THE TROUBLE WITH VILA

                                                           By Ilene Schneider


"I've had it!" shouted Vila.  "I want out!"

"What?" laughed Dayna. "Now what's your problem?"

"I'm fed up. I'm fed up with being stuck in this underground base with a beat
up old freighter and a servile computer and a teleport that can't be relied
on and crew mates who either insult or threaten me."

"What's the matter, Vila?" Soolin cooed.  "Did Tarrant question your manhood
again?  Or did Avon belittle your talents?"  Soolin and Dayna tried
unsuccessfully to stifle their giggles.

"Or maybe the girls wouldn't admire your latest magic tricks?" Tarrant
derided.

"I'm serious. I know you don't think much of me, but I know a thing or two.
And ORAC has found me just the place to go to."

"Oh?" said Avon distractedly. "Did ORAC locate Kerrill for you?"

"Don't remind me," Vila whined. "I still can't believe I didn't stay with her
when I had the chance.  No, ORAC has found me the next best thing -- a bar on
a space station that needs a bar tender. And I want you to take me there."

The others looked at each other in surprise and shrugged. "Okay, Vila, if
that's what you really want," said Tarrant. "I have to take Scorpio up anyway
to test the new modifications. I'll drop you off at this space station."

Vila was a bit stunned that no one had argued with him, but, having made his
point so forcefully, there was no backing out.

"Uh, one thing," Vila hesitated. "Er, Avon, could you calibrate ORAC to
listen for any transmissions from me?  Um, just in case, you know, things
don't work out and I have to leave in a hurry."

Dayna laughed again, "Just in case you get caught picking the wrong lock, you
mean."

Two months went by. The crew were surprised at how much they missed Vila. But
they weren't surprised when ORAC informed them that Vila wanted to rejoin
them -- ASAP.

"So," said Avon as Vila entered the lounge area, "were you caught picking the
wrong lock?"

"Or," asked Soolin, "was the wine here better?"

Vila grumbled. "It was terrible. It was an ancient space station -- at least
800 years old. And no one goes there any more. There's almost no one living
there either. I got more bored there than I was here."

He put his hand into his pocket and took out a fuzzy ball. "I met one nice
chap, though, and he gave me this as a going away present. He said his name
was Cyrano Jones XXIII."


THE END?