The Fish Job: Part 1 (Chapters 1-4)

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,

and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

Author's note: This has been posted on fireflyfans and livejournal, so my apologies if you're sick of seeing it! But FFF's fic area has had a spam attack and my livejournal community is locked, and I'm trying to branch out. If you're finding this for the first time – please let me know! I'm curious as to how many new readers might be out there.

This fanfic follows Objects in Space, and doesn't attempt to tie into the movie. It's 19 chapters, which I will post on in four parts. It's rated R for dark themes and a bit of non-explicit sex. Pairings are canon.

Sequels are Easy Tickets, which is complete, and Back Stories, which is a work in progress. I will be posting those here as well.

Many thanks to fireflyfans members vera2529, Guenever, and BlueEyedBrigadier for beta reading on The Fish Job.

Chapter 1.

"Gorram, look at that!" Jayne stared open mouthed as a burly man in a bright red vinyl apron swung a giant silver fish over a counter. "Can I get one Mal?" The fish flew through the air, missing Jayne by inches, to be caught by another aproned worker and slapped onto a cutting board. A knife flashed and the fish fell into neat fillets.

"Vera might get jealous about you bringin' home another pet."

"Niú shĭ, you eat 'em, you don't keep 'em as pets." Jayne thought about it. "Or could ya?"

"Not on my boat. Your bunk smells bad enough already." Mal scanned the aisle ahead, trying to see through the tightly packed mass of shoppers. The walkway was lined with ice-filled display cases packed with every kind of sea critter one could imagine.

"Let's get em to eat then."

"For the cost of that one fish we could buy enough protein to feed the crew for a week." Mal moved ahead and Jayne had to push through a mob of arguing women to keep up.

"Uh-huh. With the added bonus that the protein tastes like ass."

Mal sighed, started to tire of the conversation. "Oh, the hardships we intrepid explorers face," he muttered.

Jayne heard the comment. "You don't wanna get a fish, just say so. No need to be callin' me names."

Mal rolled his eyes, then caught sight of something strange through a break in the crowd. He pointed at the giant blue fish; its gaping mouth was surrounded with prickly bristles like a beard. "Long lost relative?" he asked.

Jayne's lip curled. "Ha. Very funny."

"There is a resemblance …" Mal continued, but Jayne was already distracted by the next stall.

"Hey, how bout one of them red buggy lookin' things? Think they taste good?"

"We are actually here for a job."

"Don't mean we can't sample the local kwa-zeen. You think they're all green inside? Like space aliens?"

"Ain't no such thing as space aliens."

"How d'you know? Those things sure look weird enough."

Mal saw the stall he was looking for: Big Ricky's Delight of the Sea. "That's the place up there." He stopped for a second to hold Jayne's attention. "Do me a favor and don't talk for a few, OK? This could be a good contact to make – I hear this guy's tied in to big stuff. Sure as guĭ he ain't just manager of a fish market stall. We got us an easy job for good pay, and likely more of the same to come if we don't screw it up. I don't want to be scarin' him off."

Jayne puffed out his chest. "I don't need to talk to be scary."

"Ya. Don't think you're clear on the kind of scary I'm talkin' about. Just keep it shut." Mal finished with a look of warning, then continued along the aisle. Jayne wisely kept his reply to an under-his-breath mutter, then had to cut through a swarm of people gawking at a water tank to catch up to Mal again.

"Mal, if I didn't know better, I'd think you don't trust me much."

"You know better?"

"Ya, OK. But I am not completely incompe… uh, I mean… I can do stuff right."

"Let's not start testin' that idea today."

They reached the stall and Mal greeted the aproned worker cheerfully. "Hi! I'm here to see Ren-ren Lu. Name's Malcolm Reynolds, he's expectin' me."

"Ahh, Captain, of course. Right this way!" The worker lifted a gate in the counter and guided Jayne and Mal through a door in the back of the stall. They passed through a shabby kitchen area full of crates and questionable odors; the second room back had a table piled with papers and Alliance credit notes. A small Chinese man with plump red cheeks rose as soon as they entered.

"Captain Reynolds, an honor to welcome you!" He trotted to Mal, then stopped with his hands clasped before him and bowed.

"Ren-ren, the honor is all mine." Mal returned the bow. "This is my, um, 'mute' cabin boy, Jayne Cobb."

Jayne frowned at Mal, then rebelliously turned to Ricky to display his speaking prowess. "Nĭ hăo, Mister Lu."

"Please, call me Ricky." The man inclined his head at Jayne, then gestured toward the chairs around the table.

"So, Captain, you are able to take cargo to Oeneus?" Ricky asked after they were all seated.

"Not a problem."

"I warn you: cargo is not illegal, but Alliance not happy about it."

"And I do hate it when I make the Alliance unhappy." Mal leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach with a grin.

Ricky snickered and shook a finger at Mal. "I hear this about you, Captain Reynolds. But, understand, things change here in past year. My products sell good on many developing worlds, like Oeneus. Fish based proteins, seaweed, veggies, rice. Sauces and tasty spices. Very desirable. Prices not so low as Blue Sun, but taste is much better, and just as easy for transport and storage. Business take off. I begin to attract attention of Core corporations – they do not like me moving into market."

"They startin' to come down on ya?"

"No law say I cannot sell – but Alliance need no law to have own way."

"Ain't that the sad truth," Mal muttered.

"Especially where much money involved. I am careful. They do not know where to find me, how to shut me down. But they will want to know. I never see Alliance cruisers around Oeneus, but only matter of time. You will need to be careful also."

"I was born careful Ricky."

"That is why I hire you. The cargo is at docks on south end of Sydney, berth 7. I give half payment now." Ricky pulled a stained envelope from under a pile of papers. "The rest paid when you unload at Atalanta station in Oeneus orbit. My associate will meet you."

"Sounds like a plan."

"If this work okay, Captain, could be much more jobs to come. The market grows, I am always looking for transport."

"It's a pleasure doin' business with you, Ricky, and I wouldn't mind doin' more." Ricky nodded with a satisfied smile and slid the envelope across the table.

"Uh, Cap'n?" Jayne asked as Mal took the envelope and stood up.

"Yes, Jayne," Mal replied with an impatient sigh.

"Ya think we can get some of this fancy Chinee food stuff? All that protein's been killin' me." Jayne patted his belly with a grimace.

"Of course!" Ricky said. "I throw in meals for your crew to try. Free samples." Ricky opened his arms expansively. "You get good food, I make new customer. Everybody happy!"

.*. .*. .*.

"I'm so glad you stayed on board," Wash said. He felt cool air against his sweaty skin as Zoë flipped the sheet aside and wrapped her arms around him, and he snuggled into his favorite place: the long curve of her neck that fit his cheek so perfectly.

"It's a cinch job. And Mal owes me a little time off."

"Oh, you asked him then, did you?" This spot also allowed him to nip at her collarbone.

"Well... he told me I could take a break. But only because I hinted… strongly. Stop it!" She broke a low laugh, which was as close to a giggle as Zoë ever got. She rolled away from his persistent nibbling, but Wash pursued her, making use of a certain area on the back of her neck which he always found responsive to a stubbly chin.

"So you told him," he said awkwardly as his chin worked, "that your husband was in dire need of love slave time."

Zoë hunched her goose-fleshed shoulders. "Love slave? Are you referrin' to me or you?"

"That's something we'll have to discuss." Wash's teeth got busy with her ear as he wrapped a leg around both of hers, pinning her down as best he could before his hands went in for the killing blow: the bottom of her rib cage.

"You'll force me to retaliate!" she managed to warn between gasps. "All right, enough!" She flipped around, then seemed pleased to find herself on top of him in a convenient position.

"How 'bout we discuss it?" she asked.

.*. .*. .*.

As soon as Mal and Jayne got back to the main aisle of the market, Mal pulled out a comm: "Wash, take the ship to the south side docks, berth 7." The comm replied with only static. "Wash?"

It was a few long seconds before the reply came through. "Yes. Captain."

"Tell Zoë we got cargo waitin' to be loaded."

"Cargo. Ri–" Wash's reply was cut short.

"South docks, berth 7," Mal repeated impatiently. "Me and Jayne'll meet you there."

There was another delay. "Got it, Captain. Sir."

Mal scowled. "Wash, this is business. You and Zoë put your clothes on and get goin'."

.*. .*. .*.

Simon pushed against the metal bar that lay across his shoulders, clenching his teeth at the pain in his leg. The gunshot wound wasn't healed enough for him to handle a lot of weight, but he was impatient to start building his strength back. It wasn't a good idea to live on this ship without the ability to run, dive away from shotgun blasts, and on occasion jump off of high catwalks. Such was the life he and River had found.

Book helped lower the bar to the deck after Simon finished his set. "Nice work, doctor. You recovery is moving right along," Book said.

"Zoë did a good job." Simon ran a hand over his thigh; the wound still had a dull ache.

"She does have some experience, no matter what she said about it. Spot me?"

Simon moved behind the bench as Book sat down. Out of habit, Simon glanced over his shoulder to the catwalk where River had been sitting. She was gone.

"River?" he called out.

"Relax, son. Your sister went with Kaylee."

"You're sure?"

"Don't worry so much, you've got a lot of help keeping an eye on that girl."

"It takes a lot of eyes."

"That's not far from what she said about you, as I understand it." Book stretched out on the bench.

"She would say that." Simon smiled fondly. "It's good to see her spending time with Kaylee."

"Yes, it is. There's a teenage girl in there who has a lot to learn about growing up. Things they didn't teach you in med school or me in the Abbey." Book took a deep breath and started his set, leaving Simon to ponder the mysteries of feminine teenage knowledge.

.*. .*. .*.

"Inara gave it to me," Kaylee said. "It's nice, huh?"

River and Kaylee were parked on the bed in Kaylee's cabin, a dark brown box decorated with intricate pearl inlay was open between them.

"No, you're doin' it wrong," Kaylee continued. "She showed me how - hand it over, I'll do it for you." Kaylee snatched one her new toys from River's hand.

"Never done this," River whined. "Don't know how it's supposed to work."

"It takes lots of practice. I'm not so good as Inara, but she told me I just need to try it more."

River drew back, looking doubtful. "You have to try on me?"

"What, you think Jayne would let me do it to him?"

River dropped her moping and laughed at the idea. "Now look up," Kaylee ordered, demonstrating. River copied her, rolling her eyeballs up as far as possible, also dropping her mouth open in the effort. Very carefully, Kaylee drew a heavy black line under River's lower lashes.

"It tickles my eyeball!"

"Eyeballs can't be ticklish."

"Mine are!"

"Let me get the top too. Close your eyes. Don't squint! There, OK. Now… the lashes." Kaylee set down the pencil and unscrewed the lid from a black tube. "After I put this on, you can't blink for a bit or it'll get all over."

"There's a lot of rules involved in this," River said skeptically.

"It's how its done. Inara said so. You wanna shoot bad guys, you ask Cap'n and Zoë. You wanna fix a bullet hole, there's Simon. I know all about engine parts, and Wash does the flyin'. But when it comes to lookin' pretty, Inara's the expert. Gotta do it her way."

"I don't need to get clients," River complained, but she tilted her face up, lashes at the ready.

"Don'cha want a boyfriend?"

"Shia!" River replied, then she continued dryly. "And my options are…?"

Kaylee held her breath as she finished up, then leaned back to check her work. "Good point. Let's do the other eye!"

.*. .*. .*.

Inara put on her warmest smile. "Really, Captain… Jacobs? I've done quite a lot of touring on the rim already. I was hoping to find a ship taking a more direct course into the Core."

"I'm sorry miss." The man on the screen did truly look sorry. "We got some business needin' takin' care of. But I'd be happy to get you as far as Persephone, we'll be able to stop there in just a few weeks -"

Inara cut him off, "Thank you Captain, I'll just look around a bit more."

She keyed off the transmission, surprised at her own lack of courtesy. Mal had been right, there was nothing on New Melbourne but fish and slimy pirates who probably smelled as bad as their cargo holds. She shook her head, more aware of her condescending attitude than she would have been a year ago, then scanned the rest of the docking list.

Nothing else seemed promising, so she rose from the cortex station in her shuttle and moved to the sofa, picking up a cup of tea that had long gone cold. It was time to get off this ship. Past time. But now that she'd made up her mind, it seemed the fates had decided to keep her where she was.

Her gaze settled on the second teacup on the table. Some tea had spilled around it when Serenity'd entered atmo, but she hadn't bothered to wipe it up yet. She sighed. Mal had never touched it; he still wasn't one for ceremony.

He ignored the tea she poured for him. "We should have a few days layover time, give you a chance to look for a lift. But New Melbourne is a ways out. You sure you want to get off here?"

"I haven't had much in the way of decent clientele lately. There's really no reason for me to stay any longer."

"Well, could be you'll find a well-heeled explorer out here amongst the mongrels of the rim, looking for someone to keep him perky on the way back to the civilized worlds."

"I should be so lucky." Inara sipped her tea to cover her annoyance.

Mal was less skilled at hiding his. "Since this is the place for it, make sure you stock up on sushi and lobster tail. Maybe a little blowfish for an aphrodisiac."

"My clients don't need aphrodisiacs." She raised a brow at him, and Mal looked away.

"Right - all they need is a fat credit account."

"A little class and decent manners don't hurt."

"Cause knowing which fork to use is soooo sexy."

"It's not all about sex."

"Right, it's about making people feel special, like you care about them. That is, till the clock runs out. Ding! Will that be cash or credit account?"

"That's not how it is. Why can't you understand? A Companion truly provides support, compassion. I care for my clients."

"Sure. And it takes years of schoolin' to learn to show all this fine carin'."

The ship lurched. Inara held her cup out to steady it, but tea from Mal's untouched cup sloshed over the rim onto the table.

"And that would be Wash entering atmo," he said. "Guess I got my own business to take care of." He stood up.

"Mal, I don't want to fight with you. I know we haven't always… seen eye to eye, but I see no reason why we can't part on good terms -"

"The best of terms. You're all paid up, I'll even get your security deposit to you in full."

"I appreciate that but -" Inara didn't finish. She sipped her tea instead.

"Just make sure you find a ride here, or you'll be owin' me more rent." Mal turned and left.

Inara shook the memory out of her head, then rose and took both tea cups to the shuttle's head to empty them in the sink. She brought back a towel to wipe up the spilled tea before she returned to the cortex station, keying up the docking list again.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal and Jayne left the market, climbing a long series of stairs which led from the docks up to the center of town. Trams passed by on either side of them, followed by suggestive harrumphs from Jayne, but Mal preferred the walk. No reason to get there quick; may as well take the time to see the place, breathe the salty air.

The buildings around them grew more wholesome as they climbed. There was no upper class here in New Melbourne, but the market for decent food on the rim was giving rise to a bit of a middle class. Mal shook his head sadly – it was sure to draw some eyes eventually, since the Alliance was all about making money. Like Ricky said, any healthy market was going to get messed with, whether through the law or around the edges of it.

They reached the top landing to find a wide courtyard lined with the cleanest windows they'd seen yet. Signs outside shops advertised higher end goods: fabrics, fancy furniture, liquor that wasn't like to make one blind, and weaponry.

Mal turned back to that last one with narrowed eyes; he recognized the small symbol on the corner of the sign. Hadn't seen it in a while, but it wasn't something he'd forget. Neither would the woman who, years ago, had watched him pull a small metal shard out of the remains of her daughter's leg. That weapon'd had a symbol on it – the same one hanging here.

"Hang on a sec," Mal muttered. He headed toward the shop without bothering to check on whether Jayne had heard him.

The shop featured all manner of guns and ammo in tightly locked displays, but that wasn't what Mal was thinking on. He walked slowly about the empty room until someone came out from the back.

"Can I help you?" A young man – more of a kid, really – asked. He was blond and clean cut, looking spiffy in a well tailored suit and a dark gray cap with a shiny black rim. Looked a lot like an Alliance uniform, come to think of it. He stayed behind the counter eyeing Mal with suspicion.

"I was wonderin' what you have in the way of seekers."

"Seekers?" The kid clearly recognized what Mal was asking for, but gave him a doubtful up and down look. "Are you representing anyone…?"

"Ya, I know some people who're interested. Got a lot of interest, you might say."

The worker still looked dubious. "You have the means?"

Mal pulled out the envelope Ricky'd given him; the bills he flashed served to change the salesman's manner. "Ahh, sorry, sir. But you must guess at the types we have coming in here." He motioned Mal over to the counter and set out a flat gray box. "Here's the most popular model, developed during the war." He opened the box. "Motion activated, moves fast and quiet. The explosive is small, but it will at minimum disable anyone unfortunate enough to be walking in front of its nose."

"Unfortunate," Mal repeated with a tight nod as he looked at the small silver cylinders in the box. "Can't these be steered aside with the proper tech?" he asked, though he knew the answer full well.

"Well, yes, but only if you hear 'em comin', which ain't easy."

Mal gave him a long look. This idiot must have been just sproutin' pubes when the war was fought, sure as hell he'd never seen what these things could do.

"You know that for a fact, do ya?" Mal asked.

"Sure. But I gotta tell you - we'll be getting a newer model in a few weeks." The boy leaned toward Mal like he was cutting him in on a secret, and settled into full smooth salesman mode. "Higher grade seekers that can't be steered aside by anything non-biological. Targets bio-rhythms. What's more, comes with transmitters you can plant on all your own people, so they won't be targeted. It's pricey, but you set up your own side with those transmitters and let loose a pack of high grade seekers… you got your battle won right there. Just gotta buy a lot of extras, you know, cause there's always a few that pick up the wrong targets."

The kid was just flashing a white toothed grin when Mal's fist smashed into his face. He went down behind the counter, and Mal was up and over it just as quick, grabbing a seeker on his way.

"You ever seen one of these do its job?" he asked. The kid looked up, his eyes focusing on Mal's thumb on the activation switch. "Think it'll disable you if it gets you in the ankle? Ever wonder just how much of your leg it'll take? I can tell you all about it."

"Mal!" Mal looked over his shoulder at Jayne's voice. "You in here?"

Mal turned back to the terrified young man. Green húndàn'd probably never been hit in the face before, and here he was selling weapons like this gorramn seeker to the unwashed masses. Mal swore, but his anger drained out of him. What he had here was another job that wouldn't go smooth, and this time he had no one to blame but himself. He also had a kid with a bloody face looking up at him like he was the biggest bad in the 'verse.

Mal sighed; it was too late to argue about that. He tucked the seeker in his shirt pocket and impassively punched the kid again to knock him out. Might buy enough time to load the cargo and get the hell off world.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations

Niú shĭ: cow

shit guĭ: hell

nĭ hăo: hello

shia: affirmative

húndàn: bastard

Chapter 2.

Mal and Jayne jogged around a crate being pushed onto a forklift and climbed the ramp into Serenity's hold. Zoë was standing just past the airlock, keeping track of the cargo being loaded.

"How we doin' with the goods?" Mal asked her.

"Two more crates to go, Captain. They'll be on in five."

Mal motioned her away from the dock workers with a tilt of his head. "We gotta make good with the leavin'," he said as soon as they were clear. "Quick."

"Why am I not surprised," Zoë said with a sigh.

"Everyone on board?"

"Last I checked."

"Where's Wash?"

"Probably havin' a bite to eat."

Mal nodded and went back to the airlock controls to key the intercom. "Wash, get to the bridge and warm her up again. We're liftin' off in ten."

Lifting off? Wash replied. Now?

"That's right. Leavin' atmo." Mal switched off the comm before Wash could ask anything more and turned back to Jayne. The merc was nosing around the cargo like he expected to pick up the smell of the food inside. "Jayne, you get a head count. I'll talk to Inara."

Jayne gave the cargo a mournful look, but headed toward the back of the bay where Simon and Book were looking on from the weight bench.

"What's going on, Captain?" Simon called across the space.

"Little run-in," Mal said shortly. "Nothing to worry about." He left it at that and started up the stairs to Inara's shuttle.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon turned to help Book stow the weight set. "Never a dull moment," he said with a shrug.

"I am surprised," Book replied. "He would have had to look hard to find Alliance trouble out here."

"It's a special talent the captain appears to have been born with."

"Jayne, what happened?" Book asked as Jayne passed by.

"Dunno. Job got set up fine, and we was headin' over to meet Serenity, then Mal's just gone. I went lookin' for him, and there he was in some empty gun shop sayin' we gotta go quick."

"No Alliance?" Simon asked.

"Not that I saw. I gotta get a headcount. Y'all know where Kaylee and River are?"

Simon looked toward Book, who answered, "Somewhere up top, doing girl things I suppose."

Jayne made a low growling noise in his throat and smirked. "This I gotta see." He headed up the stairs.

Book shook his head, then turned to Simon. "I'll be interested to hear what situation our captain has worked himself into this time."

"I'm sure it'll be entertaining," Simon replied with a sigh.

"Don't know about that," Book said, but he couldn't contain a knowing grin. "Could be he just wants to delay certain things were planned to happen on this stop."

"What do you mean?"

"If you have to ask, son, you're not paying much attention."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara had given up on the port's shipping list some time ago, and was sitting at her desk with her chin in her hands, trying to fight off frustration. At least they'd be planetside for a few days to rest up after their adventure with Jubal Early. Ships moved through here frequently, maybe she'd find something heading into the Core tomorrow or the next day.

The thought made her take a long look around her shuttle; funny how what had started as such a dark and dirty space had become home. She recalled the first time she'd toured it, Mal's defensiveness about his ship, his girl. Inara had been drawn to the Firefly from first sight because of the memories it brought her, but the more time she'd spent here, the more she appreciated Serenity for its own merits. Now she understood why Mal'd acted as he did that first day.

But she'd never make anyone in the Guild believe that she'd spent more than a year here, on this tiny ship making its meandering and chaotic way through the nether regions of the 'verse. Not an easy year, but not such a bad one either.

This thought surprised her. Not such a bad one? What exactly had been so good about it?

She started from her reverie as Mal shoved the hatch open. "You hitch a ride yet?" he asked.

"Please come in," she replied dryly.

"Don't get tetchy, it's just about my shuttle again anyway. You got a plan?"

"I have found… several leads. Nothing solid."

"Get solidified, schedule's changed. We're in the air in nine minutes."

Inara blinked in disbelief. He couldn't be doing this to her. "For off-world?"

"That's right."

"But you said we'd be here for at least a few days!"

"And I'm sayin' now that plans have changed."

"Zāo gāo!" Inara pushed herself to her feet. "I have a life of my own, Mal. I have plans. You can't just order me around on a whim –"

"Fine. Then you take what you can carry and start livin' that life out on the docks right now. Or, you quit harpin' at me and get comfy for a few more days. I got exactly no time to be arguin' over this." Mal turned on his heel and left.

.*. .*. .*.

"Tiān xiăode, what happened to you?" Jayne stared at the girl stepping off the ladder up from Kaylee's bunk.

"Don't she look pretty?" Kaylee asked brightly as she followed River up.

"What'd you do? Beat her up?"

"No! It's makeup. Makes her…" Kaylee looked at River's painted face and her smile fell for a second, but she stubbornly turned back to Jayne and insisted: "…pretty."

"Gorram, like the girl needs to be any scarier," Jayne said. River's eyes narrowed, an unsettling enough sight at any time, but now it took on a whole new level of disturbing.

"Jayne, be nice," Kaylee said. "Tell her she looks pretty."

"I'll tell you this, River. You're supposed to be this big genius, right? Well, you ought'a know enough to not be lettin' Kaylee draw on your face. Ow!" He yowled as Kaylee punched his arm.

"Don't listen to him. He's just not used to high quality womenfolk," Kaylee told River.

"Kinda hard to get used to 'em when there ain't none around. Ow!" Jayne backed away from Kaylee, rubbing his arm. He let his voice take on a petulant edge as he teased her. "I hope you're all done with yer shoppin', cause we're headed out'a the world."

"Now?" Kaylee asked. "But we ain't got to go walkin' at all!"

"And it's a good thing. You let River out like that, sure as hell gonna bring us trouble."

River tilted her head and fixed her unnerving stare on Jayne. "Trouble goes where it's taken," she told him. "With you wherever it goes."

"Yeah, how lucky for us that we got you on board," Jayne said.

"Have your own, don't need me for that," the girl said. Just then, Mal's voice carried down the stairs from the bridge and River's eyes slid eerily in their dark, smudged background toward the sound. "Some more than others," she added.

"Li'l Kaylee, why don't you put a sparkly scarf on her head and set her up tellin' fortunes in a freak show. Better than lettin' her wander around the ship creepin' me out." Jayne started up the steps. "Get her brother set up on the side as a' accident of nature," he said over his shoulder.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal stood behind Wash's chair and tried not to show his impatience by fidgeting.

"They ain't put a lock on us?" he asked

"We're clear," Wash replied.

"No alerts?"

"Not a thing." Wash turned and gave Mal a questioning look; Mal was relieved when Jayne came onto the bridge and got him out of explaining.

"Inara's on?" Jayne asked.

Mal nodded in reply.

"Then we're full up."

"All right." Mal turned to Wash. "Let's go. Kuài, if you could."

"Do we ever travel any other way?" Wash grumbled.

Jayne headed right back out the hatch; the merc was likely eager to get going on one of Ricky's Sea Delights. Mal stayed by, half expecting a wave from some security joe, and he preferred to handle that himself. But no call came, and Wash was soon high over the city.

Zoë joined them a half minute later. "Cargo's secure," she said, then she stared at Mal. "We expectin' company?"

"Nah, shouldn't be any problems," he replied.

"You're seemin' a might tense for a man with no problems."

Mal just gave her a glance.

"So you wanna tell me about this problem we're not expectin'?" she asked.

"Not particularly."

After a few minutes Wash clicked over to the auto pilot. "Another successful dash out of imminent nonexistent danger," he declared as he spun the seat around to face them. "So – where are we going?"

"Oeneus," Mal replied. "Head straight in; there shouldn't be any Alliance patrols out here. But keep an eye on the scan. Ricky said they may be movin' into the neighborhood."

"The mighty Alliance stands tall and protects us from the scary black market fish."

"Oddly enough, that ain't far from the truth of it."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal picked a hunk of rehydrated fish out of his bowl with his chopsticks. Ricky had a good thing here – it was a welcome change to eat something with a texture differing from paste and flavored with actual food.

He looked around the table; everyone but Inara was there enjoying the meal. They were probably also hoping to catch the details of the new job and to hear Mal's latest tale of woe, but they seemed to have picked up on his mood. No one had asked him anything, not yet anyway.

He knew they wouldn't leave him be for long, so he sighed and spoke up. "Next stop is Oeneus, to drop the goods," he announced.

"Oeneus?" Book asked, apparently eager to chat. "Haven't been there since way back. Wasn't such a nice place then; the terraform was slow to take. I hear it's much improved of late."

Zoë nodded. "Uh-huh. Becoming a 'garden' world if you believe the talk."

"Garden world? Sounds nice," Wash said with a smile at his wife.

"The change has drawn a load of new settlers," Zoë continued in her practical voice, not taken in my Wash's suggestive look, "though maybe the world 'settler' don't rightly fit no more. Ten years back there weren't more than ten, maybe twenty settlements on the whole world, now there're cities on every continent. They got their own local government, transportation system, all the trappings of a modern world."

"Is there a lot of Alliance?" Simon asked.

Zoë shook her head. "No permanent garrison or station. Don't see cruisers too often neither. Place is out of the way of shipping lanes, and never had much the Alliance is interested in."

"Guess there ain't been no rich people to protect, and Alliance's got plenty a' poor people to bully other places," Jayne said through a mouthful of rice.

"Inara was tellin' me she checked it out on the cortex," Kaylee said. "She has a client in the main city, says it's real nice there. Cultured. Fancy restaurants and shops and the like."

"It's become a haven for wealthy folk who want to get away from the Core worlds," Zoë said. "Expats and tourists and such."

"So, does 'cultured' mean there's green parks where a man can have a romantic picnic with his wife and not get arrested for vagrancy?" Wash asked hopefully.

"One way to find out," Zoë answered him with a smile.

"Don't plan on gettin' too comfy," Mal told them. "If the rich folks and tourists have found it, the Alliance can't be far behind. Most likely we won't be stayin' long."

"Can't we for just a little bit, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked. "Engine could use some tinkering while we's sittin' still, and I'd like to get out and take in the sights."

"We'll see how it goes."

Kaylee shrugged and looked down at her bowl as she continued. "Cause I ain't never seen a fish market, and I thought we was gonna get to go out on New Melbourne..."

"I thought you would too," Mal replied in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry you missed out, Kaylee."

"Well, you can't help it. Trouble just always seems to find us."

"What exactly was the trouble?" Simon asked. "Jayne said something about a gun shop?"

"You went gun shoppin', sir?" Zoë asked.

Mal scooped up the last of his rice, and took his time about swallowing it down. He'd known they'd get around to asking about this sooner or later, but he hadn't settled his mind as to what exactly to tell them. As he considered his options, River started mumbling softly,

"Comes to get you, fast and quiet. Don't move, it'll find you." Mal cut his eyes at her. Kaylee had added a fair amount of lipstick to her human canvas, and it had partially rubbed off as the girl ate. She was truly a sight. A sight to be avoided. "Whizzzz… bang," she finished with a sidelong look at Mal.

"Wasn't a big deal," he finally replied to Simon. "A little disagreement. Just seemed best to avoid any possible… complications."

"Alliance loving drunks provide a punching bag again?" Simon asked with a nod toward the bruised knuckles on Mal's right hand.

Mal pulled his hand back and lowered it under the edge of the table, out of general view.

"Somethin' like that."

"That's an interesting take on it," Inara said from the aft hatch, drawing everyone's attention. "I just saw on the cortex that an eighteen year old worker at a gun shop got assaulted by a man whose description was oddly familiar." She gave Mal a hard look. "He had a broken cheekbone and a concussion. Apparently, the attacker wasn't there to steal anything. He just walked into the empty store, beat the boy unconscious, and left."

All eyes turned to Mal.

"Is that what happened, Captain?" Book asked gravely.

Mal looked down at his hand, flexing the bruised fingers. "What happened is my business, not any of yours."

"I'd say it's my business," Inara replied, approaching the table. "Your temper tantrums affect my life, if you haven't noticed. In fact, I'd say it's the business of your entire crew. Don't they have enough to worry about without you doing your best to bring the law down on them. Attacking an innocent, Mal?"

Mal gave her no answer but an angry look.

"Why did you attack him, Captain?" Book asked again.

"Great," Mal said. "You're gonna assume I attacked somebody without cause, like I just… went in there and… busted him up for no reason."

"I am offering you the chance to explain for yourself," Book replied.

"It's my boat, I don't need to explain myself to no one." Mal clenched his jaw, looking away from all the questioning eyes. But then he swore and reached into his shirt pocket. He pulled out a small silver cylinder the size of his thumb and set it on the table in front of Zoë. They shared a look, and Mal pushed back his chair and stood up. He slid the chair back under the table and leaned on the back of it for a few seconds.

"What you heard was the truth, Inara," he finally said. "That kid didn't do a damn thing." He shook his head, then left for the bridge.

No one spoke for a bit. Finally, Zoë picked up the silver cylinder.

"What is that, Zoë?" Kaylee asked.

"Seeker."

Shepherd Book folded his arms and gave the thing a dark look of understanding, but Kaylee only shrugged.

"This thing's quiet and fast," Zoë explained with a glance at River, "and ain't too selective about who it hits. Supposed to be illegal, against the Alliance Peacetime Accords. Like land- and space- mines, bioweapons, torture, that kind'a thing." While she talked, she used her thumbnail to pry the end off the case. "Was supposed to be illegal in the war too, but that didn't stop the Alliance from using 'em on us. And I guess it don't stop the good folks of New Melbourne from makin' 'em available to anyone with enough coin. Must be why they didn't report anything missin' from the shop. Probably didn't show the security vid to the law either – they ain't supposed to be sellin' these."

Zoë stopped talking for a few seconds, and held her breath while she broke off a brittle tab inside the cylinder.

"This one's disabled now," she said with a deep, relieved exhale, "but I'll space it just in case." She pushed her chair back and headed to the hatch near the crew quarters.

.*. .*. .*.

Book entered the bridge and found Mal seated in the pilot's chair, staring out into the black.

"I ain't in the mood for a heart to heart, Shepherd," Mal said without turning around.

Book stood behind the chair, also looking out at the night. "You wish to continue on this path?" he asked.

"Got goods to deliver."

"I'm not talking about the ship's course. I'm talking about you."

"I ain't on any gorram path."

"Just because you don't see it don't mean it's not there."

Mal spun the chair slowly around to look at the Shepherd. "And where is this windy lane supposed to be takin' me?"

"Violence is not done by those who love doin' it so much as those who've had it done on themselves."

"I am even less in the mood for preachin'." Mal stood and made to leave the bridge, but Book caught him by the arm.

"Captain, I know it wasn't your intention to hurt that boy."

Mal returned Book's stare. "You don't know a gorram thing about what I intend," he said, his voice low and hard.

Book nearly backed away from the warning in the captain's eyes, but made himself hold his ground. "A lot of people in this verse have been through hard times," he said, "you're not the only one. It's up to you what kind of man you let it make you into."

"That's very poetical - save it for the pulpit. Now I suggest you take your hand off me."

Book held Mal's look for a long moment, then released his arm.

"Are you gonna follow me to my bunk too," Mal said over his shoulder, "or can I get a little peace there?"

Book waited till Mal had left before he replied softly, "Somehow, I doubt you will."

.*. .*. .*.

Zoë was waiting at the entrance to Mal's bunk.

"You get rid of it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Disabled and spaced."

He started to step past her to climb down the ladder, but she stood in his way.

"You wanna tell me about it?" she asked.

Mal turned away impatiently, but he couldn't brush Zoë off like he had Book. "You remember that little girl that lost her leg?" he asked. "The one on Du-Khang?"

"Yeah."

"I do too."

"What happened to her wasn't that kid's fault."

"I know." Mal couldn't look her in the eye.

"You have to let it go, sir."

"Right."

Zoë raised a hand toward his arm, then dropped it and stepped back. "Get some sleep," she said, and turned back to the dining room.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations

zāo gāo: damnit

tiān xiăo de: name of all that's sacred

kuài: quick

Chapter 3.

"Qīngwā cào de liúmáng!" Wash swore at the scanner screen.

Mal didn't disagree. He and Zoë stood behind the pilot's chair, taking in the bad news on the screen for themselves. The planet they were heading toward had an Alliance freighter hovering over it – right next to the station where the delivery needed to be made. Further out from the planet, a cruiser kept watch while lines of blocky shuttles ran supplies from the freighter down to the planet's surface.

Mal heard soft footsteps enter the bridge behind him. "What is it?" Inara asked.

"Just a new neighbor moving in," Wash replied in a falsely chipper voice. "Nothing to worry about. I'm sure they'll be fun – keep their hedges trimmed and never throw loud parties."

"But sure as hell they'll be nosy," Mal added. "Peekin' in the windows, wantin' to know what we're up to. And who wants to lay odds that Big Ricky knew about this when he hired us?"

"I guarantee they been here longer than two days," Zoë said, nodding her agreement.

Mal gritted his teeth to stop himself from spitting out a few curses of his own. This was not what he needed – another complication to get everyone further on edge. The crew'd been walking soft around him since they left New Melbourne; Book and Inara had hardly spoken to him. He needed this to go easy, if just to get everyone off his back.

"But why would he send a shipment of his own cargo right into this?" Wash asked.

"Maybe to test the situation," Mal said. "See if the Feds are searchin' inbound ships and whether they're lettin' his chow hit the market. Not like we got any friends to give him payback if we get humped."

"To hell with it then!" Wash said. "It only took two days to get here from New Melbourne, let's go back and return the goods. And let Jayne take the cost of the fuel out of Ricky's hide."

"Most like the Feds have been trackin' us for some time," Zoë said. "They see us turn tail now, they'll be after us and sure as guĭ they'll have questions."

"Okay – but if we're going in, we'd better make a plan," Wash said. "We'll be hailed soon, and they'll want to know where we're headed."

"We're like to get searched," Mal said. "I ain't worried 'bout the cargo, but it won't work so good hangin' Simon and River out the window. That station's got too much traffic, someone's bound to see 'em." He put a hand over his mouth while he thought, then turned to the system chart on the control board, searching through it. "I recall there bein' an outlying moon, poorly terraformed, not so many people. There!" He pointed it out. "Good, it's on this side, don't have to pass by the Feds to get to it. We can tell 'em we need to stop there, to fix our docking equipment or some such,"

Mal turned back to Zoë. "Get the doc and his sister together. We'll leave them on this moon while we do our business."

"I have a better idea," Inara said.

"I'm sure you do." Mal replied without even looking at her. This wasn't her business – and what did a Companion know about skirting the law? He continued giving orders to Zoë without hardly missing a beat. "You'll stay with them. And do something clever so no one'll recognize them. But please, don't let Kaylee handle the makeup."

"There's barely a hundred people in a single colony on that moon." Inara interrupted. "Do you think they won't notice three strangers getting dropped off?"

Mal looked at her and humphed in annoyance. She was chosing a fine time to start talking to him again.

"And how do you plan on explaining why you need to stop there again on the way out?" she asked. "Why don't you save time and send a wave to that cruiser – 'Outlaw Crook Dropping Secret Stuff Here'."

That was enough. "Inara," he said, trying to keep himself calm and reasonable. "I can't take them near that station. Don't know if you're payin' attention, but this ship might be gettin' searched. I have to do something with them, and I got no other option."

"Try this one: as I am soon to be departing for the Core and leaving your ship bereft of a precious Ambassador, we have another Companion in training. Clearly, myself and my novice need a hired man to do our laundry and chores."

He frowned at her blankly.

"Mal, send them in my shuttle with me. I've already arranged to see a client, and he's high in the local government. I'll be going straight planetside with his specific permission. The Alliance won't bother me."

"No way. You have any idea what would happen if you got caught with these two in your shuttle?"

"I won't get caught."

"And if your boyfriend of the week wants to try the new Companion?"

Inara rolled her eyes, as if he should know the whoring rules better. "Novices are never available for 'trying'."

"And he won't talk about her to any of his government buddies, or recognize her if he sees her 'wanted' picture in the new Alliance outpost?"

"You have no respect for my talent with makeup and costuming."

"It's not a bad idea, sir," Zoë said.

"No," he told Zoë firmly. "It's too dangerous." He looked back to Inara. "I won't have you turnin' criminal your last few days here."

"It's a little late for that. You do recall the event with the Lassiter?"

"This ain't some cute little heist. The Alliance don't just slap your hand and sit you in a cell for a few years if they catch you harborin' fugitives like those two."

Inara didn't back down. "For several months I've been on this ship with them, and I've taken the same risk as you. They are my friends and I will do all I can to help them. Besides, if they get caught on Serenity it won't go much better for me than if they get caught in my shuttle. I'll still be an accomplice."

Zoë earned herself a glare when she backed up Inara again. "Sir, she's got a point."

"Captain, they're hailing us," Wash called from the pilot chair. "What should I tell them?"

"Zāogāo!" Mal swore, and he turned away from Inara and Zoë to study the planet now visible up ahead. Thing was, he knew Inara was right. In fact, it was a damned fine plan, but he didn't want to have to admit that. He shook his head, annoyed at himself. First he's a attacking a kid, and now he's endangering his crew out of pride?

"Fine," he said. "Wash - tell them we have a delivery to make on the station and… a contractor and her crew with an appointment planetside. Then you take us in slow as you can without, you know, lookin' like you're tryin' to go slow."

"And if they ask what we're carrying?" Wash asked.

"Tell the truth. Ain't nothing illegal about easy-rehydrate seafood delights."

Wash got chatty with the comm and Mal nodded for Inara and Zoë to follow him off the bridge. He might have given in to Inara's plan, but he was still the gorramn captain and the one in charge; he barked orders over his shoulder as they passed through the corridor toward the kitchen.

"Inara, you get to your shuttle and set up your travel plans. I want you, River, and Simon out of here before we get anywhere near that station, and I want it all done by the book, special permissions or not. Jayne," Mal found the merc polishing his knife at the table. "We got a complication in plans."

"Wouldn't know what to do with myself if we didn't," Jayne replied.

"You find Kaylee and y'all help Zoë get the Tam's stuff together. Stow it all in one place - an empty bunk. Make it look like it's been there for some time, like it got left a while back."

"They movin' out?" Jayne asked. His mouth pulled into a grin as he tucked his knife into a leather sheath on his belt. "This is the kind of complication I like."

Mal ignored that comment. "We got maybe half an hour to get this done, people, so get to movin'."

.*. .*. .*.

Simon and River each carried a small bag onto Inara's shuttle; everything else they owned had been stacked in Simon's room in a few old, dented crates. They didn't have enough personal belongings to attract much attention, except for Simon's med bag, but he brought that along with him.

Inara launched the shuttle as soon as the Tams were aboard. She set a leisurely course to the city of Meleager, located directly below the geosynchronous station of Atalanta. When she returned to the main room of the shuttle, she found Simon sitting on the sofa next to River, explaining the situation in a patient voice.

"It'll be like a game," he said. "Pretend you're a doll. A very pretty doll, but a doll that doesn't talk."

"No talking?"

"None at all. You can't let them know that you're a real girl."

Inara joined them with a box of makeup. "Hopefully, you'll be able to stay somewhere private," she told Simon. "I wish I could leave you on the shuttle, but Chairmen Yeng wants to have his appointment here."

"We could stay and watch," River suggested.

"No, we could not!" Simon insisted.

Inara laughed as she began applying eyeliner. River expertly looked up, then down, as Inara outlined her eyes. "I think it best you take your brother somewhere a bit more comfortable, sweetie."

River sighed. "You're right. Might be overwhelming. It's been a while for him."

"River!" Simon snapped.

Inara took pity on Simon and bit back another laugh, then attempted to change the subject. "It must be rough having a mind reader for a little sister," she told him.

"You have no idea," he said with a shake of his head, then he told River pointedly, "Maybe we should start the not talking part right now, as practice."

River made a face, then had to drop it and hold still for mascara. "Don't need practice," she replied smugly as she tried not to blink. "I understand. Undercover. Put on a doll. Look out from her eyes and watch people. They won't even know I'm in there."

"Are you okay with that?" Inara asked.

"Could be fun. They'll want to have sex with me, won't they?"

Simon's eyes widened and his mouth fell open, but Inara couldn't suppress a laugh. "Yes, they will. But that's not allowed. No one will touch you."

"I am old enough, you know." River lifted her chin at Simon defiantly.

"Whether you are or not, now is definitely not the time," Inara replied, hoping to spare Simon this conversation. "But it is the time for a new name. What would you like to be called?"

River considered the question thoughtfully. "Something pretty..." she said. "Pretty name for a doll, a doll who can't be kissed." Her eyes lit up. "Daphne!"

Inara nodded her approval. "You are the Novice Daphne. Now – no talking while I do your lips."

.*. .*. .*.

An inspection team was waiting outside the airlock as soon as Serenity docked; a man with a digital clipboard in the lead. Mal let out a little breath of relief at the sight – the man didn't look like an Alliance heavy, just a local recruit stuck with the job of shoving Alliance law up the nose of every crew that stopped in.

"Captain, welcome to Atalanta station," the man murmured in a monotone without more than a glance at Mal. "I'm Agent Phillips. Ship's paperwork?"

Mal silently handed over a brown folder.

"Very good," Phillips said after scanning the ship's registry form. "What's the purpose of your visit?"

"Business. We've got some foodstuffs to deliver."

"Can I see the papers on the cargo?"

Mal frowned. "Never needed papers to deliver here before."

"There was no law before. Now there is."

"I see that. We were given no papers."

"We understand that many people this far out aren't aware of the laws," the man said with a bored sigh. "The first time you get by with a warning, as long as your cargo isn't contraband."

"Awful nice of ya," Mal said, hoping it really would go that easy. "And you'll see we got nothin' contraband."

"Uh-huh. We will need to inspect the cargo so we can estimate the tariff."

"Tariff?"

"Alliance law charges a tariff for all goods shipped between worlds. Surely you are accustomed to paying tariffs, being captain of a cargo ship?"

"Well… of course," Mal improvised. "Tariffs... they make the system work, don't they?"

Agent Phillips replied with a doubtful grunt and made some marks on his clipboard. "Where is the cargo?"

"Right over here." Mal pointed to the crates behind him.

"Team one, check the crates," Phillips called over his shoulder. "Team two, search the ship."

"Search my ship?" Mal did his best to look insulted.

"The Alliance treats everyone alike," Phillips said, the words rolling off his lips like he said them a hundred times a day. "Which means every ship gets searched, even one owned by such a fine upstanding man as yourself."

Mal rolled his eyes. Phillips didn't notice – he was looking past Mal at Zoë, Jayne, Kaylee, and Book. "Is this your whole crew?" he asked.

"I got a pilot who's finishing up on the bridge. I also have a Companion and her staff. They've gone to meet her client already, as we reported to station control."

"A Registered Companion?" The man looked at Mal with a new respect.

"That's right."

"So... when's she coming back?"

"Not until we're all done and headin' out. She's a busy woman."

The man swallowed a disappointed look, then turned to the cargo.

.*. .*. .*.

The shuttle landed in the center of a lush roof garden. Inara stepped through the hatch a moment later to be greeted by a slightly pudgy yet thoroughly dashing middle-aged Chinese man. River followed after, watching through her thick veil as the man addressed Inara with reverence and more than a little obvious anticipation. River closed her eyes and let herself sway; his desire was so strong she could almost see it, as if a dark red cloud of mist flowed out of him in waves to circle Inara's graceful form.

Inara did the introductions and explained the situation to her client, the honorable Arthur Yeng, Chairmen of Oeneus's Committee for Agricultural Development. River played her part, keeping her eyes down-turned and not speaking while she curtseyed.

The House Mistress, as Yeng called her, appeared to take care the Novice Companion and her servant, freeing the shuttle for Inara's appointment and freeing River to hold her head up and look around. The woman guided Simon and River to a large, sunny sitting room; three men were already gathered at a table on the far side. The men were talking quietly, their heads bent together over words like "foreign exchange," "equity," and "maximize profit." Boring talk about money – it reminded River of people her father had worked with.

But soon she felt that dark red color drifting in light wisps again, this time gathering around her own body. The men knew that a Companion was visiting the House today, and their conversation was shifting from business to something else. It was so obvious – even if she hadn't been able to pick up the things in their minds, she would have seen their looks.

It didn't alarm her. It's all about misdirection, Inara had said as she hastily pinned up the hem of a dark blue silk gown, then opened a side seam for a slit that reached above mid thigh. They will never remember your face if we give them something else to look at.

River was seeing the truth of this. She sipped her tea with her kohl rimmed eyes lowered modestly behind her veil, but her lips curled when she felt her skirt fall to the side, revealing most of her leg. She was aware of the turn of her ankle, foot stretched to lengthen the line of her leg all the way to the floor. The background chatter of thoughts turned a darker shade of red.

"That's a pretty color, but it looks better on Inara," River said to no one in particular. Simon looked up in confusion but didn't respond; he was sitting on a hard wooden chair beside the plush sofa where River reclined comfortably – close enough to be of service, but too far to be mistaken for anything but a serving man.

River enjoyed the arrangement. She liked her brother's clothes too. They were funny, so different from what he usually wore. So plain, just a light gray tunic and trousers. But the best was his wide brimmed conical hat – it hid the top half of his face, so Inara had insisted on it. But it was turning out to be unnecessary; no one here was looking at him.

"How are you doing?" he whispered. He studied the three men across the room suspiciously, as if he suspected them of paying too much attention. He was right, but he didn't understand that their interest was no danger to her. Inara's plan was working flawlessly.

"It's so easy," River whispered. She glanced down through her veil at her own bosom. Her slim dancer's build didn't lend itself to cleavage, but it did make for a graceful curve from her hips over her rib cage to her open shoulders. She arched her back slightly.

…would that be a full handful?… she heard the thought and had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"They're like … puppies," she said.

"Who?" Simon asked.

"Puppies who want a new chew toy." She tilted her head at a new string of images that formed in her mind. "Poor puppies. Never happy with the toys they have. Need something new to chew on…"

"Um, are you hungry?"

"…something young and fresh."

"River?" Simon touched her arm and she started, then focused on him.

"I'm not hungry. Shh - this is educational. I want to listen."

Simon shook his head, but left her alone after that.

.*. .*. .*.

"Yúbèn de tariff," Mal muttered as he waited for the lift to arrive.

"Better not be comin' out of my cut," Jayne growled.

Zoë gave Jayne a dark look. "Anything we have to pay, we all pay, just like always," she said.

"Maybe someone ought'a be doin' a little research on our jobs before we take em," Jayne said with a glare at Mal. "So as we can avoid gettin' into this kinda crap."

"Calm down, now," Mal said. The conversation paused as a group of people unloaded from the lift and he, Zoë and Jayne got on.

Then Mal did something he hadn't done in quite a while: he resorted to optimism. There'd been too many problems lately and he needed this to work out smooth, if only to get the crew to relax a bit.

"Probably just another reason Ricky hired us," he said with something like cheer, "to find out if tariffs are enforced. I'm sure he'll be reasonable about it."

"Yeah, cause reasonable is somethin' we see a lot of," Jayne replied with a sneer.

They arrived at the dining and entertainment level of the station, separating as they left the lift. Mal led the way to an eatery toward the center of the station, a fairly nondescript place, dirty and dark, but not so low brow as to invite trouble. A bar stretched along one side, black tables were scattered on the other. Mal chose one in the middle of the joint, back against the wall furthest from the bar. Zoë followed him in, sitting at the bar toward the back, near the kitchen. Jayne stayed just outside the wide entryway to the concourse.

Mal ordered a drink to sip, but it wasn't a long wait before Ricky's contact showed up; a polished man of Indian descent joined him at the table. The man had a thin black mustache and wore a loose fitting brown robe over cream colored trousers and leather sandals. A cloth skull cap covered his short black hair. He sat down and set his elbows on the table, threading his fingers together and openly studying Mal.

"Welcome, Captain Reynolds. Ricky sends his regards," he said with a sharp, clipped accent.

"He could send a few apologies to go along with those. Who the hell are you?"

"You may call me Kamath. Did you have any trouble with the Alliance?"

"Actually, Kamath?" Mal repeated the name and the man nodded, "We had a little toss and tariff that would'a been nice to know about in advance."

"Ricky thought you might not take the job if you knew too much about the situation here on Oeneus. I'm sure you understand."

"My understandin' ain't what it used to be. How long have the Feds been here?"

"Three weeks, but they build fast. The new base is nearly complete. Now they are unloading supplies and personnel and beginning to make their presence felt, as you experienced. Tell me, how was the search?"

Mal glared at how casually Kamath asked about that, but decided to play nice. "Not the fussiest Alliance search I've seen. Pretty shoddy, actually. The guy running it wasn't trained in the Core, just some local grunt. Wasn't hooked up to high level Alliance intel neither, or he'd of asked us a few more questions after he got our ship's registry."

"And the tariff?"

"Glad you asked. I brought along the bill," Mal spread a sheet on the table. "I believe some reimbursement is in order."

"Of course." The man checked the paper, then discretely counted some bills out of his pocket and added them to an envelope, which he held while he spoke into a comm unit in Hindi. There was a pause as he listened to the response, then he handed the envelope to Mal.

"The cargo is nearly finished unloading already," Kamath said as Mal counted the pay, not trying to hide his distrust of the man. "This has been informative, Captain Reynolds. I will send a most positive report to Ricky, as well as others in the local shipping business. And – as Ricky requested – I offer you his apologies for any discomfort you may have experienced. I have included bonus pay for your hardship."

Mal closed the envelope with a low whistle; the man wasn't lying about the bonus. "That's very reasonable of you," he said with poorly concealed surprise. Then he remembered himself and frowned. "And why don't you let Ricky know I'll need a little more information in advance if we're to do business together in the future."

"Of course," Kamath replied. "In fact, I can give you advanced information about your next job right now."

Mal tucked the fat envelope into his pocket of his coat. Funny how getting a bonus affected one's attitude. Maybe it was a result of his experiment in positive thinking; maybe he ought'a try it more often. "I'm listening," he said with a nod.

"We have some other things we need to move. The same route. You'd have Ricky's goods in your cargo hold, and mine somewhere more discrete."

"And your goods are...?"

"Something the Alliance does not approve of. But something the locals need."

"Why you offerin' this now? Could'a had it here already."

"We needed to see how you'd get through the new security. It also helps that they've seen you once. The next time you arrive with cargo, they'll already know you."

"And it'd be easier to get your hush-hush through."

"Yes. You would get the same pay for Ricky's goods, and twice as much again for my cargo."

Mal whistled again. "That is quite an offer."

"Good." Kamath sat forward. "You should leave as soon as possible. We need to move the cargo before the Alliance gets more permanently established."

"Hold up a sec, Kamath buddy. I didn't say I'd take it."

Kamath settled back in his chair again. "You have a problem?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It sounds like a good thing, but I don't like jumpin' on it without knowin' some details. I've tried that before, didn't like how it went. What's the cargo?"

"It is the duty of a good smuggler to not ask such questions."

"Then I guess I ain't a good smuggler. What's the cargo?"

The man gave Mal an appraising look, then shook his head. "Best of luck of you in the future, Captain Reynolds. It is a shame we won't be working together again."

Mal bit his tongue to stop himself from calling the man back. That was a lot of money he'd just passed by, but he couldn't let himself take a job from people who'd already set him up once. Besides, how stupid would it be to go through the Alliance checkpoint again with the Tams around?

He ran a hand over the envelope in his coat pocket. Best to leave everything as it was. After all, it hadn't worked out too bad. With this much cash, they could go planetside to upgrade a few things on the ship and let Kaylee have her free time. He allowed himself another moment of cheery optimism as he finished his drink.

It didn't last long – it wasn't a full minute before Jayne's voice sounded from the receiver tucked in his ear: We got company.

A squadron of Alliance guards stepped into the entrance of the bar and an authoritative voice called out, "Alliance business – everyone stay where you are!" The man's eyes quickly settled on Mal. He nodded to the guards and they moved toward Mal's table.

Mal took a quick look around the room, then glanced up at the ceiling; the place was lit by two large overhead lightbanks. "Awful bright in here," he said softly.

Two shots rang out, one from the bar, one from the entryway behind the guards. The sudden darkness was full of the tinkling of shattered glass and the scuffle of people scattering.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations

Qīngwā cào de liúmáng: frog-humping sonuvabitch

guĭ: hell

zāogāo: damnit

yúbèn de: stupid

Chapter 4.

"When will Inara be done?" River asked as she finished her snack of tea sandwiches and pastries.

"She said she wouldn't finish until late," Simon replied in a whisper, even though there was no longer anyone around to overhear.

"Bored now," River said. She slumped back in her chair. Her admirers had left some time ago, and the serving man who checked from time to time didn't seem to interest her, likely because he seemed uninterested in her.

Simon didn't reply. It worried him to see her get restless; the only way to get through this safely was to keep quiet, stay in one place, and attract as little attention as possible.

"Pardon me - Miss Daphne?"

A man in a well tailored suit had entered the room while Simon was busy with his thoughts. He looked to be in his mid forties and a bit of a dandy, sporting an even tan, a well trimmed beard, and the solid build of a man with a personal trainer.

"I am a friend and associate of Chairman Yeng," he told River. "I will be staying at his house this week. I was informed of your situation, and I am determined that one as lovely as yourself should not pass hours of boredom."

River glanced at Simon, then bowed her head and reached a hand under her veil to cover her mouth, as if that was the only way she could hold in her words.

The man continued, "My name is Trevor Marone. I am Prefect of the third ward. I offer my services as a guide." A thick shock of gray-golden hair spilled over his forehead as he bowed.

River looked at Simon again, who took the hint and stood up. "Hello. Sir. I thank you… kindly. But we have to stay here until our… mistress… has finished her… services."

Marone glanced at Simon. "Nonsense!" he said, then turned back to River. "Chairman Yeng assured me that he would keep the Companion engaged until tomorrow morning at least. He was concerned about your well-being, wishing no report of a lack of courtesy to stain his reputation with the Guild. Especially as the future of the Guild is so very bright." He aimed a charming smile at River. "It would be my honor to act as your host."

Simon gathered his thoughts on how to refuse the offer with the proper servile politeness, but River spoke first, using a perfectly executed shy wobbling voice.

"That is kind of you. I was recruited from a world on the rim, and such big cities as this are new to me. I'd be grateful if you'd take me exploring." She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling through the black and gold veil.

"I really think it best we stay here, um, ma'am," Simon said. "Inara ordered us…"

"Relax, lad," the Prefect said. "You aren't in the military. There's no harm in a little sight-seeing."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal could see the dark shapes of the Alliance guards backlit by the glow of the concourse lights through the broad entryway. He avoided them easily, then found Zoë in the dark and pressed the money filled envelope into her hand.

"You and Jayne get to the ship," he ordered in a rush. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed his way back toward the kitchen.

The cook staff hadn't caught on to the chaos out front, and Mal sped through the kitchen without any obstacles. A door in back led to a blank corridor; he chose a direction at random and kept on, jumping over the occasional crate. Just around the second corner he found what he was looking for: a service lift. He pressed the call button, made sure he was alone, and talked softly into the transponder on the front of his coat.

"Zoë, Jayne, you hear me?"

Yeah Mal, I got ya, Jayne replied.

"Nice shootin'. What's goin' on out there?"

They got some lights up, and they're checkin' everyone. I'm out already, waitin' for Zoë. You think they're lookin' for you?

"I did get that feelin'."

Go figure. OK, Zoë's out.

Hey Cap'n, Zoë said, joining the chat. They'll be busy here for a few more minutes. No one's headed toward the back door yet.

The lift arrived. "I'm gettin' on a service lift now. Gonna lose reception, maybe for a while. Get to the ship – I'll be along."

The elevator didn't have many options: only down to the dormitory levels where the station workers lived. He punched the button for the uppermost dorm level.

As soon as he stepped off the lift again, Mal found a deserted corridor and took out the ship's comm.

"Wash? Wash, you there?"

Yeah, Mal.

"We got trouble. Zoë and Jayne are headed back, I'm goin' the long way round. Get Serenity warmed up to go as soon as we all get on board. Wave Inara, and have someone scope out the dock. I got a hunch they're lookin' for me in particular."

A hunch? Is this your highly honed instincts or plain common sense?

"Save it. I need to know if I'll have greeters waitin' for me when I get up there. I'll call again when I'm closer."

On a hunch, Mal threw the receiver from his ear and the transponder from his coat down a trash chute. The Feds had come after him in the bar, not at his ship, and they hadn't gone after Zoë and Jayne. Best he get rid of the evidence that he'd been working with someone close by, just in case they nabbed him.

It took him a good five minutes to find an emergency stairway and jimmy the door. Fifty four levels up to the landing docks; he started climbing.

.*. .*. .*.

Wash switched off the comm and turned to Book; the two of them had been gathering up straps and nets in the empty cargo bay. "You got all that?" he asked the Shepherd.

Book nodded in response, then he shook his head. "Here we go again."

"As long as he doesn't pull my wife into it," Wash said. He'd been coming to a place of peace with the captain, given how the man had helped him through his visit to Niska's house of fun. But Wash couldn't shake the knowledge that it should of been Zoë in his place. It irked him that Mal's problems could so easily fall on anyone unlucky enough to be near him when the niúshĭ hit, especially when that 'anyone' included Zoë.

"The captain's skill for getting into tight situations is matched only by his talent for getting out of them," Book told the pilot. "They'll be okay."

"They better. Can you finish up here?"

"Sure, you go get her ready."

Wash climbed the back stairs two at a time and yelled down the corridor to the engine room, "Kaylee, she ready to go?"

"What? But I'm changin' out the thermocouples!"

"No, you're no-ot."

"Oh!" Kaylee whined. "Again? What'd he do this time?"

"Didn't say."

"Gōushī ! Give me ten minutes to patch her back together."

"May not have that. They're gonna show up any minute, running with all the demons of Alliance Hell behind them. Either that or a bunch of toddlers missing their lollipops." Wash turned toward the bridge.

"We can't keep doin' this!" Kaylee yelled after him, over a couple loud metallic clangs. "I gotta fix her up sometime!"

Wash shook his head, and a constant stream of bad words kept him company as he strode through the dining room. He was sick of things blowing up like this.

.*. .*. .*.

River had her arm hooked through Prefect Marone's. "It's so good!" she said with an innocent giggle. "What's it called again?"

"Caramel," the Prefect replied. "It's mixed with peanuts and chocolate."

River could feel Simon biting back an exasperated sigh. She had loved chocolate turtles since she was three, but no one except her brother would have guessed it from the way she'd chattered about every treat in the display case, then settled on her choice apparently at random.

"I've had chocolate, and peanuts, but never as good as this, and never with... caramel?"

"Correct. I'm glad you like it." The Prefect smiled down on her briefly, then pointed out a statue covered fountain across the square.

Simon, who was laden with several colorful bags, including the one filled with chocolates, followed like a pack animal a few steps behind River and her beau. She felt her brother's irritation turn to suspicion and fear every time the Prefect looked down at her, but River could see that the man wasn't interested in seeing her face. Simon was thinking (with relief, which was odd reaction for a protective older brother) that Marone must be primarily interested in her body, but River knew he wasn't. She knew what the man was interested in, and she liked him for it.

The Prefect led River to the fountain, gesturing up to the figures that adorned it. "These are the Bacchantes, the wild women of Bacchus," he told River. "One of the founders of this world was a fan of the mythology of Ancient Greece, on Earth-that-was. There were many stories of the Baccantes. See the grapes they're holding? They make wine, then drink it and dance through the woods and hills."

"Dance, I love to dance!" River said, one finger under her veil picking caramel out of her teeth.

"I bet you do. I bet you're very good at it." The Prefect looked at River fondly, his eyes tinged with something like sadness.

Late afternoon sunlight sparkled in the water that sprayed over the bronze women, shining on arms opened and legs kicked up in ecstatic joy. River circled under them, her own limbs aching to take on their frozen poses and move them forward in time and space. But dolls don't do that. She knew Simon was mad at her already for not being a proper doll, so she forced her arms to hang heavily at her sides and her feet to step calmly in the borrowed heels.

She stopped at the fountain's gold plaque and read it aloud. "Oh, sweet upon the mountain, the dancing and the singing, the maddening rushing flight. Oh, sweet to sink to earth outworn when the wild goat has been hunted and caught." She closed her eyes and added the last line, which wasn't included on the plaque: "Oh, the joy of the blood and the red, raw flesh."

The Prefect looked at her with sharper eyes. "You've read Homer?"

Simon stepped forward, "Our mistress has been teaching Daphne the classics…"

The Prefect waved an annoyed hand at Simon. River snapped her eyes open, cast a guilty glance at Simon, then pointed across the square. "What's in that shop?" She started off without waiting for an answer.

.*. .*. .*.

Book finished sealing up the cargo bay, leaving the smaller hatch open for the fleeing crew members to duck through. He closed his eyes and muttered a prayer, trying to diffuse the ire that gathered at the back of his mind. It wasn't that the captain was a bad man, but he was stubborn and unwilling to listen to anyone. This was a difficult life, making one's way out here in the Black. Even with Book's varied background he had been surprised to find out how challenging simple tasks were for this band of stragglers. A man couldn't face this world with no voice in his head but his own; he needed to accept aid from somewhere, and it needn't be from on high.

The captain didn't seem able to recognize the power of the people he had around him. The pigheaded man had to go about things his own way, no matter the sense of it.

Book internal prayer-turned-rant was interrupted when Zoë and Jayne stepped through the airlock hatch.

"Any word from the captain?" Zoë asked.

"He said he was coming the long way, whatever that means, and he'd call back when he got closer. Wash is getting the ship ready to go. What happened?"

"Alliance goons came sniffin' for trouble," Jayne said.

"They were after you?" Book asked.

"After Mal anyway; they let us go," Zoë explained.

"Mayhap word reached this world about his misadventures on New Melbourne."

"Could be," Zoë said. "But we worry about that later. Right now we get everyone back to the ship and get out. This job's done."

.*. .*. .*.

A few more bags were hooked over Simon's arm and his face was beginning to redden. He wasn't sure what angered him more: River's flirtatious lack of caution or the ease with which she treated her big brother like a servant.

"What do you like to do, besides dance?" the Prefect asked her. Simon tried to think threatening thoughts, hoping she'd pick up on them.

"I like to think about space."

"Space?"

"All the empty Black, so much of it. But in places it's full of beautiful things. Stars, ion clouds, nebulas."

"When was your first time in space?"

Simon held his breath. He and River had both been traveling between Core worlds on the Tam's luxury yacht since before they could speak.

"I've never really been in space. The vacuum would kill me. Eyes pop out, blood boil, not pretty. Can we go in here?"

She led them into a flower store, and walked slowly past the exotic blooms which covered one wall. "Which can I get for you?" the Prefect asked. River stopped in front of an oval bloom with petals that appeared to be lined in blue fur. "This one?" he asked. She nodded inattentively, but that was enough for him; he went to find the shopkeeper.

River stood still, her gaze fixed. After a moment, Simon took a closer look at her. Her eyes weren't focused on the flower.

"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.

"We have to get back," she replied just as quietly. Even through the veil and all the makeup, he could see that her face had gone pale.

Suddenly she turned and followed the Prefect, catching him by the elbow. "I'm sorry. I have… a headache. Need to go home." Her voice was shaky, and not acting this time. Prefect Marone was all concern at her distress; with almost comical agitation he ran out of the shop to call for his private transport.

"What's wrong?" Simon asked her softly.

"Planning... have plans," she said as she absent-mindedly stroked the petal of a dark red rose. "Force the doors open, knock down the walls. Monsters will come out."

"There's no monsters, mèi mei."

She turned from the flower and stared at him. "You know how to hide. Can't hide if there's no walls."

"Which walls?"

She kept her voice down but her eyes were sparkling with tears. "Wires. No knives. Just wires that burn."

"River –" Simon had to stop as the Prefect returned.

"My dear, our transport is here." He offered his arm to River and Simon had to fall back into his silent role.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal paused at the doorway to the docking level to catch his breath. He pulled out the comm.

"Wash?"

Zoë answered. "Captain, Jayne and I are back. We didn't see any welcoming party, but they could be under cover. Where are you?"

Still slightly out of breath, Mal responded, "Emergency stairway on your level." He cracked the door and peeked out. "Across from platform 26, that's not far. I'll be there in a few." Mal put the comm in his coat pocket and quietly slipped through the door. He turned to his right, following ascending platform numbers. As he walked through the sparse crowd he glanced around for anyone who moved with him, stares that lingered a little too long. Nothing.

He didn't know what hit him. He never remembered anything hitting him at all.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations

niúshĭ: cowshit

gōushī: crap

mèi mei: little sister