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The Liberator had a dreamy air to it when you were on watch, Vila often thought. The fact that no-one else was awake, the hum from the recyclers, Zen's hypnotic flashing in the corner. It could get quite soporific. Of course, he never fell asleep. Or at least, not for very long. And he always confirmed that Zen would wake him if there was a real problem.
It also meant that he was the crew member least likely to be put on watch when there was anything dangerous to worry about. And that suited Vila just fine.
It was quiet tonight after the excitement of the day. They were heading out into deep space, heading for some god-forsaken planet called Goth. Middle of nowhere apparently, likely to be hip-deep in savages, furry aliens or weather that could freeze your bits off. Just once, he idly thought, just once, it would be nice to go to a tropical pleasure planet, one filled with friendly natives, not wearing very much and with curves in all the right places. He sighed.
Still, he could hardly complain after today. Well, he could, but there was scarcely any point if no-one was around to hear it. Be careful what you wish for, or you may get it, that was an old favourite of his Mum's, but Vila had never noticed that it did her much good. She never wished for anything, to his knowledge, and she'd got that, in spades. He shivered, thinking about Mum. He didn't like to think about the Domes, about home, if it still merited that description after all this time. But the idle hours of nightwatch tended to make him introspective. Never a good thing.
He looked at his watch - well, Krantor's watch really, and his eyes narrowed as he contemplated the diamante insets. Were they valuable? Not likely to be diamonds, of course, but it was a piece that might be worth fencing if he'd been home instead of here. Here, of course, it was only good for telling the time. Which was late. Vila sighed again, resigned to waiting a little longer and then shrugged to himself. It was late enough.
He didn't even know why he'd palmed the watch. He'd been half-cut at the time, flying high on the cocktail Krantor had pressed on him, the cocktail that he'd been stupid and careless enough to drink. But then he'd been flying already, hadn't he? On success and victory, on arrogance. It wasn't often he got to be arrogant, but he'd been unbearable, hadn't he? Success always went to his head. And he always paid for it, in the end.
"Zen? I'm going to the teleport section. Contact me there if you need me."
*Confirmed*
They would all be asleep by now. Easily asleep by now. But Vila still felt nervous as he silently paced down the corridors. He wiped clammy palms on his trousers as he walked. He was lucky really, in a real emergency his palms were never damp, so he never had to worry about a dropped probe, or a slipped wire. It was now, when there was nothing to be nervous of, not really, nothing life threatening, that was when his nerves really kicked in. He wondered if any of the others understood that about him. He wondered if any of them cared enough to understand.
The teleport section was dim and shadowy, just lit with the emergency lights, all that was left on in the nightwatches. Vila paused for a moment, listening. There was no sound. He moved over to the couch behind the teleport console and prepared to lift the panel.
"I wondered how long you would be."
The quiet voice came from behind him and sounded amused. Vila nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Jenna!"
"Who were you expecting?"
"Umm…"
"Don't bother, Vila. I know you were expecting to be alone - with your ill-gotten gains."
"I… I don't know what you mean!"
She came around the edge of the door frame and moved towards him. She'd changed, into something burgundy and shiny, a little more practical, a little more flattering; he always noticed these things, and then swallowed as he realised she'd noticed his automatic appraisal.
"I know you."
"Really?" His voice came out in a squeak. "Are you sure? I mean, there's a lot to know about me, I'm a very complicated person, lots of layers really, like a trifle, do you like trifle, Jenna? Did you know that Avon does? You'd never think he'd like trifle would you, but there you go. And ice cream. Raspberry flavour…"
"You're babbling, Vila."
"Yes, well, that's what I do when I'm nervous."
"And why are you nervous?"
She'd come round to stand beside him, and was contemplating the teleport seat with interest.
"Would you believe being accosted by beautiful women in the middle of the night makes me nervous?" She turned to look at him and he shrugged. "No. Me neither."
She turned back to look at the seat and then leant forward and carefully began to feel along the seat edge. Vila felt cold and a little light headed. Her shiny blouse made a rustling noise as she leant forward and he had a heady moment of imagining what it was rubbing before coming back to himself. His fingers itched.
"Ah. There we go." There was satisfaction in her voice and Vila closed his eyes.
"Are you going to tell Blake?"
"What?" She sounded genuinely surprised. "Why would I do that?"
Vila opened his eyes again and stared into a slightly startled look.
"Well, you know, disobeying his instructions, having some fun when you were in danger, making money illegally, not being on teleport watch when you might have needed us, borrowing Orac…"
"You borrowed Orac?"
"Well… Yes."
"What Blake doesn't know won't hurt him."
She was smiling now, and it wasn't hard to see why men believed women like this over the millennia, and he caught his breath.
"Really?" He couldn't believe his luck, which is why he didn't believe it. "You're not going to tell him?"
"Stop being so suspicious, Vila. I won't tell him. For a price…"
His breath came back to him in a rush. This was more like it, negotiation, being squeezed by a rival. Her brown eyes looked back at him guilelessly. Oh yes, he could deal with this.
"You want a cut." It wasn't a question, and she smiled again.
"Well, why should you have all the fun, Vila? And I wasn't always a revolutionary."
"Are you one now?"
She stopped smiling at that, and turned her head back to look at the contents of the seat panel.
"Ask me that in a year."
Her voice was high and distant, and made him shiver. He didn't answer. Where would any of them be in a year? It was as good as saying never…
She leant forward again, rummaged, and thrust something into a bag before standing up again. Vila felt like protesting but found he didn't really have the energy. This is what always happened, wasn't it? Something bad after something good. After the windfall, the payment. He knew the tune backwards and forwards, had danced to it often enough in his life.
She shook her hair back over her shoulders and grinned at him widely. "Oh cheer up. I've only taken half. That leaves you plenty. After all, yesterday you didn't have anything. Half of something is better than half of nothing, isn't it?"
And she left him staring at the open panel, almost hearing his Mum's old voice in his head, as he listened to her boots tapping away down the corridor. Be careful what you wish for, son, or you may get it…
Vila didn't know how long he'd stood there, minutes probably, when he heard another noise, and wearily he raised his head. Avon stood in the main doorway, looking at him, his gaze carefully blank.
"Has she gone?"
"What do you want?" Vila asked roughly, beyond surprise, or banter.
Slowly Avon moved forward, cat-like, stalking, and Vila could almost feel nervous again as he contemplated having to explain the circumstances of the missing money, but he was tired. Too tired for any more games. So as usual he had ended up with nothing. So what? Bigger fish with bigger appetites, and bigger guns, had won as always. After all, the remaining half of the money was Avon's, which meant that good old Vila ended up with nothing. Again. And it had been such a good day…
"Vila…"
"What?"
"Look at the money, Vila."
Avon's voice was soft as velvet, but carefully bland, and with just a hint of… humour? Sudden hope blossomed in his chest and he bent over in his turn and peered into the dark recess. And counted the money. And then counted it again. His heart sank.
"She took more than half, Avon. Much more than half."
"Did she now. Are you sure?"
He looked up into opaque eyes and a hint of smugness.
"What did you do, Avon?"
"Well now, I noticed that the lovely Jenna stayed particularly quiet when the rest of them returned, perhaps too quiet. And she was, after all, a smuggler. I feel one can always rely on people's primary instincts in such circumstances."
"Yes, but what did you do?"
He looked at Vila with a certain degree of speculation, as though weighing the options, before appearing to come to some kind of decision.
"Here."
And thrust a bag into his hands, a cheap fabric bag with marks on, as any small bank might use to carry cash, and the feel of it carried Vila right back to jobs of his youth and handling stolen currency, before he'd turned to bigger game than the petty stuff you could pick up in small change at branches…
"What's this?"
"Open it."
So Vila untied the cloth tape and peered into its depths, the musty smell as he delved reminding him headily of money, and a time long gone. He stopped then in shock and quickly glanced up to Avon who stared at him, his face unreadable.
"It's all there."
"What is?" Vila felt he was getting left behind in this conversation, not an entirely unfamiliar position, but it irritated him all the same.
"Your share."
"What?"
"Less the ten percent I think we can let Jenna have as her 'finder's fee'. I've already taken mine. The remainder's all yours."
There was a silence, and Vila felt that the recyclers were particularly loud at night, disturbingly so, amazing how he'd never noticed before. Avon turned then and would have left, but for Vila's hand on his arm. He looked down at it and slowly Vila let go, unsure why he'd grasped it in the first place, for once at a loss for words. Perhaps that was it, he was so rarely at a loss – for words anyway – that a gesture seemed… right. He cleared his throat.
"Thanks."
Avon smiled. A faintly disturbing sight, as always.
"You're welcome. Well, I couldn't let her have everything, now could I? After all our… hard work?" His eyes flicked towards the little chess set that still sat, abandoned, on the teleport console. Then his glance sharpened and he looked back at Vila. "On the other hand, don't expect me to make a habit of it."
"Oh no, not likely, today scared ten years off me at least."
"Well, that should make your grandchildren happy."
"Hey, I'll have you know I'll have beautiful grandchildren!"
"I would never deny that someone will."
Vila waited a second, his emotions running higher than he wanted to admit.
"I hope so," he replied quietly, and Avon arched an eyebrow, before calmly walking away.
After he had gone Vila counted his share, put the panel back, and then sat on the teleport bench to think. It had been a strange sort of night. And his watch wasn't over yet. Be careful what you wish for, Mum had said. And what had he wished for? It surely wasn't this, and yet, and yet… It could be worse. He absently patted the bag that smelt of money, comforted somehow just by its proximity, and then pulled the little chess set over towards him.
"Hey Zen – you can play chess, can't you?"
*Confirmed*
"Then how about a little game..?"