Perchance To Dream
by Maddog with Joyce Riffle

Part II a


"This is a very beautiful place, Matthew,"  Blake commented to the raven perched 
on his shoulder.  They were standing on the edge of a cliff watching a waterfall 
pour down into a deep, blue pool. 	
	"Yeah, it sure is.  Maybe we could get Vila and take him to Fiddler's 
Green.  He's even more scenic than this." 	
	"He?"  Blake asked, amusement tingeing his voice.  It had been an odd 
night, or was it an odd day.  First a talking Raven had shown up in the corridor 
asking him to try and cheer up Vila, and now he was in a place of ever changing 
landscape.  Not all of it was pleasant however.  They had passed a dark place 
that had wails and screams pouring out of it.  It had been disturbing.  	
	"Yeah, Fiddler's Green, he's been called a paradise on Earth." 	
	"Oh, are those two structures where we are going?" 	
	"Yup, Cain's and Able's houses.  Hope the party's still going on."   The 
raven and man continued walking and soon entered the house of Able.  The party 
was indeed going on, though it was much more subdued than the previous party. 
	
	"Sooo the dr-dragon came and ate the fairy princess and lived happily ever 
after,"  Able stuttered out the end of his story.  He had told a happy one, 
trying to lighten the mood.  He noticed his new guests. 	
	"H-hello Matthew,"  greeted Able. 	
	"Hi Able.  Everybody,"  the raven announced to the room.  "This is Blake.  
He's a friend of Vila's.  Blake this is Able, Eve, Goldie and the thing that 
usually lives in the sub-basement,"  Matthew introduced everybody to each other. 
	
	"Pleased to make your acquaintance,"  responded Blake politely.  He 
observed that the thing that usually lives in the sub-basement was sipping a cup 
of tea.  Glancing around the room, he spotted Vila, hugging a pillow, sitting on 
an overstuffed couch. The curly haired man walked over and sat down beside his 
former shipmate.  "Hello, Vila,"
	Restal didn't respond for several moments, then he looked over at Blake 
and gave a wan sort of smile.  "Hello, Blake. Come to join the party?"
	Glancing around the room before he replied, Blake said, "Yes, I don't 
think I've ever been to a party with a guest list quite like this before."
	Blake waited for a quip back from Vila, something on the lines of, 'well, 
that's what you get for hanging out with rebels Blake, you miss all the good 
parties'.  But the other man was silent.  He put a hand on the other man's 
shoulder.  "Vila, do you know why you're here?"
	"Because I'm dreaming,"  came Vila's dull reply.
	"That's true, but do you know the rest of it?"
	Vila sighed and then started to speak.  "Because Avon is trying, again, to 
destroy Pylene-50 production.  Of course, he had to be free of the Federation to 
do that.  While Avon is off playing rebel I get to go to tea parties with 
gargoyles.  That is, when I'm not being beaten half to death.  Now, you're here 
to tell me to cheer up and that it will all be over soon."  The thief sighed 
again.  "Tell me that it will all be over soon, Blake."
	Blake rubbed his forehead for a moment.  "I wish I could, Vila.  I really 
wish I could."
	"I take it that means that there are no rescue plans in the works then?"
	"Vila, right now my body is in cryogenic freeze.  There's nothing I can do 
to help you.  I would if it were possible, you know that."  Blake looked 
intently at the other man, willing him to believe it.  It was important to him 
to have Vila believe that he would never willing leave him to be tortured by the 
Federation.  	
	Vila gazed at the larger man for a moment, then slowly nodded his head.  
"Yeah, Blake, I think you would.  But the only one around walking free is Avon 
and he won't help me." 	
	"He can't Vila,"  explained the rebel leader.  "He has to concentrate on 
destroying the Pylene-50 plants.  Billions of people are controlled by that 
drug.  If Avon can destroy it, the people will be free.  They could destroy the 
Federation." 	Vila considered the other man's words for a moment.  He'd seen 
people drugged into nothingness by Pylene-50, whole planets of people with no 
more will than the drink he had in his hand.  Sighing again, he spoke.  "I 
understand, Blake.  It's more important to destroy the Pylene-50 than to rescue 
one person.  But what am I to do then?"
	"I don't know Vila.  I honestly don't know."  
	"I want to be dead, Blake."  Vila's eyes bored into Blake's.  "I'm going 
to be that way soon anyway and I'd rather not go through any more... adjustments 
like I had today." 
	Blake looked away from the thief.  "Matthew, anybody, ideas?"
	"How about goading them into killing you,"  the raven suggested.  "You 
know insult them, try to fight back or something?" 	
	"They're professionals.  They won't make a mistake like that," replied 
Vila, shaking his head. 	
	"How about ki-killing yourself?  Hang..,hanging is good,"  suggested Able. 
	"Nothing to use in the cell they've got me in and no way to get out of the 
cell.  They're very careful." 	
	"How about a nightmare?"  suggested the thing from the sub- basement. 	
	"How is giving Vila a nightmare going to help him?" 	
	"Not Vila," replied the thing.  "Give a nightmare to one of the guards 
that will make him on edge the next day." 	
	"I see,"  Eve joined the conversation, "give the guard a nightmare that 
has Vila in it.  He'll be angry at Vila and not know why.  Maybe you could give 
Vila a phrase to say.  One that'll enrage the guard." 	
	"It..it.. just mi-mi-might work,"  Able quavered.  "I think I know ju-just 
the nightmare too." 	
	"Don't you think we'd better ask the boss?"  Matthew squawked. 	
	"He's very busy right now.  He might not have time to handle it before 
they start on Vila again," said Eve. 	
	"I can't believe you're all discussing my imminent demise so calmly,"  
Vila spoke up. 	
	"It is what you want, isn't it?"  Blake asked the thief.  Vila looked at 
him for a long moment, the looked away, nodding his head yes.  "All right then, 
let's do it." 		"One thing," interjected Vila.  They all looked at him.  
"I'd like to, I mean if it's all right, I'd like to come here after.  Well, you 
know, after I'm dead." 		
	"Like I told you, you have to be in dream when you die to stay here," 
explained Matthew. 	
	"What if I'm unconscious, does that count?" 	
	"Ya..you seem to co-come here as soon as they've...they've, uh, knocked 
you out,"  Able commented.  "Rrrright?" 	
	"I think so, leastways that's how it seems to me." 	
	"Wuh, well, just make sure you're unconscious before they ka...kka..kill 
you." 	"How do I do that?" 	
	"Put your head in front of their boots?"  suggested the thing from the 
sub-basement. 	The entire group looked at the thing.  It shrugged, dipped a 
scone in it's tea and mumbled.  "Just a suggestion." 
**** 	
	Computers are several orders of magnitude more efficient then human 
beings.  They don't forget what you've told them and they do exactly what you 
tell them.  This tends to make them very efficient security guards.  Computers 
monitor doors, access tunnels, and entranceways.  Of course, since computers do 
what you tell them, if you tell them that you're not there, you simply aren't 
there, no matter what the various sensors report back.  	
	//Vila could have gotten through their security defenses blind drunk, with 
his right hand tied behind his back,//  Avon reflected as he strode down the 
corridor.  He carried only a small bag that held various electronic devices and 
a small gun that had been on the ship.  He held the gun in readiness. The 
Federation forces that held the Pylene-50 production and distribution center on 
Marly were nowhere to be seen.  Not that he found that surprising.  With no free 
will to speak of, rebellion would be impossible.   
	The corridor dead ended into an impressive looking doorway.  Red and 
yellow "off limits" lights ran around the perimeter of the door.  Avon had 
expected the doorway to be guarded, but evidently the security forces didn't 
bother any more.  He withdrew a thin piece of metallized plastic from his bag 
and inserted it into a reader beside the entranceway.  The door opened with a 
satisfying swoosh.  	
	Stepping through the doorway, gun held out in front, Avon stepped into the 
control room.  There was one guard who was sound asleep and did not stir as Avon 
entered.  //Well this is going to be pathetically easy,// the computer genius 
said to himself as he sat down at a terminal.  //The only real challenge will be 
cracking the security codes so that I can access the production schedule 
database.  That shouldn't take long.//  He allowed himself another glance at the 
sleeping guard and put his weapon down within easy reach.  Then Kerr Avon began 
to tell the computer that the production and distribution of Pylene-50 should 
gradually decrease over the course of the next twenty days but the reports of 
production and distribution should not reflect these changes.  As a final 
command he told the computer to destroy the production equipment and itself as 
soon as the Pylene-50 production has reached ten percent of normal. The computer 
obliged.
****
	Vila held himself limply in the guards' grip.  They had dragged him out of 
his cell moments ago when he had refused to get up when they had told him too.  
//Why should I help them?// he thought.  //Bad enough I've got to put my head in 
front of their feet.//
	The two black garbed soldiers threw the thief into the same interrogation 
room he had been in before.  This time there was a Federation officer present.  
	//They're going to ask questions this time,//  The thief decided.  //I 
wish there were another way out.//
	"Ready to answer our questions, Restal?"  said the officer.  
	"What would you like to know?"  responded Vila, trying to keep the quiver 
from his voice.
	"Where was your last base of operations?"
	"I've told you before, Xenon Base."  Vila replied.  The next few questions 
simply went over information that the Federation already knew. 	
	The officer relaxed slightly.  He hadn't anticipated any problems from the 
rebel.  The man was a known coward and had already been primed for this 
interview.  However, things were going even better than anticipated.  He decided 
to try more difficult questions.  "And what is the location of the super 
computer Orac?" 	
	"I don't know.  Sleeping with your wife maybe?"  quipped the thief.  He 
managed a small smile before the officer backhanded him.   Vila rolled with the 
blow, allowing it to knock him out of the chair. 	
	"I asked you a question,"  the officer said through clenched teeth.  
//Damn it, I hear enough about Nola, without this piece of garbage mouthing 
off.//  He fumed to himself.  "Where is Orac?" 	
	"Fitting himself with a tongue attachment to do your wife up right?"  Vila 
responded, lifting his head up off the floor.  	
	Vila's head was there in front of the officer's boot when the nightmare-
ridden man kicked him.  There was a sickening crunch as the bones of his face 
caved in under repeated blows.  	
	"Stop it, Captain,"  one of the guards finally managed to get enough nerve 
to pull his senior officer away from the prisoner.  The officer was still 
kicking the unmoving form.  Ultimately,  it took two men to wrench the captain 
away.  	Regaining his composure, the captain ordered for somebody to get a 
doctor.  He belatedly remembered his instructions were to keep the prisoner 
alive for trial.  He knew it was too late though.  Vila Restal was dead. 
****  	
	The operations on the planets Timus, Nordeen and Paktin 7 went as smoothly 
as the one on Marly.  Avon was in the space flyer, which he had dubbed The Dead 
Boy's Heart.  He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, then closed them in exhaustion. 	
	"Hello Avon,"  	
	Startled, Avon jumped up out of the pilot's seat.  "Don't do that," he 
snapped at Blake, fixing the man with a scathing glare.  	
	"Sorry,"  Blake replied, not appearing sorry at all.  The curly haired man 
plopped down in the co-pilot's seat.  	
	Avon sat back down.  "What are you doing here?" 	
	"Checking to see how you're doing," 	
	"Don't think I'm capable of doing the job?" Avon retorted. 	
	"No,"  Blake sat back in the seat, an amused smile on his lips.  Baiting 
Avon could be enjoyable.  "Just making sure that you're focused on the job." 	
	"Yes, I'm focused and several days ahead of schedule, I might add." 	
	"Yes, you've done very well Avon." Blake regarded the other man through 
warm brown eyes. 	
	"Why, thank you very much, Blake," came Avon's sarcastic reply.  	
	"I mean it, Avon.  You're accomplishing something that I couldn't.  The 
Federation will fall apart as soon as these planets come out from Pylene-50 
enforced tranquillity."
	"Still interested in saving the masses Blake?"  the darker haired man 
replied, the tone wasn't as bitter now.
	"Yes, it is a dream I've had for a very long while." 	
	Avon nodded his head slightly then stared out the front viewer panel of 
The Dead Boy's Heart.  "Well, then, I guess dreams can sometimes come true 
Blake."
****
	"And then I said 'Fitting himself with a tongue attachment to do your wife 
up right?'.  It was one of my best lines ever."  Vila laughed and held his glass 
out to be refilled.  
	The thing from the sub-basement poured another round of champagne.  They 
were celebrating Vila's permanent arrival in Dream.  
	"Hhaa, hhas any one seen Matthew?"  Able called out.
	"He went to see if he could find Vila's friend."  Eve answered. 	
	"And here she is,"  Soolin said as she strode into the house.  She was 
dressed as Vila remembered, in a tight fitting gray jumpsuit, blonde hair piled 
on top of her head, gun holstered securely to her side.
	"Soolin,"  Vila shouted, happy to see a familiar face.
	"Hello, Vila,"  she replied.  "Mind telling me where we are and who,"  she 
gazed around the room, her eyes resting briefly on the thing from the sub-
basement, "your friends are?"
	"Oh, we're in Dream," answered Vila.
	"That's what the bird said but I've never given much credence to talking 
animals." 	
	"Well, you should start,"  Vila's recent death giving him more boldness 
than he had previously had.  "He's telling the truth.  We're in Dream, the place 
you come when you dream at night.  These are Able, Goldie, Eve, the thing from 
the sub-basement, and you've already met Matthew."  He pointed to gathered 
crowd.
	Soolin regarded the scene with slitted eyes.  She had no reasonable 
explanation for what she was witnessing.  Deciding that there were more 
questions to be answered, the gun fighter accepted a drink from Able and sat 
down.  "Where are the others?"
	"Tarrant and Dayna are dead.  Got themselves killed on Gauda Prime,"  Vila 
informed her.  "Avon escaped from the Federation and he's off trying to destroy 
some Pylene 50 production sites."
	"And we're both dreaming this?"
	"Haven't you told her what was going on yet, Matthew?"  Vila asked the 
raven, who was now perched on Eve's shoulder taking a sip from the champagne 
glass.
	"She hasn't been here before,"  Matthew replied, ruffling his wings 
slightly at the alcohol's taste.  His palate had changed since becoming a raven.  
	"Oh," Vila thought it over for a moment.  "They must be using dream 
suppression drugs on you.  I've been here plenty of times.  Avon made a deal 
with the guy who runs this place."
	"So I'm still a prisoner of the Federation then?"
	"Yeah."
	"And so are you?"
	"Was until quite recently," Vila replied, swigging his drink.  "Now I'm 
dead."
	"You're what?"
	"Dead.  I'm really quite happy about it, too."  
	//The man never could give a straight answer.// Soolin thought irritably.  
"If I understand correctly where we are, how could you be dead and dreaming at 
the same time."
	"Oh, that,"  Vila waved his hand slightly.  "I died when I was 
unconscious, and because Avon had fixed it that I came here when I was 
unconscious, I  got to stay in Dream.  Yeah, that's right."
	"Let me make sure I have all of this correctly.  Avon is working for the 
lord of the Dream Realm.  In return for his services he got freed from the 
Federation.  Dayna and Tarrant are dead and now so are you.  I'm being held by 
the Federation and my mind is being tampered with,"  recited Soolin.
	"That about sums it up,"  the thief replied.
	"I see.  Another drink please,"  the blonde gunfighter held up her glass 
to be refilled.  The thing from the sub-basement did so without delay.
	Soolin continued to question Vila about what he knew.  The man managed to 
fill in some of the areas she didn't remember.  He had regained consciousness on 
the way back to Earth while she had been kept in cryogenic suspension until her 
injuries could be treated.  No, he had informed her.  He had not seen much of 
Avon but from what he did see the computer genius was in a better state of mind 
then at Gauda Prime.   The two were so absorbed in conversation that they did 
not notice a tall, thin man with a pointed goatee enter the house.  
	"They're tearing my mind apart, Vila,"  Soolin finally said.  "Bit by bit, 
my memories and feelings are becoming alien.  Not a part of me any longer.  I 
can feel it now, when I'm here.  But when I'm back in the cell it feels right."
	"Like that's the real you and this is just a dream?"  Vila asked.
	"Yes,"  the blonde stood up from the sofa.  "And that's exactly what this 
is, a dream.  Soon I'll wake up and be an alien to myself.  There won't be any 
choice but to do exactly what their little puppeteers want me to."
	"They want you to renounce the rebellion?"  
	"Among other things," Soolin commented wryly.  She stared at her drink for 
a moment.  "I hate it, Vila.  I hate it."
	A commotion from the other side of the room broke through the intimacy of 
their conversation.  Able was being menaced by the goateed man who had entered 
the house.  The man's name was Cain.  
	"Ca..Cain, we were just ha..having a little party."
	"And you didn't invite me, dear brother?"  Cain responded.  His eyes were 
fixed on Able as a snake's on its prey.
	"I, I didn't know where you were.  Vila just died.  We..we were sella, 
celebrating,"  stuttered Able, backing away from his brother.
	Cain grabbed a poker from the fire place and held it menacingly above 
Able.  "Were you?  I don't think that was very nice, do..." 	Cain's words 
were cut off.  Soolin had been watching Cain menace his brother and decided that 
she didn't like it.  Didn't like it one bit.  She had picked up a large brass 
lamp that had been on the table by the sofa.  It had made a handy club and Cain 
had collapsed as soon as it contacted his head. 	
	"Th..th..thank you," Able said to her.  He and the creature from the sub-
basement dragged the body out through the front door. 	
	Soolin nodded her acknowledgment then turned back to face Vila.  "Is there 
any way you can think of to free me Vila?"  	
	Vila sighed.  Why was there nothing easy in life, or death.  "No Soolin, I 
can't.  I wish there was, really I do.  The only way I managed to escape them 
was to die." 	
	"I see,"  Soolin considered her options.  There were none left.  	
	"I'll keep trying, though.  Maybe Avon..."  Vila let his words trail off. 
	
	Soolin gave him a weak smile then settled back on the couch beside him.  
"No reason to spoil the party.  Another drink, please."  
**** 	
	"His condition is deteriorating,"  the cryogenic technician informed 
Barnsley. 	"Why?  I thought once  a person was in cryofreeze their condition 
was stable?" 	
	"That's true enough, if the original freezing process was done correctly.  
This one wasn't." 	
	"I see,"  Barnsley said, shaking his head.  The boss wasn't going to like 
this.  One prisoner disappeared, another dead and now the prime showpiece was 
going off like a piece of rotten meat.  "So what's the solution?" 	
	"Take him out of the freeze and.." 	
	"But that'll kill him!" 	
	"He's pretty much dead already.  He can't be revived.  Take him out of the 
freezer tube and put him in another one.  That way the body won't fall into bits 
when it's on display." 	
	Barnsley nodded his head again and started walking to the door.  "Thanks 
for your help.  I'll inform Dr. Cransis and she'll get back to you with her 
instructions." 
****
	The library of Dream was huge.  The far walls were enshrouded in clouds 
and occasionally animals flew through it.  There were books, thousands upon 
thousands of books, lining the walls, on shelves and some placed apparently 
randomly on the heavy oak tables. 	"Hullo, Avon,"  Vila entered the library 
where Avon was busily scribbling notes to himself.  "What are you writing down?" 
	
	"Nothing that could possibly interest you, Vila." 	
	"Fine, then, see if I come and say hello again,"  came Vila's aggrieved 
reply.  "I just thought you'd like to see a familiar face." 	
	"I've had enough of your interruptions to last a lifetime Vila." 	
	"Well, you certainly interrupted my lifetime, Avon," Vila said as he 
turned on his heels and started to leave the room. 	
	"Vila, wait,"  Avon put down his pen and stood up to face his former 
crewmate.  	"Yeah?"  Vila stopped and but did not turn around. 	
	"I know that you have every right to blame me for your death. I'm--- I'm 
sorry, Vila.  I thought I knew exactly what I was doing, that it was the best 
choice." 		Vila ran a hand through his hair and turned to face the darker 
man.  "Avon, I don't blame you for my death.  But.."  Vila held up a hand to 
stop the other man's words.  "I do blame you for being a stuck-up, big-nosed, 
know-it-all bastard who would never tell anybody anything and who had severe 
delusions of grandeur at times.  But I don't blame you for my death."
	"Why not?"
	"Because I knew from the moment we went with Blake and started fighting 
the Federation that my days were numbered."  Vila replied his voice taking on a 
harsher tone.  "I'm not stupid, Avon.  I survived a long time in some unpleasant 
places before I hooked up with you lot.  I stayed with you and with Blake before 
that because that's where my chances for staying alive were best.  My decision 
Avon, mine."  	
	Vila fixed the man with a glare, then his eyes softened slightly.  He 
continued speaking, a hint of amused irony creeping into his voice.  "Too bad I 
was wrong." 	Avon let himself smile broadly.  "Well, Vila, you've never 
been known for doing much right, have you?" 	
	"Fine, insults, that's all I ever get, insults,"  whined Vila, sitting 
himself down in a chair next to Avon's.  "So what are you writing?" 	
	"Some notes on the production of psycho-active drugs.  I am concerned that 
the Federation may want to restart the Pylene-50 project on those planets where 
I've destroyed the computers." 	
	"Don't you think the Federation will have their hands full?" 	
	"They might, but I don't want to take any chances.  It seems that the 
distillation equipment for the drugs is very specialized.  It might be possible 
to destroy the plants that manufacture the distillation equipment, preventing 
the Federation from getting back into the population control business any time 
soon." 		
	"Mm, sounds like a plan."  Vila shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  "Avon, 
I know that you're very busy right now, but I promised Soolin I'd try to find a 
way to help her."
	"Soolin?"  Avon responded, puzzled.  "Isn't Dream helping her?"
	"He can't.  They're giving her sleep deprivation drugs as they mind wipe 
her.  She's only come here once."  explained the thief.  "They're rearranging 
her memories.  They want her to denounce the revolution."
	"Soolin was hardly a revolutionary."
	"I know that, but since you, Blake, and I are unavailable for trial, they 
need someone to put on the display."
	"Yes, they would," the computer genius agreed.  He sighed inwardly to 
himself.  This was such a complicated and convoluted dream at times.  If it was 
a dream, that is.  "I will think on it, Vila.  I can't promise anything."
	"Didn't think you could, Avon,"  Vila said, trying to get the other man's 
full attention.  "She hates what's happening to her.  She knows that her mind is 
being tampered with and she can't do a thing to stop it.  If there's any 
way...."
	"I told you, Vila," Avon responded curtly.  "I'll think on it."
	Vila nodded and got up from the chair.  He started walking to the far side 
of the library and disappeared into the clouds.
****
	The eyes are the mirror of the soul.  Through them is the view to inner 
turmoil, love, fear, concern, pain.  The mind often lies, the eyes rarely do.
	Soolin stared at the mirror in her small room and tried to do her hair up.  
Dr. Cransis had just left.  They had had a wonderful talk.  She hummed to 
herself as she thought. 
	It hadn't been her fault, what had happened to Avon and the others.  She 
had never promised them anything but her skill.  Never her allegiance, never her 
faith.  What did it matter?  What did telling Dr. Cransis what she knew about 
rebel groups and hideaways matter?  She owed them nothing.  Owed nobody 
anything, not since she had killed the last person that had murdered her family.  
Him, she had owed death.  But that had been a long time over.  Over and done 
with.  Dr. Cransis had helped her get over all the anger and hurt of that 
experience.  Just as Dr. Cransis had helped her see that she owed Avon, Vila, 
Dayna and Tarrant nothing.  She was Soolin and nothing and no one mattered 
except doing what she was told.  If she did that, maybe she would survive.  The 
gunfighter tugged the last of the loose hairs into a knot and fastened them into 
place.  She stared into the mirror and Despair looked back at her. 
**** 	
(continous to part 2b)