Cheap at Any Price
by Nicola Mody

Vila Restal strode determinedly down the corridor, stopped outside the last door, and gave it a sharp knock. It was time to take a stand at last. There was nothing left for him here now. He squared his shoulders and knocked again, more loudly.

"What?" came Avon's impatient voice.

Vila opened the door and went in.

Avon looked up from his desk, his eyes cold and distant, empty even of the cruel mockery he had shown back there over Malodar. "What do you want?"

"I want to leave."

"Oh?" Avon said dangerously, rising.

"That's right," Vila said firmly. "Drop me off on the nearest civilised planet. Onus 2 would be fine."

Avon began to walk towards him.

Vila swallowed, his courage beginning to desert him, and backed up against the wall. "Look, I'm good at hiding, they'd never find me, hid for years on Earth, I don't know anything anyway..." he babbled, "and anywhere's better than here," he finished in a sudden spurt of anger.

"You're deserting me?" Avon purred.

"Oh, no...not really..." That would count as betrayal, wouldn't it? He knew about Avon and betrayal. "Early retirement?"

"So young?" Avon put a hand against the wall, between Vila and the door.

"Career change then." Vila said, edging away.

Avon put his other hand on the wall, boxing Vila in, and leaned towards him.

Vila closed his eyes, feeling faint. "Oh now look, you don't need me. Better off without me really, I only annoy you all..." No, it wasn't meant to be like this. He was going to stand up for himself for once. He straightened up and looked Avon in the eyes, trying not to quail. "There's not much point any more, is there? I can't trust you. You've made that quite clear."

"Well, now." Avon stood back.

Encouraged, Vila went on, "It's like you said—I'm not safe with you. And neither is anyone else."

Avon hit him so hard, his head cracked against the wall and he fell to the floor, where he cowered, his arms over his face. Avon stooped and lifted him by the front of his tunic, and hit him again. Dazed, Vila went limp. Avon was drawing his fist back for a third blow when a look of contempt crossed his face and he shoved the thief through the doorway. "Get out before I do something I might regret."

Vila fell on the floor outside, the tears beginning to come. They sneered at him for being a coward, but the alternative was no better. Story of his life. He wiped his hands over his face, wincing at the pain. Snuffling, he climbed to his feet, and staggered along to his room, one hand against the wall. He stopped at the door. There was nothing for him in there either, that bare room with its neatly-made bed covered in a grey blanket. Contrary to what the others thought, he did not keep any drink in there. There was wine in the crew room, where he liked to sit with the others, because even being laughed at or ignored was better than being alone in this oppressive, depressing place. But he couldn't bear to let them see him now, not like this.

He headed for the cellar. He was going to get drunk. Not pleasantly relaxed, sipping at a glass or two as he usually did. Really drunk. Dead drunk.

***

Dayna Mellanby was working in her weapons lab, assembling some limpet mines. Tomorrow, she decided, she would take some of the larger ones outside and blow a wall or two out of that old power station. Perhaps that would make her feel better. She sighed. Yet another failure in a long string of them, and she wouldn't mind betting that bitch Servalan had been behind that latest debacle.

"Dayna, have you seen Vila?"

She turned to see Soolin in the doorway. "No, not for hours, not since we landed."

"Look, I'm worried about him. I checked his room and he's not there."

"So?" Dayna shrugged and carefully closed the mine she was working on and began to screw it together. "He'll turn up." She looked up and grinned. "Worse luck."

"It's no joke, Dayna, this is serious. Don't you realise what happened back there? They had to strip that shuttle of everything they could lay their hands on to make orbit."

"So?"

Soolin came around Dayna's bench, and leaned over it, facing her. "Avon said he couldn't find Vila. And Vila said he was glad."

"Yeah, that lazy little—" Dayna stopped in the act of reaching for another casing, her eyes widening. "No. Avon wouldn't!"

"Oh, wouldn't he? What about Dr Plaxton? And you've said often enough yourself that Vila's deadweight."

"I didn't mean it like that." Dayna remembered how Vila had sat silently, his face closed and sullen, all the way back. That hadn't been at all like him, now she thought about it. If what Soolin said was true, that was a really nasty crack Avon had made to him about being safe with him. "Where've you looked?"

"The crew room, the kitchen, his room, all the usual places."

"Well, have you checked the cellar?"

Soolin shook her head, puzzled. "Why would he be there? All right, we go on about his drinking, but you know he doesn't actually have that much. And I've never seen him drunk."

"I have," Dayna said. "Only once. When we first got here. You weren't here, well not around anyway. It was after—" she hesitated.

"After Dorian was killed?" Soolin asked coolly.

"Yeah, that's right." Dayna was relieved she hadn't put her foot in it. "Vila was pretty upset about Cally. He'd already been into the wine from when he got there, and he just went on drinking all evening. When he started crying, Avon kicked him out. Tarrant and I found him passed out in the corridor and had to put him to bed."

Soolin pursed her lips. "All right, I'll check the cellar. You'd better come with me, just in case."

Starting to feel worried despite herself, Dayna followed Soolin down to the room Dorian had used to store his wine. She had often thought it was odd it was called a cellar, considering the whole base was underground and therefore one giant one, but she supposed it was some sort of tradition, one of the many she had never learned. The door was open and the light was on.

"Vila?" Soolin called. There was no answer. She peered behind the now sparsely-populated wine-racks. "Dayna, over here!"

Vila was curled up in a dark, dusty corner, empty bottles lying beside him. Soolin shook him gently, but got no response. She put her hand to his neck, and looked up, relieved.

"He's alive, but he looks pretty bad. We've got to get him to the recovery room. Quick, help me with him."

Dayna crouched and put one of Vila's arms across her shoulder while Soolin took the other, and they lifted him between them, where he hung limply, head hanging. He was not heavy, but it was no easy job getting him through the base, with his feet dragging on the floor.

"Avon'll be furious if he finds out," Dayna said. "He was bloody unimpressed last time."

"I should imagine that's the least of Vila's worries."

In the recovery room, they stopped, breathless, and laid him out on one of the beds. Soolin connected the sensors and checked the readouts. "He's in a coma, but at least he's still breathing. But only just." While Soolin set up an IV drip of a sugar and vitamin solution, Dayna stared at Vila's face. There was a dark bruise on his jaw and spreading across his cheek.

"Soolin? Look at this. He must have fallen."

"On his jaw? Hardly." Soolin frowned, checking the injury. "Nothing's broken, but it's a bad bruise." She ran a regenerator over it, then sat down beside the bed, her face softening into concern. "You poor thing," she said, so quietly Dayna almost didn't hear her. She shook her head. "His breathing's very shallow. I'd better stay with him just in case."

"I will too for a while," Dayna said, drawing up another chair. She met Soolin's eyes and looked away. "Poor bastard. I never had much time for him."

"None of you seem to," Soolin said dryly.

Dayna felt both defensive and guilty. "Well, Avon insulted him from the moment Tarrant and I were on the Liberator, and we didn't need his skills at all then, so I couldn't see the point of having him around." She shrugged. "But he's not as bad as I thought."

No, Vila had been so uncharacteristically decisive when Zen was dying and had surprised her several times since, most of all when Justin died. Back on Scorpio afterwards, Dayna had sobbed helplessly, ignored by everyone but Vila who had silently put his arms around her and held her gently until she stopped at last and looked at him, ashamed not just of her own weakness, but of her treatment of him. He had just smiled shyly, looked away and murmured, "Know what it's like, don't I?"

"Dayna?" Soolin interrupted her thoughts. "We're going to have to look out for him."

"What d'you mean?"

"From now on, one of us should always be with him."

"To protect him from himself, you mean?" Dayna frowned in puzzlement.

"Yes, that and Avon."

Dayna bit her lip. "All right."

When Vila came round, Dayna had been gone a couple of hours.

"Welcome back," said Soolin.

Vila stared up at her, dully. "What happened?"

"You drank yourself legless. Just what were you trying to do?"

"Drugs don't work properly on me. Have to drink a lot to feel anything." Vila closed his eyes. "Or nothing."

"Well, you almost killed yourself. Which seems a bit stupid after you tried so hard to stay alive in that shuttle."

Vila's eyes flew open. "How d'you know about that?"

"It's not that hard to work out."

"Oh." Vila struggled to sit; Soolin helped him up, and sat beside him on the bed.

"Look, Vila, you're not exactly cut out to be a rebel or a fighter—"

"Just figured that out, have you?" Vila put a hand to his head and winced.

"—so why are you here?"

"I've been wondering that ever since we lost Blake." He looked at Soolin. "I kept thinking things might get better, but they won't, will they? Not now. So I asked Avon if I could go, if he could just drop me off on a civilised planet..." He sighed, slumping.

"And he hit you, didn't he?"

Vila nodded miserably.

"Look," Soolin said, "as far as I'm concerned, I'm leaving as soon as I can. You can come with me, Dayna too if she wants. In fact, the sooner the better. We could take the ship and order Slave to bring it back."

"No. Avon's got a really good security system. He'd know. He'd kill us."

"And you're a really good thief. And not a bad pilot."

Vila shook his head. "It's too hard. It'll go wrong just like everything else does." He put his head in his hands.

Soolin recognised the symptoms of depression. There had been times in her own life when it had almost seemed easier to give up than to go on. She wouldn't have thought it of Vila though. He had been the only one ever to ask her about her family—"Tell me about them, Soolin. Then there'd be someone else who remembers them."—and she'd been so touched, she had. Vila had told her something of himself too, and it had astounded her that he had survived the trauma of his early childhood and the brutality of the Juvenile Detention Wards and the Federation's 'adjustments' with his sanity intact, let alone the open friendliness and almost childlike innocence he had. Yet it now appeared his resilience had its limits after all.

Soolin knew he needed comfort, probably a hug like the one he had given Dayna on the way back from Bucol 2, but she did not have the courage to offer that much of herself. She placed her hand on his shoulder and said gently, "You'll feel better after something to eat and a good night's sleep. Everything will look different then. And after breakfast tomorrow, maybe we can play a game. Dayna told me you enjoy doing that. There are some in the cupboards." Dorian, or one of his victims, must have left them there, although she'd never seen him use them. "You can show me how. Would you like that?"

Vila looked at her forlornly and nodded.

Soolin smiled. "Come on then."

***

Kerr Avon found them where he had expected them to be, in the crew room. Vila, Dayna, and Soolin were seated around the small table, each with a glass of wine, playing some sort of strategy game involving coloured beads. Once, Avon might have been interested, but that was a long time ago.

"I need one of you to accompany me to Betafarl." The girls looked at him silently, and Vila kept his eyes down as he usually did these days. "Vila?"

At that, Vila looked up sullenly. "No, Avon."

"Soolin or Dayna then?" Avon drawled silkily.

Once, Dayna would have volunteered eagerly, but she and Soolin looked at each other questioningly.

Avon sneered. "Do you have such a low opinion of my intelligence?" he asked coldly. "I am aware of what's been going on for the last few weeks. I do have access to the medical logs. Ever since Vila was treated for alcoholic poisoning—by one of you two I assume—you always seem to be together. That Vila is useless I can accept, but not that two other members of my crew are also effectively incapacitated by the need to watch him."

"And whose fault is that?" Soolin asked sweetly.

"Certainly not mine. Vila, you're coming with me."

"No." Vila crossed his arms in defiance.

Avon stepped forward and grasped him tightly by the upper arm, causing him to yelp in pain. "Now, Vila!"

Keeping his grip on Vila, he marched him to the teleport bay, clipped a bracelet on his arm, and ordered, "Teleport, Orac." On Scorpio's flight deck, he pushed Vila towards the sleeping bays and onto a bunk.

"There's no need for violence," Vila complained, rubbing his arm resentfully. "What are you—" He stared, horrified, at Avon's gun. "Oh no, please, Avon, please don't..."

Keeping the gun levelled at Vila, Avon slapped an anaesthetic disc onto his forehead, and dispassionately watched him collapse back onto the bunk, hitting his head against the bulkhead. Avon holstered his gun and lashed Vila's wrists tightly together, then his ankles. He then rolled him so that his face was to the wall, threw a coarse grey blanket over him, and sat down at his station to wait for Tarrant.

It made sense. Vila was useless to him now, sullen, uncommunicative, and resentful as he was. And the look in his eyes hurt... Stop that! He knew he could never trust Vila again. So why did he feel so bad about what had been such a logical course of action? And damn the man for making him hit him and despise himself for it afterwards. He knew he couldn't stand to lose someone else, not after Anna, Cally, and Blake, and Vila was the last of Blake's crew, the last one who had mattered. Oh, yes, it had made sense to drive him away with real insults, to ignore the pain in his eyes and his growing misery, because then when he lost Vila too, it wouldn't hurt if he didn't care about him any more.

But he had lost Vila over Malodar, and somehow it still did hurt. Perhaps it wouldn't when he no longer had to see him.

Del Tarrant strode through the base's corridors, feeling very irritated. Why had Avon suddenly decided the outside sensors needing checking just before they were due to leave? Surely Vila could have done it. No, on second thoughts, perhaps not. Vila had been very uncooperative lately, and oddly enough Avon seemed to accept it. Perhaps he felt bad about the Malodar shuttle, although Tarrant could not imagine Avon feeling guilty about anything. He had not realised just what had happened until a remark of Soolin's had caused him to check the shuttle's path in the logs and do some calculations. If Avon had not found that neutron star material, Vila would have been out that airlock. He must have hidden well. Not surprising that he avoided Avon these days.

It was odd then that Vila was going with them on this trip.

"Avon, teleport," Tarrant said into his bracelet. Arriving on Scorpio's flight deck, he looked around it, puzzled. "Where's Vila?"

"Sleeping." Avon nodded towards the bunks, where Tarrant could see the thief huddled under a blanket. Even for Vila, once able to nap anywhere, that was strange.

"Is he all right?"

"Don't waste time, Tarrant. Take us up and follow the course laid in."

Waste time? If he's in such a hurry, why did I have to check those sensors? One look at Avon's face convinced Tarrant to keep his thoughts to himself as he manoeuvred Scorpio out of the underground parking bay. As Xenon receded in his display, he checked the course Avon had set and frowned. "I thought we were going to Betafarl."

"We are. We're just making a detour."

Tarrant pulled up a star map and plotted the course against it. He froze, feeling a chill down his spine. Surely I'm wrong. He turned; Avon was looking at him with half-closed eyes and a gun pointing straight at him.

"Domo?" Tarrant looked towards Vila and back to Avon. "You can't be meaning to—"

"Auction Vila? Oh, yes. He's been useless to me since we got back from Malodar, but he can still perform one last service—" Avon bared his teeth in a predatory smile. "—fetch a decent price."

Avon was not behaving logically; Tarrant felt ill. "Look, Vila knows where the base is—" He stopped, realising that such an argument might sign Vila's death warrant.

"So will everyone I'm inviting to the conference. Regardless of the outcome, we shall abandon it afterwards, so it hardly matters."

Perhaps another tack then. "But the space pirates only sell their own captives."

"They are hardly capable of signing their own names, let alone running an auction. Verlis does it for them, very well too, and has been known to sell on behalf of other vendors." Avon sounded calm, even amused.

"You're condemning him to death, Avon. Vila's got a million-credit bounty on his head."

"Oh, I rather think he'll go for more than that. A thief of his talents will be in demand among the criminal community. I took the liberty of putting the word out two weeks ago, so I'm sure there will be some very interested bidders. The Terra Nostra spring to mind."

He had this planned all along. Tarrant got up, keeping a wary eye on Avon. "All right. At least let me check him," he said quietly. He rolled Vila onto his back, seeing the disc on his forehead. As he reached for it, Avon spoke.

"I wouldn't, if you want to be kind. To him and us."

Tarrant took his hand back. Wondering at Vila's odd position, he pulled the blanket down and drew in his breath. His hands were bound so tightly they were already swollen and purple. "Was that necessary, Avon?"

"He is an escape artist."

"He's unconscious!"

"I'm taking no chances."

Tarrant went back to his station, having no idea what to do. Surely Avon wasn't serious. Perhaps it was all a ploy to shock Vila out of his recent behaviour, although he didn't think so. If Avon was as dangerous as he seemed, then Tarrant had better be very very careful.

Vila awoke to see Tarrant looking down at him with uncharacteristic sympathy. "Wha...what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Vila."

That alone was enough to frighten him. No one ever bothered to apologise to him. He tried to sit up and gasped at the sudden agony in his hands and feet. "Tarrant? Tarrant, what's happening?" His throat was so dry it hurt to talk.

Tarrant turned aside in what looked like shame. "You tell him, Avon."

Avon was sprawled at his station, holding a gun, his face expressionless. "I'm doing what you asked, Vila. I'm dropping you off on a neutral planet. Remember Domo?"

Vila did. "Oh, no. Not that, please."

"Well, get on with it, Tarrant."

Tarrant lifted Vila under the arms and dragged him over to the teleport bay.

"You've got five seconds to get his bracelet off him before I teleport you back. Oh and Tarrant—if you have any other ideas, may I remind you that Verlis's people are armed, and I'm sure a pilot of your calibre will fetch an excellent price." Avon smiled as he teleported them.

The dry heat hit Vila like a blow. Tarrant lowered him gently to the floor, unclipped his bracelet, and looked down pityingly. "Vila—" But whatever he had been going to say was lost as he shimmered and disappeared.

"So you're Vila Restal."

Vila stared up at the middle-aged woman in flowing robes and an elaborate silver headdress who stood over him.

She nudged him with her foot. "Not very impressive, are you?"

Her communicator buzzed. "Verlis—Avon. Have you received the package?"

"I have the merchandise. Why is he bound?"

"Think about it, Verlis. I suggest you leave him that way if you want a thief to sell."

"Very well." Verlis nodded to the two large men who flanked her. "Take him out. The bidders are getting impatient."

They took Vila by the elbows and carried him out into the sun. He squinted against the glare from the sand and the harsh metallic blue sky. They were in a large pit with a display screen at one end which showed a close-up of his pale frightened face; disgusted, he looked away. He was shoved into a chair facing the other end of the pit, where a group of people in bright clothes were shaded by stretched canvas. The bidders. He was close enough to see their faces. Vila hung his head and stared miserably at the sand. One of the men grabbed his chin, pulled it up roughly and held a baton in front of his face.

"They want to see what they're buying. This is a neural whip. You stay like that or you'll get to feel it."

Vila obediently kept his head up but his eyes lowered. He felt ill, faint, desperately thirsty, and so unhappy the pain in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Avon should have killed him back on Scorpio or on that damned shuttle; anything was better than being discarded and sold like used goods in a second-hand market. With that bounty on his head, he knew what would happen. Well, if the Feds got their hands on him, he had his way out. He could take it now, but as he'd said to Gan once, while you're still breathing, there's hope. Not that he'd dared to hope for much at all for a long time.

"And now, the item many of you have been waiting for—" Verlis's voice rang out. "—a somewhat unusual offering: the well-known thief Vila Restal. You may notice he is tied hand and foot. This is, after all, the young man who escaped from the CF1 penal colony at age 14, and the only man living who has ever got away from Cygnus Alpha. I would remind you: caveat emptor." Verlis approached Vila so closely he could smell her cloying perfume, then dropped her hand on his shoulder, making him jump involuntarily. "Restal is an extraordinarily talented thief, and I'm sure would return your investment many times over. He is the only person ever to break into the Federation's Central Control, a feat they said was impossible, and is one of only a handful of people in the galaxy who can get through a physio-psycho lock working alone. At the request of the vendor, all prices will be quoted in Federation credits, which is only appropriate as there is, I must remind you, a million-credit bounty posted for him. I am now opening the bidding at 100,000. Do I hear 100,000?"

Vila sat still, trying to keep his face expressionless. It was pretty sad, he thought, that Verlis had just given him more compliments at one time than he had heard in the last few years.

"100,000 from number 26. Any advance on that? 150,000, thank you 41."

Vila listened to the bidding and counter-bidding, dully watching the numbered signs lift and fall. They'd make a good profit on him when they sold him to the Federation. Up to 300,000 now. He swayed slightly in the heat which was so intense he was felt it had weight, crushing him. This was a nightmare; surely it wasn't really happening. Half a mill now. Vila looked blearily towards Verlis, remembering the five he had in a numbered account from that time he and Avon—it hurt to think of it now—had taken the Freedom City casino. He wondered if he could bid on himself. He tried to speak, but he could barely manage a croak. The effort made him feel dizzy. Perhaps he could buy himself from whoever bought him...

"One million."

There was a brief silence, then a hubbub of voices. Vila blinked, trying to focus on the woman who had spoken.

"Well, well. Things begin to get interesting," Verlis said. "One million is the bounty on Restal. A first bid from number 73. Do I hear an advance on one million?"

"One and a quarter."

"One and a quarter to number 41."

The Terra Nostra, thought Vila. Or some other villains who planned to use him on a big job. The thought was frightening, but almost anything was better than the Federation.

"Two million," came the same woman's voice again, slow and languid. This time, Vila saw her—young, dark-haired, dressed in turquoise.

The shocked silence stretched almost to a minute. Then at last number 41 answered: "Two and a quarter."

"Three million," said number 73, sounding bored.

"Any advance on three million?"

Vila doubted it. It was obvious that number 73 would just go to four if there was. He was afraid to wonder why she wanted him so badly.

"Sold to 73 for three million then."

The young woman rose and sauntered over to Verlis, followed by a huge man in a turban. A body-guard or her enforcer? She keyed in her funds transfer codes, then came over to inspect her purchase. Ashamed, Vila lowered his eyes again; he could see only her voluminous trousers and jewelled pointed high-heeled shoes, and, as she walked slowly around him trailing her hand lightly over his cheek and round to the back of his head, making him wince, the shining fall of her waist-length black hair. She stopped in front of him, and leaned forward; Vila closed his eyes.

"Don't worry, Vila," she whispered. "I haven't bought you—only your freedom."

She stepped back, turned on her heel, and arrogantly snapped her fingers. The turbaned man flung Vila over his shoulder, and followed her across the hot sand. The combination of the heat, the agony from his hands and feet, and the position of his head, bobbing upside-down above the desert, was too much for him and he passed out.

When he came round, he was strapped into a leather recliner on a luxuriously appointed flight deck which rivalled that of the Liberator although it was only a quarter the size.

"Three ships in pursuit. Space pirates like you expected."

"Not for long. I doubt if they can do time distort twenty." The woman's hands flew over the pilot's controls. "Hold tight."

"We've lost them."

"All the same, I think we'll go the roundabout way, through a nebula or two...courses laid in. The computer can handle it from now on." The woman leant back, stretched, and kicked her high-heeled shoes off. "Ah, that's better. I don't know how people can wear those bloody things." She put her hands to her long hair and pulled it off, revealing a bright red mop which she shook out. "Right, better see how our guest is." She got up. "Hey! You're awake!"

She was not what Vila had expected. Her manner had changed completely—she had shed her studied languor for a bright perkiness which suited her real appearance. She was not beautiful, but her thin pointed face was attractive, friendly and likeable. She smiled down at him.

"Hello, Vila. I'm Lenya Tamak, and underneath the fancy dress is Gultis."

Gultis removed his turban, revealing dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, and grinned at Vila. The man had to be over two metres tall, and was built like a prison cellblock. Vila stared vaguely from one to the other.

"You don't look at all well, do you." Lenya frowned and placed her cool hand on his forehead. "Gultis, get him to the med unit. And be a bit more careful this time."

"All right, but I did look the part though, didn't I?" Gultis lumbered over.

Vila felt his restraints removed, then he was lifted as gently and easily as if he were a child. This wasn't so bad. He supposed they had to protect their investment. Might as well go along with it, easier that way. He was put down on a bed where he lay passively while they put a drip in his arm and gave him a painkiller.

"You'll be all right," Lenya said. "You're very dehydrated and you've got a bit of sunstroke, that's all. Feeling a bit better?"

Vila tried to lick his lips. "Thirsty," he whispered.

"Here." She offered him a tube and he drank, savouring the coolness of the water in his mouth and throat. He hadn't enjoyed a drink so much for a long time.

"That's enough or you'll be sick. I'd better deal with those hands now." Lenya picked up a surgical knife, and grinned at his reaction. "Don't worry, I'm just going to cut the bindings. Gultis, you do his feet."

"He one of your slaves too?" Vila asked bitterly.

Lenya looked up, shocked. "Certainly not! He came along as my bodyguard, to make me look good. What makes you think that—because he's doing your feet? I'd do them myself to prove a point, but it's faster with two of us." She ran a regenerator over Vila's hands. "Gultis works for the resistance like me," she said with dignity.

"What d'you want with me, then?"

"Absolutely nothing, Vila. Like I said, I bought your freedom, not you."

"Why?"

"To stop others getting hold of you. Look, when you're recovered, you're perfectly free to do what you like, but I do have a friend who'd like to see you again. He's the one who heard you were up for auction and asked me to go to Domo."

"A friend? Who?"

Lenya grinned with anticipation. "Roj Blake. I'm going to call him right now. You can talk—"

"No!" Vila was surprised at the violence of his own reaction. The thought of Blake seeing what he had become was unbearable. He pushed Lenya away with his numbed hands, and sat up, flailing at her. "He can't see me like this, leave me alone, what would you know anyway, how would you know what it's like to be rubbish, just a piece of Delta scum only fit for dumping..."

Lenya stepped back, shocked, and called for Gultis who grabbed Vila's arms and forced him back down.

"Sorry, Vila," she said, putting a tranquilliser disc on his forehead.

They stood, looking down at him.

"My fault," Lenya said, checking the IV. "I should've thought. Being put up for auction wouldn't have done a lot for his self-esteem." She picked the regenerator up off the floor and started to work on his hands again.

"I'd have thought the price he went for would."

Lenya gave Gultis a reproachful look, and put healing pads on Vila's hands, and handed some to Gultis. "You just about finished there?"

"Yep. You want me to clean him up and get him into fresh clothes?"

Lenya cocked her head, thinking about it. Vila did look dusty, grimy, and in need of a shave, but she wondered how she would feel under the circumstances. "No. He hasn't much dignity left as it is. We'll leave him here till the drip's run through, than you can put him in his cabin to sleep it off. He can look after himself when he wakes up."

She went to the flight deck and put in a call to the Gauda Prime base. Blake came on almost immediately, looking worried.

"Well, did you get him?"

"Yes, no trouble." Lenya grinned. "I only made bids in round millions which put the others off a bit."

"What? How much did you pay?"

"Only three, don't worry—there's plenty more where that came from, you know that." Lenya hesitated. "Here's the thing though—he's not the Vila you knew."

Blake looked puzzled. "You mean it was someone else?"

"Oh no, it's him all right. But he's not the funny guy you tell all those stories about... Blake, I think they might have broken him."

Vila woke to find himself lying on top of a soft bed in a small cabin. He turned his head and saw two bright beach scenes on the pearly walls opposite—now there was a comforting thought: he'd never been in a cell with paintings. He sat up cautiously, and looked at his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally, and sighed with relief. They were faintly pink and tingled only slightly. On the bedside table was a carafe of water, a glass and a note. Vila picked up the note.

Vila,

You are a guest here and have the run of the ship. There are clean clothes in the closet, and everything else you should need in the bathroom. Please join us when you feel like it.

Lenya

Now Vila thought about it, he did feel rather grubby. Nice of them not to have stripped him off and thrown him in a sonic shower just to complete his humiliation. He drank half a glass of water and went over to check the cabin door. He turned the handle and cracked it slightly, and closed it again very quietly. Perhaps it was true he was a guest. On second thoughts, he locked the door.

The shower was one of those expensive ones which sprayed you with a fine mist of water at the end followed by a soft blast of air. Feeling clean and refreshed, Vila opened the closet. Ah, good, at last a change from Dorian bloody grey. He put on a cream tunic and light brown trousers, and a pair of soft brown slippers. He was almost tempted to check himself out in the mirror but could not bear to be reminded of who he was. He got his old clothes out of the bathroom, removed his slim wallet of tools and the individual lockpicks concealed in various places, then rolled up the clothes and stuffed them savagely into the rubbish bin. He never wanted to see them again. He looked at the lockpicks lined up neatly on the bed. The sum of his life, 33 years; was that all it came to? Sighing, he slipped them into his new clothes, unlocked the door, and sat down resignedly on the bed to wait for something to happen, his hands hanging between his knees.

Eventually there was a quiet knock. It was Lenya. "Vila? Can I come in?"

Why not? It's your ship. It's your Vila for that matter. "Yes," he said at last.

Lenya put her head round the door, and her face lit up. "Oh, good, you're up! Hey, don't those colours suit you! Are you hungry?"

Now Vila thought about it, he realised he was. "Suppose so."

"D'you want to come out with us, or shall I bring your meal in here?"

Face the people who'd bought him, or stay in his room like a prisoner? Now there was a good choice. "Don't know."

Lenya sat on the bed beside him. "Oh, come on, Vila. We're not that bad."

Vila kept his head down, not wanting to look at her. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing. Just take you back to Ataro till you're ready to make up your own mind what you want to do."

Make up his own mind? He hadn't made a real decision since he'd almost electrocuted himself on the faulty wiring in that bank vault lock and got himself sent to Cygnus Alpha. He wasn't sure he could any more. He remembered the money. "I've got five million, you know. I can pay you back."

"Oh, there's plenty more where that came from. You keep your money, you may need it." Lenya gave a short laugh. "I suppose it's a really stupid thing to do, inviting a professional thief to stay. You'll probably end up with all of mine anyway."

Vila looked up at that, indignant. "Course I won't! I never steal from people I like." He turned away again, embarrassed at the open sympathy he saw on her face. "Look, I'm sorry about before, yelling at you like that."

"It doesn't matter. But for what it's worth, I do know what it's like to be rubbish."

Vila screwed his face up in disbelief.

"You don't believe me, do you? All right—I was born with one eye smaller than the other and an ear that stuck out. My parents didn't even want to take me home and as it was, they put a paper bag over my head when they did."

Vila turned and looked at her. Was she serious? Her words weren't, but he recognised the technique: joke and people won't know how much it hurts. He'd used it all the time until he'd stopped caring.

"They said they couldn't fix it till I was 18 and fully grown. So I was always the one left at home, the one partially obscured in all the dynastic family portraits, or in profile when everyone else was full-face. Then there was the school dance and all those other fun social occasions. My parents used to pay boys to take me—some were so unnerved when they saw me they'd take refuge in the loos for most of the evening. Well, I look all right now, but it doesn't do a lot for your pride knowing most people like your money more than you. And nor does being auctioned off," she added softly, putting her hand on Vila's shoulder.

Vila was touched by her confidences and her kindness, and could feel his eyes filling up. He gulped and tried to control himself, and felt Lenya squeeze his shoulder gently. "I'm sorry," he said, "I mean about you."

Lenya smiled and patted his shoulder. "Thanks," she said quietly. "Now you'd better come and have some dinner before Gultis scoffs the lot."

He nodded shyly and let her take his arm and lead him out to the table.

"About time, you two. I'm hungry enough to eat a warg-strangler." Gultis said, taking the top of the soup tureen.

"Would you like some soup, Vila?" Lenya asked. "Perhaps a glass of wine?"

"Um, yes please." Vila was assailed by a sudden strange feeling, which he at last identified as well-being. He was clean, dressed in new clothes, and sitting down to an excellent meal with people who seemed to like him. "This is nice," he said, inadequately.

"All Ataroan organic food, one of our two main exports," Lenya said. "It's a good lark that, growing gourmet food for the snobs of the galaxy. Even the Feds value our product and leave us alone."

Vila wondered how he had ever thought of that agriplanet Destiny they went to with Blake as a boring place. Boring and safe sounded wonderful right now. Perhaps this Ataro would be a good bolt-hole. "What's your other export?"

"Mercenaries," Lenya said airily, causing him to almost choke on his soup. "You obviously don't know our history, Vila. Ataro started as a penal colony—"

"So did Stryli," Gultis said round a mouthful of fresh bread.

Lenya rolled her eyes at Gultis. "Oh, one must never forget Stryli. So it did. Gultis is from Stryli," she said to Vila, "and we're dropping him off there on the way, which is lucky or we'd run out of food."

Gultis snorted and helped himself to a second bowl of soup while planning his next culinary move.

"Anyway, you'll like this, Vila, Ataro—and Stryli too—were Federation penal colonies, about 500 years ago. So our ancestors were mainly Delta criminals just like you. Excellent stock." Lenya grinned and nodded at Vila who blinked in surprise. "Anyway, the supply lines were too long so they threw them both open and the next lot of colonists were farmers, pirates, and assorted desperadoes with nowhere else to go. With a gene pool like that, you end up with a lot of people who want more from life than growing avocadoes."

"Oh. Are you a—"

"Mercenary? Good grief no! I don't even play sport." Lenya took pity on Vila's puzzlement. "You'll have to watch a few of the so-called leisure pursuits on Ataro. Just as an example, flaming."

"Flaming?"

"The oh-so-fun pastime of throwing yourself out of a shuttle in a heat-resistant spacesuit. Quite popular with the more adventurous tourist too."

Vila paled and gulped.

"Oh, you do get a parachute for the last bit, but all the same a few die every year. Look, don't worry, Vila. I restrict myself to dangerous things like swimming and lying around reading and café-crawling. And games if I can find people to play with. Hey, Blake tells me you like chess."

"Yeah, I do." Vila smiled, and realised it was for the first time in weeks.

***

Tarrant had hoped that Avon would leave him on Scorpio while he went down to Betafarl; then he would be able to take it back to Xenon base to get the girls. There wasn't much he could do about Vila—he'd seen that brute cart him off ignominiously on the viscast supplied by Verlis—but the rest of them could find somewhere safe.

But no such luck. Avon had made him teleport too, and had taken his bracelet off him as soon as they materialised. He had sat listening to Avon and Zukan discussing their alliance, both jockeying for the advantage, both circling each other with suspicion. Now he followed them to the biogenetics labs of which Zukan appeared to be inordinately proud, though Tarrant wouldn't mind betting he'd never read a book in his life. A beautiful woman with one of the flamboyant hairstyles favoured by the Betafarlian aristocracy greeted them.

"This is my daughter Zeeona," Zukan said. "She is in charge of the laboratory. She will show you around. Zeeona, this is Avon and Tarrant."

Zeeona favoured them both with a charming smile, which Tarrant returned, and asked them to follow her. Watching her appreciatively from behind, Tarrant decided that being stuck here might not be all bad.

***

Vila huddled in the tiny compartment, the tears rolling silently down his cheeks as Avon stalked him through the shuttle, calling him in that strange wheedling voice, always getting closer, closer...

"Ah, there you are, Vila," he said softly. "So helpful of you to be found. Come on out."

"No, Avon, please don't!"

"Oh, but Vila. I have to."

Avon raised his gun and calmly shot Vila through the heart. His chest hurt so much Vila couldn't breath, but the expected darkness didn't come. He felt no different except that now he was completely limp and unable to move. So this was death? Avon pulled him out of his hiding place, dropped him on the floor and dragged him to the airlock by his feet, while Vila tried to beg him to stop, but couldn't make himself heard. Avon, uncaring, shut the inner door and opened the outer one. Vila heard the air whistle out with him and he fell towards Malodar, trying to draw non-existent breath. But when he hit the atmosphere and his clothes caught fire, at last he found his voice and screamed and screamed and—

"Vila! What's the matter? Vila!"

Someone was shaking him. He gasped and blinked at Lenya.

"Nightmare," he whispered, shivering.

"It must have been a bad one." Lenya let him go and sat on the side of the bed. "Want to tell me about it?"

"Avon...Avon threw me out of a shuttle..."

"Oh, Vila. That was my fault for talking about flaming at dinner. It's all right, it was only a dream. It didn't happen."

"No, it didn't." Vila was shaking uncontrollably. "Not really. He couldn't find me."

"What? You mean he...tried to..."

Vila nodded, hugging his knees, miserably.

Lenya put her arm across his shoulders. "When, Vila?"

"About a month ago...couldn't make orbit...had to throw out everything we could..." Vila could not go on, afraid he would break down, but when Lenya put both arms around him, he began to sob helplessly. She just held him, rocking him slightly. At last he stopped, ashamed. "Sorry, no defences against kindness. I've made you all wet now."

"Don't be silly, it's all right. Vila, that was a terrible thing to happen."

"Oh, it was logical," Vila said dully. "Why should both of us die? I can see how Avon would think."

"Well I can't!" Lenya leaned back to look at Vila, her face alight with passion. "I could never do it! What would be the point of living if you had to spend the rest of your life remembering you killed a friend?"

Vila stared at her, his remaining suspicion of her dissolving. "Don't suppose I was a friend," he said at last, "and he'd have done the same to any of the others. It was what he said afterwards that really got me, that I was always safe with him."

"So you couldn't trust him after that, and that meant he couldn't trust you," Lenya said slowly. "That's why he sold you, isn't it?"

Vila nodded.

Lenya squeezed his arm. "You lie down and go back to sleep. I'll stay here for a while and make up for giving you nightmares by telling you some nice things about Ataro. There are some, you know."

Vila curled up, strangely comforted and listened to Lenya speak softly of cool rainforests alive with birdsong, vast rolling farmlands, towering mountains, and the bright tropics, and fell asleep dreaming of warm clear blue-green seas and white beaches.

Lenya listened to his even breathing, then tiptoed from the room, thinking that she could tell him about the lethal Ataroan sea-life some other time.

***

"That was Avon," Dayna said, coming into the living room. "He said everything's going well on Betafarl, so they'll go on to the other border worlds before coming back here. They'll be another week or two. Peace and quiet for us."

"Did he say anything about Vila?"

"No, but he didn't say anything about Tarrant either, You know Avon, he doesn't exactly indulge in social chit-chat." Dayna looked puzzled. "Why, are you worried about him?"

"Think about it, Dayna." Soolin put her book down. "Why did he want to take him in the first place?"

"To open some locks? Crack a safe? Who knows?"

"Breaking and entering when you're trying to gain people's confidence is hardly recommended. No, Avon usually takes Vila to watch his back because he's very good at recognising danger. But Vila doesn't trust Avon any more, so Avon wouldn't be able to trust him. So why did he take him?"

Dayna sighed. "All right, you tell me."

"That's what bothers me. The only logical reason I can come up with is to get rid of him. Perhaps this Zukan wants a thief."

Dayna looked shocked, and Soolin decided she would keep her fears that Avon may have had a more permanent solution in mind to herself.

***

When Vila awoke, he lay in bed for a while enjoying an unexpected and unaccustomed feeling of simple pleasure. He rolled out of bed, wondering what the new day would bring and realised that for the first time in months he was allowing himself a little hope.

Lenya greeted him cheerfully when he emerged from his cabin. "Hello there. Join me for breakfast? Gultis of course couldn't wait and has bolted his usual enormous amount."

Gultis raised a large coffee mug to Vila in greeting.

"We're orbiting Stryli and we'll drop him off after we've eaten." Lenya came over to Vila and took his hands. "Let's look at these first."

Vila stood enchanted as she gently examined both sides of them, and was sorry when she let them go, satisfied that they had healed perfectly. "Want to see my well-turned ankles too?" he asked hopefully.

Lenya was encouraged at this sign of the Vila Blake had told her about. "Oh, of course," she said gravely, and bent over to look at them. "Very shapely, Vila," she said with a twinkle in her eyes, "you could model socks," and was rewarded with a shy smile.

"Did a good job on those," Gultis said complacently, following them through to the galley. "I might join you two for a snack."

Vila was surprisingly hungry and attacked his eggs and toast with gusto, content to let to the others talk. He pricked his ears up though when Gultis mentioned the border systems.

"They took Zondor easily enough with that new drug they have. They'll be on Serrus and Hirrial next, all along there."

"That's where Avon's going," Vila said. "Betafarl too, to set up some sort of alliance."

"With Betafarl?" Lenya looked sceptical. "Zukan would eat the rest of them for—well, breakfast."

"We...uh, he needs Betafarl. They're going to manufacture the antitoxin."

"The antitoxin? There's an antitoxin?"

Vila nodded. "We got it off the guy who invented Pylene 50. I asked Avon once why he didn't tell everyone what it was, and that Commissioner Sleer was really Servalan, but he just said knowledge was power." He stopped, looking at Lenya, who was staring at him with her mouth open, and Gultis, whose coffee cup was frozen half-way to his mouth. "So I took his advice and memorised the formula."

"Oh, Vila!" Lenya said finally. "You don't still remember it?"

"Course I do. Give me something to write on." Lenya slid him a book-pad and stylus, and he carefully wrote it out, the tip of his tongue out for concentration. "There, that's it," he said, giving the pad back to Lenya.

"Vila Restal, you're a hero," she said, giving him a sudden fierce hug, leaving him both stunned and delighted. "And Servalan is this Sleer? I'm off to tell Blake and Avalon and all the others right now!" She ran out, then popped her head back in. "Hey, Vila, you don't want to do the honours, do you? With Blake at least?"

Vila shook his head. "Uh...no, I can't...not yet."

Lenya looked disappointed. "Well, I'll tell them all it was you," she said firmly and disappeared.

Vila turned back to his breakfast, embarrassed that he still couldn't face Blake.

"I think you're worth more than three million for that alone," Gultis said, spearing a sausage.

Vila shrugged, not wanting to be reminded of it and buttered his toast.

"Surprised they sold you, knowing stuff like that. Why'd they do it anyway?"

Vila sighed and said with a straight face. "I talked too much and ate too much and drank too much."

"Ouch! That gets me where it hurts." Gultis got up. "Want a coffee?"

"You can pour me one too," Lenya said, coming back in. "Well, Vila, you're certainly flavour of the month." She took a mug from Gultis. "D'you want to take a look around Stryli while we're here?"

"Dunno. What's it like?"

Gultis grinned. "Full of huge carnivorous lizards and poisonous spiders."

"And they're nowhere near as dangerous as the Strylians," Lenya said lightly. "Don't worry, Vila. I'll look after you."

Hmm, Vila thought, dangerous places could have their compensations.

***

Tarrant and Zeeona reined in their horses at the top of the rise and sat, looking out over the rippling grasslands below them.

"I had no idea such primitive transport could be so much fun," Tarrant said.

Zeeona smiled. "You'll be sorry tomorrow when you're stiff."

Tarrant thought he would just run a regenerator over his legs, then remembered he was stuck on Betafarl until Avon was ready to go back to Scorpio. He shrugged. "I'll just have to have a nice hot tub then."

"I can give you some herbs which will help."

"I'll look forward to that." Tarrant grinned at her. "Will you bring them personally?"

Zeeona laughed. "To the men's bathhouse? I think not." She started her horse down the hill, and Tarrant followed.

"Sorry if I offended you."

"Not at all." Zeeona looked sideways at him. "I'm enjoying your company actually. I'm Zukan's daughter, and most Betafarlians treat me with exaggerated respect and politeness."

"Ah, that's not something I've ever been accused of."

"So I suspected, and it's a refreshing change. Race you to the next rise." Zeeona took off, her pink and crimson hair flying, and Tarrant spurred his horse after her, laughing. When he reined in beside her, breathless with exhilaration, she looked curiously at him.

"Tell me, you and Avon don't seem to get on that well, and you didn't look very happy to be here when I met you. Why are you with him? He seems such a cold fish, though I suppose he must be a great hero."

"Avon?"

"In the Andromedan war. Everyone knows the Liberator held the aliens back until the Federation fleet got there. I think that's why my father's willing to deal with him. There aren't many men he respects."

Avon a hero? Tarrant supposed he was, and Vila too, now he thought of it, though he must have been a very unwilling one. "I was in that battle too, you know," he said. "That's where we met."

"Ah, also a hero." Zeeona's eyes danced mockingly. "And I thought you were different."

"But I am," Tarrant said, executing a small but florid bow from his saddle. "I'm unique."

"Aren't we all?"

"Actually, I won't be staying with Avon much longer. As soon as the conference is over and the antitoxin's in production, I'll be off."

"Oh? What are you going to do?"

"I'm a mercenary. Anything that takes my fancy." Tarrant gave Zeeona his most dazzling smile.

"Hmm." She turned her horse and started back . "I may accompany the technicians to Xenon. I'd quite like to see a rebel base in operation."

***

Vila had found it difficult to sleep, so as soon as it was light, he put on some light clothes, opened the large glass doors from his room to the balcony which ran along the front of Lenya's house, and stepped out. The sun was barely up, and the sea, which would later be brilliant turquoise, emerald and purple, was pale and opalescent. It was the coolest time of the day, and Vila went along the balcony, down the steps at the end and across the lawn, bare-foot to savour the feel of the short-lived dew on the grass, to the wall which stood before the slope down to the beach. He climbed onto the wall and sat looking out to sea.

What was wrong with him?

This was paradise, and Lenya, well, he liked Lenya very much—he was afraid to even think of a stronger word—more than he'd liked anyone, ever. More than Kerril. He suspected Kerril had fallen in love with the planet they'd found together rather than him, even though she'd seen him at his best, being clever and, yes, even brave. After all, she'd chosen to go with Norl before bothering to ask what Vila wanted to do; if she'd really loved him, she would have stayed with him. And if he'd loved her, he'd have gone with her, not that he'd had the choice in the end. But he knew that even if Bayban hadn't turned up, he wouldn't have gone. Kerril wouldn't have been impressed, or gentle either, when she saw how useless he was on a new world. He'd be hopeless at building houses, or hunting food, or planting crops and all the other things you had to do in such a place. No, he'd have been surplus to requirements, just as he had been since Blake left.

But Lenya, she liked him, laughed at his jokes, enjoyed playing games with him. And last night she had asked him to stay.

"What I do is get inside information on the planets that are likely to fall to the Federation," she had said. "I've been to half the systems you said Avon was dealing with, to find out who holds the real power, who's most likely to resist and who would cut a deal with the Feds, that sort of thing. As heir to a big chunk of Ataro, I get invited to a lot of receptions and parties, and you'd be amazed at the sort of things I hear when I play the empty-headed little rich girl, the stuff people say to each other while I swan about being ditsy, all the hot gossip. But imagine how much more I'd find out if I had a really clever thief who could get through any door and into any safe. Anyway, it'd be fun to have someone else along, and we get on so well. What d'you say?"

And Vila had just said, "I'll think about it," and watched Lenya's face fall.

What was wrong with him?

"Vila?" He twisted round to see Lenya coming across the lawn towards him. "I saw you go past my room." She sat on the wall beside him. "Nice time of day, isn't it?" They sat in companionable silence for a while, then she said, "You're not happy here, are you?"

"Yes, I am! It's wonderful!" Vila said. He sighed. "Oh, all right. I just don't belong in a place like this. Doesn't feel right."

"Oh?" Lenya twisted to face him, sitting astride the wall. "So where do you belong then? A grimy overcrowded dome on Earth with the Fed police after you?"

"No."

"Xenon base? Scorpio?"

"No."

"The Liberator with Blake then?"

"A bit. More than most places." Vila sighed. Despite being almost constantly ignored and told to shut up, yes, he had belonged, had felt he mattered. He'd been part of something bigger than himself. He couldn't say that anyone other than Gan had been a friend, but Blake had treated him just like the others, even said nice things about him sometimes. Cally had been kind, and Avon had... no, don't even think about that. But he'd been someone else then, someone stronger and less afraid. Along with so much else, he'd lost himself somewhere along the way too.

"Does it help if I tell you that beautiful sea out there is full of things which would love to eat you? Does that make you feel better?" Lenya asked wryly.

Vila grinned at his own foolishness and shrugged.

"Bored then? Now that you've cracked every lock in the place?"

"How did you know that?" He turned to look at her.

"Guessed. Blake once said he never saw you steal anything but his watch, but you loved getting through locks."

"Didn't have to steal, we had everything we needed." Though he had lifted the occasional small thing of beauty for his cabin on missions when no one was looking, all lost now with the Liberator. "And locks are a bit like wet paint, it's hard for me to pass one without touching it."

Lenya laughed. They sat in silence for a few minutes looking at the sea, then she said, "You know, Vila, I like you. We get on well, we enjoy each other's company." She turned to him, seriously. "So what are you afraid of?"

"That's it, see?" Vila looked resolutely ahead. "How can you like me when no one else did? Stands to reason either they all had it wrong, or you do."

"Oh, does it now? There's no reason in that at all. For a start, Blake liked you, and he still does. He often talks about you and the others. Gan liked you, you said so yourself, and so did Cally. Blake even said once that Avon liked you as much as he let himself like anyone—"

"Must have got that one wrong," Vila muttered.

"—and even if Tarrant and Dayna didn't at first, they came to, from what you've told me."

"Tolerate's the word I'd use," Vila said bitterly, "and that barely."

"Oh, come on, Vila. And Soolin must do as well, from what you say. You're writing yourself off just because one man who doesn't sound all that stable turned mean? Look, your real problem is that you've spent the last few years stuck with a group of people who probably would never even have chosen to know each other. I've got to know you in the last couple of weeks, and I like you a hell of a lot."

"Won't for long," Vila looked away. "I'll screw up, I'll get scared or confused or do something really stupid, and then it'll be the same old thing, it'll be 'shut up Vila', 'go away Vila'."

"Look at me. Come on, Vila, look at me. I can't promise I'll never get annoyed with you, or annoy you for that matter, but I can promise I'll always be your friend."

"My friend?" Vila asked in wonder, tears welling up in his eyes. Oh, marvellous. That was all he needed, to cry in front of her. Not again. Once, he'd never have been so weak, but this last year it had become all too easy.

Lenya slipped off the wall, turning her back diplomatically. "Yep, that's right. Thought you'd figured that one out already."

Vila wiped his eyes surreptitiously.

"Anyway," she went on, "I came out to say I'm going to Gauda Prime to see Blake tomorrow. Want to come with me?" She looked cautiously sideways at him, and beamed with delight when Vila nodded. "Come on then." She started back towards the house. "I'll provision the Kitten for two later. Want to help?"

"The kitten?" Vila asked, puzzled, wondering which of the several cats about the place Lenya meant, and glad of the change of subject. Perhaps she hadn't noticed his tears.

"The Space Kitten, my ship."

"Why d'you call it that?"

"Part of my air-head persona; it gives the right impression—small, furry, cute and harmless."

"That's me too, well three our of four anyway."

Lenya smiled, pleased at Vila's returning cheerfulness, fragile as it was. "There you go—another good reason for us to team up, with so much in common." They passed fragrant blossoms just beginning to open in the morning sun, and walked through the gently moving shadows of feathery palms. "The thing about kittens though," Lenya continued, "is if a human child is attacked, it'll scream for its parents, a puppy will cower and submit, but a kitten will fluff up, hiss and spit, and be ready to fight."

"Oh." Vila stopped, disconcerted, then ran to catch up with her. He turned his most soulful look on her. "You do like puppies too though, don't you?"

***

"Three million?" Soolin asked incredulously.

"Yes, not a bad price."

"Avon, Vila could have stolen more than that from a bank for us. He got almost two on his last job."

"I believe I have already explained."

"Yes, you could no longer trust him. And just whose fault was that?"

"I have no time for this, Soolin. We have conference delegates arriving tomorrow, not to mention Zukan's technicians with their equipment. We have a lot of work to do, especially," Avon smiled coldly, "now that we're one short." He left the room.

Soolin turned on Tarrant accusingly. "And you did nothing to stop him?"

"I tried," Tarrant protested, "but what could I do?"

"Well, that's it for me," Soolin said. "I never gave Avon or anyone else my allegiance. I sold my skill. And now I think of it, the money Avon used to pay me was stolen by Vila. I'm leaving at the first opportunity we get. What about you two?"

"Oh, so am I," Tarrant said. "I met someone on Betafarl, so I actually have somewhere to go." He grinned smugly at them both and sauntered out.

Dayna rolled her eyes in disgust at Soolin.

"What about you, Dayna?"

"Me?" Dayna looked shame-faced. "Look, when she killed my father I swore to kill Servalan, and my best chance to do that is to stay with Avon."

"If you think he has any loyalty to you, you're deluding yourself."

"Maybe I am, I don't know and I don't care!" Dayna was almost shouting. "I just want Servalan."

"Fine," Soolin said softly. "I think I need some target practice."

She made her way to the main exit, wanting a walk in the fresh air. She had always known life wasn't fair, ever since she saw her parents killed, but she still felt angry at what Avon had done to Vila, such a helpless, sweet-natured and basically good person. A thief, and a coward, yes, but she remembered how kind he'd been to her, how he'd objected to the killing of the man they had thought was the assassin Cancer. He never wanted to hurt anyone, despite the number of times he'd been hurt. Was that always the way with the good people like her parents, her gentle kind-hearted father and her loving mother? Vila had made her hope for a while that things might be different, that the galaxy was not such a cold and hard place as she had thought it to be for him to survive in it relatively untouched. How stupid she had been.

***

"The Space Kitten's just landed, Blake. Shall I send Tamak and Restal straight through to you?"

"Yes, Klyn, thank you." Roj Blake stood up eagerly, surprised at how much he was looking forward to seeing Vila again. Too impatient to sit and wait for them, he left his office and went out to meet them.

Lenya and Vila were walking though the tracking gallery, talking animatedly. Blake was intrigued and amused to see that Lenya had taken Vila's arm in an affectionate and almost proprietary manner. Blake had been worried about him after her first report of how depressed he had been, but he looked good—cheerful, relaxed, even lightly tanned. Vila suddenly saw Blake standing by one of the pillars, and his face immediately lit up, then changed to uncertainty. At first Blake thought Vila was unnerved by his scarred face, but realised that he was unsure of his welcome, and that hurt. How had it come to that?

"Vila," he said, opening his arms.

Vila grinned in relief and launched himself at Blake, almost knocking him over. Laughing, Blake hugged him back. "Ah, Vila, it's good to see you again." He nodded at Lenya who was hovering protectively. "I'll look after him." Keeping his arm across Vila's shoulders, he led him towards his office. "Come on, we've a lot to talk about."

"We do," Vila looked up at him, worriedly. "What happened to you, Blake?"

"Ah. You mean this?" Blake put his hand up to his scarred left eye.

Vila nodded.

Blake was silent for a moment, then sighed. "You know those charges the Federation rigged against me?"

"The...uh...children, you mean?"

"Yes, Vila. Well, a lot of people believed them."

"I didn't think anyone did. Well, I know I thought...on the London...but not people who count, who know you. I mean look, at that Atlay thing, they said you were the only one everyone would follow."

"Oh, everyone in the movement knew the charges were rigged; it's an old tactic. I suppose I hadn't thought enough of how it would look to the ordinary people. After all," Blake said bitterly, "that was what they intended. To destroy my reputation. It worked well. The good people of Jevron took the law into their own hands."

An eye for an eye? Or even worse? "Oh...I'm sorry." Vila was silent until they reached the office and sat down, then he asked, "Is that why you didn't come back to the Liberator?"

"It was part of it. But I also promised Avon I wouldn't, that he could have the ship if we survived the Andromedan attack."

"And you promised him us too? You didn't even ask us. Didn't we count?" Vila leaned over the desk, his face twisted in pain. "It all went wrong after you left, you know that? We looked for you and we just wandered around letting things happen to us, and Avon killed Anna or Sula or whatever she was called because she betrayed him, then he thought he'd found you on Terminal and got the Liberator eaten up by enzymes and Cally died, and after that he was different and nothing went right, and Blake, where were you?" Vila's impassioned speech wound down. "You didn't know about Cally, did you?" he asked in a small voice. "I'm sorry. All that time I wanted you to come back, and then when I finally see you again I make a mess of it all."

Blake sat wearily with his hands over his eyes. "No, Vila. I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't know things were so bad for you too. Tell me about Cally. Tell me about all of it."

And when Vila had, spilling it all out willy-nilly, he sat quietly, mourning Cally, the hope they had all once had, the beautiful alien ship, Sula's failed rebellion, and the repeated blows and constant defeats the Scorpio crew had suffered. He was amazed that Vila had survived it at all, let alone recovered as well as he had in the last few weeks. But what was left of Avon, the man he'd once known and had thought of as a friend?

"It probably wouldn't have done you much good if I had come back," he said at last, "with those charges hanging over me. They wanted to destroy me, and they almost succeeded. I barely escaped from Jevron with my life, so Servalan was almost right when she said I died there. Still, it wasn't all defeat, was it?" He looked up, trying to smile. "We have that antitoxin now, and we know about Sleer, both thanks to you."

"Oh, makes it all worthwhile." Vila's attempt at a smile was not much better. Best to change the subject, get onto safer ground. "What are you doing here anyway? Lenya said you're getting a force together to resist the Feds when they move in, but bounty-hunting an army one at a time'll take ages."

"Not exactly an army." Blake's one good eye twinkled. "I've worked with a few different groups in the last couple of years, but none were quite as good as that bunch of criminals I had back on the Liberator, Vila, so I thought I'd acquire some more. This planet's rife with them."

"And there's one more in this room," Vila said brightly. "Don't have room for a small one, do you?"

"You're thinking of staying?" Blake asked, surprised.

"Well, want to keep my options open, don't I?"

"I could certainly use you while you're here. Not as a thief, but you could do what you did on the London—tell me who I can trust. We've had a few...incidents...in the past with the people we've brought in."

Vila was delighted. That made two people who wanted him; a vast improvement on zero.

***

Soolin stood in the freight bay with Tarrant, watching Zukan's technicians unloading equipment. She was feeling considerably cheered by the news that the non-aligned planets already had the antitoxin formula Avon had been hoping to use as a bargaining chip. Apparently the resistance had broadcast it galaxy-wide a few days before. Soolin knew it could be coincidence that a rebel scientist had just happened to have come up with it just now, but she preferred to believe that the timing was significant. She remembered Vila asking Avon why he had not made it public, and Avon's reply, one which had driven her to memorise the formula herself. If Vila had too, then perhaps she could assume he had reached the resistance and was safe. The news had not disconcerted Avon for long though; his alliance still needed Zukan and his techs to manufacture the antitoxin. Although Soolin had her own ideas about Zukan's trustworthiness, having once worked in the border worlds as a minor warlord's bodyguard.

She wondered why Tarrant was so interested in the unloading. "I hope they're not just going to dump it all and go," she said.

Tarrant grinned.

"Unless you want to be the one who decides which bit fits where," she said tartly, "now we don't have Vila to do it."

Unworried, Tarrant looked around. His face lit up. "Zeeona!"

"Someone you know?"

"Zukan's daughter." Tarrant hurriedly introduced Soolin to Zeeona. "Come on," he said eagerly, "I'll show you round the base, then take you to your father's quarters."

Zeeona shook her head. "He, uh, he doesn't know I'm here. I came on the freighter to see you. I hope to go back the same way, without him knowing I've been here at all."

"Would it matter if he did?"

"Oh, yes. This is not the sort of place he would want me to be."

"And doubtless Tarrant isn't the sort he'd want you to be with." Soolin said. "Like the place, somewhat low and dangerous?"

Zeeona laughed and Tarrant hooked his arm through hers. "Come on," he said, "I'm sure I can find you somewhere else to stay." He winked at Soolin.

Soolin thoughtfully watched them leave. She had been concerned all along that Zukan had demanded that the conference be on Xenon, and that Avon had accepted. The base would be useless afterwards. What did they both have planned? She trusted neither of them, but Zeeona's presence could be a useful bit of insurance.

***

"So that last one was all right?" Blake asked, walking beside Vila towards the base's mess.

"Yeah, he's as trustworthy as I am."

"What a pity."

"I'm hurt, Blake! There's honour among us thieves, you know."

"Yes, and I've heard there's gold at the end of the rainbow too." Blake looked affectionately at Vila, bouncing jauntily along at his side. He was surprised at how easily they had fallen back into the dead-pan banter of the old days. "I'll buy you lunch," he joked as they entered the cafeteria, which was of course free to everyone at the base.

"No need for that," Vila said. "I can get a meal anytime." He looked up at Blake, his eyes wide and innocent. "I sometimes get hungry when this place is locked up."

"I'm glad you're on our side," Blake said, accepting a plate of stew from the counter.

"Want to keep me then?" Vila grabbed a couple of toasted sandwiches and a mug of cocoa, and looked at the snack machine speculatively—this did require money—and decided to leave it alone while Blake was there. They sat down together at a table in the corner and began to eat.

"Are you still thinking of staying?" Blake asked.

"Haven't made up my mind yet." A sudden thought struck Vila, and he looked alarmed. "Why? Not trying to get rid of me, are you?"

"Of course not, Vila. But you'd be silly to turn down Lenya's offer. She's serious, you know. You'd be invaluable to her with your talents."

Vila shrugged, concentrating on his food.

Blake smiled slightly. "And you must know how much she likes you."

"Eh?" The sudden hope on Vila's face was short-lived. "Well, yeah, but she likes everyone."

"Yes, she does, though she always keeps a certain distance. Jenna jokes that she ought to have called her ship The Cat That Walks Alone rather than the Space Kitten." Blake put down his knife and fork to speak seriously. "Vila, as long as I've known Lenya, I've never seen her that close to anyone, or look at anyone the way she looks at you."

"Oh." Vila looked up, surprised. "Really?"

"And I've seen how your face lights up every time someone mentions her name."

Vila went red.

"So what's the problem?" Blake asked gently. "The fact that she bought you?"

"Well, I'd never be able to forget it, would I? It'd always be there." Vila grimaced and pushed the salt and pepper pots desultorily around the table. "And I wasn't my best that day. And, well, she's Lenya, she's...well, why would she want me?" he asked bitterly. "Yeah—for the girl who has everything, a pet thief with a weak chest and a nervous disposition, cheap to maintain, can be decorative around the home if dressed in the right colours, only three million..."

"Oh, Vila." Blake shook his head. "Look, perhaps you've been so miserable for so long that you don't think you deserve anything else."

Vila gave him a startled and sharp look.

"Oh yes, I know all about that, I know exactly how it feels. I even tried to drive Jenna away because I thought she'd be better off without me." Blake gave a small wry grin. "She convinced me otherwise."

Vila brightened. "I'm looking forward to seeing Jenna again. When's she due back?"

Blake winced. "Keep your voice down. She plays a dangerous game running goods to us, and it's safer for her if as few people know about it as possible. After her last close call, I've even taken to letting people think she's dead. And don't change the subject." He leaned across the table and gripped Vila by the arms. "My point is that you have to grab every chance of happiness you can. If you walk away from it, you're an even bigger fool than the one you like to play. If you want to make yourself unhappy, that's fine, but do you really want to do that to Lenya too?"

"No, course not." Vila's face showed a mixture of doubt and hope. "But she wouldn't want me. I mean, well, I'm me and she's so rich, she'd think I was just after her money."

"It's happened before, but if she did think that, believe me, you'd know it." Blake added softly, "And money's never been what you really wanted, has it?"

No, I only ever wanted somewhere to belong, someone to lo—to like me. Vila shook his head.

"I rather think she knows that, Vila."

Vila pretended to be fascinated by the cocoa dregs in his mug. "Yeah, well, I dunno..." Watch it, Vila. Never hope for too much, then it doesn't hurt so much when you get kicked in the teeth. "Something to think about, I s'pose. Thanks, Blake."

***

Dayna looked through the games in the cupboard. Galactic Monopoly—no fun with only two. Chess—nah, she'd never learned. Vila had offered to teach her once on the Liberator, but she'd refused, unwilling to be beaten by him. For some reason he hadn't been interested in playing it here with Soolin, which was odd considering she'd seen him play Avon often enough on the Liberator flight deck. 3D Scrabble? She turned to Soolin, who was sitting on one of the couches, lost in thought. "Want to play a game to pass the time?"

Soolin shook her head.

"Oh, go on. What else is there to do?"

"You don't even miss him, do you?"

"Vila?" Dayna was surprised. What would Soolin care about him? Soolin never cared about anything that much, as far as she could tell. "Well, yeah, a bit. He could be funny sometimes." She shrugged. "He did sort of grow on you."

"Pour us some wine," Soolin said. "That's what he'd do if he was here. We could at least drink to his memory."

She sounded almost sad, even a little bitter, and Dayna looked at her sharply, but Soolin looked as cool and detached as always. "All right," she said and got out a carafe of red wine and two glasses, and took them over to the table.

Just then, Zukan burst into the room followed by Avon, demanding furiously, "Where is my daughter?"

"I don't know," Dayna said defensively, while Soolin raised her glass to them with a faint ironic smile.

Zukan looked around. "Where is the other one?"

Avon narrowed his eyes. "Tarrant," he breathed.

"Yes, Tarrant, the one that came with you to Betafarl."

Avon strode across the room and hit the comms button for Tarrant's cabin. "Tarrant," he said icily. The young pilot's face almost filled the viewscreen when it came on, but everyone there could see the bright hair of the woman partially obscured behind him. "Zeeona's father wants to see her. And I want to see you. Now, Tarrant." Avon flicked the comms off and turned to Zukan. "I had no idea she was here. I do apologise. She will be returned to Betafarl tomorrow when Tarrant goes to collect your harvest."

"I should prefer another pilot."

"Whom would you like?" Avon asked.

"We seem to have lost one of ours recently," Soolin said sweetly, smiling back at Avon's glare.

"Yourself, Avon," Zukan said.

Avon laughed shortly. "I'm honoured by your trust." He turned to Tarrant and Zeeona, who had just entered, looking defiant, and grabbed the Tarrant by the shoulders. "I want a word with you. More than one." He shoved Tarrant back through the doorway, excusing himself to Zeeona as he passed her.

"As for you, my daughter, you will not leave my sight until you board that ship."

"I'm sorry I disobeyed you," Zeeona said with dignity as they left the room, "But I'm glad I came."

Dayna and Soolin could hear Zukan's angry reply that she could not be both as the door closed on their argument. Dayna grinned at Soolin. "Wouldn't like to be in Tarrant's shoes. Or Zeeona's for that matter."

"They can look after themselves. And I rather think we haven't seen the last of Zeeona."

***

"Off on a bounty run?" Lenya asked.

"That's right." Blake checked the ammo clips on his belt. "Perhaps I'll take Vila with me so he can check anyone I pick up before I get them back here."

Lenya looked worried. "You don't really mean that!"

"No, but I'd quite like to suggest it to him and watch his face. Can you see him out there roughing it?"

"Not really," Lenya grinned in relief.

"Ah, well I have, and I've no wish to again." Blake smiled fondly in memory. "He was afraid of the dark, jumped at every sound, refused to eat the food we caught because he's a vegetarian, and then got ill eating the wrong sort of berries...Damn, but I've missed him."

"I'll have to keep an eye on him while you're away. He'll be at a loose end."

Blake was privately amused. Lenya had reported on her last information-gathering run and discussed her next days before. Although she was making herself very useful helping Deva and Klyn, the only real reason she was still on the base was Vila. "Oh, I wouldn't worry. I've asked him to teach some of my people how to crack simple locks."

"I'll have to get him to show me too sometime. Oh, that reminds me—I must pay someone for all the times he's broken into the snack machine." Lenya shook her head, laughing. "He never takes much, just a chocolate bar or a packet of crisps, and usually for someone else, but all the same."

"Don't worry about it. Half the time I think he got into the adrenaline and soma on the Liberator more to see the look on Cally's face than anything else. She kept putting more and more complicated locks on the medical supplies, and still he..." Blake sighed and bit his lip. "Stupid, really."

"What?"

"Thinking about the past like that."

Lenya stole a glance at him as they walked. So he mourned his losses as much as Vila did. "I think he does it for approval, oddly enough," she said, to change the subject. "It was probably all he was valued for where he grew up."

"You could be right."

It was odd, Lenya thought, that she should care so much about someone who didn't show the slightest shame about being a thief, but Vila was so sweet, gentle, and loveable. And she, who had allowed so few to get close to her, had found that she trusted him. "Has he said anything?" she asked abruptly. "About whether he's staying here with you or not?"

"Don't worry about that, Lenya," Blake said. "I think Vila just needs to feel he has a real choice, that's all."

"I hope you're right," Lenya said lightly. "He has very useful skills." As she walked on, she did not see Blake's understanding smile.

Later that day, Lenya found Vila and two of Blake's people practising opening the locks on Klyn's desk drawers, while Klyn sat back and watched with her arms folded, her face a mixture of amusement and annoyance. Lenya was surprised at the change in Vila's demeanour. He stood straight and confident, joking easily with his pupils, his former diffidence quite gone.

"Snack machine next, is it?" she teased.

"Now there's an idea. Easy locks too, but quite a different sort of ward."

"Don't encourage him," Klyn said. "Off with you all, I've work to do."

"See you lot after lunch then," Vila said. "I'll try to find a nice safe for us to have a go at." He fell in beside Lenya. "Need anything off the Kitten?"

"Why, are you going to show them how to open airlocks?"

"Oh, very funny. I'm a bit sensitive about airlocks, you know."

Lenya gave him a quick glance and decided his feelings hadn't really been hurt. "What d'you want on the Kitten?"

"Oh nothing," Vila said airily. "Thought I might load most of my gear back on. Just in case we had to leave in a hurry."

"Vila."

He gave her an innocent look. "Thought I'd go back with you. If you don't mind."

Lenya gave him a sudden fierce and hard hug, and just as suddenly stepped back, leaving him breathless and dazed. "I'm glad about that," she said, and walked on as if nothing had happened.

Vila stood, a great foolish grin covering his face, then ran to catch her up.

***

"Avon!" Soolin called out, hurrying to catch him in the corridor.

"What is it?"

"When you take Zeeona back tomorrow, I'd like to come too."

"Oh? And why, may I ask?"

"For one thing, she deserves better than you for company. And for another..." she smiled, "...it may lull Zukan into a false sense of security with half of us away."

Avon stopped and looked at her with narrowed eyes. "And why would that be necessary?"

"You must have thought of it. Zukan demanded that the conference be held here. If he has any—plans—for it, well, perhaps it would be good insurance to have his daughter on the base."

Avon looked at her with new respect. "We teleport her back after we've left," he said flatly.

"But Zukan only finds out after he's gone and can no longer do anything about it."

"One day, Soolin, you may be too clever for your own good."

***

Lenya and Vila wandered, delighted, through the market. They had come into the nearest town because Vila had wanted to see something more of Gauda Prime than Blake's base and the endless trees. He looked around himself with a child's bright-eyed curiosity, and Lenya found herself enjoying his reaction more than her own pleasure. They bought hot spicy potato pastries and a bottle of beer each, and sat under a faded sun-umbrella watching the locals, as heavily-armed as themselves, walk by, before beginning to explore again. Vila clutched Lenya's arm and yelled incomprehensibly, "Barfi! Penda! Oh, it's been years!" and dragged her to a stall selling sticky Indian sweets. One was more than enough for Lenya, but Vila bought a bag of the sweet milk-based confections and consumed all of them straight away with little whimpers of pleasure. Afterwards, he stood, satisfied, licking his fingers one by one.

"Now don't you go stealing anything here, sticky-fingers," Lenya warned him.

Vila looked injured. "I don't rob people like this," he said indignantly, "ordinary sods making a living. I go for rich snotty Alphas and big corporations who'll never miss it."

"Like banks and the snack machine suppliers?"

"A case in point." Vila looked around. "Ooh, a hot doughnut stall!"

"Oh no, you don't. Not after what you've just had."

"Just before we leave then?" Vila turned a hopeful little-boy look on her, and she laughed.

"Oh, all right."

They wandered past the piles of used crockery, racks of clothes and stacked fruit and vegetables and paused at the children's toys. Lenya watched Vila's intent face as he picked brightly-painted wooden toys up one-by-one and examined them. She felt herself go soft inside at his smile as he got a bright-yellow crane to pick up a small red box, carefully turning the little string-laden winch.

"Did you have one like that once?" she asked.

"Me?" Vila looked surprised. "Hardly had any toys. Besides which, do you know what these'd cost back on Earth, real wood like this?"

"There's enough of it around here. Want me to buy you one?" Lenya teased, but was surprised by the look of delight on his face. "Go on," she said, giving him a push. "You have a look around on your own and I'll surprise you."

Vila beamed at her and headed off. After careful thought, Lenya selected a small, beautifully-articulated lizard, painted in jewel-bright colours, which when wound up, walked up her arm using little suckers on its feet. She smiled to herself to think of Vila at home teasing the cats with it.

She eventually found him sprawled under a tree sipping an A&S and looking relaxed. When he saw her, he leapt eagerly to his feet and pulled a package from his pocket. "I bought you something too," he said, shyly handing it to her.

Lenya unwrapped a polished wooden cat, carved so that the grain of the wood followed its contours. "Oh, Vila! It's beautiful."

"Reminded me of you." Vila blushed, suddenly confused. "Uh, I mean because of the Kitten and the cats and all."

"Thank you very much, Vila." Lenya gave him the painted lizard, and watched his face light up with joy.

"Seems appropriate in my case, doesn't it?" he said, but without any of the self-contempt she had heard before. He stroked the little reptile with a gentle finger as if it were alive.

"I like lizards," Lenya said. And puppies too, she added to herself.

***

Dayna flicked switches on the comms board. "Base to Scorpio. Scorpio, do you read?"

"Scorpio to base. Go ahead." Avon's voice crackled back in answer.

"Zukan just left for Betafarl. He's six hours behind you."

"Understood. Scorpio out."

Dayna went through to the crew room. "I hope Avon's not walking into a trap. You should have gone with him, Soolin."

"He insisted that I teleport with Zeeona," Soolin said. She suspected that Avon felt safer without her after her support of Vila and her recent independent action. "Anyway, I pity anyone who traps Avon, the way he's been lately."

"That's right. I'd be more worried about whether he comes back at all," Tarrant said, entering with Zeeona. "Have you considered that?"

"That doesn't make sense," Dayna said hotly. "Avon wouldn't desert us."

"No? Look what he did to Vila."

Dayna screwed up her face in disgust at him. "Of course he'll come back. We need the plants he's picking up to make the antitoxin."

"Besides," Soolin said, "Orac's still here." She had a sudden thought, and inserted the key. "Orac. Is everything going as expected in the freight bay?" she asked, looking at the viewscreen which showed Zukan's techs still assembling their equipment.

"That is an inexact question. Define 'expected'."

Soolin gritted her teeth. "All right," she said with exaggerated patience. "Is there anything in the freight bay or the base which was not here before the conference and which is unconnected with the processing of the Pylene 50 antitoxin?"

"There are several explosive devices."

"What?" Dayna leapt to her feet, and Zeeona said, "My father wouldn't—"

Soolin held her hand up for quiet. "Orac, specify the location of each such device, and when they are primed to explode."

"There is one in the teleport bay, and one at each exit. From the countdown sequence visible to base cameras on one, you have 23 minutes, 41 seconds and—"

"Why didn't you tell us before?"

"You did not ask, and given that I am well out of range and thus extremely unlikely to suffer any damage, it was not necessary."

Dayna bared her teeth. "You'll suffer some damage if I put a bolt through you! Soolin, get my tools." She left at a run for the teleport bay, followed by the others

***

"Base to Scorpio. Base to Scorpio. Avon, do you read?"

"Well, well," Servalan purred. "Someone isn't dead."

Zukan glowered. "They soon will be."

"Scorpio to base. I hear you, Soolin."

"We've just defused several bombs designed to seal the base."

Behind Zukan, the tech Finn began to back nervously away.

"Ah. We expected something like that."

"There's still the virus." Zukan assured Servalan.

"I'd guess that you were headed for a trap, Avon."

"I think I agree with you. I assume you're all uninjured? Including Zeeona?"

"What?" Zukan rose from his flight seat. "No, she's not there..."

"Yes, we're fine."

"Are we patched through to Zukan's ship?"

"Yes, Avon."

"You heard that, didn't you, Zukan? Your daughter is still on Xenon."

"No, you took her with you! It's a trick!"

"It's not, father. I am here."

"I saw you leave."

"They teleported me back."

The teleport! He'd forgotten the teleport. "No! The virus!"

"Shut up, you fool," Servalan sneered. "Surely the border systems are worth any price." Her eyes turned to Finn, who was carefully removing a sidearm from a drawer. "Behind you," she said languidly.

Zukan turned and Finn dropped the gun. "Please, I did everything you said. It's not my fau—" His eyes widened in shock as Zukan shot him with the blaster he had concealed for possible defence against Servalan. He slid to the floor where Zukan kicked his corpse savagely out of the way.

"Virus, father?"

 "Oh dear," Servalan said. "You don't seem to engender much loyalty in your people, do you?" As Zukan's blaster swung towards her, she smiled. "I wouldn't do that. Not with my ship ready to fire." She moved calmly towards the airlock. "I did expect rather more from you." She pressed the button and smiled back at him. "Enjoy your new territories."

"What was that? What virus, father?"

The inner airlock door hissed shut.

"Zeeona. You're on the ship with Avon."

"No, I'm here with Del and the others. What have you done, father?"

"Zeeona," Zukan whispered, watching Servalan in the airlock while his fingers moved on the control panel. As she opened the outer door, he hit the attitude jets. Seeing the connection between the two ships distort and begin to fracture, she turned, her face filled with horror, and threw herself against the inner door and pounded desperately on the glass, her pleas silenced by the thickness of the door. Her eyes widened as the connection was completely severed and the sudden outrush of air pulled her away. Zukan watched expressionlessly as she clung to the edge of the outer door until her grip spasmed and loosened and she spun off into space. "Goodbye Commissioner Sleer." He powered up his ship's weaponry. "Goodbye Zeeona," he said and opened fire.

***

Silent tears streamed down Zeeona's face. "He's dead," she whispered.

"The way he said goodbye to her, I'd say Servalan is too," Soolin said.

Dayna bared her teeth. "I bloody hope not. She was mine!"

"What virus did he mean?" Soolin asked Zeeona, who turned an unseeing face to her. "You're his daughter. And a biogeneticist."

Zeeona shook her head, and Tarrant put a protective arm around her.

Soolin turned to the life support controls. "If Zukan planted something here," she mused, "it would probably be in the freight bay with his equipment." She tapped some buttons and suddenly went still. "Yes. A radio-active airborne virus. Put the freight area up on screen, Dayna."

Everyone turned to look at the viewscreen. They could see Zukan's techs running about in panic and falling, writhing, with flashes of light playing on their skins. Zeeona went pale.

"Jarder! That was Jarder! I—I'm sorry." She looked dazedly at them all. "A radio-active airborne virus, is that what you said? There was a research program on Betafarl..." She stood and squared her shoulders with sudden resolve. "All right. Get me an environment suit, Del, and I'll decontaminate the area." Thinking out loud, she continued as they left, "I can reverse the process on the neutron bombarder and use it as a neutralising filter. Yes, that should work..."

"And just why didn't you tell us about the virus?" Dayna demanded. She gave Orac a thump. "I'm taking to you, plastic-brain."

"Anything connected with the processing of the Pylene 50 antitoxin was specifically excluded," Orac said smugly.

"Vila was right. You'd be more use as a modern sculpture." She peered over Soolin's shoulder. "How long till it gets to us?"

Soolin considered a schematic of the Xenon base ventilation system, tapping a light pen against her lips. "They reversed the vents to suck air from the freight chamber into the rest of the base, and they've blocked off any fresh intake, but that looks easy enough to fix." She began to make changes, selecting ventilators with the light-pen. "Right. We've got fresh air coming in from the north, and the virus is being sucked to the outside." She looked at the diagram critically, then nodded, satisfied. "You can call Avon and tell him we're all right."

"Almost done," Zeeona's voice echoed tinnily in Tarrant's helmet. "I just need to make one more adjustment." She started to remove the seals on her glove.

"What are you doing?" Tarrant grabbed her arm, stopping her. "That's dangerous, you could—" He stared into her faceplate, chilled by her expression.

"I'll have time before it gets me."

"No. You won't." Tarrant placed his gloved hand against the side of her helmet.

"I must pay for my father's actions."

"What will your death achieve?" Tarrant brought his face to hers to that their visors touched. "If you want to pay, live. Be the person your father wasn't. Make up for him with your life."

"Del." Zeeona whispered and leant against him.

"There are plenty of tools here. We can manage."

"It will take too long that way."

"No, look!" Tarrant pointed to the papers fluttering across the floor. "They've reversed the air-flow. We have time." He took her hands. "All the time in the universe."

She smiled through her tears at the old cliché.

***

Lenya banked the flyer and took it down low over the trees, noticing Vila's smothered yelp. "Watch what I'm doing, and you can fly next time," she said.

"I'll get my own back then," Vila said, squeezing his eyes shut at the sight of rushing greenery.

"This low we're below ground detectors. Right, watch this bit."

Vila opened his eyes cautiously as the flyer dropped through a sudden gap in the trees and flashed towards the opening of the base hangar silo. As Lenya settled it into its bay, he relaxed his hands from their death-grip on the sides of his seat.

"I thought you were a seasoned space-pilot, Vila."

"I am. But the thing about space is, it's space. I mean, it's full of nothing, so there's not much to hit." Now that the danger was over, Vila had, as usual, calmed down. Jumping out of the flyer, he pulled a greasy paper bag of small doughnuts out of his pocket and offered them to Lenya. "Want to share the last of them?"

Lenya shuddered. "You must have a herculaneum stomach."

Vila gave the bag a shake to distribute the spiced sugar, and popped a doughnut into his mouth. "Mm-mm." He closed his eyes in pleasure.

"I'm amazed you're not bouncing off the walls with a sugar rush by now."

"Resistant to drugs, me," Vila said, crumpling the bag and shoving it back in his pocket. "'Less I want them to work."

Lenya laughed and hooked her arm through his. As they passed Klyn in the tracking gallery, she called out, "Blake's back and he wants to see you, Vila."

"I'll catch you later then," Lenya said.

"At dinner?"

"You must be joking!" She looked appalled.

Vila grinned—a palpable hit—and went to pop his head around Blake's door. "You wanted me? You look terrible!"

"And there I was thinking of taking you with me for some fresh air."

"Just had some thanks." Vila sat down and tipped his chair back.

"Brought in a young woman yesterday, name of Arlen. She's a promising candidate, could be very valuable to us—she took out a couple of bounty hunters before they winged her. I'd like you to check her out when her leg's better. How about first thing tomorrow?"

"Usual routine then?"

"That's right. Oh, except that she had a Federation gun and sidearm."

Vila looked alarmed.

"Said she killed a trooper, always possible of course. All the same, here's an ammo clip you could use." Blake slid one across the desk, and Vila took it nervously. "See you in the morning at ten?"

Vila nodded and went to check his tools.

***

Dayna watched smoke and debris billow from the entry portal in the side of the cliff on her screen, tuned to one of the rear-facing sensors. "I expected rather more," she said sulkily. "The biggest job I ever did and that's all you get to see?"

"All explosive devices have functioned correctly, master. The base complex has been totally destroyed."

"Thank you, Slave," Avon said.

"And thank you, Dayna," Tarrant flashed his teeth in a grin which Dayna reluctantly returned.

Soolin looked at Avon, thoughtfully. "So where are we going? You've had this planned all along, haven't you? Whether or not the conference worked, you were leaving."

"Correct. We need a figurehead, a rabble-rousing idealist to fire up people's emotions, someone they'll gladly die for."

"And that's not you."

"Demonstrably."

"Going to tell us?"

"Blake. Roj Blake."

"Your Blake?" Dayna asked incredulously. "The one we spent ages chasing after?"

My Blake? "Yes, that Blake."

"Well, spit it out, Avon," Tarrant said. "Where are we going? I need to lay in a course."

"A frontier planet called Gauda Prime."

"Oh, shit," said Soolin with feeling.

"You know it?" Zeeona asked from Vila's seat.

As Soolin told the others about GP as she called it, Avon thought about Blake. He had hoped to present him with the beginnings of an alliance. He had imagined it so many times, Blake's surprised approval, his pleasure that Avon had embraced his cause. And his disappointment: "What did you do to my ship, Avon? And my crew? Cally dead and Vila not much better?" No, at least Avon was spared that. Blake wouldn't see what had happened to Vila.

***

Special Group-Leader Arlen stared impassively at the wall of the cell they had put her in. Doubtless that little hole was a hidden camera. She flexed her leg—at least they had good medical facilities, though in another sense, that was bad news: they were well-organised and equipped. She had also not failed to notice the sophisticated tracking station as she was brought in. It would be too dangerous to send another pulse from in here.

In the field, she sent a coded "I'm still all right" pulse on the hour every hour, which she changed to an "I've been picked up" one if necessary. From when Blake had captured her, she had only had the chance to send one, but using the previous messages, they should be able to track her direction and locate this place, even if it took them a couple of days. This was the third time she'd been in the hands of bounty-hunters. The first time the troopers had attacked while she was still being held, the second time she had been turned over to the local Federation representative; in that case, the bounty-hunter had received a payment he had not counted on—death.

This time however she had struck gold. The rumours were right: Blake was on Gauda Prime. She had no doubts that her manufactured record would stand up to any scrutiny, so all she had to do now was to act her way into their confidence. That shouldn't be hard. She had been taught well in preparation for going undercover and had no doubts in her ability to fool them. The tricks was to use real emotions, and to stay as close to the truth as possible.

The door opened and a small fair man came in. "Arlen? I'm Deva. How's the leg?"

Arlen stood up and put her hands on her hips. "As you can see, it's fine."

"Come with me. We have to decide what to do with you."

She followed him out. "I have information."

"What information?"

"I'll trade it for my life."

"We're not about to kill you." Deva sounded amused. "The Federation have a bounty on you, but they want you alive."

"For my freedom then."

"All right." Deva opened the door to an office and waved her in. The room was filled with equipment and a mess of printouts, and a man was crawling along the floor unreeling cable. "Haven't you finished in here yet, Sven?" Deva asked, irritated.

The technician turned an apologetic face to them, his brown eyes wide under the light brown hair falling forward over them. "Sorry. Shouldn't be long."

"Don't mind him," Deva leaned against the desk. " So, what's your information?"

"It's about the man who brought me here."

"What about him?"

"He's Blake." Arlen allowed all the contempt she felt for rebels and terrorists to enter her voice. "Roj Blake. Once he meant something, but look at him now. People used to believe in him, but now he's as bad as the criminals he hunts. Sell him to the Feds, not me. He's worth a hell of a lot more." She noticed that Deva was unsurprised, and that the tech had stopped what he was doing only briefly. "But you know that, don't you. So just what's going on here?"

"I think Blake can tell you that himself. As far as I'm concerned, you've passed the first test." Deva pushed a button on the desk, then handed Arlen her sidearm, which she promptly broke open to check. When Blake came in, he nodded to Arlen and left.

Blake stepped around the tech, showing the same irritation that Deva had. "Still here, Sven?"

"Bit harder than I thought," Sven said. "Had to get the right tools."

"All right, all right, just get on with it." Blake sat down behind the desk and picked up a plastisheet printout. "Hmm. You shot two Federation troopers, Arlen. Why?"

"I don't approve of the killing of unarmed civilians," Arlen said; after all it was the truth, and with luck Blake wouldn't notice it wasn't a direct answer.

"No. Neither do I."

Yeah, right. What the hell did you think taking out Star One was going to do? Just then, Sven, laying cable round the edges of the room, crawled backwards into her legs. Annoyed, Arlen pushed him away, and he leapt up in consternation, dropping the reel.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, patting ineffectually at her in some clumsy attempt at placation, and retreated to a corner where he opened his tool box and started sorting though it, his head down. Arlen curled her lip in contempt. He wouldn't have lasted long in the service. A fool like that would have been in the mines or the mutoid labs before he knew what had hit him.

"I'm not a bounty-hunter," Blake said.

"You could have fooled me."

"I've fooled a lot of people. What I'm doing is looking for people like you, Arlen. I can't offer you a safe life, but it's a lot better than being on the run, living from hand-to-mouth."

"You mean you're still a rebel?" Arlen thought of the kudos she would receive for bringing Blake in, the inevitable promotion, and let the pleasure fill her face. She stood up and held out her hand to Blake, who took it in a hard grip. "I'd be glad to join you."

"And I'd be pleased to have you. Sit down, sit down. I'd like to learn some more about you."

As Arlen answered his questions about her manufactured past, Sven worked away quietly near her. She had almost forgotten his presence when he suddenly tripped over a loose cable and dropped his toolbox, scattering his tools across the floor. While Blake glared at him, Sven crawled around behind her collecting his equipment. Giving her a mutely apologetic look, he reached under her chair, bumping her again; she gritted her teeth. "Sorry, almost finished," the tech said mournfully.

"I think we are too," Blake rose. "Welcome aboard, Arlen. I'll get Deva to show you round."

When Blake came back, Vila had rolled the cable up in preparation for next time and was packing the last of his tools away. "Well, Vila?"

"Wouldn't trust her on the end of a barge-pole."

"You're joking! Deva said her background checks out, and if she was acting, she's damn good."

"The whole time she was sitting there, she was hating us, Deva too. And when she was pleased about you being a rebel, yeah, she was, but the same way a shark is when it sees dinner."

"Are you sure?"

"Course I am. I was right on the London, wasn't I? And all those other times too, when I warned you lot, like with that capsule full of killers and—"

"Yes, you were." Blake sat down and rubbed his face tiredly. "I know. We should have listened to you more often. What else?"

"Like you said, standard Fed sidearm, nothing in her pockets, but there was her watch."

"Vila, you didn't!"

"Oh, now look, why would I do that? I'd be the first suspect for a start." Vila grinned slyly. "But if I'd wanted to, I could've. Just like with you that time if I hadn't been setting myself up as a harmless prat."

"Vila. Arlen's watch."

"Oh, right. Well, it's the kind a lot of Fed troopers wear. Some of that model have a basic send/receive. No voice, just a few different pulses, so someone could send her one kind and she could send another to reply, that sort of thing."

"We'd pick that up if she did it from here. All the same...damn. She looked so good too. Well done, Vila."

Vila looked surprised and gratified, and stood a little straighter. Blake noticed and was saddened. He'd praised Vila in the old days often enough for his talent, and he had taken it as his due, but he was obviously quite unused to it now.

He flicked on the base-wide comms. "A small announcement. Vila and Lenya brought back fresh eggs from the market yesterday, so don't miss lunch, people. The chef has a treat for us all today—scrambled eggs."

Vila blinked at the non-sequitur. "For lunch? They'd've been better for br—oh! It's a code, isn't it?"

"It is. 'Scramble' means get ready to close up the base and move out."

"I'd better go and find Lenya then."

***

"You might like to know, master, that we are under attack."

"We noticed, Slave," Tarrant said.

"Who are they?" Dayna asked indignantly.

"Does it matter?" Soolin gripped her console as they were shaken by the impact.

"We've lost drive two," Tarrant said. "And three's on its way out too."

"So we're not going to get away. Very well," Avon said, "dive for the surface and make it look as it we're out of control."

"We are."

Zeeona looked frightened. "You mean we're going to crash?"

"I'm open to alternatives," Avon said sardonically.

"We could use your teleport."

"She's right! Dayna and Soolin, get going. You too, Zeeona."

"No, I'm staying with Del."

"As you wish. Good luck," Avon nodded at Soolin and Dayna as they dematerialised. He checked his screen and stood. "Orac, operate the teleport on my command. Come on, you two."

"I can't. If I leave the controls, the ship will break up. We'd be dead before we could teleport. I'm going to try to land."

Avon looked from Tarrant to Zeeona, who was standing behind him with her hands on his shoulders. "Goodbye then."

***

Vila jumped nervously from foot to foot. "What's keeping him?"

"Worried?"

"I just don't like the feel of this."

Lenya took his arm. "We can go if that's what you want. Blake said not to wait."

Vila shook his head. "No, we'll stay till he gets back." Lenya smiled at him, and he leaned slightly against her for comfort; to his delight, she didn't seem to mind.

In the last few hours, the recent recruits and non-key personnel had left in flyers for fall-back locations in the hills, and those remaining had loaded Blake's and Lenya's ships with the few essential files they would take with them if they had to abandon the base. If they, did, it would be destroyed as they left, for it was mined just as Dayna had done to the Xenon base not long after they took it over.

Then Klyn had reported a ship crashing not far away, and Blake had gone to check it out.

"What was so important about that ship anyway? Was it one of Blake's smugglers?"

"They didn't know. But it looked like it was headed this way. Klyn said it was a planet hopper, maybe Wanderer class, and that seemed to interest Blake."

Vila went pale. Scorpio? No, it couldn't be.

***

"This place is disgusting," Dayna wrinkled her nose.

Soolin warmed her hands at the fire they had started in the old wood-burner. "What did you expect? This isn't a pleasure planet. I couldn't believe it when Avon said he was coming here. When I said I was leaving the next place we got to, I didn't think it would be GP. The last place in the universe I'd choose to be in."

"I hope the others made it."

"I dare say they did once Avon knew we had."

"What d'you mean?"

"You don't think it was chivalry that made him let us go first, do you? He wasn't certain it would work."

"As logical as ever," Avon said behind them, "except for the fire. Now that is stupid. It would show on the bounty-hunters' heat detectors 10 miles away. Is staying alive too difficult for you?"

"Walking certainly is," Soolin said, coolly. "Don't you think trapping a passing flyer is a better idea?"

Avon narrowed his eyes. "It would be if you were outside hiding."

"Why bother getting cold when we could be warm while we wait? We'll hear in plenty of time. Sound travels a long way here at night."

***

"Tarrant!" Vila stared at Blake in shock.

"That's right. He had a young woman with him, Fiona or some such name."

"Huh! Didn't take them long to replace me," Vila said, aggrieved. "Well, where is he?"

Blake sighed. "He got away. I didn't get as far as telling him the truth before he jumped us. Don't worry, he won't have got far, and he isn't armed." Deva however did look worried, rubbing his arm, but Arlen looked as composed as ever.

Vila was aghast. "Tarrant thinks you're a bounty-hunter? Look, he's a bit precipitate. We'd better find him before he does something stupid. Why'd you play that game with him anyway?"

"Because I was once betrayed by someone called Tarrant. Avon can deal with him when he gets here."

"Avon?"

"We were followed by a flyer which matched every move we made, and I was using a random flight pattern. Only Orac could have followed that."

"Oh, wonderful." Vila looked around for Lenya, hoping for a quick getaway, but she must still be helping with the last of the loading. He dithered about what to do, and decided to stay with Blake.

"A flyer's just landed in the silo," Klyn reported over the intercom. "It's not one of ours, but it has all the right signals."

"Let them through." Blake left the office and strode towards the tracking gallery, the others behind him. He halted, facing the door. "Call the rest of them in," he told Klyn, who bent to her microphone.

"You're looking forward to this, aren't you?" Vila said resentfully.

"I rather think I am too," Arlen stepped out in front of them. "Blake and Avon. What a haul. Don't any of you move."

"You're a Federation agent," Deva stated flatly.

"I'm a Federation officer," Arlen said proudly. "Be so kind as to drop your gun."

Deva smiled. "I think not."

Arlen pulled the trigger but nothing happened; Deva just looked back at her impassively. Behind her, the rest of Blake's people were coming in through the other entrance. She looked around at them wildly, then turned back again. Vila leant against the wall, grinning. "Looking for this?" he asked, tossing an ammo clip up in the air. "Don't want to do a swap, do you?" The people behind her began to laugh and applaud, and Vila, enjoying the accolade, took a bow.

"Why, you little..." Arlen reversed her gun and lunged for Vila intending to club him, but Blake's fist came out and lifted her into the air and unconsciousness.

Vila looked down at her crumpled body with horror. "I hope you didn't hurt her!"

"Vila!"

"Well..." But he didn't finish, as just then Avon and the others burst in. "Oh, no." He backed against the wall and began to edge for the cover of a pillar.

"Is it him?" Tarrant asked Avon.

"Oh, yes. It's him." But it wasn't the Blake he remembered, this cynical unshaven shambling wreck of a man. Avon lifted his long-barrelled gun to bear on him. But who was that behind him? "Vila!"

"He sold us, Avon. All of us. Even you."

Avon stared at Vila. It made sense. He'd sold Vila after all. "Is it true?"

Vila had such a look of utter innocence that he must be guilty.

"Have you betrayed us, Vila?" Avon asked. "Have you betrayed me?"

Vila shook his head in obviously feigned puzzlement.

Avon's first shot took him in the chest, throwing him back against the wall. Vila's eyes widened in surprise. "Avon! Avon, it's me..." He began to slide down the wall. Avon lowered his gun deliberately and his second shot got Vila in the waist. The third shot took him in the hand. With a cry of pain, Avon dropped his gun and stared disbelievingly at his own blood, dripping to the floor.

"One move and the next one's through your head," Soolin said coldly.

"I meant Blake, not Vila," Tarrant said, shocked.

"Avon," Blake said, and Avon looked up dazedly. "Avon, what are you doing? That was Vila!" Blake took him by the shoulders. "Vila would never hurt you. And I," he looked over at Tarrant briefly, "wouldn't either."

Avon looked into Blake's sad, hurt eyes, and his knees buckled. "Blake...I didn't know...I thought..." As Blake's arms went around him, he whispered, "Please, Blake..." and collapsed.

Soolin took a step towards Vila, but a red-haired girl was already there, leaning over him tenderly. She could see Vila's pale profile looking up at her, his lips moving, and the girl's hand against his cheek. Soolin turned away, moved and oddly, a little sad.

Vila lay on the floor, trying to understand what had happened. Why had Avon thought he had betrayed him? Surely Avon knew him better than that, even if he didn't like him any more...wasn't fair. Wasn't fair at all that he had to die now when he'd just started to live again...

Lenya's face swam into being over his. "Lenya," he said. He felt dizzy, as if he were falling down a gravshaft. If he was dying, what did it matter if she didn't feel the same way? Go on, tell her, Vila. "Love you."

Lenya's face crumpled, and she placed her hand gently against his cheek. "Oh, Vila, sweet Vila, I love you too."

Vila tried to lift his hand to touch her, but it was too heavy. Understanding, she took it and put it on her check, so he could feel her tears. "Don't leave me," he said, falling into darkness, but as he went he heard her saying, far away, "I won't. I'll never leave you, Vila."

Lenya looked up at the touch on her shoulder. It was the base doctor, Sobel, a middle-aged greying man. "Let me look at him," he said. Lenya moved aside, keeping Vila's limp hand in hers, and watched helplessly as Sobel efficiently slit his blood-soaked clothes. She looked away, feeling faint, as the doctor inserted a regenerator into his wounds. "There, that's all I can do now." She turned back to see him placing healing pads on Vila's chest and abdomen. "At least I've stopped the bleeding."

"They've found us," Deva called out. "They're into the tunnels."

"You know what to do," Blake said. He could see that Sobel had finished with Vila, and called him over. He pointed at Avon, who was sitting on the floor clutching his wounded hand to himself, rocking backwards and forwards. "Take a look at his hand, will you?"

He looked across to Klyn's station, where she and Deva were both inserting keys into separate controls. He saw Deva nod, watched them both turn their keys, and heard the explosions and distant screams as the entrance tunnels collapsed.

"All right! Deva and Klyn, get all of my people onto my ship, Avon as well. I'll join you before we lift off. Sobel, you get the rest of Avon's people and come with me." He knelt down beside Lenya and Vila. "Come on, Vila," he said gently, and gathered the thief's limp body into his arms and started for the ships.

"I've set the silo charges," Deva said, catching him up. "We have five minutes. What about Arlen."

"Leave her. She can take her chances."

Deva paled. If she survived the silo explosions, she would probably starve or suffocate in the dark. But he knew Blake's objections to taking life directly, and he had more to worry about than a Federation officer who would have shot him dead but for Vila. "All right." He waved the others past them. "Hurry it along, you lot."

Blake carried Vila into the Kitten's med unit, and laid him carefully on the bed.

"Why are you taking Avon with you?" Lenya asked harshly.

"Would you rather have him?"

"Vila was right, then? That you always cared about him more than the rest of your crew?"

"No," Blake said softly, placing his hand on the top of Vila's head. "I care about both of them. Lenya." He straightened. "And Avon knows where Orac is." He looked down silently at Vila for a moment, then said, "Meet you on Ataro?"

"The house in the mountains," Lenya said, watching him go. "Good luck."

Sobel came in and quickly began setting up a drip while Lenya, holding back tears at the sight of Vila's white, immobile face, pulled out the restraints and strapped him securely onto the bed. She gave his unresponsive hand a squeeze and went out onto the flight deck. Tarrant was examining the controls, his arm around a woman with two-tone pink hair, and the other two—Dayna and Soolin—sat together on the couch looking tired. Lenya checked the airlocks and pushed past Tarrant to power up the drive.

"Strap yourselves in," she said. "It might be a rough ride."

She took the ship up out of the silo and straight up at maximum Gs. As she turned to check the detectors, she saw that Tarrant was sitting in the chair beside her.

"Three coming in on zero-six-two."

"I've seen them," Lenya said shortly, executing a twisting manoeuvre at the last minute.

"Nice ship," Tarrant said appreciatively. He hesitated, then said, "Nice piloting too."

"Thanks." Lenya accelerated towards a moon for a slingshot. As the surface hurtled by them, she looked at him sideways and noticed a raised eyebrow. Take that, cocky fly-boy, she thought, remembering how Vila had described him. Vila. She'd said she wouldn't leave him.

As if he had read her mind, or perhaps her expression, Tarrant said, "I'll take over. You go to Vila." She turned to him in surprise, to see an open look of sympathy on his face. "If it was Zeeona... Go. You can trust me."

"All right." Lenya unstrapped herself and got up to let Tarrant slide into her seat. "Set a course for Ataro. Pick one of the indirect ones in the computer." She looked back as she got to the med unit door, and saw a look of exultation on his face as he dodged a plasma bolt.

As another near-miss jolted them, Vila moaned as he was thrown against the restraints.

"Vila." Lenya took his hand, and his eyes flickered open at her voice. He stared at her in puzzlement. "It's all right, Vila. You're on the Kitten and we're on our way home."

The ship made a sudden sharp turn and Vila's face twisted in pain. "Frightened..." Lenya reached out and stroked his hair. "Always been a coward..." he whispered.

"No you're not." Lenya leaned over his and kissed him on his damp forehead. "Not when it counts. Don't you dare leave me now, Vila Restal." He smiled faintly up at her, then closed his eyes. Lenya looked enquiringly at Sobel.

"He's bleeding internally again. Either from being carried onto the ship, or the jolting around since."

"Can you do something?"

"Not while this is going on. I'll operate as soon as I can."

Tarrant's voice came over the intercom. "We're clear."

Sobel stood up. "I'll need an assistant."

Lenya swallowed. "I'll help."

"No, we will," a voice came from behind her. It was the black girl, who gave her a warm smile; she must be Soolin. Behind her was the blonde girl, cool and tough-looking. Yes, that would be Dayna.

"Will he be all right?" Lenya asked anxiously.

"He has a fair chance," Sobel said. "Patients with good support generally do very well."

Did you hear that, Vila? You do have friends, there are people who care about you. "Thanks," Lenya said to them all, inadequately.

"That's all right." The dark one gave her another dazzling smile and went out.

The blonde one—Dayna?—took her time removing her surgical gloves. "Do you love him?" she asked abruptly.

Lenya blinked. "Yes."

The girl looked at her searchingly, then nodded. "Good."

***

"In a way, I'll be sorry to leave," Blake said, looking out the window. Lenya stood beside him. It was summer in the mountains, and the green spiky Ataroan puzzle-trees spread below them, interrupted by sparkling lakes, where Vila had expressed a strange desire to swim in the moonlight. She'd promised him they would in a week or two when he was stronger. The house belonged to her parents, and was large enough to hold skiing parties of 50, assiduously avoided by Lenya, who preferred it out of season when no one else bothered to go. It was not the first time she had lent it to the rebellion, as the flyer hangars were all underground to protect them from avalanches; from above, no one could tell anyone was there.

"Stay a while longer, then."

"Oh? I thought you'd be glad to see us go so you can have Vila all to yourself."

Lenya smiled. "There is that."

"I've said goodbye to him."

"You were the last."

Vila would be exhausted, but she knew the attention had delighted him. She grinned, thinking of his description of the simultaneous kisses on each cheek he had got from 'the girls' as he called them—odd how she'd got those two mixed up when she first met them.

Blake was taking them all to a rebel base closer to the Federation borders, and it looked as if his charisma had worked its charm on Avon's crew. They had all offered their services, Tarrant as pilot, Zeeona to work on research into an antidote to Pylene 50 with the knowledge she had about the antitoxin, Dayna as weapons expert and Soolin as sharpshooter on raids.

"No, not the last. There's one more."

Lenya turned angrily. "Surely you're not suggesting—"

"Yes. Avon wants to see him."

"No."

"Don't you think that's up to Vila?" Blake asked softly. "You've said before he's never been given enough choices."

Lenya sighed. "You're right. I'll ask him, but only because it might help him. I don't give a damn about your Avon."

"No," said Vila. "I don't want to see him."

"He wants to see you. That must take a lot of courage."

Vila turned away, his face bitter and angry.

"You forgave Tarrant and Dayna for their bullying. And you've never hung on to all the other bad things that happened to you in your life."

"This was different." Vila voice trembled. "I trusted him."

Lenya put her arms around his thin shoulders, carefully so as not to hurt him. "Come on. This isn't the Vila I've come to know. You're kind and gentle and sweet. You're not bitter and hard like that."

Vila sighed and rested his head on her shoulder and was quiet for a while. "Stay with me?"

Lenya kissed his cheek. "No, this is between you two. You don't need me. You're a lot stronger and braver than you know."

"You can go in." Lenya gave Avon a hard look, which he returned.

He stopped just inside the door, shocked. He knew Vila had been severely wounded and had almost died, but he was unprepared for how so small and fragile he looked, sitting there with a blanket over his legs. Vila stared back at him, his sad brown eyes too big in his pale face. It was the way he'd looked when he'd emerged from his hiding place on the shuttle, accusing, miserable, hurt. At least he didn't have that closed look he'd got after Avon had dealt that last calculated blow to drive him away for good afterwards, "You know you are safe with me."

Avon stood, unconsciously rubbing the scar on his healed right hand. "About that shuttle."

Vila just looked at him, unmoving.

"You know that if we were in the same situation again, I'd do the same thing."

Vila eyes flashed with sudden anger. "D'you think I'm stupid? Of course I do. Just like with Dr Plaxton. Logical, wasn't it. Oh, I understand that. Just not that you didn't care."

No, he hadn't cared, not about Plaxton; he'd never known her. But he had cared about Vila. He'd spent a year trying not to so it wouldn't hurt when he lost him too, but it had. It hurt after Malodar, and it hurt after he'd got rid of him on Domo in an attempt to stop the pain, and it hurt now.

"I—" I did care, Vila. But he couldn't say it. "After Anna...and Cally...and thinking Blake was dead..." He could not go on.

"Hurt you, did it? Don't you think it hurt me too? But I didn't matter, did I?"

"That's not true!"

Vila flinched at the sudden pain in Avon's voice. "No? You hated me, Avon. Most of the time anyway." He lowered his head and picked at the blanket on his knees. "Sometimes I thought you didn't, not for long though. Almost like you forgot to."

Avon remembered those times. Their shared enthusiasm while planning to steal the Feldon crystals, that easy slip into the old banter on Domo—Domo—and his elation at Malodar when he thought they finally had success in their grasp. Each time, Vila had responded with his old humorous sparkle, eager for reconciliation. It wouldn't have taken much. Oh, he wished he could roll back time and do it differently.

"I didn't hate you, Vila," Avon said quietly.

Vila looked up, suddenly angry. "You did. You hit me. You sold me! You shot me!"

"It...made sense at the time." Avon noticed his hands were shaking and clasped them behind his back.

"Did it? You really thought I'd do something like that? Betray you? You thought that little of me? I know I'm a coward, but I'd never have done that." Exhausted, Vila leaned back and closed his eyes. "Just go away."

"No, Vila." Avon walked over and sat down at the other end of the couch. Vila opened his eyes and looked at him nervously. Avon sighed. "You do matter to me. I just didn't want you to. It would have been easier, don't you see?"

Something in his face or voice must have got through to Vila, for he relaxed a little, and nodded cautiously. "Maybe."

"Vila, I can't change the past." Vila looked away, and Avon hesitated. "But if I could," he said quietly, "I would."

Vila turned, his face touched by hope. "Would you?"

"Oh, yes."

Vila smiled faintly. "So would I."

He forgives me. After all that, he can forgive me, even if just a little. Avon closed his eyes briefly, trying to keep his face expressionless. "The past is past, Vila. But you seem to have rather a good future." He stood up, looked down at Vila for a moment, then said "Good luck," and turned and left the room.

When Avon emerged, Blake was relieved to see that a lot of the tension and pain on his face had gone. Avon nodded to Lenya. "You needn't worry. Vila's all right."

"And you?" Blake asked.

"Yes." Avon walked past him. "Somewhat better than expected."

Blake smiled to himself and followed him. Whatever had happened in there had done Avon a lot of good. He felt an optimism rising in him that he had not felt for a long time. Deva was right. The bounty-hunter game he had played had not been working. He had acquired a few good people, but nothing like the ones he had now.

First of all Vila, his good-natured unassuming friendliness melting the hardness and cynicism Blake had carried in him for the last two years. Vila would be working with Lenya when he was fully recovered, but he'd promised to use his skills for Blake too, doubtless with Lenya at his side to protect him with all the fierceness of a wild-cat.

And Avon, whom he'd almost lost, brilliant, stimulating Avon who might be his friend again even if he would never admit it. The others too, top people in their fields. And of course Orac, and the salvaged Slave and teleport system from Scorpio.

Ah, what couldn't he achieve now?

***

Sometimes when Lenya wasn't there, it puzzled Vila that she could love someone like him, but when he saw her face smiling at him as it was now, he knew he couldn't doubt it. He leaned happily against her, listening to the distant rumble of Blake's ship leaving.

"You were right. I'm glad I saw Avon," he said sleepily, tucking his head into her shoulder. "At the very end it was almost like the old days when we were on the Liberator. He got that look in his eyes as if he liked me, just before he went."

Lenya put her arms around him and rested her cheek on top of his head. "Can't imagine why anyone wouldn't."

"Glad you bought me, then?"

"Best money I ever spent."

"Oh?" He wriggled closer to her and felt her arms tighten around him. "How much higher would you have gone?"

"Hard to say, Vila. After all, you're cheap at any price."

Vila pulled back and gave her a hurt look.

Lenya smiled fondly and kissed the end of his nose. "Think about it, Vila."

Vila did. "Oh!"

"Tell you what though. I'd go as high as half of everything I own and everything I will own, if you spend the rest of your life with me."

The wonder and joy on Vila's face must have been answer enough, for she embraced him, holding him tight, and kissed him. After a while, she ruffled his hair and said teasingly, "You know, some sort of response is traditional to a proposal of life bonding."

Vila disentangled himself and grinned at her. He had the perfect reply to her 'cheap shot'. "Can't think of anything better to do."

The end