Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the writers, producers, et al of the television show 'Firefly' and its feature film 'Serenity'. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, internet persona, or other being, living or dead, is completely coincidental and unintentional unless otherwise noted.

A/N: Gorram it. I can't seem to get Jayne outta my head. He's driving me absolutely batty. I think he's a mite resentful that I killed him in my last fic; he keeps singing Supertramp's The Logical Song. I think he might be tryin' to tell me something; what do you think?

This is set after Objects in Space, but before the BDM – and since I tend not to consider canon to be anything but the series/film, it can rightly be considered AU. This is also set after Inara and Book have left Serenity. See A/N2 for more details.

Oh, and I'm running under the assumption that platinum is worth more than credits are, but I'm also assuming that platinum isn't readily accepted on Core worlds. Is this a pretty safe assumption? I like to think so.

Dominoes

Chapter One: An Unexpected Proposal

"Jayne, you got a wave comin' in," Wash's voice yanked the mercenary out of a dreamless slumber.

"Wha–?" Jayne startled into a sitting position and blinked up at the intercom speaker. "Huh?"

"Wave. You gonna take it down there?"

"Uh, yeah, just a second," he yawned and checked the time. It was only about half an hour before he usually got up, so he couldn't be too ticked about the interruption. He stretched and padded over to the shiny new cortex screen. After selling the Lassiter, much of the money had been spent on upgrading the ship – everyone now had a cortex connection in their bunks. Jayne tapped the button to accept the transmission.

"Erzi de yi zhi tiaozao chumo de shanyang xixue gou!" the man on the screen greeted Jayne enthusiastically. (1. 'son of a flea-infested goat-sucking dog)

Jayne scowled, "It's too damn early in m'day ta be seein' yer ugly mug, Henley. See ya got m'letter?"

The older man nodded, rubbing a hand through thinning, white hair. "'At I did, Cobb. 'S why I waved. Gotta problem brewin' an' figured ya just might be the one ta take care o'it."

Jayne really needed coffee. "Duibuqi?" He scrubbed a hand across his face. "What the hell ya gettin' at, Hen? You know I'm contracted. Ain't gonna break it, this gig's pretty sweet'n'shiny." (2. excuse me)

Henley rolled his eyes. "Know that, you erbaiwu. Ain't gonna be no conflict, can guarantee that." (3. idiot)

Jayne woke up a little more. "Cashy money?"

His caller laughed. "You know it!"

"How much we talkin' 'bout here? Ya wouldn'ta be wavin' iffen it was chump-change." Jayne couldn't help but be interested.

"Standard seven," Henley replied, "outta what we're chargin'. Still a pretty penny."

"Didn't ask for the ruttin' percentage," Jayne growled. "Need a figure here, Hen, else I'm just gonna hit 'end', you yige kuangre de niu de houdai huan bing de tujiu." (4. offspring of a rabid cow and a diseased vulture)

Henley laughed. "Right back atcha, Jaynie-boy." At the deepening scowl from the mercenary, Henley sobered and said, "Half a mil, plat."

Jayne blinked. "Uh," he managed, then blinked again. "What?" He wriggled a finger in his right ear and shook his head. "Must be goin' as fengle as the gorram girl," he muttered. "You said 'half a million', right? In platinum?" (5. loopy in the head)

Henley beamed at him. "Did at that! One hell of a contract, ain't it?"

Jayne let out a low whistle. "Shiny, ta be sure, but what's the catch?"

"Always thinkin' there's a downside, ain'tcha?" Henley sighed.

"Come on, Hen! Figure like that one? Sure as shittin' I'm gonna be lookin' fer the gorram downside!"

Henley nodded, all traces of mirth and good humor gone more quickly than they'd surfaced. "An' that right there's why you've lived so ruttin' long, Cobb."

"I like ta think so. You gonna share the contract details, or am I gonna hafta hit 'end' after all?"

"Ita," Henley said.

Jayne closed his eyes. "Wo de ma," he breathed. On meeting his mentor's eyes once more, he continued, "That shitstorm's actin' up again? Thought the 'Liance put an end ta it!" (6. mother of god)

Henley nodded. "So did we. But they started up again 'bout six months ago. 'Liance slapped a trade 'bargo on 'em just as soon's the first fed got nailed. Nothin' but people and their personal prop'ty's allowed on or off Ita 'til it cools down again."

Jayne pinched the bridge of his nose briefly and idly noticed that he was rapidly getting a headache. "Much as I'm sure we'd all rather Ita cools down on its own self, ya wouldn'ta been wavin' me if we really thought so. So, Hen – what's the gig?"

"If ya can talk yer cap'n inta it, it's gonna be three months of ferryin' folk 'tween Ita an' Jiangyin an' Persephone. Us 'at's goin' an' refugees comin'," Henley was all business in relaying the details.

"Us ta Ita, folk from Ita ta Jiangyin, then back ta do all over again," Jayne reiterated, just to make sure he had the straight of it.

Henley nodded. "O'course, iffen yer cap'n took on a few bits o'spare cargo on these runs, ain't nobody gonna squawk on it none. Dong ma?" (7. understand)

For the first time since waking up, a small smirk tugged at the corners of Jayne's mouth. "Shi," he said. "I'll see what I can do. Wave ya back when I got an answer." (8. affirmative)

Henley nodded again. "Good. Wo hui zai da gei ni." (9. I'll talk to you later)

"Later," Jayne replied and ended the connection. He stood there, staring at the now-dark screen for several long minutes before shaking himself and starting in on his morning routine. Wuyong gorram fang pi Ita! He ducked into the miniscule shower stall that stood between the end of his bunk and the ladder-niche and rinsed sleep from himself. Know it brings in a whole mess o'cashy money, 'specially for me'an'mine, but… Gorram it! Ain't they learned yet how ta get along? Ev'ry time this gou shi fengbao starts up, 'tain't them what started it as pays the price. He finished in the shower and stepped sideways through the narrow door – something that had only taken him six bruised shoulders to get used to doing. (10. useless, bullshit, shitstorm)

Last time, we lost how many? Near on a hunnert good folks, fourteen of 'em was ones I knew. He dried off and slipped into some clean clothes. Ones as was my responsibility. Peering into the mirror above his pull-out sink, he sighed. "Wuyong gorram fang pi Ita," he grumbled, then brushed his teeth. This should be easier 'an the last time was. Ain't gonna be on the ground none. Iffen Hen tries ta make me, I'll… Well, I dunno what I'll do, but I'm gonna make sure that lao bu side sure as fuck ain't gonna be likin' it any! (11. old man)

Jayne returned his toothbrush to its place and picked up his razor. Not gonna be doin' nothin' on the ground. Don't care how much Hen begs. Already done my bid on Ita, an' I ain't gonna go back. Ta ma de wo ceshen yi cha shao, but I ain't doin' it! Finished with removing stubble, he switched over to trimming his goatee. Just a transport job. Easy money. Don't even think Mal could fuck this up. (12. fuck me sideways with a spork)

Morning ablutions completed, Jayne pulled on his boots and belt. With Boo strapped on his right hip, and Binky on his left, he climbed out of his bunk and headed to the galley. Since it was still relatively early, Wash was the only one already there. "Morning," he said when Jayne clumped into the room.

"Yeah," Jayne replied and headed straight for the coffee pot. Once he had a half a cup of the mud-textured caffeine floating in his bloodstream, he glanced over Wash's shoulder to see what the man was making for breakfast. "Oatmeal?" he grimaced.

"Yep," Wash replied with a bright grin. "And it's not just oatmeal-flavored protein, either – this is the real deal." He turned off the stove and grabbed a bowl from the counter next to it.

"That ain't food, ya know," Jayne drained his mug and quickly refilled it.

"Sure it is," Wash argued. "It's sensible and hot and delicious." The pilot added some reconstituted dried blueberries to his bowl, along with a dollop of sweetened, tinned milk.

"No, it ain't," Jayne replied. "It's chewy glop what's tasteless an'…" He shook his head. It's been too shitty of a mornin' ta be arguin' 'bout the grub. "Mal up yet?" he asked instead of continuing the argument.

Wash shrugged as he sat at the table. "Don't know, but I think I heard him rummagin' around down in the cargo bay," he punctuated his comment by shoveling a mound of faintly-blue glop into his mouth with an exaggerated hmm of content.

Jayne repressed the urge to gag and headed for the cargo hold. Mal was indeed up, and poking through one of the half-dozen or so crates of whatnot carried over from previous jobs. "Lookin' fer sommat specific-like?" Jayne asked. He couldn't help but feel somewhat proprietary over the hold – it was his job, after all, to make sure all the cargo was loaded properly. Last thing I need's Mal screwin' up a perfectly good system an' gettin' the pilot all ticked at me for bein' off-balance the next time we hit atmo.

Mal looked up as Jayne worked his way down the stairs. "Thought we had a box of blankets 'round here somewhere?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah, they're over in the stack behind m'weights."

Mal continued talking while Jayne headed over to the stack in question and shifted the boxes there around to get to the one in question. "Climate-control for my bunk shorted out – colder than a well-digger's belt-buckle in there now – and Kaylee said she needs to replace…" he tried to recall the name of the part but came up blank. "Well, we need to put down near a decent yard in order for her to fix it."

Jayne kicked the crate of blankets over to Mal. "There ya go," he said. "How long 'til we hit Hardley?" Hardley was one of Persephone's moons.

"'Bout sixteen hours," Mal replied, opening the crate. He grabbed two of the brown blankets off the top and closed it again.

"Finish up there, we can jaunt over ta Persephone, let Kaylee-girl fix what needs fixin'." Jayne picked up the crate and moved it back to its place.

"Sounds like a plan," Mal agreed, but only because he'd been thinking the exact same thing.

"We got more work lined up yet?" Jayne asked, not looking at Mal.

The captain shook his head. "Not just yet. Pro'ly call on Badger once we hit Persephone. He usually has something worthwhile."

Jayne let out a snort. "Sure, he's got payin' gigs, but don't they usually wind up with ya gettin' shot?" He moved the last crate back into position and turned around to face Mal.

"Not always," Mal hedged. "An' it ain't like it's Badger's fault. He may be a stinkin' little weasel, but he, personally, ain't tried ta kill me yet."

"It's that 'yet' what's got me worried," Jayne teased. He dropped the faint smirk and sighed. "Got wind o'somethin' ya might be interested in."

Suddenly wary, Mal tucked the blankets he'd grabbed under his arm. "An' just what might that be?"

"Steady pay for the next three months, at least," Jayne replied. "Mostly folks, but could work some cargo in around 'em, too."

Mal grimaced. "Passengers don't pay near enough, Jayne, an' they're always more trouble than they're worth."

Jayne shook his head. "Not 'xactly passengers, Mal – consider 'em livin' cargo, like the cattle was. Friend o'mine's offerin' a heafty sum ta work for 'im fer a spell."

The mercenary could immediately see that Mal had jumped straight to the wrongest conclusion he possibly could. The captain got a hard look in his eye and straightened up, bringing to Jayne's mind the memory of a bantam rooster they'd had back home when he was a kid. "Ain't no gorram sanci zuzhou slaver!" (13. thrice damned)

Before Mal could get any more worked up – and likely take a swing at Jayne – the mercenary glared at him. "Ain't like that, Mal. Thought ya knew m'own stance on those ruttin' hundans." (14. bastard)

Seeing that Jayne was about as deadly-serious as Mal had ever seen him, Mal backed down a little. "'Scuse me, but you tend ta get a li'l blind where money's concerned." Jayne's glare upped in power some and Mal figured he was about three wrong words from getting himself decked, captain of the boat or no. "Hows about ya explain it to me, then?"

"Ever hear 'bout Ita?"

"One of Jiangyin's moons. Got a powerful lot of factories, don't they?"

Jayne shook his head, "Right on the 'moon o'Jiangyin' part, but the one yer thinkin' of is Darwin. Ita's the one wi' all the forests. Paper an' lumber're what they do." Mal made a 'go on' motion. "There's two main companies what own most of it – Blue Sun, no shocker there, an' Kepler, Inc. Ev'ry coupla years, one or the other tries ta take over completely, tries ta buy out, scare off, or kill off the other."

"So, what's this got ta do with us?"

"I'm gettin' ta that bit!" Jayne picked up his half-empty mug from where he'd sat it on his weight bench when he went to move the boxes. He sat down and finished off the now-cold dregs it contained. "The companies behind it hire mercenaries to do the dirty work." Mal nodded, knowing that there was no way in hell the Alliance would take kindly to a corporate entity using feds. "Mostly dumbass freelancers," Jayne snorted and Mal's eyes narrowed. This mean what I think it does? Jayne didn't notice the shifting of Mal's expression and continued, "Mainly 'cause Blue Sun an' Kepler didn't wanna shell out the extra ta get quality folk. But someone caved fer this latest go-round."

"So it'd be shuttlin' mercenaries, then?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah."

Mal shifted, tried to cross his arms over his chest, but was halted by the presence of the blankets. "Don't like the idea of a buncha mercs on my boat, Jayne."

Jayne sighed. Don't much like the idea m'own self, but m'reasons an' yers are pro'ly worlds apart. Out loud he said, "Ain't like that, Mal. Ain't gonna be no dumbass freelancers. Guild mercs got rules, an' we follow 'em." He didn't notice the slip of his tongue, but Mal did. "Seen what happens when they don't an' won't be no trouble."

"Still don't much like it," Mal insisted. He'd only heard vague rumors about Guild mercenaries; mostly that they were the best that money could buy.

"Pays half a mil, plat, for three month's shuttlin'," Jayne said. "Possibly more, iffen it drags on longer."

"Still don't – wait." The number finally sank into Mal's mind. "What?"

"Half a million, platinum," Jayne repeated. "Takin' Guild mercenaries ta Ita from the Hall on Persephone, any refugees from Ita over ta Jiangyin, then back ta Persephone for another load."

"Half a mil…" Mal felt a little faint at the number.

"An' the extra water an' food, 's well as the fuel, is all footed by the Guild." Standard procedure when hiring a ship in this manner.

Mal forcefully ejected the sudden daydream of giving Serenity a bones-out rebuild. "Sounds all manner of shiny, but how do I know they'll behave?"

"Any of 'em don't," Jayne's expression took on a strangely protective glint, "an' I'll space 'em m'self. They know the rules, an' what comes of not followin' 'em."

Mal considered for all of three seconds. "We'll give it a try, then. Any problems, though, and I ain't gonna keep on." He left Jayne and headed upstairs.

Guess I ain't the only one what can be 'blinded by money'. Jayne smirked to himself and tried to finish off his coffee, only to discover the mug was empty. "Gorram it." He scowled at the cup.

A/N2: Am I the only one who wonders where the showers are on Serenity? Since nothing I've researched indicates there even are any, I've decided to give each bunk their own, with a slightly larger room for the whole of the passenger dorms to share. If anyone has a better idea, let me know, please!

I don't really know, at this time, just where I'm headed with this – unlike Brompton Cocktail, I do NOT have an ending already in mind, so updates will run slower than BC's did. I only have a few vague notions at this time (mostly small details that I eventually want to work into the story). That said, I'd love to hear suggestions, if anybody has a mind to do so – may not use 'em, but I'd still love to hear about them.

And anyone who has read a lot of what I write knows I'm a big fan of Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series. Yes, how I've envisioned the Mercenary Guild is heavily inspired by how hers was set up in By the Sword, so no, you're not imagining anything.

Translations are as follows (and if anyone else out there has better ways to say what I meant, please lemme know – also if you'd rather I not include the translations, please say as much. Thankee kindly!)

1.) Erzi de yi zhi tiaozao chumo de shanyang xixue gou – 'son of a flea-infested goat-sucking dog', translation by Google.

2.) Duibuqi – 'excuse me', translation by Google.

3.) Erbaiwu – 'idiot', translation from Wikipedia.

4.) Yige kuangre de niu de houdai huan bing de tujiu – 'offspring of a rabid cow and a diseased vulture', translation by Google.

5.) Fengle – 'loopy in the head', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

6.) Wo de ma – 'mother of god', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

7.) Dong ma – 'understand', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

8.) Shi – 'affirmative', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

9.) Wo hui zai da gei ni – 'I'll talk to you later', translation by Google.

10.) Wuyong, Fang pi, Gou shi fengbao – 'useless', 'bullshit', 'shitstorm', translations by Wikipedia and Google.

11.) Lao bu side – 'old man' (derogatory), translation by Wikipedia.

12.) Ta ma de wo ceshen yi cha shao – 'fuck me sideways with a spork', translation by Google.

13.) Sanci zuzhou – 'thrice damned', translation by Google.

14.) Hundan – 'bastard', translation by Browncoats-dot-com.

Edit 10/20/16: Went back and added in-text translations.