Vila Restal’s E-mails – Season 4
by Nicola Mody

Back to Season 3

This is a quite a large document. In case you don't manage to read it all at once and return to it later, I've provided links to the e-mails for each episode from the series.

Rescue
Power
Traitor
Stardrive
Animals
Headhunter
Assassin
Games
Sand
Gold
Orbit
Warlord
Blake
Post Gauda Prime

Dear Vila,

I’m sorry you lost the Liberator, dear, and that Zen died. I suppose he was a bit past a reboot. Have you been able to repair the ship Servalan left for you? It sounds like a real banger; I do hope you got the better end of that swap.

And I am proud of you that you remembered to take extra clothes and undies with you when you abandoned ship. How clever of you to wear them all at once!

Love, Mum 

Dear Vila,

You keep doing this to me, Vila! First you get radiation sickness, then Orac predicts you’ll all get blown up, then you get mixed up in an intergalactic war, and now you’re stranded after your ship got eaten up around you. You tell me these terrible things, then you don’t write - you just leave me wondering what’s happened to you. Do you enjoy frightening me? Don’t you know how much I worry when I don’t hear from you? I hope there aren’t any cliffs on that Terminal for you to be lying dead at the bottom of. I do worry so much about you, Vila. You should think of your poor mother sometimes.

Love, Mum 

Dear Mum,

No, I’m not dead at the bottom of a cliff, but I almost was. And Cally’s dead. She was so nice, friendly and sweet, and she even liked me too. Mostly. I’ve got a really bad pain in my chest like when Gan died, and though I’ve knocked back enough wine to stun a Tarsian warg-strangler, it still hurts. So does my head for that matter. And of course now Cally’s gone, there isn’t anyone to talk to about her. Must be an Alpha thing - don’t mention the dead. Like never saying where you’re going when you want a pee.

BTW Orac can forward our mail to us from our old Liberator addresses, but from now on you should write to the new one. I’m going to bed while I can still stagger there.

G’night, Vila 

Dear Vila,

I am so sorry to hear about Cally. I used to hope she’d come to her senses and see what a much nicer boy you are than that snitty Avon. And drinking yourself legless won’t help. You tell me about it instead.

And what cliff?

Lots of hugs and kisses from your Mum  xxx ooo 

Dear Mum,

Oh, all right. Avon and Dayna went off to look at Servalan’s crashed ship while the rest of us checked out the underground base for food and supplies. Avon took Dayna because she’s an explosives expert and he thought the ship might be booby-trapped. It was, and so was the base – it all came down on top of us. I wasn’t hurt but Tarrant was unconscious (yeah, you can tell!) so I dragged him out. Almost didn’t get the great oaf up the ladder; I think I’ve put my back out now. I dumped him outside, then went back for Cally. She said Vila telepathically, and I yelled I was coming, then started down. There were more explosions, almost throwing me off the ladder, and the hatch started to close. I jumped out just in time and threw myself on Tarrant to shield him – suppose I wanted to protect my investment. Then I ‘heard’ Cally call out “Blake!” and I felt her die. So I wouldn’t have got to her in time.

Why did she call for Blake? Why not Avon? Because Avon’s mistake stranded us here? Or because she thought Blake might make everything all right again, like it once was?

When Avon and Dayna got back I was curled up beside Tarrant, crying. Avon went in to look for Cally, and Dayna looked at me in disgust then tried to wake Tarrant up. Avon came back and stood beside me. I said I was sorry, and I could see his boots right by my face. I thought he’d kick me, but he just said very quietly, “There was nothing you could have done, Vila,” which is maybe the kindest thing he ever said to me. He had Orac with him, and sat down and pretended to try and fix it. I went off to look for firewood till I got myself under control. Shows how much I cared about Cally: there were real hairy aliens – links – about, and some snaky things that had attacked Dayna, but I just didn’t care. Turned out Tarrant got hurt trying to rescue Cally, so she can’t have been far away. I should have looked. She died alone and silent, which is a terrible thing for an Auron. I hope she felt me thinking about her. She sometimes could. Maybe that would have been a comfort, but considering it was only me, I doubt it.

More later when I feel better. And yes. I’ll tell you about the cliff.

Love, Vila 

Dear Mum,

Me again. First the cliff. The next morning, Dayna was scouting ahead and I was all alone and getting very nervous, so my bravery of the night before must’ve worn off. Or my shock more like. When I heard Dayna yelling for help, I ran off after her and fell half-way down a cliff (not a very big one) and ended up clinging terrified to a tree root next to her, with a huge wolf-snake thingy at the bottom trying to get at us. Dayna was not impressed. Another daring rescue from that well-known hero Vila Restal…

A guy called Dorian came along and rescued us and was promptly rewarded by Avon pulling a gun on him and taking over his ship, an old rust-bucket of a salvage scow called Scorpio. On the way back to Dorian’s base on Xenon, I made it up to Dayna when I opened the gun locker for her. She was really taken with the cute little guns with all the nifty interchangeable clips in designer colours – laser, plasma, shells, grenades, stun, drugs. We took one each. I went for the stun option, though the drug clips have certain possibilities for the future. Still, I grabbed Dayna’s discarded Fed rifle on the way off the ship. I was nervous, it looked big and mean, and I needed some reassurance.

I was right to be suspicious. They were expecting us. Dorian’s ‘companion’ Soolin was ready with wine – a glass for each of us including Cally (I drank that one). We all had hot baths waiting and new outfits laid out for us in our quarters - all grey except for Avon’s which was black leather with studs as usual, and some white. Which would average out to grey. Dorian obviously knew Avon’s taste well enough. I don’t want to think about what he knew about me - my outfit has targets on it. Only on the shoulders and elbows luckily, not any vital bits! But still. Must have bought in bulk too – there were 5 more the same in the wardrobe.

Soon as I emerged all clean and sleepy from a hot bath, Dayna and Tarrant tried to get me to open the security door to the landing bay. Without proper equipment it was a waste of my time, so when they left to look for another way in, I sodded off to find Dorian’s wine. Excellent stuff, made from real grapes and more than a few months old if I’m any judge. Mean of him though to keep it locked up. I was just getting mellow when I heard Avon and Dorian coming, and hid up the stairs with my gun and bottle (I know my priorities). Dorian had Avon at gunpoint and said he put dummy clips in our guns while we were in our baths. Wonderful. Then the little creep said he was going to feed us all to something in the basement which stopped him ageing, and marched Avon off, and Soolin too. Bet his relationships don’t last long. I came downstairs, saw the Fed gun, considered having another drink for courage, and decided not to – frankly nothing was going to improve my courage, such as it was. I took the gun down to the basement, handed it to Avon and he shot the creature. Dorian aged and turned to dust in seconds, and the creature turned into a young man’s corpse. I thought I’d had too much to drink for a moment, then thought about it and decided what I really needed was some more.

And now I’m ready for a little snooze. Hope I don’t have nightmares.

Love, Vila 

I’ve been thinking, and before you say it, yes, I do sometimes! You know, we should have worked it out. I bet Dorian wasn’t his real name. He must have named himself after that Oscar Wilde story, Portrait of Dorian Gray. It explains why he had a thing about grey too. Can’t be the aesthetic appeal. Give me a nice warm brown or tasteful beige outfit any day!

And how did he know where to find us? And our clothes sizes? Did the creature know? If so, it was the strongest telepath I ever heard of. Or did Servalan tell him in case the bombs, links and snakes didn’t get us? Lucky she’s dead then, or she’d be turning up here next.

Vila 

Well now, it knows about Oscar Wilde as well as the Trojan Horse. The next thing I know, it will be walking upright. Our own little link.

However some of Vila’s brain waves must be reaching the shore. He has a good question. So that you all know, Orac is now fixed and it has determined that Servalan put out a general bulletin that we were on Terminal. Given the bounties on our heads we were lucky it was Dorian who found us first. And doubtless he found our heights and weights on our wanted notices on the Galacnet. If he’d got it wrong, Vila would now be busy altering our clothes with needle and thread.

Avon 

Dayna, for your eyes only:

You can surf on some of my brainwaves actually! And here’s one. I heard Dorian tell Avon how to use the basement. Now I plan to live forever or die trying, but not like that. You know me - I’m harmless. Can’t say the same for Avon though, and you know I’d be the first one he’d dump down there, don’t you. We have to blow it up. You’re the expert, but I’ll come too and hold your fuses. Much as I hate explosives.

Dorian must have heaps of them somewhere, ‘cos he was always doing tunnel additions and renovations.

And we can trust each other you know. I’ve got a plan.

Vila 

And how do you know I wouldn’t ‘use’ you, Vila? It’s quite sweet of you to trust me. But for that matter, can I trust you, even though you’re harmless? And gormless and feckless for that matter.

I think you have a very good point though. Possibly your only one ever. Meet me in the living room and we’ll do it now. And if you dare misinterpret that, Delta-boy, I’ll blow you up with the basement.

Dayna 

I know it shouldn’t by now, but it always comes as a surprise to me that you can read, Vila, let alone that you’ve read so much. There’s a pleasant surprise in store for you! I found Dorian’s library, a very extensive one as you’d expect for a chap who lived for over two centuries. He’s got everything you can think of – the classics, proscribed books, history texts, tunic-rippers, and some stuff that would make your eyes pop out! Or in your case, Vila, embarrass and puzzle you. I can just hear you saying, “Eh?” and turning the pictures round to work out what they are, then going bright red! :-)

Or maybe not. Perhaps you have hidden depths now I’ve seen you in handcuffs being chased by Dayna…

Tarrant 

Dear Vila,

I am very worried about you. I know you’re upset about Cally, and that Dorian thing must have been a bit of a shock, but it won’t help getting pie-eyed. And I don’t think that Avon will put up with it. Can he fire you or dock your pay?

You don’t seem to have done any rebelling for months now, and I see your new e-mail address is a dot-com one. Are you going into salvage these days? It might be safer I suppose.

Love, Mum 

Vila.

Dayna tells me that explosion was your idea. Only you could have been so foolishly short-sighted as to destroy such a valuable asset. I had plans for that basement, you idiot! It was worthy of further scientific study.

You can now straighten the pictures, pick up the pot-plants, put all the books back on the shelves, sweep the broken crockery off the kitchen floor. Now, Vila!

Avon 

Dear Mum,

Don’t know what we’ll be doing here, no-one ever tells me anything. And I’m not drinking that much. I admit the first couple of nights here I socked it back, but now I just have a drink at lunch, mid-afternoon, dinner, and a nightcap. A pleasant drop, and it helps dull the pain in my chest a bit. Trouble is, seeing me with a glass in my hand gives people the impression I’m always drinking, but I said to them they can lay off me till they actually find me drunk. And that’s not likely to happen – drugs and drink don’t affect my mind unless I want them too, remember - little old unconditionable me? The old motor functions can suffer a bit though. Anyway, I reckon if I pace myself – a bottle a day – Dorian’s wine will last the year out.

I was worried about his basement though, as I bet Avon had already considered putting me down there for his old age, so Dayna and I blew it up. Dayna had already found Dorian’s weapons and explosives store and I’d been exploring too, jumping at every sound, me dressed as a living target and with Dorian’s blonde gunhand on the loose. I found some excellent tools to replace my lost kit, and some seriously kinky stuff in Dorian’s room. Including handcuffs. Dayna and I were both nervous about each other’s intentions, so I cuffed us both together so she couldn’t whack me one and leave me down there. She was furious but could see the logic. I said the key was in my room and I’d release her when we’d blown up the basement. We set the charges and Dayna used a remote to blow them. The whole base jumped; we probably overdid it but the basement’s been pulverised now. I was so relieved I took Dayna’s cuff off with a lockpick right there at the top of the stairs. “You little weasel!” she yelled. “You said the key was in your room!” Well, so it was, but she was really angry for some reason, and went for me. I yelped and jumped back, then ran for it with the handcuffs dangling from one wrist and my lockpick in the other hand, and Dayna hot-foot behind me, threatening to break all my fingers. I dodged Tarrant in the hallway, but Dayna collided with him, giving me time to get to my room and lock myself in. Of course Dayna just had to tell Tarrant and Avon all about it, to protect her rep I suppose. And mine too for that matter, though it isn’t worth my life to point that out! I mean, I don’t do that sort of weird stuff. Or any sort of stuff really, now I think of it.

Anyway, we’re a bit trapped here. That security door to the landing bay is still locked, and the only other way in is through the hole in the cliff that Scorpio flies into, not that I’m going to mention that. Dorian had some great tools which are now mine, so I’ll have to have another go at that door.

After all, there’s only food for 3 weeks here for the 4 (or 5?) of us. I did suggest the others eat rodents to eke out the supplies, but Avon said a more logical solution was to eat the vegetarian first! “Roast Vila appeals,” he said, “and we could probably serve it cold for a week.” “Nah, Vila cutlets grilled on the barbecue,” said Dayna, licking her lips, “with the leftovers in a Vila casserole.” “I’d prefer crumby Vila schnitzel myself,” Tarrant said and bared his big white teeth at me. I backed up against the wall, and ran to get my tools. Dorian has some nice fortified wines here, and I’ve got to get that door open before Avon thinks of Vila Scaloppini Marsala!

Love, Vila 

Dear Vila,

I think you should look for a less dangerous job with nicer work-mates, sweetheart. Threatening to put you in the basement or eat you just isn’t on. Can’t you negotiate a new employment contract?

Love, Mum 

Dear Mum,

Yeah, right. Outlaws don’t get a lot of choice about their working conditions.

Anyway, Vila’s off the menu now. I could get through the lock on that door (of course) but couldn’t handle the coded voice-recognition stuff Dorian set up. I was working on the lock when a very nice Seska girl called Pella turned up and offered to help me. I got such a shock, I dropped the lance on my hand and bruised it. Pella stroked it and rubbed some ointment on it, so gently my knees went quite weak. She said I was clever too (for that alone I’d like her) and told me about the nuclear compression charge on the door which goes off if Dorian doesn’t key in his code word every 48 hours. Apart from that wonderful news I was really enjoying the conversation, but when I tried to stop her leaving, she blasted me right across the room against the door. She did say sorry though. Only about the third time in as many years anyone’s said that to me!

Tarrant and Dayna didn’t believe me at first because both entrances to the base were locked. I thought maybe she was another thief like me, and my heart beat a little faster, but Orac worked out she used telekinesis. Turned out there was a war between the Seskas (all women) and the Hommiks (men) and Dorian supplied the Seskas with nutrients for their hydroponics in return for them helping him try to build a teleport. The Hommiks were an uncivilised lot; I bet they ate rodents. We got captured by them when we went looking for Avon and had to watch Dayna fight the chief Hommik to the death. I have to say that’s the last time I handcuff myself to her - I was lucky to get away alive; he didn’t!

In the end I cracked the lock and Pella turned off the compression charge switch with her telekinesis. I was thinking we made a nice team, but she wanted Scorpio for herself. She pulled a gun on us, shot the other Seska girl, slammed the door on us and powered up the drive. Avon used the focussing crystal from the dead Seska to run the teleport system and teleported to the flight deck and killed Pella. Pity. I liked her. And a girl with her talents would have been very useful on the crew, not to mention pleasant company for me. For a change.

Avon told us to teleport too, but I got left behind (teleporter malfunction # 3). I said, “Why is it always me?” and Soolin suddenly appeared and said it was obvious, smirking at me. Marvellous. One of nature’s victims, that’s me. So Soolin’s in the crew now, and true to form I’m still at the bottom of the pecking order. :-(

We went to shop on the local planet Dorian and Soolin used, Onus 2. I found the natives are very sensitive about the way people pronounce that. Lucky it was a weekend and the banks were closed so I could easily withdraw some cash from one of them. Tarrant said I’d proved useful at last, and Dayna said maybe they’d keep me. Then we went to a supermarket for food and other supplies. Avon said I was too extravagant, getting 3-ply toilet paper, but he let me keep it when I pointed out the cost of his overpowering aftershave and his designer shampoos and mousse, and anyway I’d provided the money. We also got some adrenaline and soma, but Avon wagged his finger in front of my nose and said it was for medicinal purposes only and he’d counted the bottles. So I lifted some more when he wasn’t looking. And those fashion plates wonder why I prefer loose tunics to their skin-tight outfits!

Love, Vila 

Vila,

I know you got into trouble for blowing up that basement, but I would like to thank you for it. Good thinking.

I watched you all for a couple of days before I decided to come out, and the others don’t seem to think much of you. I don’t know why – handcuffing yourself and Dayna together was a very logical solution to the mistrust problem. And that bank break-in was very quick, efficient and profitable. You’re obviously not as stupid as you look.

Also, thanks for standing up to Avon about the 3-ply.

Soolin 

Soolin,

Firstly, you said thanks to me! And I have it in writing! This must be the first time in years! And I’m sorry Dorian tried to kill you, Soolin. I’d be very upset if a friend did that to me. Don’t suppose you want a sympathetic ear, do you?

Secondly, no-one could possibly be as stupid as I look. Might as well get in first before you think of it. :-(

Thirdly, I see the kitchen has an espresso machine I’m looking forward to trying. Care for some of my famous cheesy toast and a cappuccino? Plus some witty and charming conversation? You won’t get any from the others here; they’re not much on small talk.

Vila 

Vila.

I don’t know how anyone who can pick complicated physio-psycho locks, crack bank vaults, and disable alarm systems, could possibly plaster coffee grounds all over the ceiling and soak the carpet with steamed milk within a radius of 2 metres of the espresso machine. Clean it up, Vila. And read the manual next time, idiot.

Avon 

Vila, I don’t know when I’ve laughed so hard. You should have seen your face when the coffee blew. I’m still smiling at the memory of you diving for cover under the table, whimpering with fear and covering your head. You should be a comedian!

You give me hope, you know. In a galaxy full of hard bastards, vicious murderers and humourless thugs (I speak from experience) you’re something completely different – sweet, kind, and so funny. You’re not that stupid either, but I’m beginning to suspect you are as innocent as you look!

Soolin 

Dear Mum,

Planets are falling like ninepins to the Feds right now, and when Avon heard Helotrix had gone too, he decided to find out why they’d fallen so easily. I wasn’t keen on getting that close to the sharp end. It was all right on Liberator with its massive fire-power and long legs, but Scorpio is a slow rusty little planet-hopper with a couple of pitiful pop-guns. Though Avon’s got Orac trying to redesign the short-burn boosters to give us some extra speed.

Tarrant and Dayna were all gung-ho and eager, so they went down and promptly lost contact with us because the teleport comms went on the fritz. (Guess who has to check all the relays and circuits now). The Feds sent up some cruisers after us, and I was terrified Tarrant and Dayna had been caught and told them all about us, but it turned out Orac was using the Helotrix engineering computers to do his calculations, which sort of gave the game away. Even I know how to balance good decent laziness with healthy self-preservation – it’s a fine line I walk every day. Idiot computer.

I had to make a couple of fast visits to the head by the time Tarrant and Dayna called in and teleported back. The Feds are drugging the local populations with something called Pylene-50 which turns them into spaced-out slaves, though it sounds more like a haemorrhoid ointment. The good news is we got the formula for the antitoxin. The bad news is that Servalan was down there. How did she get off the Liberator?

Oh, some other good news. Soolin doesn’t mind me!

She’s had a hard life – her family were murdered when she was 8, and she became a hired gun, and eventually tracked the killers down and whacked them for it. So she’s not the sort you’d think might like me. But when I asked her to tell me what her family was like, she blinked a few times and said it was the first time anyone had ever bothered to ask. They sounded wonderful. I told her about you, and a bit about me, and she said she was amazed I’m the way I am considering I’ve had a hard life too (I told her about the conditioning and the JD wards and CF1). I wouldn’t say she was a friend like Gan or Cally (can’t see Soolin putting an arm round my shoulders like Gan, or hugging me like Cally when I was sad); she’s more an ally.

Love, Vila 

I’ve never seen anyone as scared as you were over Helotrix, Vila. How in the universe did you survive three years on the Liberator? If anyone needs some of that medicinal adrenaline and soma, it’s you. Shall I ask Avon if you can have some?

Soolin 

It was different on the Liberator, Soolin. We were too fast to catch, and I used to be on the neutron blasters. I don’t like being helpless and vulnerable, though I should be used to it by now. Scares me witless. And yes, I know I’ve left myself wide open there.

As for the adrenaline and soma, I have a proposal for you. No no no, not that sort – it’s harmless little me, remember? I thought you’d like to keep in practice with your sharp-shooting, and here’s me with targets on my tunic, and my own little supply of A&S. What say you load some of those drug clips with A&S and shoot to thrill every time you see me? It’ll keep you on your toes and me on an even keel. Don’t take the targets literally though, esp. not the elbow ones – shooting a thief in the elbows is a bit like knee-capping an athlete.

What do you think? ;-)

Vila 

You really are funny, Vila. You’re on!

Soolin 

Dear Mum,

We had to go to Altern 5 to get some dilithium – no, just kidding – selsium to make fuel crystals. This is in Fed space, and I made the mistake of suggesting a way to sneak into the system using an asteroid as cover. Yeah, it breaks my rule of never sticking my head up, but I suppose I was lulled into complacency by being constantly ignored. I never thought Avon would listen to me. And what do you know? Murphy’s law struck. We hit the asteroid. BTW did you know Murphy’s Law wasn’t made up by Murphy at all, but by another fellow of the same name?

We were belly-up and Avon and Tarrant didn’t know what to do. Well, I knew how to fix the hull breach, but I thought: take it easy, Vila, you know who’s going to have to do it. So I pretended I’d got really drunk, and told them about how the skipper of the prison ship did it on the way to CF1. So Tarrant and Avon went off and did the heroic dangerous stuff, and the girls thought it was very funny when they found I was really stone-cold sober. So I finally found out how to make Dayna laugh: act the fool. On purpose, I mean.

We saw a Fed patrol pass by and suddenly blow up for no reason, and when we looked at the recording back at base, it was space rat choppers doing standard by 12. Orac said they must have the new Plaxton photonic drive.

Of course I had to open my big mouth once again and say I knew about space rats. There were three of them on CF1 and their favourite sport was ‘frightening little Vila’. I was the smallest and youngest prisoner there and the two women used to grab me from behind, give me wedgies, dangle me upside down over cliffs (sorry, Mum), threaten to tattoo me, and make me ride tied-up on the front of their land-choppers made of scavenged tractor-parts. The space rat guy was unreasonably jealous and said he’d bend me (their charming slang for kill, usually by dragging behind a vehicle. Or two). The mere thought of seeing any of that lot again gave me the willies. But Avon wanted their star drive, and he said as I knew so much about them, I could check out their base. Dayna and I teleported down. She landed in the right place, but I ended up at the top of a cliff with my arm stuck between rocks (teleporter malfunction # 4). And I dropped my gun again. So I haven’t changed that much after all. :-( Sure enough, we got captured and the space rats were going to bend us till Dayna said we were students of Dr Plaxton. She denied it but we were laying it on thick when the others turned up. We escaped with the photonic drive mark II and Dr Plaxton herself. She was just connecting the new drive up for us when some Fed ships attacked. I didn’t know whether to sit on my hands so no-one would see them shaking or put them over my eyes so I wouldn’t see the final flash when it came. But Avon turned the drive on, so as soon as Dr Plaxton made her last connection it fried her and shot us out of there. When Dayna asked Avon about her, he just said, “Who?”

All right, I see his point – her dying instead of the lot of us was logical, but he just didn’t care. He didn’t show any remorse at all. And Soolin told me afterwards that Dayna and I were bait to distract the rats while the others got in. All I can say is, Avon’s a bit of a space rat himself, and I don’t trust him much any more. I hope it never comes to a toss-up between his life and mine.

Love, Vila 

Vila Restal,

From the similarity between the recent bank job on Onus 2, and your previous form in London Dome, I’d say you’re active again in the criminal world. Given up on the rebel life, have you? After all, there hasn’t been any evidence of your trade-mark signed break-ins at any Federation installations for more than a year. And you’re still wanted for that bank on Sirius Gamma shortly after your escape from Cygnus Alpha. I know it was you, as the Liberator incurred an orbital parking fine the same day.

And I know it’s you this time too, Restal. No-one else can get in and out of a vault with such consummate skill, and fail to take all the money.

My application for permission to pursue you beyond the limits of the Federation has just been approved, and the neutral zone police are willing to co-operate, now they know you’re back in business. You’re about to be nicked, my son.

Detective Haskell 

Oh now look, that’s a bit unfair. I only ever take what I need for a nice comfortable life. Grabbing all the money gets people unreasonably mad at me, and that bank was the Six Systems Agricultural. Don’t want to rob the poor peasants blind, do I?

And you have to catch me first!  :-)

Vila Restal 

Dear Vila,

You never told me about those space rats on CF1, dear. Though you did have some nightmares when you got back which I thought were about vermin on that space-ship you high-jacked.

It looks as if I was right about that nasty Avon after all. He seems to do nothing but insult you and send you into dangerous situations. Or are you going to defend him and say it’s all a game? You’re far too nice, you know.

At least Soolin likes you. Perhaps you have a chance there!

Love, Mum 

I’ll take that as a confession, lad.

I see your e-mail address has changed. It’s the Scorpio Salvage Company now, is it? Someone called Dorian Gray is listed as director, but the address is false, and so, doubtless, is the name. The Scorpio is on the registry as an old planet-hopper, so you can’t be too far from Onus 2, can you, Restal?

A supermarket check-out operator remembers a group of people buying up very large the day of the robbery. She particularly remembered “the sexy man in leather, the pretty boy with the dazzling smile, the two girls dressed to kill, and the cute little guy with all the discount coupons for adrenaline and soma.”

Anyone you know?

Detective Haskell 

Dear Mum,

You’re right – Avon’s changed since Cally died. And maybe since he found out Blake was dead too. He won’t even play chess with me any more. He still insults me, but it’s for real now, not a sort of joke between us like on the Liberator.

Still, Tarrant’s a bit nicer to me now, ever since I was sorry about his brother dying. And saved his life on Terminal. We even discuss some of the books we’ve read, though he laughs at the way I pronounce some of the longer words. Well, I know what they mean, it’s just I often haven’t heard them said, that’s all. Who’d guess it’s indefatigable and not indefatigable? I mean, that’s what you’d expect, isn’t it?

And no hope with Soolin, at least not the way you mean. I just amuse her, which is the best I can hope for really. And I don’t mind – I’d hate to have a domestic with a gunfighter.

Dayna still gets annoyed with me though. I’m a dab hand with the espresso machine now, and she came in yesterday just as I was taking orders. I was saying to Tarrant, “You like a long black, don’t you?” She took it the wrong way and went for me, yelling, “I’ll get you for that, you little creep!” and chased me round the base till I made it to my room and locked myself in. Tarrant had calmed her down by the time I cautiously emerged for dinner. I’ve started making another Restal special lock for my door; I think I’ll need it.

I’ve been thinking. You know, we buried the body of Dorian’s partner outside and put a stone over him saying, “He gave his life for his friend,” which amused Avon no end but I thought was a bit off. After what happened to Cally and Dr Plaxton, I’ve been wondering about what my epitaph would be.

I always wanted:

VILA RESTAL
BEST THIEF IN THE GALAXY

but up till I got off Cygnus Alpha, I’d have probably got:

VILA RESTAL
MOSTLY HARMLESS

but given the most common responses to my inoffensive presence, I’ll bet the unanimous decision from this lot would be:

VILA RESTAL
HE FINALLY SHUT UP AND WENT AWAY

But I know they’ll never mention me again. :-(

Oh and BTW, remember that Detective Haskell who was after me for years and finally got me sent to CA? You rather fancied him. Well, they’ve given him permission to hunt the galaxy for me, and he’s getting warm. I’m glad we got that new fast stardrive so we can shop further afield next time.

Love, Vila 

Dear Vila,

I do think that’s a bit morbid, sweetheart, making up your own epitaph. I wonder though, what would you write for your friends?

And I do remember that Detective Haskell. The tall fair one with the cleft jaw. He was a bit of all right. Pity we met the way we did, or I’d have made a play for him.

 Love, Mum 

Just what are you up to, Vila? Why are you running about the corridors with an uncharacteristic excess of energy, asking everyone if they’ve seen Soolin recently? And why does Soolin have a calendar in the rec room with a series of ticks - or perhaps they’re Vs - under each day? There seems to be a correlation between the daily total and your emotional state. Given the reaction of most women to your doubtful charms, it can’t be what I first thought it was. Be assured, Vila, I shall work it out.

Oh, and Vila. You’re rostered on meal duty tomorrow. Try to keep to more traditional menus. Curry for breakfast is somewhat excessive, and does not appear to agree with Tarrant.

Avon 

Vila, can you make sure there’s no curry on the menu tomorrow. I have to go all the way to Bucol 2 with Tarrant the day after. Or eggs.

Dayna 

Hey, I thought curried eggs on toast was a perfectly good breakfast. Anyway, tomorrow it’s porridge, toast and marmalade for breakfast, pizza for lunch, and soyburgers and chips for dinner with a nice drop of cab sav. All right?

Vila 

Dear Mum,

Hmm, epitaphs for this lot. Took some thought, but here they are:

KERR AVON
WHO?

DEL TARRANT
GONE FROM US BUT THE MEMORY OF HIS TEETH LIVES ON

DAYNA MELLANBY
EXTINCT LIKE MOST OF HER PREY

SOOLIN
WE MISS HER, BUT SHE NEVER DID

Cheers, Vila 

I’ve finally found you out, Vila. There is only one conclusion to draw when I see Soolin enter the dining room and promptly shoot you in the back, causing you to yelp, jump, drop a tray of toast, and stand there grinning vacantly and foolishly. Or more so than usual.

Drug clips loaded with adrenaline and soma.

I can believe it of you, but not of Soolin. I’m warning you, Vila. If you don’t stop this idiotic game immediately, I shall put something lethal in Soolin’s clips. Or possibly something less than fatal, but designed to improve the performance of recalcitrant Delta-grades. Pylene 50 springs to mind.

Avon 

I think we’d better stop our game, Soolin. Avon threatened to spike your drug clips and I’m not calling his bluff these days. It was fun while it lasted, though. Thanks for the pleasant memories.

Vila 

Pity. I enjoyed using a live target.

Dayna said she used to practise her shooting on the Liberator using targets with your face on them. She said she’s willing to make up some more, but I think not. It’s just not the same.

Would you like a different stimulant? It’s time for an afternoon fluffy cappuccino, and you’re quite good at them now.

Soolin 

Dear Mum,

Tarrant took Dayna to Bucol 2 to see some genetic scientist guy called Justin she used to know when he tutored her a few years ago. Avon wanted him to design an antidote to Pylene 50. We’ve got the anti-toxin which stops it working, but nothing to reverse it. And personally I be glad if we did, just in case.

From the way Dayna talked about Justin, it looked like they had something going once. She must have been in her mid-teens at the time too; the guy sounds a bit of a perv to me. Tarrant was pretty hacked off about the whole thing. Nothing like an old flame to cool down a relationship, if you see what I mean.

Anyway, just after she teleported down, some Fed ships turned up and attacked the ship; hot-shot pilot Tarrant did a lousy job evading the plasma bolts and limped home for repairs. Guess who had to rewire the exploded consoles? And after all that, the anti-grav gyros were still out, and someone had to go down into the glycolene storage tanks to fix the inertial guidance channels. Yeah, it needed my delicate touch. That stuff stinks, and I get claustrophobic down there, and what do I get for it? Nasty remarks about how bad I smelled when I came out, and the lovely news I had to do it all again, with the promise of half a glass of wine at the end of it.

It’s not just “Shut up, Vila” and “Go away, Vila” these days. It’s also “Roll over, Vila,” and “Beg for wine, Vila.” Next thing I know, they’ll have me sleeping chained up in a kennel outside the base.  :-(

When we went back to get Dayna, she came aboard sobbing her heart out. Turned out Servalan was down there too, going by the name of Sleer these days, She had used aversion therapy on Dayna to make her hate Justin and betray him to her, because she wanted the animals he’d developed which were immune to radiation. Justin was killed, but by then Dayna loved him again; it all got a bit confusing. Anyway, when she got back with the others, the poor girl was crying, Avon looked stony, Tarrant looked sulky, and Soolin finally went over to her looking embarrassed, and put her hand on her shoulder. I thought, she needs more than that, and scooted over and gave her a big hug like Cally used to give me when I was miserable. Dayna started howling then and hugged me back, getting me all wet, but I didn’t mind. Knew how it felt, didn’t I? I just held her till she finally stopped. She snuffled a bit, gave me an extra squeeze, and said, “Soolin’s right. You’re really not that bad after all.”

Maybe that can be my epitaph.

Love, Vila 

Avon,

Why don’t we publish the formula to the Pylene 50 on the Galacnet, or at least give it to all the resistance groups?

And we should tell everyone that Commissioner Sleer is really Servalan. She’s a non-person now, so I’m sure the new president would like to either have her hit or have a big show trial.

Vila 

Ideas from you, Vila? A contradiction in terms.

No to both, you fool. Knowledge is power. Not that you would be familiar with either concept.

Avon 

I see you two are doing the next shopping trip. Um, look, it may be a good idea to stay away from Onus 2, seeing as I hit their bank last time. Just a thought.

Vila 

You have an inflated view of your own importance, Vila.

Avon

While the sourpuss is away, shall we mice play? I suggest a picnic outside by the river. You both grew up outdoors, and you might not think it, but I used to spend time out of the dome for a bit of peace and quiet, or the occasional quick escape. In fact I had a tan and quite light hair when I got sent to CA, and look at me now.

How about bread, salad, devilled eggs, smoked salmon, chocolate cake, lemon mousse, fruit, and a nice dry white? Followed by a pleasant afternoon taking it easy in the sun.

Vila 

I’d rather not look at you now, Vila.  :-)

But apart from that, it sounds great. If you have plans to get another tan on more than your face though, you’ll be floating on it down the river.

Dayna 

A good idea. But I hope the nice dry white refers to wine and not you, Vila.

Soolin 

Vila.

Our shopping trip did not go well. As you suspected. It appears that we are now recognisable as the associates of a certain well-known master thief. I do not appreciate being told by a bespoke leather tailor that my custom is not desired. Or being ignominiously chased down the road by an ice-cream purveyor under the impression that I was “one of the Restal gang.” We were able to get all the food on the list, only because the adenoidal supermarket checkout operator seemed incapable of matching our appearances to the wanted posters on the wall right behind her.

Explain, Vila.

Avon 

Oh, right. Well, look, with all the pirates, criminals and outlaws (and the occasional rebel) around, the neutral zone banks have pretty good security, good as Fed ones. To get into one, people usually have to use explosives or portable laser cannons; no finesse. Now I pride myself on getting in and out without a trace, except for what’s missing. Could only have been me. Would you prefer me to do a bad job, like breaking lock mechanisms and setting off alarms? Bit dangerous, that, and frankly it would hurt my professional pride.

Anyway, no problem - we’ve got a fast stardrive now so I can hit banks all over the quadrant, which will put them off our trail. In fact I’m happy to do a couple more right now, just to take the heat off around here.

Vila 

Dear Mum,

Me again! The girls and I went on a picnic yesterday while Avon and Tarrant were away shopping. I was sprawled on the grass relaxing after a nice lunch, when they moved in on me. Dayna said, “Here we are, all alone with Vila. Isn’t this cosy?” and leant right over me. Very closely. Soolin leant over from the other side and said, “Do you think we can get shy little Vila to unbend a little?” I said, alarmed, “Leave me alone, girls, I’m fragile! I bruise easily!” and wriggled out from under, seriously worried. Those girls go around armed to the teeth and you wouldn’t want to tangle with them. They both laughed.

Dayna: “He really is all talk, isn’t he? He never meant any of it.”

Soolin: “I told you he was harmless.”

Me: “Hey, you always knew that. It was only ever a joke, you know!”

Dayna (smiling): “You’re a joke, Vila.”

Soolin (smiling too): “But we like you anyway!”

Dayna (putting her arm on my shoulders): “We’ve decided you can be one of us.”

Me: “One of you?”

Soolin (patting my head): “One of the girls!”

Then they laughed themselves sick and told me they’d more than bruise me if I made another pass at either of them, joke or not.

As I’ve said before, I’ll take what I can get. Even being a sort of pet. But I’m not letting Dayna corn-row my hair or Soolin curl my eyelashes, no matter what they say.

Love, Vila 

Dear Vila,

I’m glad you made friends with the girls. But you really shouldn’t have flirted with gunfighters, you know. What is it with you and dangerous women? That Kerril wasn’t your sort either, really.

And as for having to clean out those tanks, it can’t have done your hands much good, and you do have to look after them. I think that if they don’t appreciate you for your professional skills, you should see about getting traded to another rebel team. They could swap you for a maintenance worker. That nice Avalon might like to have you.

Love, Mum 

Dear Mum,

I think asking for a transfer would be a betrayal in Avon’s book. And you know what that means.

And dangerous women are the only ones I know these days. Well, up till yesterday. Avon brought a lady called Vena to the base. I thought, good excuse for a drink, and when I brought the tray out, she said, “Why, how lovely. Thank you, lad.” She looked at Avon and said, “I’ve met the others, but you haven’t introduced this charming young man.” Avon seethed and said through his teeth, “We call it Vila.” She’s about your age, Mum, and when she smiled at me and said hello, she made me feel quite homesick. Besides which, that’s the first thanks I’ve had in ages. So I was just being nice, getting her a stool to put her feet up on, some magazines, the viscast remote (Avon hates anyone else using that), and they all started having a go at me later for flirting. With someone 20 years older than me? I ask you, what do they think I am? Actually, I’d rather not think about that.

Vena’s man Muller works in a Fed cyber lab developing androids. If Avon’s thinking of getting some, I wouldn’t one mind myself. I thought that Avalon one he reprogrammed that time was pretty impressive (and impressively pretty, too), but getting a female one would be just admitting what a loser I am. No, I think I’d go for a Vila android. I could sit back and let it could do all the dirty work round here.

Avon:   Vila, go and top up the glycolene tanks, then unblock the sewers, then get the rust off Scorpio’s bodywork. Now, Vila.

Me:      Vila-copy, that means you. Hop to it, and when you’ve finished, clean yourself up and make me some hot toast and a liqueur coffee. But before you go, just plump up my pillow, there’s a good machine.

Yeah, chance would be a fine thing. But I know I’d just end up feeling sorry for it. :-(

Love, Vila 

You two will be leaving for Pharos in the morning to pick up Muller. He’s expecting you. I was going to get Soolin to go, but I’d like to get Vila out from underfoot. He can make up for his disgusting fawning around Vena by putting the police off his trail.

Vila: Make a stopover at a suitably distant planet and rob another bank. While you’re at it, pick up the following:

ice-cream
artichokes
aubergines
a good cheese selection
dried shiitake mushrooms (oh, and that’s pronounced she-tah-kay, ignoramus)
some decent port
orzo pasta
half-a-dozen tarial cells
some AAA batteries for the remote
toilet paper

Tarrant: Don’t let Vila out of your sight while he’s off the ship. And count the port bottles.

Avon 

Dear Vila,

I didn’t realise you were so homesick, darling. Perhaps you could get a mother android which could give you big hugs when you need them, tell you how sweet, clever and handsome you are, and tuck you up in bed at night with a good-night kiss.

Lots of love, Mum 

Dear Mum,

Nice thought, but I wouldn’t have an android for anything after what we’ve just been through!

Tarrant and I went to get that Muller guy. We made a big detour and stopped off on the way at Sauros Beta, so I could hit a bank vault to give Haskell something to think about. Tarrant was very nervous, never having done a job before. He was hopping from foot to foot and cursing Avon for making him go with me to keep me out of trouble. Just to pay him back for Keezarn, I took twice as long as I could have, and while I was in the bank, put my half of the loot in my numbered account (approaching 6 mill now!). When we left, he rushed to the nearest public loos, white as a sheet and I took the opportunity to knock back a few quick ones at the pub across the road. Tarrant couldn’t sneak on me to Avon now, as Avon had asked him to watch me all the time, so I convinced him to forget it and loosen up. So we had a few more. Made a lot of friends, buying rounds for everyone. Doing the shopping afterwards was more fun than usual; we both got terrible attacks of the giggles trying to buy Avon’s shit-take mushrooms. Lucky we had a teleport, as I wouldn’t have fancied making orbit in a shuttle with either of us at the controls. We told Slave to set a course for Pharos and hit the bunks. Anyway, Tarrant can’t complain. I split the loot with him 50-50, as he drove the getaway space-ship.

We’d slept it off by the time we got to Pharos. Muller said they were onto him, and Tarrant teleported down to his lab to get him. He came back with a box as well, and when Muller saw it he threw a fit and tried to make Tarrant send it back. At this point I was more concerned with the interceptors coming for us, but once we’d outrun them, I had to club Muller across the shoulders to stop him crushing Tarrant to death.

Number of times I’ve saved Tarrant’s life directly: Two (as separate from group saves like on Ultraworld)

Thanks I’ve got: Nil.

In fact, Tarrant was downright annoyed with me for killing Muller (don’t worry, Mum, I hadn’t really) and after we put him on ice, he made me tell Avon and Vena. I consoled myself afterwards by trying to get into the locked box, but as soon as I touched it, there was a power surge. Same a bit later when Avon asked about it and I had another go, but this time Slave revolted and went into a sulk, and I went right off the whole idea. Tarrant had to fly us back manually and calculate an orbit. Quite fun watching him really being a pilot for once instead of just telling a computer what to do; he didn’t like it much. Then Avon told us we were quarantined up there and asked us to turn Slave back on to find out what was wrong with him. All hell broke loose. He turned off all the life-support, the oxygen, the lights, the heating. The temperature dropped like an asteroid onto a neutron star. We tried to get into our survival suits, and I remember collapsing and Tarrant putting an oxygen mask over my face, and, just before I passed out, the sound of breaking glass. So I suppose that’s only one life-save he owes me now.

When we came round in the resuscitation room on the base, no-one was there to inquire solicitously after our health, so we got up and went looking for our heroes’ welcome, just in time to see Muller crush poor Vena to death and fry Tarrant and Avon’s guns. We ran for it, me with the box. When I finally got a peaceful moment to get it open, it had an android head in it with an inhibitor. We put it all together then – the head in the box, Muller’s white po-face, his ability to influence circuits and heat up guns. An amok robot with a corpse’s head. What fun. Just how I like to spend my days – being chased all over the base and half of Xenon by an insane machine trying to rid the galaxy of innocent harmless little carbon-based life-forms like me. Dayna and Tarrant finally electrocuted the thing on the iron bridge we had our picnic by, then blew it up; the android, not the bridge. Avon was pissed off with them because he wanted it for a weapon, and Orac got angry with him and said he and Muller were dangerously arrogant. Totally agree, but Avon looks so savage, I’m lying low for a while.

Love, Vila 

Slave is its normal obsequious self and life support is back, so you two will now complete your mission. Get yourself out of wherever you’re lurking, Vila, and report with Tarrant to the teleport bay. Tarrant: land Scorpio, and Vila: unload the shopping.

Avon 

Crew of salvage scow Scorpio:

Traffic fine for dangerous use of a space ship in an inhabited system: 500 credits.

Sauros Beta Traffic Authority 

Where the hell are the vegetables, Vila? I was planning a moussaka for dinner. And the port? Tarrant informs me you bought 6 bottles.

And that’s the last time I send you two off together. Tarrant says he was pilot and will pay the fine, but after your little stunt with the Liberator that time, I have my suspicions.

Avon 

The veges turned to mush when they froze, Avon. Hardly our fault. All their little cells exploded. I shovelled them up and threw them out. Bit of a mess, really. You could use spuds instead.

Your shitty-kay mushrooms are all right though.

The ports are with the ice-cream in the freezer. The bottles exploded when their contents froze. If you lag the neck end with a rag so your hands don’t freeze, and have a good lick, they make very nice ice-blocks!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hic!

Vila 

Moussaka with potatoes instead of aubergines would be a travesty, although I can hardly expect a half-wit with your lack of discernment to know that.

And if I catch you licking port ice-blocks anywhere in my sight, you unrepentant sot, I shall conduct an experiment on the relative hardness of frozen port and your skull. Or on how long it takes your little cells to explode at –200 degrees.

Oh, and no more complaints of frostbite, Vila.

Avon 

Dear Vila,

I’m scared to open your e-mails these days, though at least I know you’re alive when I get one. I always worried about you when you were on a job, but this is ridiculous. If I’ve got stomach pains from the stress brought on by the things that happen to you, I can’t imagine how you feel. Can’t you make a run for it with your 6 million?

Love, Mum 

I know that was you on Sauros Beta, Restal. Not only did you get through two psycho-physio locks and into a timed vault, and take only half a million, but two men looking very like you and Del Tarrant were seen buying so many rounds of drinks in the pub across the road not long afterwards, that the punters ran wild afterwards, toppling all the statues to Sauros Beta’s founders in the park, trampling all over the grass, and frightening the ducks in the pond. Only the fact that no-one recalls you two at this point prevents me from adding wanton vandalism to your record.

Or drunk in charge of a space ship for that matter. A pity the traffic cops weren’t fast enough to apprehend you and blood test you.

You may be able to run, Restal, but you can’t hide for ever.

Detective Haskell 

Vila,

I am so fed up with wearing the same outfit all the time. Bloody Dorian provided a half-dozen of the things, and I’ve only worn out three of them. Soolin said there’s a good selection in the storage levels as Dorian stocked up big a few years back at a sale on Onus 2. I asked Avon for the keys, but he got very snitty and said not to bother him with such trivia.

I’ve managed to shred two and dissolve most of one doing weapons research. Got any ideas of how to destroy the lot without Avon suspecting anything? I want a change.

Dayna 

Hmm, see your point. I can break in for you but frankly I don’t fancy crossing Avon these days. I’m down to one outfit myself, due to all the wear and tear doing the manual labour round here and I wouldn’t mind a change from targets. It’s no fun washing the damn thing; I have to lock the laundry and stand shivering in my undies waiting for it to dry. I didn’t get any sympathy from Avon either. In fact he laughed for the first time in weeks.

Here’s an idea. I used to get seats on the transporters back on Earth by scratching myself frantically. People would move away in disgust and I’d spread myself out for a nice nap. There’s a skill to it though. A nice touch is moving your hand slowly across your body, then doing a quick grab at something, squishing it between your fingers and looking at it in satisfaction. Works every time. The weird thing is that everyone else around you starts to feel itchy too.

We could do it around the base whenever the others see us. When they start to itch too, we’ll have to bomb, no no no, take that back, I mean fumigate the whole place, and launder all the linen and clothes. And somehow all the clothes get shredded along the way.

What do you think?

Vila 

Vila, you’re disgusting! But it’s a great idea. Soolin’s in on it too – after all if it’s just us two, they’d think the worst. Of me anyway.

Dayna

Dear Mum,

Not much point in running away – I’d spend the rest of my life waiting for Avon to catch up with me for his revenge. Not much fun, that. Besides, I’m so well-known now, I couldn’t practise my profession in peace. So I’m trapped in a bit of a dead-end job really. And I’m not that nervous these days, surprisingly. More resigned, I’d say.

Still, I have fun sometimes. The girls and I are pulling the old flea lark on the others. A variation this time is that I’ve only put the itching powder in the men’s beds (just a tiny bit, very subtle, slight increase each day; interesting though that Avon uses grey silk sheets, must be Dorian’s) and the girls are acting the part along with me (I want to stay on the right side of those gun-slingers). You should see Avon squirming around in his leathers, trying to stay dignified-looking. Actually it’s a fitting revenge for that nasty crack about me being a philosophical flea that time Blake almost got digested. Tarrant’s getting a bit desperate too, he thinks his curly mop-top is infected and keeps grabbing at it and treating it with vile-smelling liquids. It’s all we three can do to keep straight faces. And if one of the girls starts scratching in earnest, well then I’ll know, won’t I?

Oh, the rebel life is a merry one!

Vila 

The base appears to be infested with vermin, Vila. Apart from you, that is. See if you can find some insect bombs to fumigate the place. I’m sure Dorian put some in storage; the man must have been an anal retentive.

Avon 

I think we’re ready for the next step, girls. Get me some acid, Dayna, and we’ll put tiny holes in all the clothes in everyone’s closets. Except for me of course – I’ve only got what I’m wearing.

Vila 

Oh no, you too, Vila! Don’t worry, I won’t burn you. And we’ll do everything, socks, underwear, the lot. And before you get excited, we three will do our own. I bags Tarrant. Soolin can do Avon’s. You can do all the sheets.

Dayna 

It doesn’t seem to have occurred to Dayna, but why didn’t you just go straight to stage 2, Vila?

Ah, of course. It was a lot more fun this way, wasn’t it? :-)

Soolin