The Fall and Rise of Vila Restal
The tall black figure dropped down on the heap of ashes beside Vila and emitted a heavy sigh.
"This is hell," he said moodily.
Vila was startled. It was, of course, but he hadn't expected such an obvious statement from that particular source.
"Er, well, yes," he agreed. "You should know," he added pointedly.
"I don't mean it's Hell. I mean it's hell," his companion elucidated. "He's altered everything. No more hell-fire, atomic furnaces are more efficient. All my demons out of work because those neural headsets are more effective at inflicting pain. Everyone processed by computers and brain scans to make sure they really belong here. All that lovely reek of brimstone and sulphur is gone because it might harm that computer of his. I don't count for anything any more."
"Have a drink," Vila said, offering his usual panacea. He held out an ebony flask.
The other took a hearty swig and then turned a suspicious gaze on Vila. "That was my best Eau-de-morte," he said accusingly.
"Aaahh - it was?" Vila put on his most guileless expression. "I - just - um - happened - to find it lying about."
His companion snorted derisively and Vila hastily asked, "What are you going to do about the changes?"
"I don't know," Satan said gloomily. "He's so confoundedly logical about it all. Logic has always been my prime weapon. It's not fair. To tell you the truth - "
Here Vila gave an unbelieving snort and the fallen angel grinned suddenly.
"Oh, I do tell the truth - quite often actually. Only I do it in such a way that no one ever believes me. That's why I'm known as the Father of Lies. As I was about to say - I'd give it all away if only I had somewhere else to go. Being evil gets so damned boring after a while, and I'm sick and tired of it. He's the last straw."
"Why not tell him how boring it gets?"
"He wouldn't believe me. He's completely mad, you know. Believing Blake had betrayed him sent him completely over the edge. Now he wants to punish people for his hurt, as many people as he can. I - "
He was interrupted as a robot marched up.
"Names?" it asked in a flat monotone.
"Vila, Vila Restal."
"Not on my list. Why are you here?"
"I stole things all my life. I'm a compulsive thief."
"Insufficient reason. You have no place here. Leave immediately." It turned to the other. "Name?"
"Satan."
"Not on my list. Why are you here?"
"I am the ruler of Hell. This is my realm."
"That data has not been programmed. You must go."
Satan sent a jolt of mental agony at the robot, but since it was not a living being, the agony was reflected back at its originator, who let out a yelp of protest. Before his Demonic Majesty could do more the robot shot out powerful tractor beams and deposited both of them in the void. It wasn't grey, it wasn't black, it was absolute nothingness, and horrifying.
Vila grasped his companion with one desperate hand and used the other to raise the flask to his lips. Having taken a hefty gulp he summoned enough courage to ask, "Where are we?"
"Nowhere," Satan replied gloomily.
"Don't be stupid," Vila said indignantly. "We've got to be somewhere."
"Do you believe in infinity?"
Vila considered this. Galaxies with their myriad worlds spread out through space, going on - and on - and on - for ever. The idea was overwhelming - and terrifying. He shook his head.
"Then where the universe isn't, that's where we are, or aren't, as the case may be."
Vila didn't like this idea any better; he shivered and began to feel sick.
"How do we get out of here?" he demanded desperately.
"What do you mean? You can't have 'here' in nowhere. Nothing doesn't exist. In fact we probably don't - "
But his philosophical discourse was rudely interrupted. A firm belief in the necessity of his own existence was one of the main tenets of Vila's life.
"All right, we're nowhere. How do we get somewhere?" he said insistently.
"Hold hands and wish," Satan suggested facetiously.
To his surprise, he found both his hands grabbed as Vila closed his eyes and uttered a fervent wish.
They found themselves suddenly standing before gleaming golden gates.
"They won't let us in," Satan warned him, but Vila's eyes lit up eagerly.
"There isn't a lock I can't undo," he boasted confidently, walking up to inspect them more closely. There was no sign of any lock, however, and he ran an exploring hand over one side of the gate, which opened slightly at his tentative push.
"Come on, they've forgotten to lock it," he said, beckoning his companion towards the gap. (Unless being chased by something nasty, it had always been Vila's policy to let someone else lead the way.)
"We can sneak in," he continued as Satan remained unmoving, "and then - "
He was interrupted. The gate swung wide. "Don't just stand there, come in," said an impatient voice.
Vila blinked. "You mean we're allowed?" he asked. "Even him?"
"Anyone can come in who wishes. That's the only restriction, you have to want to be here."
An expansive grin spread over Vila's mobile features and he swaggered jauntily forward and through the gates.
"And you, Lucifer?" Peter asked quietly.
The proud head tilted arrogantly and Satan made to turn away, but Vila sprang back through the gate and caught at his arm.
"You can't go back to that dismal - nothing."
The dark eyes looked down at him disdainfully, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in their depths. Vila saw it and pressed home his advantage.
"It's lonely being proud," he said persuasively. "Look what it did to Avon. And I'm not going back to that nothing, it scared hell out of me."
Lucifer laughed suddenly. "Perhaps it scared Hell out of me, too," he admitted, and stepped through the gates.
A horn sounded a golden note of triumph and he was borne away in a swirling mass of wings as his fellow angels welcomed his return.
Vila was left feeling a little forlorn but in a moment he found himself surrounded by his former crewmates.
"Cally! Blake! Gan!" Vila didn't know who to greet first. "Jenna, great to see you again. And Soolin and Dayna! I'm even glad to see Tarrant again. We're all back together. Well, all except Avon."
"Where is Avon?" Blake asked.
Vila explained.
Blake's face took on its determined look. "We can't leave him there, we'll have to rescue him."
"He doesn't want to be rescued," Vila protested.
But Blake's face had taken on its crusading look. "That doesn't matter, we've still got to try." He looked round at them. "You don't have to help if you don't want to."
Vila groaned; he'd heard that particular phrase before. But Cally was nodding an eager assent, and Dayna and Tarrant had an interested gleam in their eyes.
Vila rolled his own eyes expressively. "Here we go again," he muttered resignedly.
Even Heaven hadn't cured Blake's crusading spirit.