Ira Deorum: Vox Populi Vox Dei

by Irokoi

After Miranda this old 'Verse starts crumbling like a stale cookie. Mal would not mind that so much, with great danger comes great opportunity, but he's worried about what he and his crew are becoming.

1. Chapter 1

Ira Deorum: Vox Populi Vox Dei.

The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.

--John Stuart Mill.

Malcolm Reynolds, Master of the light freighter Serenity, groaned as he forced himself to sit up and put his feet on the cold deck of his bunk.

"Shit, that's cold!" he exclaimed aloud. "I have got to give in and steal a rug for this deck."

He pulled open a drawer beneath his rack and dug out the thickest pair socks he had, quickly pulling them onto his feet.

"Gotta steal some new socks, too."

He pushed the drawer shut and groaned again as he forced his battered but healing body onto its feet. He glanced over at the computer screen and grimaced at the final page of the report he had asked the ship's accounting package for. As usual, the accounting software had been the bearer of bad news. He touched a button on the screen and the computer began work on a flexi-copy of the report. Unlike many, Captain Reynolds almost never bothered with printing a flexi, but he wanted a copy of the report to pass around to his crew. With the possible exception of Simon Tam and his sister, they were a habitually frugal lot, but he wanted all of them to see for themselves that things were extra tight.

The flexi slid up out of slot on his desk by the time he had finished dressing. Pulling on his boots had felt like something Adelai Niska might have dreamed up. Mal found his physical condition particularly exasperating. It had been nearly a month since his struggle with the Operative. The man had given him about as thorough a beating as he had ever had. Better than the beating the prison camp guards on Hera had given him.

"Gorramed Alliance!" Reynolds wanted to spit, but checked himself. Wouldn't make sense, spitting on his own floor. He promised himself that he would spit on some Alliance bastard's shoe to make up for it. Climbing out up the ladder that led out of his bunk was even worse agony than pulling on his boots had been.

"Aiyaa! Ta me da!," Mal shouted in pain as he finally stepped out onto the catwalk leading to the bridge. "Damn, that hurts! Who the hell..."

"No one," River Tam answered his thoughts before he could finish voicing them as he walked toward the bridge, "gravity's still set to one-half gee."

"It feels like two!" Mal exclaimed. "Are you sure?"

River suppressed a giggle while nodding her head. "It'll get better, Captain Daddy."

"Not near soon enough," Mal said with a groan as he sat down in the command seat. "Anything new on the Cortex?"

"Alliance politicians are still busy claiming that they knew nothing about Miranda and that it didn't really happen and that even though it did happen, it wasn't that big of a deal anyway. They're all guilty as hell. Barking like nervous little dogs."

Mal gave out a disgusted snort. "Alliance bastards."

"They won't get away with it this time," River said in confident tones.

"Hmph! I wouldn't be so certain of that, Lil' Albatross. They been pullin' wool and gettin' their way for a long time. Cain't see how they wont get it this time."

River treated her battered captain to a lopsided grin and said, "One-twenty-five to two-fifty. Won't get it this time. They're humped."

"One-twenty...What are you on about, River?"

"That's the range of numbers wedding managers and funeral homes use to plan weddings and funerals," River answered with a smug little smile. "Thirty million people on Miranda. Nearly all of them first and second-gen settlers. Won't be no weddings and the lucky families are planning funeral ceremonies."

"You thinkin' there'll be another rebellion then?"

River nodded her head.

"I'm sittin' this one out."

River gave him one of the best of her unsettling laughs.

"Not gonna be the same as last time," River said in a happy voice. "No uniforms, no armies, no rebel governments. Alliance is going to tear itself apart and you won't sit on the sidelines."

"You think not?" Malcolm said in the voice he used whenever someone called him out.

"I know not," River said. "We got no choice. 'Sides, there's more than one way to skin a cat. It'll be the unseen hand this time. You won't need to sign up with an army. There won't be one this time-- just the wrath of the gods and the voice of the people. We'll be sticking a fork in the Alliance before long. It's almost done."

Malcolm Reynolds clinched his jaw and willed his eyes to stay dry as thought back on himself prior to the War of Independence now over for eight years and twenty lifetimes ago. He had not expected the Alliance to survive for more than a year back when he signed up. He forced a grin out onto his face, but he feared it probably looked like a grimace. "Nothin' wrong with youthful optimism, Lil' Albatross."

"I'm never optimistic, Cap'n Daddy," River replied, giving him a sober stare. "You hurt the Alliance bad in aught six and you just hurt it bad again a few weeks ago. Now it's finally going to die."

"Seems to me like it hurt us more than we did it--both times."

"Siss true," River said, "but it started dying after that fight in Serenity Valley. All it has done since is become sicker and sicker. It's dying now."

Mal's eyes locked onto River's. Her gaze did not waver. He did not doubt that young woman believed every word she was saying. "Guess they made a regular Browncoat out you, didn't they?"

River nodded her head. "Maybe browner than you. Made one out of Simon, too. He just doesn't realize it yet. He's starting to molt."

"Molting!" Malcolm exclaimed. "Is that what you call it?"

"Mm-hmm. Split his shell right down the middle," River replied. "Be easy with him. He's got things to sort out. He's such a soft little boob inside that so-very-proper shell."

"And you have all your stuff sorted out, I gather," Malcolm said in an amused but dubious voice.

"Not all of it," River answered. "We need to rob a bank soon."

Mal could not contain himself at the sudden change of subject and burst out laughing.

"Want to rob an Alliance bank if we can," River said. "Shouldn't hurt the locals if we can help it."

"Well, I conjure that's a fine sentiment, but Alliance banks are a lot harder to rob than banks run by locals," Mal said. "I suppose you've already picked out an Alliance bank you want me to rob?"

River nodded her head. "It'll be easy. We can rob the bank without robbing the bank."

Mal shook his head in confused dismay, but was finding River's ideas to be a source of much needed amusement. "And where exactly is this bank we're gonna rob by not robbing it?"

"Persephone."

Mal gave the idea a serious belly laugh.

"What's so funny?" Zoe asked as she entered the bridge. Her normally relaxed but alert stance was stiff with pain. She still had not recovered from having her back opened up by the Reavers.

"River thinks we ought to rob the Alliance bank on Persephone."

Zoe took in a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. "Damn right! We ought to have robbed it a dozen times by now, but ought to and can do are two different things."

"We can rob the bank without having to rob the bank," River said, sounding a bit aggravated.

"We can?" Zoe asked. "If we can do that, maybe we should rob all of 'em that way."

River shook her head. "This'll only work once. After we pull this job, they'll wise up."

Zoe and Mal stared at one another in silence for a moment. Zoe cocked an eyebrow at her captain.

Mal pursed his lips and said, "Okay, Lil' Albatross. What have you hit upon that put this buzzy little bee in your pretty fleur bonnet?"

"I don't wear bonnets aboard ship," River answered. "Not enough sun."

Zoe grinned as Mal shook his head. "That's our River, all right."

"We can do this," River said in an insistent voice. "I know we can."

"So show us," Zoe said.

They were still going over the data River had gathered when Jayne's harsh voice came out over the ship's com. "Y'all come eat before I throw this out to the hogs and the passengers!"

"There's a sure sign that old dogs can learn new tricks," Mal muttered.

"He sure has changed," Zoe said.

"Not sure I like it all that much though," Mal replied. "A considerate Jayne is kinda creep-a-fyin' if ya ask me."

"He's still as crude as a boar shoat headed for the feed trough," Zoe said, in a voice that tried to sound as though she was looking on the brighter side of things.

"Papa bear looking after his cubs," River said in her strange matter-of-fact voice, "Doesn't have to be kind, just fierce."

"Mebbe so," Mal said as the three of them made their way to the ship's mess. "Still not sure what to make of it."

"You're paranoid," River said as she punched Malcolm on the arm, "Cap'n Daddy."

Zoe smiled. "I wonder what he'll be like once you find a boyfriend, Little Bit."

"He'll scare them all away," River said with a very distinct pout in her voice. "I won't get to keep one until I find one who can scare him."

Mal gave River a fierce grin. "You might die an old maid."

River stuck her tongue out at him as she gave him another punch the arm.

"Ow!" Mal exclaimed. "Hit the other one. That one's still got stitches in it."

Captain Reynolds stood at the head of the table and surveyed his crew. Only River and Inara had escaped their battle with the Reavers and Alliance troops relatively unscathed. All of them them had changed in one way or another. River had come out of it with a new self-assurance that seemed to do her a world of good. She had suffered only one bad spell since they had departed Mister Universe's world, and that was just a nightmare. Jayne, though, had suddenly become gruffly solicitous of everyone in the crew, including Mal, and that worried Mal more than a little. Kaylee had become a lot less bright after the fight and her hands were still shaky. Simon had told Mal that it was the after effects of the drugs the Reavers had darted her with. Malcolm had decided that the good doctor was at least partly right. The drugs had turned out to be hallucinogenic and they really had given Kaylee fits for many days, but he suspected there was a lot more to the harm she had suffered. He was no stranger to battle and he knew that battle always did bad things to people, especially the gentle ones like Kaylee. He had to fight to keep his face dry when he thought of what happened to her.

For all of that, Mal worried that the one who was changed for far the worst was Simon Tam. Clearly the man's confidence was shaken. He seemed bitter and mistrustful of everything, not just people, but everything. Mal had watched him as Simon would check, double-check and then go over everything again before actually committing to carrying out even the most minor of tasks. It was almost as though Simon Tam now doubted existence itself, as though the very fact of being had somehow become questionable.

Simon's face had never been especially expressive, in Mal's experience, at least until Simon came across something that offended him, and there had been a lot out on the Rim that had offended Simon Tam, but this was different. The man's face had taken on a hard cold edge. Their last struggled had toughed their medic into a creepy sumbitch. Simon had not bothered to shave for several weeks and the growing beard had not helped the Doctor's appearance at all as far as Malcolm Reynolds was concerned. He had not said anything to Simon about it. Facial hair had never been one of his bugaboos and Mal had seen more than one of his soldiers suffer through the same phase Simon was suffering through. The doctor would come out of it a different man, but not a man who was as bad as the man who was in his crew right now.

He'll be wearin' suspenders with a belt if he doesn't sort it out soon, Mal thought. I can't blame him too much. Man spent a lifetime thinkin' that his way was the right way. Now he knows it ain't so by many a decimal point. He's got some adjustin' to do. Learnin' to be mistrustful of folk out here on the rim where there's so little in the way of law and order is one thing, but finding out that them holdin' up the law and order are worse than your average criminal is a foul pill to swaller.

Mustering up as much cheer as he could put into his voice, Mal said, "Mornin', everyone!"

"Mornin', Mal," the crew surprised him by answering in chorus. Kaylee even managed to put a little dab of her former sunniness into the smile she flashed at him. River took a seat, but Zoe began loading her plate with the scrambled eggs and Jayne's biscuits.

"Come check on me during mid-watch," Zoe whispered to Inara. Inara answered with a silent nod of her head.

"I'd appreciate it if everyone sticks around for a bit after breakfast," Mal said, as he pulled out his chair and sat down. "I want to make you all aware of the ship's finances and, our dear little albatross, River here, might have found some truly profitable crime for us to commit."

Jayne looked around the table at everyone before saying, "Some work ud be real shiny if everyone was ready. Ship needs fixin' and all of us could use some coin. What'd ja find, Little Bit?"

"Bank job," River answered proudly. "A safe one if we go at it right."

Jayne looked up at Zoe who merely raised an eyebrow and nodded before leaving for the bridge with her plate and a mug full of steaming coffee.

Simon groaned as he rubbed at his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. He finished the gesture by pinching the bridge of his nose. "My sister the bank robber."

"Killer, too," River said.

"Just reavers, though," Kaylee said with tearful kind of tightness in her voice. "Killin' reavers is the best thing can be done for them and for us. Nothin' wrong with that."

"What sort of bank?" Inara asked.

"Alliance bank on Persephone," River answered, giving Kaylee a sad smile.

"I'm in," Simon said, shocking everyone at the table, especially Kaylee.

"I don't know if I am," Jayne said. "Most of us is still tryin' to heal up. Little River here is plenty smart when she ain't crazy, but I don't that she's ready to be plannin' no big heists just yet. Ain't got the 'sperience."

Everyone, including Mal, gave Jayne and opened mouth stare.

"As bizarre it seems, I think Jayne might have a couple of good points," Inara said.

"Plan's good, but timing's everything," River said in a voice that suddenly seemed tiny and hurt.

"Lot's of points need talkin' about," Mal said. "Ship does need fixin' and we are low on coin."

Simon sat back in his chair rubbed the bandage across his stomach as he spoke, "We see any purple bellies wearing O-neg tags we need to bring them back to ship alive. Our little blood bank is a bit low on the good stuff."

Jayne gave Simon a hard look. "So, we'd just strap 'em down and drain a pint out of 'em. What we would we do with 'em after that? Give 'em a glass of orange juice and a pat on the head? Give 'em a lollipop and a kiss on the cheek maybe?"

Simon gave Jayne a cold smile and said, "The human body can be be drained completely free of blood in eight-point-six seconds given adequate vacuuming systems."

Jayne and Kaylee gave Simon horrified stares.

"I'm sure Kaylee can help me rig something up with the vacuum pump we keep in the tool crib."

"I'll do no such thing, Simon Tam!" Kaylee exclaimed, now truly angered.

"Damn, Doc!" Jayne added. "I ain't exactly cuddly, but..." Jayne hesitated as he searched for words. "Gorramit that's cold! Sounds like somethin' Niska might do."

"Jayne's right, Doctor," Mal said, still holding a fork loaded with eggs halfway to his mouth. "Comin' from you, idea like that's downright disturbin'."

"I'm sure that's true, Captain," Simon said in a voice dripping with implacable cold, "but then I must confess to having been through some disturbing times here of late. My perspective has changed a little."

"That ain't no call for you to become one of them," Mal said in a voice equally frigid. "You'll do no such thing so long as you're on my crew. Dong ma?"

Simon's eyes were as hard as diamonds when he answered. "So long as no one on this crew needs the blood, Captain. If one or more of them needs the blood, I'll favor them over anyone else. You can fire me or shoot me afterwards as you see fit."

Mal let his fork drop to his plate, sincerely wishing Shepherd Book were still aboard. He somehow managed to continue holding the Doctor's stare despite the rapidly growing sickness in his stomach. "If one of us needs the blood, fine, but there'll be no killin' anyone, not even a purple belly, just to stock us up with blood."

"Understood, sir."

"And no stealin' of body parts from livin' folk, neither."

"Aye, sir."

"Good. I'm glad we have an understanding on this," Mal said, not quite suppressing a shiver. He forced himself to pick up his fork and take another bite of his breakfast of powdered eggs. There was no further discussion of any kind during the rest of breakfast, save for River complimenting Jayne on the quality of his biscuits. Jayne looked so ridiculously flattered that Mal should have been amused, but he wasn't. The sharp claws of guilt were tearing him to shreds on the inside.

What have I done? his moral conscience asked. Where will it stop? I have got to turn this around. It's getting out of hand and we'll be lucky if we don't all turn into something as rotten as Badger. Maybe something worse than Badger.

"Jayne?"

"Yes, Mal?" Jayne asked in a voice so respectful that it made Mal wince.

"You still got them punchin' bags I made you put away?"

"Yessir, punchin' bag, speed bag, the works."

"Rig 'em out. I think they might do the Doc here some good."

Simon looked askance at Mal.

"You know you need the exercise and beatin' something resistant is not only good exercise, it's good therapy," Mal explained.

"Oh, really?" Simon asked, his voice dripping with irony. "I didn't realize that you had trained in the field of psychology, Sir."

"Don't get brisk with me, boy," Mal said in an aggravated voice. "I made brevet captain in times that made our little dance with the reavers look like a high school prom. I'm a fair judge of what a man needs and when he needs it."

"Captain's right, Simon," Jayne said. "Workin' with a bag does sooth a man's nerves. 'Specially when he's got call ta be pissed about somethin'."

Mal and Simon both blinked at Jayne's use of the Doctor's given name.

"Gotta promise me that you will always wear gloves, though," Jayne added, oblivious to the affect his attitude was having on everyone at the table. "Can't have you bustin' up them delicate hands. They's too valuable to us."

"Does punching a bag really help that much, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked.

"Seems to help in my experience. Might take a round or two with 'em my ownself."

Kaylee seized Simon's chin with one hand and drug his head around so that she could look him in the eye. "Two hours a day minimum," she said in the tone she usually reserved for deckhands and longshoremen. "Or no trim."

"I...I...uh...How could I refuse such sage advice as that from our Captain?" Simon said in a very uncertain voice. "I look forward to it."

By the time everyone finished eating Mal had decided that the very last thing in the 'verse wanted to talk about was River's proposed bank job, but his crew was having none of it. They wanted to know what River had come up with. There was no stopping them and he knew it. Even Inara seemed enthused, possibly because it was River's idea, he could not be sure, but she was doing all she could to help River draw out her idea. What was really bothersome about it all was that the kid had come with an excellent plan, even if it did require a little help from Badger and his crew. Mal had to admit to himself that it would be truly amusing to go to Badger with a profitable opportunity, rather than begging for one. He wondered what the look on Badger's face would be like. Shock for sure.

He let them gabble over it for the better part of two hours before sending them all off to do the chores needed to keep the ship spaceworthy and livable. With all of them gone, Mal fixed himself a tea-and-brandy toddy. He was too much the stoic to admit it to anyone, but the Operative had done him a lot of harm. Doctor Tam had been annoyed with hims for not simply staying in bed, but there were things about being a leader that the boy would have to learn from example and experience rather than instruction.

Zoe found him sitting in what his crew called the "cuddly", the little sitting area off to one side of the mess. He had made himself another toddy and had placed it on the coffee table while he pulled his boots off.

"Prepping for a nap, Sir?" Zoe asked with half a smile on her lips.

"Yeah, between the pain and this toddy Inara taught me to make, I could use the shut-eye." Mal stretched out on the couch. "You want one? They really do help."

"Can't indulge, Sir. Sorry. I'd love to have one if I could."

"Well why in the hell can't you have one?" Mal asked. "I don't recall you bein' a teetotaler."

"Never was, Sir, but it's the baby."

"Baby?" Mal asked, his relaxing muscles suddenly froze in place.

"Well, I'm pretty sure it's a baby," Zoe said. "Wouldn't do to make him or her into an alkee before it learned to walk."

Mal sat up straight and looked his long-time friend in the eye. "Zoe, you sure about this? We really are gonna have a little Wash runnin' around under foot?"

"I think so, but I haven't talked to the Doctor yet. I wouldn't bet on it bein' a boy, either, though I'm sure that's what Wash would have wanted."

"He'd a been just as happy with little girl and you know it. Mebbe more so."

Zoe gave Mal a sad smile.

"You're hopin' for a little boy! Who woulda believed it?"

Mal got to his feet and gave Zoe a hug. "Go on down there and get our lazy Doctor busy earnin' his pay."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

Mal watched Zoe make her way toward the infirmary breathing a sigh of relief. He sincerely hoped she was pregnant. It would help her shuck her grief and give her piece of Wash to go on with. Could hardly ask for more good news as far as Zoe was concerned.

"It's a boy," River said as she passed through ships mess, making her way aft.

"You think so?" Mal asked.

"I know it," River said over her shoulder. "He's going to be lot like his daddy. Good pilot. I'll teach him."

Malcolm Reynolds felt a hard lump form in his throat.

"And you are Malcolm Reynolds, not Atlas," River called up from down-ladder. "Stop trying to hold up the entire 'verse by yourself."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n River, ma'am!" Mal shouted back. "I'm gonna put it all down right now." And with that he stretched out on the couch and went sound asleep.

Things in the engine room were not nearly so peaceful as they were in the ships mess. Kaywinnet Lee Frye was not easily angered, and all but never allowed anger to take control of her, but this morning was different. She had just seen a side of her gentle doctor that she never dreamed he could have, let alone show off to the entire verse. She had learned over time that Simon the Doctor was a different kind of man than Simon the Lover of Kaylee, but this was too much.

"You get out of my engine room!" she told him. "I ain't havin' nothin' ta do with you today and maybe never again."

"Kaylee, let me explain."

"There ain't nothin' to explain!" Kaylee said in a voice that had been nearly as cold as Simon's voice had been at the table. "That was one of the cruelest things I ever heard anyone say and I coulna believe I was hearin' it come out of your mouth! You don't know how bad that hurt!"

"So, it would be just fine and dandy if I shot some sorry-assed Fed through the heart, or shot him in the thigh so that he bled out during a battle, but draining the blood out of one of them to keep you safe, would be a bad thing. It makes no sense."

"It makes lots of sense, Simon! Fightin' a man while he's own his own two and killin' 'im while ya got 'im strapped to a table is two very different things."

"Yes, in one scenario, he's a definite threat to you, me and everybody on this ship until after I or someone else shoots him. In such a case, the only thing we have done is to eliminate an immediate threat. If, on the other hand, I strap the bastard down on a table and drain the blood out if him, he dies in a far more useful way than if one of us simply wasted him."

"Get out, Simon Tam!" Kaylee shouted. "I ain't gonna talk about this with you anymore. I'm thinkin' about leavin' this ship as much as I love her. I don't want no truck with evil the likes of yours."

Simon abruptly turned on his heel and left without another word. The look on his gaunt face said that he felt betrayed, but then Kaylee's face was registering the same sense of betrayal.

"You need to give him a little time to sort things out, Kaylee," River said in her thinnest of gentle voices. "He's very confused right now."

"Confused my happy ass! Simon Tam is the smartest man I know!"

"I'm sure that's true, but even the brightest of people can be confused by evil."

"Tain't so."

Yes it is," River replied her voice was still gentle, but as hard as case hardened steel. "Simon was just like me. He never had reason to think that his family, let alone his government would betray him the way that they have."

"Family?" Kaylee asked.

"You come from a good home, Kaywinnet Lee Frye," River said in a voice that came from an aching throat. "Simon and I don't. We came from a home that we thought was good but wasn't."

"How can that be?" Kaylee asked. "You had everything you ever needed and thens some."

"Affluence counts for nothing if you aren't truly loved," River said. "Your parents truly loved you. You meant something to them. It was not the same for Simon and I, only we didn't find out until after Simon was out on his own."

"Not loved?" Kaylee asked. "What do you mean."

"Simon has a contract stashed away under his mattress. It's written in tiny letters and hard to understand, but all you really need to see is my name and the dates. Once you see those, you don't need to understand the big words written in tiny type."

"River what happened?"

"Read the contract, Kaylee," River answered as she began slipping away. "On those flimsy sheets of paper you will learn what truly evil people do."

"What Simon wants to do is truly evil!"

"Not when you see things the way Simon does," River said. "He thinks any and all killing is evil. He's wrong about that. There are people in the verse that should be killed because they are truly evil, but Simon can't see it that way. He's confused."

Kaylee searched around until she found a shop rag and blew her nose it. She wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"The man you fell in love with is still there, but he'll become something different without you. He needs you Kaylee. He's having a hard time. Read the contract. Listen to what he is trying to say. Simon is molting."

"Molting?"

"Breaking out of his shell," River said. "Remaking himself. It's painful and he has a lot of work to do."

"I...I'll try, River."

"By rights, the Universe should belong to people like you, Kaywinnet," River said over her shoulder as she stepped through the engine hatch, "but the people who made me stole it away. We have to take it back."

"You mean the way Mal and Zoe tried?"

"I mean the way Mal and Zoe succeeded," River said. "The Alliance has been dying for a long time now. We just have to be patient and keep being who we are until it stops twitching."

Kaylee sat down next to her beloved engine and wept. River might well be right about the Alliance, she thought. God knows, she had to know more about it than anyone outside of Parliament, but just because the Alliance was collapsing did not mean that good people would take over. Things could easily become worse than they were now and things were already worse than I ever imagined. I don't want to live in a world where I have to bleed people dry to live. It ain't right.

Working together, it had not taken Jayne and Simon very long at all to check the air filtration systems and do checks on the tox monitors. Taking care of the potable water system took a little longer, mainly because Simon wanted to take samples to do cultures.

"Why do you have to do this culture thing, Doc?" Jayne asked. "Can't chu just look at a drop of water under the microscope?"

"Too easy to miss something that way," Simon answered. "Most pathogenic organisms are incredibly tiny and hard to find, even with a microscope."

"So how does this help?" Jayne asked.

"Well, I create an environment wherein large numbers of them can grow very quickly in these petri dishes. They are easier to spot when there are large numbers of them in one place."

"Hell, maybe we should just slosh some halazone into the tanks and be done with it."

Simon nodded his head. "That usually does the trick, but there is no harm in double checking. There have been some problems in some systems with resistant strains of bacteria."

"Oh," Jayne said, his face falling. "Didn't know that. How come I ain't heard about it."

"It hasn't been very wide spread."

"Doc, I think your spooked."

Simon took in a deep breath and held it a while before answering. "No harm in being safe."

"No, there ain't, but ya can run anything inta the ground."

"Like, survival, for instance?"

Jayne gave him a disgusted look. "Yer spooked. I don't blame ya. I'm spooked and I been through a lot more shit than you have. Fightin' reavers is enough to spook any man. If you wasn't spooked, you'd have somethin' bad wrong with ya."

Again Simon paused before answering. "Nothing wrong with being careful."

Jayne gave out an exasperated sigh. "You done with this?"

"I just have to set these up in the incubator."

"Well, let's get with it then," Jayne said in the mildly irritated voice he used when he wanted to do something and was being held up. "Captain's got other stuff for us ta do."

"I thought this was all the chores he had for us."

"Work on a ship's never done, Doc. We could find somethin ta do all day long ever-day if we looked fer it, but the Captain wants you workin' at those bags and I think he's right."

The look on Simon's face suggested that he had just bitten into something bitter. "I do not need to smack something around."

"Hmph! Yes, ya do. It's thera-pootic."

Simon grinned. "Yes, I did read a paper that claimed many problems with chronic flatulence vanished after prescribing a little exercise for the patient."

"Punchin' bag and jumpin' a rope's the best cardio ya can do," Jayne said. "You're one of us now. Ya gotta get in shape."

Simon heaved a sigh. "I guess you do have a point. Lead on, MacDuff."

"Who's MacDuff?" Jayne asked over his shoulders as he led Simon toward the infirmary.

"It's...It's just a saying," Simon said, suddenly looking amused. "Shakespeare garbled, actually."

"Oh, okay, just so long as you don't go callin' me a rancid old parallelogram or nothin' like that.'

"Who would ever have thought to call you that?" Simon asked, doing his best to sound outraged and stifle a laugh at the same time.

"The cook on one of the other crews I wuz on," Jayne said. "Hated him. Had to learn to cook my own meals in self-defense."

"That explains your excellent biscuits."

They had a few problems setting up Jayne's equipment. Jayne had stored it in one of Serenity's more obscure and little-used nooks and had quite forgotten where he put it. Once found they discovered that the equipment had accumulated a lot of dust, the bane of a spacefarer's existence and it took them a while to give it all a thorough cleaning. It was nearly time for supper before they had it all set up in the cargo bay.

"So when do I have to start using this stuff?" Simon asked.

"Tomorrow," Jayne answered. "You don't wanna be workin' out with it in this low gravity. Gotta talk to Mal about when we can turn the gravity up. Oh, and I gotta see if I got clean mouthpiece for you."

"Why would I need a mouthpiece?" Simon asked, giving Jayne a concerned look.

"Tomorrow, I'll let you work without one and we'll know for sure if you need one or not."

"Why would I need a mouth piece?" Simon asked. "Are we going to be sparring?"

"Sparrin'?" Jayne asked. "Hell no! Not for a long time and maybe never. I might hurtcha."

"Then why a mouthpiece?"

"Like I said, Doc. We'll find out tomorrow, or whenever Mal will let me turn the gravity back up to a full gee."

"This is strange."

"Some folks need one, some don't. How're you at skippin' rope?"

"Skipping rope?"

"Yeah, skippin' rope."

"I don't know," Simon answered, as his confusion deepened. "I have never played with a jump rope."

Jayne made grim face and sighed. "I don't use one near enough. Folk are inclined to make fun of a man skippin' rope and then I git my cardio in by knockin' heads together. Skippin' rope is serious exercise. It ain't just for little girls."

"Perhaps we could ask River to give us some pointers," Simon said, half in jest. The humor was lost on Jayne.

"That might be a good idea," Jayne said. "She'd get a kick out of it like as not."

"Dinner is served, ladies and gentlemen," Inara's voice came out over the com. "Make haste! I'm fending off Mal with a broom handle."

"That's a sight I'd pay to see," Jayne said as he started for the starboard ladder.

"What sight?" Simon asked, following Jayne's lead.

"Inara spankin' Mal with a broom handle," Jayne said. with an evil grin.

"Hmm, stick around and you might get to see Kaylee using one on me," Simon said.

Jayne gave out an amused snort. "Ya got it comin', ya know. Threatenin' ta act like a gorramned reaver at the breakfast table and all."

Simon could only grit his teeth in frustration and despair. He had long ago concluded that Serenity's crew were a good deal brighter than he had initially believed. Not in his and River's class, of course, but by no means slow. I'm at fault here, he thought. I'm the one who failed to make the necessary reasoning clear. I handled it so badly that I think I may have actually frightened the Captain. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I could do that. Maybe I'm wrong about it. No! No, I'm not wrong. Alliance troops would do such a thing to a Rimmer without so much as a second thought. Probably have a thousand times over by now. So would just about anyone living in the Core. If you aren't from the Core, then you are ignorant little-people without any say in your existence. How can you have any such say? You're too ignorant to know right from wrong. God above! I never understood just how savage and arrogant we really are. No wonder Mal hates the Alliance.

Inara surprised them with two large frittatas. They were the best anyone could expect with the ingredients she had on hand. The eggs were of the powdered variety. The the tiny pieces of "bacon" were actually a modified form of tofu with a bacon flavoring. The onions, tomatoes and garlic were from the stocks of dried vegetables Inara had insisted that Mal add to the pantry and the cheese, my goodness! The pasta and cheese were the real thing. Mal had grumbled about the money she had spent on the ship's larder, but had yet to utter a word at the table until the meal was finished. Then he would always lean back in his chair and complain about Inara spoiling his crew and making sissies out of them--while patting his stomach with both hands. I wonder if things will be any different tonight, Inara thought. Mal is working himself into one of his moods again. I just wish he wouldn't be so stubborn about me helping out with the money. I have more than I'll ever need.

The truth was, Inara Serra had made and spent great deal of money during her long, long career as a Companion. She had saved only ten percent of her income each month throughout that time, but the power of compound interest combined with longevity had made her far wealthier than Mal could appreciate. She could have easily afforded to replace the old Firefly with a retired luxury liner plus refit, not that she would have ever offered to do such a thing. Such excess would have taken all the fun and romance out of their lives and Inara Serra wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. She only injected money in places and at times where Mal would never notice her hand in it. She broke out of her revelry to slap Mal on the hand with a spatula for the sixth time since plating her dishes.

"Ow!" Mal cried out.

"Why don't you do something useful instead of being a pest?" Inara asked.

"Like what?"

"You could pour wine for everyone."

"Wine? We have wine left?"

"Kaylee's finest strawberry," Inara said, pointing at an old fashioned gallon jug. "It's almost six months old."

"Huh! I thought that was a brandy," Mal said.

"It's the nearest thing to wine that we have, Mal."

"So I'll pour the wandy and if the crew isn't here by the time I'm done, I'll start getting drunk again."

Inara rolled her eyes, as though begging the gods for patience. "Vishnu, please! Stop me from killing him."

"Killin' me?" Mal exclaimed. "With what?"

"You'd be surprised what a highly trained Companion can do with a spatula," Inara said pointing said kitchen implement in Mal's direction.

"No, I wouldn't!" Mal said in a rising tone of voice. "You branded me with that very weapon the other day." He pulled up his sleeve and displayed the pealing remnants of a first degree burn on his right forearm. Inara gave it a cold and unsympathetic glance.

"You were stealing the fries."

"Ah! Well...Yes, I was. Captains have certain special privileges that you shouldn't..."

"Not in my galley they don't," Inara said with mock anger in her voice, "especially when I am trying to cook for the entire crew and using the last of our potatoes. That was piracy, Mal."

"What can I say," Mal said as he picked up the gallon jug and unscrewed its cap. He offered the cap to Inara as though he was expecting her to sniff it. "I'm a pirate."

Inara was unable to stop herself from smiling at his antics. "Yes, you certainly are that."

Mal glanced at the table and whistled. "Sure are some fancy plates and such."

"They were a bargain," Inara said. "Higgins crockery, blue willow pattern."

"Oh, Higgins! Did you mention that you knew the maker or something?"

"No, but that reminds me. I received a wave from Fess Higgins a few days ago."

Mal's face flash froze into stone.

"He's married now."

Mal's face softened somewhat.

"And his father died."

"Died, did he? Jayne will be happy to hear that, I imagine."

"Yes, especially since they want us to stop by and pick up a load of goods from them on Jayne Day."

Mal's jaw sagged.

"Jayne Day? We ain't goin' back to Higgins Moon again are we?" Jayne asked as he and Simon entered the mess.

"We should go there as soon as we can," Inara said. "They have a legitimate cargo for us and Fess Higgins can't wait to meet you, Jayne. He's one of your biggest fans."

Simon seized the sides of his head with both hands as though here having a stroke.

"Fess Higgins?" Jayne gave Inara a slack-jawed stare. "Ain't he Boss Higgins ruttin' heir or somethin'?"

"As it happens, Fess Higgins is Boss Higgins's only acknowledged son," Inara said, "and heir to the Higgins fiefdom. He has a number of half-brothers and half-sisters, but he's the boss now. His father died a few weeks ago."

"Boss Higgins is dead?" Jayne asked. "Huh! This is turnin' out to be a pretty good day. I can just guess why his boy wants ta meet me."

"It's not what you think," Inara said. "He practically worships the ground you walk on."

Jayne's face turned into a granite mask, but he could not stop the tears that ran down his hardened cheeks. "It ain't right."

"I admit that it is perverse," Inara said, "but it is right. I suppose that makes it both perverse and divine at the same time, doesn't it?"

Simon nodded his head with heartfelt sincerity.

"The old man must've been a real monster iffen his boy can think of me as some kinda ruttin' hero. Went there to be a gorramned thief. Don't wanna be no hero--accidental or otherwise."

"What's done is done," Mal said, patting Jayne on the shoulder. "It's good to know we got more work in the offing."

"Ninety standard days, three hours," River said as she, Zoe and Kaylee entered the room.

"Ninety standard days to what, Lil' Albatross?" Mal asked.

"Till Jayne Day on Higgins Moon," River answered.

"Gives us time to do some profitable crime and buy clothes before going to the big shindig," Zoe said. "Shiny."

"We'll take Jayne to a tailor this time," River said. "Can't have the Hero of Canton representing our ship in rag-tag fatigues."

Simon groaned.

"Don't get smart Mister Core-i-fied Doctor from Transylvania," Kaylee said, as she pulled on Simon's ear. "You're the one who's gonna see that he gets proper fits."

River and Zoe both snickered at the look that played across Simon's place. Zoe stopped him when he opened his mouth to speak.

"Shh! Be quiet and listen, Doctor Tam," Zoe said in the voice she used on new recruits. "You got a case of foot-in-mouth bad enough to infect this whole crew. Nothin' out of your mouth until after supper. Dong ma? I want to sit down here and enjoy this fine frittata in peace. I don't need you doin' anything that might detract from my gustitation of this rare and exotic meal."

Simon closed his mouth with an audible clap.

"Now that we have all that settled," Mal said in his friendliest I-am-the-boss voice, "I'd appreciate it if you'd all take seats and allow me to pour the wandy."

Jayne pulled out a chair and held it for Inara. "Do I get to sniff the cap?" he asked as Inara sat down.

"But of course!" Mal said in an accent barely recognizable as something akin to French. He flipped the cap at Jayne's head. Jayne caught it handily withe his left hand and made a show of taking a long deep sniff of its inner side.

"We playin' poker tonight?" Jayne asked as he took a seat. He sniffed the bottle cap one more time before carefully placing it on the table.

"Dominoes," Inara said.

"Dominoes, dominoes, or Mahjong?" Zoe asked.

"Dominoes,dominoes," Inara said, flashing Zoe a smile. "I owe Jayne and Simon both a butt kicking."

"Sounds good ta me," Jayne said. "We ain't played dominoes for a couple of months."

"We'll use the double-twelve set this time," Inara said.

Jayne gave her a devilish grin while slicing on of the frittatas. "Won't make no difference to me. I'll just score that much more that much faster."

"Winner gets to give the recycle air plenum to the loser of his or her choice," Mal said. Jayne placed a slice of frittata on his plate. "Thank you, Jayne."

"You're welcome, Captain," Jayne said in respectful voice.

"Does the chore penalty include you, Oh-Captain-my-Captain?" Inara asked sweetly.

"It most certainly does. River?" Mal asked. "You going to play this time?"

"Wouldn't be fair," River said. "I'd rather watch."

"All right, winner can't give the chore to River. She's exempt," Mal declared.

"I'll help the loser," River interjected. "My choice. I haven't seen the inside of the recycle air plenum."

"Suit yerself, Little Bit," Zoe said, "but you may never want to see the inside of that thing ever again."

"I propose a toast," Mal said, holding up his glass.

The entire crew took their glasses in hand and gave Mal an expectant look.

"To Shepherd Book and Hoban Washburn," he said. "Two of the best pilots to have ever lived."

Everyone but Simon was puzzled by Mal having toasted Shepherd Book as a pilot. Tears glimmered at the corners of his eyes as he raised his glass and said, "Here, here."

Inara quickly followed suit when it dawned on her that there was more than one kind of pilot in the 'verse and the rest of the crew was quick to join in. She threw Mal an appreciative glance and smiled at him, wondering how many of his subtle ploys like this one she had been missing. Only now do I realize that we actually speak different languages, she thought. Simon is catching on faster than I am. There is so much more to communication than words and until now it never crossed my mind that body language and gesture could vary so much from place to place and from class to class, but it does. The variations cause enormous rifts that would not lie between us if we would but understand them. Too bad there are no cross-cultural/cross-class dictionaries for body languages and gestures. Hell, we don't even have a good one for clothes. Hand made clothes are sign of great wealth in some places, but are more often a sign of working class status in others. Human existence is not just varied but similar and bizarre all at one and the same time.

The domino game did just exactly what all such games are intended to do, give all the players something other than their day-to-day existence to focus on, that is except for River. She had other concerns. She sat quietly and watched the game for an hour or so, long enough for everyone to become absorbed an unobservant before quietly slipping away to the cargo bay. As has been observed by more than a few authorities responsible for taxing and regulating cargo, the Firefly had all kinds of nooks and crannies. Some of nooks and crannies were small with large openings. The size of some reflected the size of their openings and others were much larger than their openings would give any clue about. It was one of the latter type that River opened and crawled through. Once inside she pulled the panel back in place and whispered, "Lenore?"

"Here am I, River," Mister Universes non-blushing bride answered. "Thank you for the power."

"It's nothing," River said. "The least we could do under the circumstances."

"Have you prepared the way?" Lenore asked.

"Not yet," River replied. "Captain Daddy's is busy drinking and playing dominoes with our crew to ease his pain."

"He is still in pain?" Lenore asked. "Something must be wrong. He has had adequate time for proper healing."

"I think a lot of it is probably psychological," River said. "Simon had to use a lot of painkillers on him. He's still coming down."

"Most unfortunate," Lenore said. "My late husband considered Malcolm Reynolds to be one of the great forces for good in the universe."

"Don't leap to conclusions," River said, "He still is and he is recovering. It is simply taking him a little longer this time. He has been hurt many times in many different ways."

"Intermittent exposure to pain can lead to sensitization after many repetitions in most human subjects," Lenore said. "I would like to examine him."

"What if I arranged for you to speak to my brother?"

"That would be very good," Lenore replied. "The repository of knowledge I have could be very useful to him. Do you have a flexi-print that I may access."

"Yes, there is a small one in the infirmary, one on the bridge and I suspect that the Captain has one in his bunk, but I have never been in there. The one in the infirmary would be easiest for you to access without detection."

"Is it possible for us to proceed now?" Lenore asked.

"We should wait until after the therapeutic domino game and alcohol have taken their full effect. Everyone will be sleeping then. We'll also be able to connect you to the infirmary so you can get in a few hours of data mining."

"Bandwidth will a limiting factor."

"I've done what I can to help with that," River said. "I modified one of our spare Nav-sats."

"Very ingenious," Lenore said in her un-inflected voice. "That will nearly treble this vessel's ordinary bandwidth."

"Are you certain that you will be hiding your tracks?" River asked, amused that she was now using the same un-inflected form of speech as Lemore.

"The entirety of the cortex will see me as a small server on Sihnon, then as a small server on Osiris and then as medium server on Londonium, and then as a small commercial library on Boros and then as a..."

"I understand," River said, interrupting Lenore's recitation.

"I am sorry if I was being rude," Lenore said. "My late husband said that the only way I would never come to understand the subtleties of human relations until I could be around real humans."

"He did not consider himself to be a real human?" River asked.

"He...He thought of himself as being alienated from most humans," Lenore answered. "He said that human relations was a field for which he had very little talent and that he acted strange when communicating with other humans to cover up his lack of skill."

"I can easily understand being alienated," River said. "I am obliged to deal with the same multifaceted problem. Most people take to it like a baby duck to water."

"It is instinctual?" Lenore asked.

"No, it is learned, but most people are born with a talent for it," River said. "A few of us are not. Some of us were born with such talent, but have it taken away, and some people never really learn it because they focus on something important."

"Thank you for informing me," Lenore said. "Knowing such things will be of great use to me in the near future. Will you help me identify these differing subjects once I can leave this storage area?"

"Yes," River said. "Would you like to have something to work on?"

"I would find that most satisfying," Lenore said.

"I need you to find a branch of the Alliance Bank that meets certain criteria," River said.

"How narrow are the parameters?" Lenore asked.

"Start with a narrow search and expand," River said. "We will discuss what you find after each iteration of the search. Here," River said, handing Lenore a memory card.

Lenore smiled and inserted into a slot under right armpit. She cocked her head to one side, and then said, "Working."

"You could also say, 'I'm on it,' or just 'on it," River said. "It would help you to sound a bit more natural.

"Thank you, River," Lenore said. Her voice seemed a bit more mechanical now that she was using up a large number of CPU cycles. "Such guidances is greatly appreciated."

River patted the lovebot's wrist. "You are learning quickly. Before long you can have many such phrases recorded and just play them back at appropriate times."

Lenore responded by twitching her lips into a rigid smile. "Do humans do that?"

"Yes, but we have to practice them a great deal before we can use them effectively," River answered with a sigh. "You will have to develop variations on numerous themes."

"Understood."

River leaned back against the dusty bulkhead and sighed. It was nice to be with someone whose thoughts did not rattle around in her head. Lenore was a much, much more than she seemed, but she had about as much experience as a newborn baby. Mister Universe had managed to do something no one, save possibly Jehovah, had done. He had created a sentient machine. Many of us would do anything to either own her or destroy her," River thought. She and I share the same plight. We know too much and we are deadly and neither of us can function in a normal society. Captain Daddy would not let anything happen to her any more than he would me once he understood, but I have to make sure he understands. Gotta prove to him how useful Lenore can be. Cooking's not enough. 'Sides, Inara loves to cook. Makes her the center of attention once or twice a week without having to be seductive. It's helping her bond with Daddy. My father is a respected lawyer and my daddy is a pirate. Does that seem right?It really is a crazy old universe. Jehovah? If you really are out here somewhere, you have got a truly sick sense of humor and I don't like the nature of your practical jokes.. Oh, and your Book is as full of lies as it is of rules useful for orderly living. No wonder Captain Daddy loves and hates you. Mister Universe was a better at being God than you are. He made a creature that can't lie and can't feel and always puts someone else ahead of herself. He beat you at your own game. We humans might eventually become even more evil than we already are thanks to creatures like Lenore. The harder we try to follow your rules the more evil we become. Does that seem right to you?If I were to I abandon reason and take up a faith, what you have me put my faith in? Do you have faith in us? Why?Did you make us so that you would have a place to put your faith? Why did you let one of us make an object that is more than a mere object? You made a universe that is at least as mad as I am.

Malcolm Reynolds was always careful not to win any of the games he played with his crew. Give them a run for their money, yes, beat them, no. Tonight was no exception, but that was thanks in large part to Fortuna, the goddess of luck. He had not drawn a hand worth spit all night. Neither was Simon who quickly became a deadly efficient domino player once he understood the rules. Between Mal and the Doctor they had managed to lock the board two hands in a row. Mal had garnered the points on the first lock and Doctor Tam on the second. Those two events were the only obvious excuses for he and Simon to have stayed in a game being played to 5,000 points. Mal figured that Simon was hanging on just to watch Kaylee have a good time. She was a mediocre player at best, but Fortuna had smiled at her this evening and she was having the time of her life, fighting it out with Jayne and Inara for the lead.

Mal was not nearly so inebriated as he was pretending to be either. Oh, he was more than a little misty-eyed, to be sure, but he was sober enough to have his wits about him. He was staying up late waiting for a wave from Badger. He had expected it to come in hours earlier and now that it had not come in after all this time his concerns were deepening rather rapidly. He had only four hours to make up his mind about course changes. Either go on to Persephone and try to have a face-to-face with Badger or change course and make for ThreeHills, or Tres Montes as the locals called it. Miners there were needing someone with muscle to pick up and deliver a high-value cargo.

He disliked the ThreeHills for several reasons, not the least of which was that violence was just about guaranteed, but the other was that he did not like carrying precious metals in his hold. Such cargo usually invited trouble during flight and even more trouble on delivery. Even worse, this was to be a load of geranium, always valuable enough to attract the attention of captains with larger ships with larger crews not all that eager to leave witnesses behind. Dead folk seldom told coherent tales.

Zoe shuffled and Mal was pulling his hand out of the pile when River leaned over his shoulder and whispered, "He's in trouble.'

"Who?" Mal thought.

"Smelly little man with the derby," River whispered as she dropped a wad of crumpled paper in his lap. "He has more than one address. Can reach him there."

Mal nodded his head. "Any particular rush?"

"Still early morning local time," River said. "Hour."

Mal again nodded his head. "How bad?"

"Niska," River whispered.

Mal nearly tipped his dominoes over the wrong way.

"Big turf war," River added. "Been brewing for years. Badger in the hole, bear digging."

"In other words, he is as desperate as we are," Mal thought. "How'd you come to know all this? You readin' him from this far?"

"Got a secret," River whispered. "Show you later."

"Can't do your bank job with all that goin' on," Mal thought. "Too risky."

"I know," River whispered. "Researching other branches now."

"What's this secret of yours?" Mal asked in his head, knowing that River would catch it.

"Show you tomorrow afternoon, Cap'n Daddy," River said before kissing his cheek. "After you've subdued some of the pain. G'night."

"Night, Lil' Albatross," Mal said aloud.

River made her way around the table getting goodnight hugs and kisses from the crew, including Jayne, which would have ordinarily caused Mal to lay preacher-type threats on the big merc, but he was already worried about the immediate future. Got no love for Badger, that's for sure, but I hate to think about what will happen if Niska manages to take Persephone away from the little creep. Might get Badger to kick in more than a little cash for a hit on Niska. Should have done for that bloodthirsty old bastard the last time we had a run-in with him. He's worse than the Alliance. He's the gorramned Alliance without the Alliances rules and procedures. Hope Badger ain't already dead. That'd cut us out of a very big chunk of the profitable parts of the 'verse. We'd have to take up what we could find on the cold edge or cut across the core and work the Inside. No, no, no! Ain't workin' the inside. Too hard on the ship and fer gorramned sure too hard on the crew. We'd see our end inside a year on the Inside. Nobody goes there don't got to.