Playing at Grown ups

A Pink Dormouse Production

Chapter Seventeen

Avon

"Quick, guys, look busy: the boss is here." Tay bounced into the warehouse they were using as a workshop; Avon shook his head in amused despair and followed her.

"Sorry to have left the project to the rest of you for a few days but I have had other things on my mind. Tay, do you have business here or are you just going to follow me all day and keep me from working?" Visiting the building site with him had been fair enough: they both wanted to see how the factory was progressing but she seemed intent on annoying him all day.

"Promised Vila, didn’t I? He seems to think you’re planning on taking over the whole project again if someone doesn’t keep an eye on you."

"Just go: tell Vila I understand his concern but I have another meeting after this that does not concern you at all. I can only get to that on time if you allow me to get on with my work here undisturbed."

The girl gave no answer but backed off and stood just inside the doorway, which was an acceptable compromise. Avon looked over the work so far: the team had got slightly further with his design than he would have done working on his own. They had also come close to completing a small working model which could be used to test some of the new ideas he wanted to incorporate into the prototype that would improve it over the detector shield he had built for the Liberator.

"You’ve done well so far, any problems?"

"The power drain is still unacceptably high for battle situations." That was Pinto, seconded from the SCorps in an advisory capacity while he recovered from combat wounds. "Should work fine in our battle cruisers but you’ll have to do something with it before we can use it in the fighters."

"How far have you deviated from my original specifications? I’ll run the calculations again and let you know what I think." That was his afternoon taken up: Vila expected him to be in the pub for tonight’s quiz but there was always the chance his work could take precedence...

Storme

"So, Avon, how are you today?" She made a cup of herbal tea and handed it to him.

"Thanks. I decided to go back to work." He sounded confident enough but there was obviously something troubling him. The way Vila had described Avon’s more dramatic mood swings had led Storme to consider multiple personality disorder as a diagnosis but she had discounted that as soon as she had met the man himself. It was still debatable as to whether she could even classify him as atypically bipolar but then she had no intention of using him as a subject for research publication even if she did ever go back to academia.

"Any problems?"

Without a definitive diagnosis, she was very reluctant to advise any form of chemical mood stabilisation, particularly to someone with such a varied set of cross-tolerances. Besides Avon’s distrust of therapists and hit and miss attitude towards pharmaceuticals meant that talking to him in a more or less unaltered state was preferable, if not necessarily as productive, for the time being at least.

"Work is fine: I cleared up one problem the group was having and they are nearly ready to move on to the next stage. Aside from work... I seem to be remembering events which cannot possibly have happened." He sat down then picked up one of the decks of cards from the table and began to rifle through it. "I need to know I can distinguish between hallucination and reality."

"When did you start having doubts?"

"Some time ago... After what happened on Terminal- no, before that- when I found out Anna had lied to me. I should have seen through her. She had played me all along: that should have made me more cautious, not more suggestible."

"Tell me about these new memories. Why are you unsure about their validity?"

"I like this deck, the Seer reminds me of Cally... it took a long time to come to terms with how she looked when I found her body. When she died there was so much unsaid... I tried to tell her, but trying to talk to... what was left... I had dreams- nightmares- in which I went down there and found Blake the same way. When they started I was coming down from a two day high...

"I know what you’re thinking, but I had a lot to do within a deadline and there was no time to sleep. Initially I blamed sleep deprivation, or possibly whatever other drugs Dorian had been incorporating into his stimulant cocktails. But..."

"How did you cope?"

"How do you think? I stayed awake some nights, spent others with Vila; if I was with him I could remind myself of what was real."

"But you didn’t talk to him about it?"

"Vila had enough worries of his own without being given further evidence of my mental state. Interesting interpretation of the Lovers in this deck."

"What other dreams have you been having?"

"I... I know it could not have happened... but it is not something I want to talk about now."

"Could you tell me more about the dreams about Cally: are they still exactly the same as before?"

"Sometimes, other times I find Cally as I remember she was after the explosion, then Blake appears, blaming me for what happened and accusing me of... other things. I don’t know how much of what he says relates to events I can’t remember, or how much is imaginary."

"So it is the dreams that worry you, rather than your memory?"

"Both. The flashbacks I was experiencing have become rare since I started seeing you but the dreams are, if anything, more frequent."

"What are you using at the moment?"

Therapeutically, nothing; recreationally, only alcohol and not that much or often; maybe volatile nitrate compounds if I am involved in a Scene."

"Your caffeine intake is the same as ever?"

"I work with computers. Coffee goes with the territory."

"But you have been drinking less coffee since you took a break from work?"

"Significantly less, but it makes no difference to my problems. I think I have said enough for today. I shall obviously pay you for the full session and maybe we can talk about something less fraught next time." He got up and walked out.

Either he’s on the verge of a breakthrough or he’s heading for another crash. If I could get him to trust me...

Avon

Vila had just finished his shift so the pair of them were waiting for the pool table to be free when Dariel walked over to their table.

"Good evening." He twisted his hand through Avon’s hair. "Have you been avoiding me?"

Memo to self: add ‘get hair cut’ to my To Do List. Scratch that, he’d only find something else to restrain me by. No one’s taking any notice as far as I can tell.

"Well now, why do you think that?"

"You did mention that I was looking for him, did you not, Vila?" Dariel knelt behind Avon’s chair.

"Course I did. He’s probably just been playin’ hard to get so you’d come round and rough him up." Avon glared at Vila, not quite as venomously as he would have liked due to Dariel’s hand now doing something rather pleasant at the nape of his neck.

I must find a way of getting Vila back for that one. Now if I just concentrate on revenge, I can totally ignore where Dariel has just placed his other hand.

"Well, Avon?"

"I... have not been... avoiding you... as such." Should he be doing that in public? His planet, but even so.

"You have been busy? I have to go away in two days and it would be such a shame if we could not-"

"You’re going offworld?" Avon’s mind came back into focus.

"Certainly. Chalsa has invited me to Khom for a spot of big game hunting. He is most grateful for the assistance the SCorps gave his planet when the Betafarlian fleet were making a nuisance of themselves."

"Chalsa... I know that name..."

"Yeah, you do," said Vila delightedly, "what else can you remember?" Avon thought about it.

"Chalsa of Khom, Boorva of Tarl, Lod of- where was Lod from?" I actually remember a lot about them now. Suppose I look as pleased about it as Vila does, no matter.

"Hirriel."

"That’s it. And Mida of Lovis as well. They came to the base and then Zukan joined us. And that idiot Tarrant got himself involved with Zukan’s daughter."

"Zukan was no great loss to the sector though, was he? A pity the Federation seized his domains but, now they have withdrawn most of their ships, I hear the Five Systems are planning an invasion force. I take it you realise the part you played in uniting the systems, Avon."

"You flatter me." Avon leaned back against Dariel, flashing a satisfied smile at Vila.

"Without you the dialogue between the initial four could have come too late and more worlds would have fallen to the Federation before the systems united to call in the SCorps."

"See, I knew you must have done something right at least once," said Vila.

"Insightful as always, Vila. So, Dariel, when and how do you want me?" Keep doing what you’re doing and I shall have even less choice in the matter.

"Tomorrow evening." Dariel stood up, eliciting a gasp of disappointment from Avon. "As before." He signalled to his henchmen, who were standing at the bar and strode out.

"You really are a slut at times," said Vila, draping himself over the back of Avon’s chair.

"You say that like it’s a bad thing." Anyone would think he didn’t keep encouraging me.

"Not at all, so long as you remember who makes sure the rent gets paid. Don’t suppose there’s enough blood reaching your brain for us to play pool at the moment?"

"There may be by the time you get back from the bar."

"So it’s my round is it?"

"Unless you prefer to wait until I am in a suitably decent state."

"Tart." Vila went to fetch the drinks.

I was faithful to Anna. Mainly because Del held a gun to my head but I was and that must prove something. If Vila were to ask... on second thoughts that’s far too disturbing and he would never... he’s as much a slut as I am. Problem solved. In more ways than one as it happened.

Tarrant

Soolin was in a far better mood when she returned to the base with Grant and the two SCorps representatives. Someone less tactful would have asked if she and Grant had done more together than merely sit around a conference table. But then she had sold more services than just her skill with a gun on at least one occasion that he knew of; there was a time when he would have sworn to at least two but that was before the events on Gauda Prime changed his opinion of Avon. Soolin took Tarrant aside while the other four were getting food and coffee.

"Grant was asking about Avon, so I told him what we agreed."

"Did he believe you?"

"Hard to say: he’s not dug any deeper. I don’t like lying to him, they were friends after all and he doesn’t seem to be holding a grudge about what happened to his sister."

"Is that your only reason?"

"Tarrant, if this is another of your pathetic attempts to delve into my private life you know exactly where you can stick it. Now come and talk to the new guys, you might learn something useful."

Back at the table Dayna was already deep in conversation with the man.

"-Derringer: small, a trifle effeminate but it packs a powerful punch. For a real man’s gun I’d go for a Colt any day."

"Do you find many practical uses for all those reproduction weapons?" Dayna asked as Tarrant sat down on the other side of her. "Del, Mylo was just telling me about his partner’s gun collection."

"Sometimes." Mylo seemed to think about his answer. "The Derringer can be easier to conceal than a blaster of similar power and there are always going to be situations where you need a projectile weapon. So this is the great Tarrant. I’ve heard a lot about you already."

"I recognise your accent," said Tarrant. "I met someone who spoke similarly a couple of weeks ago."

"One of the SCorps?"

"No, a freighter pilot. I don’t expect you to know her obviously."

"Oh, but I think I do," said Mylo, "not many people from our homeworld go in for that line of business and I heard that a friend of mine was helped out of trouble by a rebel ship recently."

"She wasn’t very forthcoming with information, I never did catch her name."

"Well don’t ask me to tell you. It’s considered unlucky to give out such information to offworlders."

"Superstition?" said Soolin.

"I just place too high a value on my own skin: plenty of people move to where I come from because they don’t want to be found. Not that there is anything wrong with what you would term superstition, I have found my belief system very helpful in times of crisis."

"If you say so."

Obviously the subject had already been done to death on the journey to the base. Tarrant wondered what Avon would have made of another bunch of aliens (they were aliens, he assumed; not that the last one looked particularly non-human but these did) with an anachronistic belief system, then reminded himself that he didn’t have any reason to think of Avon these days. At least these new ones didn’t seem to have any designs on anyone’s body...

Soolin

"So this is the main control room." She had agreed to show the guests around while Grant dictated his report for the other Rebel Leaders to assess. "We keep tabs on most Federation movements for the other bases as well." It had been suggested that they hand Orac over to a more central base but the current inheritors of the aggravating but useful computer had argued that it could monitor activities just as easily wherever it was. Soolin wondered if the others hoped to one day hear from their former colleagues through it or if she was the only one who missed the pair.

"It seems rather inefficient," commented Mylo, "we are looking into a device called Rolcomt for all our ships. If its developers are to be believed it will pick up all military transmissions and give a location fix, even if not all of the messages can be deciphered instantly. Equipping your ships with something similar would give a much faster warning of approaching hostiles."

"Orac’s quite fast enough to do that, and we can decipher most Federation codes nearly as fast as they develop new ones."

"It may be worth your while contacting the Astbury Tech Dev Co at some point none the less. They have some very interesting ideas regarding defence technology as well."

"Indeed," said Soolin, "this wouldn’t be another of Dariel’s money-making schemes, would it?"

"He is an investor. You know him then?"

"We never met, but I heard about him through Dorian."

"That freebooter?" said Mylo contemptuously, "he was only ever interested in new forms of entertainment. I am quite surprised Dariel never barred him from the planet."

"I heard Dariel was a pirate himself at one time."

"Only in his youth, he is a respected leader these days. One who rarely leaves his planet but in such dangerous times as we are living in..."

"Think a lot of him, don’t you?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"In some respects."

No flirting with the mercenaries until the deal’s signed and sealed. Should really find out more about this partner of his first anyway. No point in getting involved in a shoot-out for the sake of a quick romp, even if it has been far too long.

On to Chapter Eighteen

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