my_b7_fic: Avon karate chopping (Default)
[personal profile] my_b7_fic
Word Count:977


Avon got to his feet in a rush, dripping melted ice cream down his tunic and onto the floor in his haste. Vila was grinning like an idiot. "Are you out of your skull?" Avon whispered furiously, and then let out a yell as Krantor's white cat climbed his leg to get at the ice cream on his tunic. Avon's teleport bracelet and domino-sized Orac (Avon decided its first size-reduction was still too conspicuous) fell to the floor with loud plastic clatters.

Krantor looked down and his false smile turned genuine. "Ooh, what have we here? A device! A computer of some sort."

Avon tried to draw his gun, but the cat clinging to his arm interfered long enough for the croupier to bring down her stick on his arm. He yelled again as his hand went numb and the gun dropped. Vila still looked befuddled.

The croupier planted her foot on the gun as other casino employees grabbed Avon's arms.

"He's cheated, Krantor!" Toise exclaimed joyously. "He and Vila, look, matching bracelets!" He snatched Vila's off his arm and waved it in the air. "Communicators!"

The crowd growled. They'd been all for Vila when he was winning, but now they realized it meant he'd been making them lose.

Krantor held up his hand. "Wait! I promised you a game of speed chess, and a game you shall have! Only this time, the wager will be much simpler, either a shocking end, or ... ladies and gentlemen, you may have them."

From the noise the crowd made, it was fairly obvious losing the game would be the less painful option. "Orac, do something!" Avon shouted as he was pushed against Vila and dragged towards the chess table, fighting frantically every inch of the way.

"What do you suggest?" Orac replied in a tiny, tinny voice. He had been quite insulted when Avon told him his shrinkage was inadequate.

Vila suddenly came back to full awareness and kicked out frantically, connecting with Orac, "Noo! I'm too young to fry!"

Orac chortled wickedly, "You have a big problem. MMm... I shall make it a small one."

Avon and Vila slipped down through their captor's hands, shrinking to doll-size. "Orac, you idiot!" Avon shouted squeakily as he picked up the computer, now the same relative size to him as usual, and began running between the stampeding feet of the crowd who had panicked at this manifestation of weird forces.

Vila raced past Avon, pointing behind himself. Avon turned his head and saw a mountain of white fur pouring onto him like an avalanche. He dropped Orac and ducked under a chair. The cat followed and batted him with her paws, eyes bright as laseron crystals.

Vila stopped and stared at them, then snatched up a fallen coin and threw it like a discus, hitting the cat in the rump. The cat hissed, leaped into the air and turned to see what had attacked her, but by then Vila had dived behind a chair leg. The cat ran off, searching for him. Avon took advantage of the distraction to climb into a discarded pocketbook. A moment later Vila joined him and burrowed under a lacy red handkerchief. "Is it still there?" Vila whispered.

The pocketbook moved. Avon looked up from the opening of the pocketbook into the cat's open mouth. There were a lot of very white, very sharp teeth. "Yes." A puff of fishy breath made the two tiny thieves hold their breaths.

Vila looked at Avon. "I'd like to say that knowing you has made this all worthwhile, Avon." A paw poked tentatively into the pocketbook. "But it hasn't!"

Avon found a hatpin and jabbed the paw. The cat screamed and leaped up, then returned an instant later, growling viciously.

"Scat, ye fuzzy-brained nuisance!" an oddly accented voice called out. Avon saw a booted foot collide with the cat's rump. Insulted, the cat fled.

"Aye, here it is; the Supreme Commander will be pleased." An enormous hand reached down to pick up the pocketbook. "Umm, I had better check that it's nae been emptied by thieves." Both Avon and Vila froze in terror as the opening spread wide and a pair of huge blue eyes gazed in on them. Jarriere shook his head. "I hadnae thought the Supreme Commander the type to play with dolls."

--



"Where are they!" Blake was angry and worried at the same time. He and Jenna and Cally had teleported up only to find an empty ship.

Jenna looked at him. "Face it, Blake. Avon and Vila took Orac and abandoned ship."

Cally shook her head and went to the teleport console. "They wouldn't do that. Not like this."

"No, they wouldn't." Blake went back to the teleport platform. "Get a fix on their bracelets, and send me there."

"I'll go with you," Jenna said. She strode over to stand next to Blake, looking grim. "I want to have a word with Avon."

--



Blake and Jenna looked around the casino in astonishment; toppled chairs, overturned tables and other debris lay all around them. But what caught their attention was a curly haired man holding a sequined scarlet handbag.

"Drop it!" Blake shouted, aiming the gun at the man.

The pocketbook dropped to the floor, landing to the accompaniment of a pair of high-pitched yelps. Jenna recovered the quickest and retrieved the purse, staring into it. Tumbled together along with the contents, Avon glared up at her, while Vila tried to burrow into it.

"What is it?" Blake asked.

Jenna grinned and tilted the pocketbook so Blake could see into it. "Just a little something you picked up a while back." She heard a spitting noise and glanced around along with Blake.

Orac (returned to full size) was resting on the fluffy end of a white cat's tail. The cat was furious.

Blake picked up Orac. The cat ran off to wash in offended dignity. Jenna patted the pocketbook. "Bring us up, Cally," Blake said.

Jarriere watched as they vanished. He sighed. "I dinna follow enny of tha'."

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December 2011

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