, the hue and cry of the chase, and finally disgrace before his peers. Well, his classmates, at any rate. He'd never fitted in to their circles of petty gossip and maneuvering for status, considering it senseless. They, in turn, considered him a boring, intellectual snob. Pity, he'd hoped to find kindred souls at Bellhangria.
    "Kerr, old bean!"
    Avon flinched at the hearty voice and reeled under the friendly blow applied to his shoulderblades, nearly losing his drink. Dear God, he'd thought the man dead by now. Someone should have killed him. "Rosh," he choked on the brandy. "Somehow, I hadn't expected to see you here."
    Rosh had always been big, but now he was enormous, muscles piled on muscles, piled on thick, solid bone. He would have made two of Avon. He aimed another whack at Avon's back.
    Puss growled. Her teeth appeared, canines wickedly sharp.
    Rosh's hand dropped back to his side, as he thought better of it. "Introduce me to your friend?" He leered, his gaze traveling the length of Puss's sleekly pelted form. "I hadn't thought you had such exotic tastes."
    "Puss, this is Rosh Ailman. He was my roommate at university." He added maliciously, "He used to beat me up every weekend." The cat spat, and Avon added, visualizing an eviscerated Rosh, "He was on the boxing team and we sparred."
    "You needed it, Kerr. You spent too much time playing with computers." He poked playfully at Avon's stomach. "Can't get soft. The ladies don't like it." He looked around. "Speaking of ladies, wait until you meet my date. She's got it all, Avon. Beautiful, high-ranking, clever- and of course, she has me." He managed to stop his automatic dig in Avon's ribs when Puss hissed. "Oh, there she is." The huge man plowed through the crowd, while Avon composed himself.
    "Kerr, I'd like you to meet the loveliest lady here. Sleer, this is Kerr Avon." Rosh moved aside, letting the woman beside him step forward, to smile at Avon.
    "Kerr, it's a pleasure," she said.
    This time Avon really did choke.

    "An unexpected pleasure, I hope," Avon managed.
    "Quite." Servalan tossed her head back and laughed. "I never thought you the sentimental type."
    "I'm not."
    "But others are?" Servalan smiled, taking Avon's glare for an affirmative answer. "Are they all here, Avon? All your dear, sentimental friends?"
    "Don't get too excited," Avon said smoothly, taking her arm. "Let's discuss this on the dance floor." He smiled at Rosh, who automatically took a step back, suddenly feeling as though he had stepped into another world, with different rules.
    "But... but, Sleer..." he protested weakly. "I'm your escort."
    "Oh, don't be a bore, Rosh. Run along and play." Servalan waved a negligent hand at him without shifting her gaze from Avon's. "Avon and I are old friends. We have things to discuss which couldn't possibly concern you." She accepted Avon's hand, enjoying the mock gallant gesture and the thrill of danger that fencing with this man had always given her.
    Rosh gaped as his date glided away with his ex-roommate, trailed by Puss. The tigris was the only one of the three who gave him a backward look. He would have sworn the cat was laughing at him. He decided he needed a large drink. Now.

    "Er, Blake," Vila stage-whispered as he swept by in Soolin's arms. At the moment, he was leading, as the blonde gunfighter was concentrating on her surroundings with an intensity that jerked Blake out of his romantic musings.
    "What is it?" Jenna snapped. She held Blake tighter, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow Vila.
    "We have company," he whispered and danced away, with a frightened glance over his shoulder. "We'll get Dayna and Tarrant. If we can find them."
    "Oh, no." Jenna followed his gaze. Blake stiffened in her arms as the movement of the dance made them exchange places and he saw what she had.
    "Servalan," Blake breathed. "What is she doing here?"
    "Dancing with Avon," Jenna replied. "Do you see any of her watchdogs?"
    After a brief scrutiny, Blake said, "No. That doesn't mean she doesn't have an army waiting in the next room." Despite his worry, he had to grin at the sight of Avon dancing with their enemy. They were graceful together, a matching pair of panthers, reveling in the conflict and the opportunity to test their wits and resolve. "Andromeda," Blake said softly, "We have a bit of a problem, here."
    A tiny voice came from Jenna's chronometer. The pilot quickly raised her arm to Blake's head, caressing his curls as their shipboard computer replied. "I'm so sorry, Blake. I didn't see her until she walked right up to Avon. What can I do? Should I teleport?"
    "No," Blake said immediately. "The instant we leave Servalan would scramble Space Command after us."
    "I can outrun anything they've got."
    "Not if they're ahead, behind and on all sides of us, Andromeda." Blake frowned. "Contact the others, tell them what's happened." There was a pause, and Blake asked, "Is there a problem?"
    "Well, no, but Dayna and Tarrant are ... um... occupied- with new friends."
    "Quick work," Jenna muttered, a bit jealous.
    Blake grinned, "Well, they are young and impetuous. As we were so long ago."
    Jenna punched him, not quite lightly, in the shoulder. "What was that, old man?"
    "Nothing, dear. Andromeda, pretend you're a message service. Beep them. Say it's an emergency."
    "What kind?"
    Still annoyed, Jenna said, "Tell them the lab got their test results back, and needs a list of their partners for the last six months."
    "Ooh, that's wicked, Jenna. I'll do it."

    Less than five minutes later, a pair of flustered and very irritated young people joined he rest of Stiletto crew on the dance floor. Puss and Pavra joined in, cutting in to hear what was being discussed.
    "This is becoming amusing, Avon," Servalan said, watching the others converge, until the two of them were surrounded by Blake's people. She preened under the hostility, glittering dangerously. She reached up to touch Avon's face, but he caught her hand and pressed a kiss into the palm.
    "It would be even more amusing to entertain you aboard our ship, Servalan." Avon deflected her dangerous smile with one of his own. "We all have so much we'd love to show you."
    "I'm tempted. Seriously. Stiletto was a top-of-the-line ship when you - borrowed - her from me. Knowing how you like to tinker, I'm certain she has undergone some interesting modifications."
    "Well, Vila did have a whirlpool bath installed in the recreation room."
    Servalan laughed. "He would. Now, Avon, how are we going to end this little stand-off? While you are an acceptable dance partner, I can't really see us spending the rest of our lives here."
    "It could be arranged." Something feral gleamed in the back of Avon's eyes. "People have died of 'over-exertion' on the dance floor before now." His hands rested lightly on her slender neck.
    "No, Avon." Blake's quiet voice came just as Servalan was beginning to think she'd goaded Avon once too often.
    "Why not?" Avon said, just as softly. "It would solve a great many problems."
    "And cause others. You do remember where we are, don't you?"
    Avon's hands reluctantly loosened. "It seems a pity to waste the opportunity."
    "That's what I say," Vila put it. "I'm gonna get drunk. At least I can be blasted before I get blasted."
    "Out of the mouths of idiots." Avon smiled down at Servalan. "Care for a drink, my lady?"
    Servalan frowned. "Not really."
    His grip tightened. "That was not a request." Over his shoulder, he said, "Vila, fetch Servalan something appropriate."
    "A Stinger?" Vila muttered, "or maybe a Purple Plasma-Bolt?"
    "So long as it's strong. And Vila," Avon's grin widened, "don't be stingy. The lady's very thirsty."

    "Well, now, that was a disaster," Avon remarked as he stalked back to Stiletto's flight deck. He didn't sound entirely angry, though. Puss purred and rubbed her cheek against him affectionately.
    Vila followed, whistling, arm in arm with Pavra and Soolin, who were partly supporting him. "It was a great party, Avon. After all, how often do you get to see the ex-President of the Federation up on top of a table, doing a strip-tease?"
    Blake added, grinning, "And while singing, 'Serving under Servalan'." Jennashook her head and returned to the pilot's position to navigate a clear course away from Earth.
    "I didn't think she even knew it," Tarrant remarked.
    "And you did?" Dayna asked.
    "Of course. I didn't spend all my time at the Space Academy learning to pilot."
    "Obviously," Avon said dryly. "I suppose since we all escaped with our skins, I shall forgive you this time, Blake. But in future, no parties, please."
    "Wet blanket," Vila groused. Then he brightened, "Hey, look what I caught." He held up a lacy black bra. "A souvenir. "
    Avon gave Vila a scowl, then smiled. "I wonder if it's booby-trapped."
    Simultaneous groans surrounded him, as a lacy black missile flew into his face.