Playing at Grown ups

A Pink Dormouse Production

Chapter Fifteen

Soolin

She finally arrived home to Base No 3 and, not even bothering to drop off her luggage, strode straight from the ship to the mess hall. The journey back had been so boring that she had braided her hair in more sections than ever before and, if she was honest about it, she was spoiling for a fight about now.

Dayna, Tarrant and a blond man she had seen around the base once or twice but never spoken to were lounging around a table in the corner. Soolin grabbed a coffee and joined them.

"How’s things?" Dayna moved away a little from Tarrant, much to Soolin’s relief: the pair of them had been unbearable in their togetherness of late.

"Lousy. I had nothing to do but stand around for hours on end. Whatever happened to computer specialists who could hold a gun as well?"

"As I remember the last one turned out to be a homicidally unstable deviant." Tarrant’s remark elicited a querying look from the stranger but agreement from Dayna.

"About sums it up really."

"Keep out of it, Dayna."

"Okay, so I take it you and Mikal didn’t get on, no need to take it out on us."

"I wasn’t. It was-" Soolin bit her lip and silently counted to ten. "If you’re going to bring other people into the discussion you could be a bit less antagonistic about it."

She noticed a package in the centre of the table.

"What’s that?"

"We were hoping you could tell us: it turned up addressed to you." Tarrant pushed it across to her. Something solid and weighty, wrapped in green paper tied with a red velvet bow. She removed the bow and the paper to reveal a second layer of wrapping with a folded piece of paper on top. She unfolded the note and read the half-familiar handwriting.

‘Hiya. Sorry it’s taken me so long but we’re keeping a low profile. We’ve got a place to stay and some decent friends, the sort you can rely on to look after stuff when you go away.’ She smiled to herself: just what the pair of them needed probably, ‘His Nibbs is doing alright too; don’t think you’ll be seeing either of us in your line of business again though. I never really had a chance to thank you for what you did: hope the enclosed is suitable. I got talking to a friend of a friend at work and he knows the gunrunner who delivered it so there’s no point trying to find out where we are or anything. Hug Dayna for me, tell Tarrant he’s a wanker and remind Orac that I’d still like him redesigned as an empty space. Oh and find yourself someone special, if you haven’t already... Love always, V... PS Don’t tell the others I’ve got a job: the shock might kill them... PPS Himself just came in and sends his regards.’

"Well open it then." Tarrant being mature as ever... She removed the second layer of paper to reveal an ancient leather-bound book.

‘Jane Eyre’. Memories of a rare relaxed evening on Xenon: Tarrant and Dayna were away on a supply run and I ended up discussing pre-atomic literature with Vila and Avon while sharing one of Dorian’s better vintage wines. Almost got tipsy enough to voice my suspicion that those two were doing something a little more enjoyable than discussing strategy on the nights Avon was in Vila’s room until the early hours of the morning. So they finally got it together for real- took them long enough.

"So who sent it?" Dayna seemed intrigued as to who would be sending something so valuable to any of them, never mind to Soolin.

"Old friend of the family." Soolin folded the note and stuffed it into a pocket then picked up the book and retreated to her quarters.

She had unpacked her luggage and was deciding whether to re-style her hair or look more carefully at the book first when there was a knock at the door. Opening it, she encountered the blond from the mess hall holding a bottle of wine.

"We never had time for introductions earlier: Del Grant, Operations Coordination for the Alliance."

"So is this a social call or do you want something specific?"

"I have a job that may interest you: far more exciting than playing nursemaid to a computer technician."

"Come on in, I could do with some entertainment."

It seemed prudent to let him have the chair so she found two tumblers for the wine and settled herself on the bed.

"What do you know about the SCorps?"

"As in how we’re doing in relation to the Federation or that bunch of mercenaries with highly modified ships and slightly dubious morals?"

"The latter: their Fleet Chief Marshall has been in contact with me."

"I know of them- they were based on a planet a couple of days from Xenon- Dorian did business there sometimes. I always thought they went for the smaller-scale wars out of preference."

"Well, he’s offering a sizeable fleet at what he claims is a reduced rate but he wants to meet with me in person on neutral territory. Just myself and one second."

"Which is where I come in? Why me?"

"I gather you have a lot of experience which is being under-utilised. I thought about taking Tarrant for his military and mercenary experience but I gather he might make himself rather unpopular with some of his opinions."

Soolin thought of several things that might happen to Tarrant if he met a SCorps representative, ranging from randomly violent to distinctly pornographic.

"Well," she said after hastily swallowing enough of her drink to suppress the laughter that threatened, "he can be a little forthright on the subject. Not wanting to speak ill of the departed but-"

"Just what did Avon do to upset him?"

Soolin boggled at another inappropriate thought.

"Nothing specific as far as I know. You knew Avon then?"

"We were friends once." Grant refilled both wineglasses. "But I’m not here to go over the past, how do you feel about this new mission?"

"Give me two days to debrief and repack and I’ll be there for you."

Avon

"Come on up, Storme." Avon was now resigned to dealing with the woman but it was even harder for him than turning over the day to day work on the detector shield to the Tech Dev Co’s three best engineers. But if it keeps Vila quiet then I suppose I must do it. There would seem to be little she can do for me: either I get over this or I must find a better means of living with it- damn Blake, damn Marianne and damn Vila. No, Vila has his uses, even if he does spend too much time worrying about me.

"You seem tense, Avon."

"And you sound surprised. Surely Vila has told you enough about me for you to know I am not enthusiastic about this?"

"Vila tells me what he thinks of you- not the same as knowing what you are really like."

"Indeed. I made coffee, if you are interested."

"No, Avon, I think you need something a little more relaxing."

Storme moved purposefully into the galley and busied herself concocting an infusion of various herbs she had brought with her. She poured some into a mug and handed it to Avon. "You may want to add honey- some people find it a little too bitter."

"Really?" He sipped it and grimaced. "You could be right. I assume Marianne will have left the honey here after her last culinary invasion."

"So," Storme began, once they were seated in the living room, "what do you want to talk about?"

"What do you think? I am sure I make a very interesting research subject for you; you could get any number of papers out of my supposed mental health problems."

"No need to be so hostile. Maybe you should follow Vila’s example and try reading some of my work before you judge me."

"It’s not my- you say Vila has read your research?"

"Didn’t he tell you?"

"He may have mentioned it but obviously I underestimated him. I seem to be doing that a lot lately."

Vila has changed far more than I ever imagined possible. It may be that I am once again in danger of becoming a burden on him. If we are to remain on equal terms then I must make an effort to comply with his wishes.

He turned his attention back to Storme. "I’m sorry. My previous experiences with psychotherapists have left me a little wary."

"How about we start with that?"

"Well now," he considered the matter, "it would be as good a point as any."

Marianne

"Enough!" she yelled over the noise emanating from the Sappho’s sound system. "I didn’t fight in the SCorps-Space Rat Wars so you guys could listen to techno." She reached her console and switched the noise off; her new crew, dubbed the 'Terror Twins' by Marianne, looked suitably sheepish. "I can see why Jayrel was so keen to offload you two onto me. Now make yourselves useful and clean the main hold before we pick up our next cargo- I estimate two standard hours till docking."

"But, boss, you promised we could rest." Twin A said. Marianne had tried pronouncing their names several times on the first day then given up especially as she had difficulty distinguishing which twin was which.

"Rest- not annoy me with that racket. Now the sooner you get the hold clean, the sooner you can rest again. Or shall I just dump you at the next spaceport?"

"Oh, you don’t want to do that, boss," Twin B piped up, "at least drop us somewhere habitable. Space City for example."

"For the last time, we are most emphatically not going to Space City. You know how much trouble I could get into if the Terra Nostra even think I’ve been in the vicinity?"

"Jayrel would’ve taken us," Twin B muttered.

"Well, I’m not Jayrel and I’m not taking you." Avon will have a field day if he hears about this- if Vila was ever half as annoying I’m glad I only met him after he decided to start being vaguely responsible. Thank the Powers that I gave these two very limited systems access and that they know nothing about hacking into computers or picking locks. They’re very keen on heavy weaponry though otherwise I’d have been very tempted to space them before now. There had been enough of a Federation presence on Marianne’s journey between Arnos Three and the Danios system to make finding a crew imperative. She had run Jayrel down in a bar on Danios Prime and acquired the Terror Twins through a series of favours in which Jayrel got the cargo deal Dariel had planned to offer her, and two of her usual crew sprung from jail. In addition to her current crew, Marianne had ended up with crystals for her weaponry system. Several other captains were plus or minus various essentials also.

Next stop was the Vandor Confederacy to pick up a consignment of food replicators for delivery to the United Planets of Teal via Persion (Teal and Vandor were having one of their standard spats this month and direct trade was being discouraged yet again). With any luck she would make up a couple of days and have time later to fit in a detour to Lindor for more of that particularly good vintage port. Unless, of course, she had to take time out to abandon the Terror Twins and seek a less irritating crew...

Vila

He whistled along to the jukebox as he cleaned the bar and checked the stock levels ready for the first drinkers of the day. Contrary to Avon’s expectations Vila was yet to grow bored with his job; being naturally gregarious meant that the punters stayed longer than they would otherwise to talk to him and pass on all sorts of useful gossip; and his only other options were not advisable under the current circumstances. Crime was far too tightly controlled on Astbury to be worthwhile as anything other than a hobby and signing up on the crew of a starship was the last thing he wanted to do when there was an escalating war raging across most of the galaxy. Dariel had passed on word of Nils the previous day: seemed that the lucky bastard was holed up on Helotrix, which was once more independent, acting as a technical advisor to the new president.

An’ probably findin’ all manner of ways to make a quick profit for him an’ Dariel if I know that lot. Speak of the devil...

The creak of too much black leather announced the arrival of Dariel and his standard pair of henchmen.

"Good morning, Vila. Is Avon at home?"

"Yes an’ no- he’s in the flat but he’s in a meeting."

"More Tech Dev Co business?"

"No, wi’ Storme." Vila didn’t want to give too much away but as the crime boss almost certainly knew everything that happened in the town there was no point in lying to him either. Not if you want to keep all your appendages anyway.

"Ah, yes. Best not to disturb him then." Over the past fortnight Avon had become –if not calmer- then at least no more erratic; he was even going several hours between major mood swings. Marianne had managed to contact Vila from Vandor and it seemed that her biggest worry now was not the Federation, but how to discipline her new crew, reassuring both him and Avon that she was looking after herself perfectly well.

"Now that Nils and Mylo are both going to be occupied offworld for some time," Dariel continued, "I need to find someone else to play with. Would you have any objection to my borrowing Avon again?"

"Better ask him that: we’re equal partners supposedly. Course he’ll just come back an’ ask my opinion but it’s his decision in the end."

"And your opinion?"

"I’m all for him havin’ some fun, so long as I get him back in one piece."

Vila remembered he was supposed to be working and fetched a beer for Dariel and two coffees for his bodyguards.

"Thank you. Put that on my bill. Avon does seem a little nervous around me again; I thought that once we had done one scene he would be reassured."

"You never met Blake did you? Probably a good job: can’t think of anywhere that could withstand that much force of personality in one place. But anyways, Avon lives in a different version of reality to the one most other people live in. He probably thinks if he plays with you too often you’ll expect him to go harin’ off across the galaxy for you as well."

"He need not worry on that account. I know how he feels about going offworld."

"So what else were you wantin’ to see him about then? You’ve got him far too well sussed to just turn up on the off chance of propositioning him."

"Mylo has arranged a meeting with representatives of the Rebel Alliance. He was wondering if either of you could give him background information on one or both of them. He’s calling in to Base tomorrow- briefly- so if you could have the information available when he arrives we would both be very grateful."

"No problem. I’ll tell Avon when he comes down to play pool later. So what are the names of these people?"

After all this time Vila still could not quite claim to like Dariel. Anyone who could go from pirate to warrior-for-hire to planetary ruler was worthy of respect and admiration, and of course the man never manipulated people nearly as much as he could do. The big guy in his turn seemed quite prepared to respect other people’s boundaries which was a good thing as Vila was unprepared to bet on his chances in a fair- or unfair- fight with the man but there were also plenty of reasons to resent him: bravery, charisma, looks, wealth, power; sometimes it seemed that the only thing in Vila’s favour was a lot of shared history with Avon.

Now what would Marianne say if she was here? Suppose if Dariel did want Avon for his personal property he’d have got him by now. Maybe he’s got enough on his plate wi’ Mylo and Nils. I’ve known Avon far too long to expect him to be anything other than fickle- part of his charm really- why he always has to ask my permission to go off an’ play is quite beyond me.

Avon

In spite of all his misgivings, the sessions with Storme were having a positive effect. He felt that he told her nothing she could not have just as easily found out from Vila yet already she had more of a rapport with him than anyone who had tried to analyse or, more usually, adjust his mind back on Earth. He suspected he could have adapted perfectly well to having a gap in his memory but he was not prepared, or it seemed able, to tolerate being distracted by random thoughts relating to that time.

"So Del Grant is co-ordinating the various rebel groups, these days," he mused, lining up his next shot. "I wonder how much he is charging for the privilege."

"Good to know he’s okay. I quite liked him: he didn’t try killing any of us. Shame some of your other old friends couldn’t have been as courteous." Vila was now off duty and drinking an alcoholic concoction, which was a most disturbing shade of green.

"I never noticed the galaxy being filled with your former acquaintances desperate to make contact with you."

"Good thing too: most of them were under the strange impression I owed them money, or they owed me money and were hopin’ I wouldn’t remember. Bastard. How come I never manage to pull off shots like that?"

"Because you are an inferior pool player?"

"Smug git. Just wait till next week when we get the video games delivered. Who had the highest score in the Pear Tree at ‘Starship Duel’?"

"Only because I never saw the point of proving I could line up two computer generated images after a night of heavy drinking. What is that any way?"

"Grel juice, white rum and that strange liqueur no one ever wants. Tastes quite good: want to try it?"

"No thank you- I value my stomach lining. Did Dariel have anything else to report?"

"Just that he’s still after your body. You rack up for another game, I’ll get the next round in." Vila headed over to the bar.

I’m undeniably tempted. Vila would not have mentioned it if he had any objection... and Dariel did hint that he might use the bullwhip on me next time. If only he were not so alluring... I should talk to- no- I am not going to start running to Storme every time I have a difficult decision to make. And Dariel does have a bullwhip...

"Thought you were goin’ to rack up. Honestly, I mention Dariel and your brain turns to mush. On second thoughts maybe I should mention him more often: might stand more chance of winnin’ that way."

"That’s enough, Vila. Are we playing another game or not?"

On to Chapter Sixteen

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