Ficlet: Typecasting

Last week's b7friday topic was the grading system. 360 words, set in season 4.

Typecasting

Fresh and clean from his bath, Vila poured himself a much larger glass of wine than the half Avon had offered him for cleaning the glycolene tanks, and downed it.

"Feeling better?" Soolin asked, amused.

"No. I'm sure I can still smell that muck. Probably got it up my nose." He threw himself down on the couch and looked at her reproachfully. "And what'd you mean by 'typecasting' anyway? That was a bit uncalled for."

Soolin regarded him thoughtfully over her coffee cup. "But it was aimed at the others, not you."

"Eh?"

"Think about it." Soolin put her cup down. "When an actor gets typecast because of previous roles, it just implies a lack of imagination on the casting director's part."

Soolin stared back. "It never occurred to you that it might be a factor?"

"No! Why should it? What does it matter if you're at the top of your profession? You get respected for your skills and your reputation."

"Yes, I know." Soolin smiled. "I've found the same. However--" she leaned back, clasping a knee "--some people can't see past it. Like young women brought up to feel superior to everyone outside their families, and space fleet officers who are used to being obeyed without question by the lower ranks."

"But the others on the Liberator, they never--"

"You told me you got on well with Blake and Cally and ... Gan, was it? He was, what, a Gamma?"

"I think so. Never bothered to ask."

"And the other two were rebels who wanted to tear down the whole system. Besides, Cally wasn't even Federation."

"Oh." Vila sat for a moment, stunned. "I always thought... well, I just take people as they are and I expected the same, I suppose." He brightened. "Thanks for telling me. Bit of a relief, really."