Greetings on this very fine Wednesday (or whatever day of the week you might be reading this.) This chapter sparks what I consider to be the real story, so I'll cut to the chase and let you get to reading it!
CHAPTER THREE
INTRUSION
Bucket in hand, Mal trudged up the sloping green hillside toward the Councilor's mansion, grumbling under his breath.
His second day on the job, and already he wanted to throttle the head groundskeeper. The man was his supervisor, so it would be ill-advised, but Mal could fantasize.
He had a few choice words for the stable hand before him, too. What kind of rén zhā would leave a large, shallow hole, almost a meter wide, right out in the pasture?
Mal had found it that morning, after rising at dawn to walk the fields and get the lay of the land. It was good to get out in the grass and dirt, early enough that sleep still sat heavy on his shoulders. A familiar task, on this planet where everything was different.
Different didn't even cover it. Landing in Lu'Weng, the capital city, Mal felt as if he'd stepped into a fever dream. From the red-tinged sky all the way down, colors shone brighter, more vivid. Artificial lights blinded him at every turn. People dressed strangely; crowds of Buddhists in bright saffron robes, businessmen in asymmetrical suits. Mal saw what he could've sworn was a dress made of lettuce, for sale. The model had blinked at him, straight-faced, from inside her glass cage.
Anders had laughed at Mal's slack-jawed awe. It was his first time off Shadow himself, but he never missed an opportunity to laugh at Mal. Good thing he'd only have to put up with the hùndàn at his debriefings, which would be infrequent, for caution's sake.
Sihnon's countryside was even stranger than its metropolis. Jagged mountains sliced through the land, with buildings perched at dizzying altitudes. Man-made plains served to cradle sprawling estates, patches of green carved into the rock. Though 'patch' was perhaps too slight a word to be applied to Zhi's property, which neared the size of Mal's hometown. The day before, when the groundskeeper had given Mal a tour, they'd had to ride in a flying mule in order to cover it all.
The groundskeeper, Talmai Davis, stood with a forward lilt, like a poorly-erected fence post, tall and round-shouldered. He'd only been there a month or two himself, but his dead eyes gave the impression he'd seen everything. He betrayed no emotion, not even when Mal had called the man down to inform him of the hole in the field.
With as much urgency as he could convey, short of yelling, Mal had explained it needed to be filled. As soon as possible. As in, yesterday. Davis proceeded to tell Mal off for waking him up, and said that he'd get someone out there to fill it by the end of the week.
Mal could hardly believe it. He was still fuming, hours later, after he'd finished the rest of his chores in the stables, and set out to solve the problem himself. He composed a rant in his head as he walked, what he wished he'd said to his supervisor. Maybe them fancified horses are a dime a dozen here on Sihnon, but I'll be damned if any horse breaks its leg in a hole on my watch.
Not to mention the fact that if it did happen, he would likely be fired, and his mission would be over before it had even begun.
Mal found the garden he was looking for, one of about seven Davis had pointed out on the tour. It stretched along the left side of the mansion, complete with fountains, benches and a few baffling sculptures.
The epithet of 'garden' was being awfully generous, Mal thought. He couldn't see a single edible plant, nor many plants at all. Most of it was covered in rocks. Like gravel, but smooth and pretty, arranged in a design to suggest ripples on water. Mal picked up a handful and frowned. Three buckets would be enough to fill the hole, if he covered the top with straw. Not ideal, but it was the best he could do.
He dropped into a crouch at the edge of the garden, where the rocks met the lawn, and started scooping them up by the fistful. They smacked the bottom of the bucket with a clatter.
A hiss sliced through the noise. Mal lifted his head. At that same moment, a wave of water hit the back of his neck, and didn't stop coming, soaking his collar in the second it took for him to drop the bucket and turn around.
A sprinkler head had reared up out of the lawn, going about its task with a high, arcing spray that shot out on all sides.
"What the gǒu cāo de xī niú guī sūnzi-" Mal sputtered, lifting his hands to block his face. He stumbled back, out of reach of the sprinkler, and his foot landed in the bucket. He kept moving out of sheer backward momentum, until he lost his balance altogether.
The rocks did not make for a soft landing.
Mal growled through clenched teeth, "Son of a-"
"Stop right where you are."
Mal scrabbled in the rocks as he turned around, dragging the bucket along with him, its handle looped around his ankle. He blinked, shading his eyes, to see who had spoken.
A young woman stood a safe distance away from him. Mal couldn't see her face too well in the glare of the sun. A mane of thick, black curls circled her head, laced with golden light. A glow traced her slender arms, and finely-tailored tunic. She wielded a stick with both hands, like a sword.
Mal might have laughed, but he knew he looked at least twice as ridiculous himself.
"You should know we do not tolerate trespassers. I've called the groundskeeper." She tossed her head, to indicate the service panel on a low stone wall at the opposite end of the garden. "He'll be here any moment."
"You called the-" Mal scrambled to his feet. He kicked the bucket off his foot, and set his jaw, staring down the Core-worlder. He jabbed a finger toward the service panel. "Didja happen to turn on the sprinklers, too?"
She scoffed, mouth falling open. "I don't have to answer to you."
"Oh, no, Miss." Mal half-rolled his eyes. "'Course not. Naturally, you assume I'm here to steal your precious rocks. You couldn't have just asked me what I was doin'."
The girl blinked, mouth still open, staring at Mal. At last, she shut her mouth, and dropped the stick. She crossed her arms.
"Alright, then." Her eyebrows arched. "What were you doing?"
"Well, Miss, I'm Councilor Zhi's new stable hand. It's my job to care for those horses of his. But this mornin', I found a hole out in the middle of their pasture. Know what can happen if a horse sticks her pretty leg down a hole?"
The girl stared at him, mouth pursed.
"She'll break it," Mal said grimly. "And a horse with a broken leg is a dead horse." He threw out a hand, toward the bucket. "So I came up here to get a couple buckets of rocks, so I can fill up that hole. The horses keep their legs, and I keep my job."
Silence reigned for a long moment. Mal sensed it would be proper, for someone of his station, to avert his gaze. But he kept his eyes even with the girl's. Standing upright, and not so blinded by the sun, Mal could see her face. Her brows were dark, furrowed over darker eyes, which glinted with a heat he felt on his skin.
"I'm assuming this is your first job," she said at last. Her Core diction was so sharp, Mal wondered if she ever cut her tongue on it. "Or your first job on Sihnon, at least."
Mal tilted his head, with a smile of barely-contained contempt.
She matched it ounce for ounce. "I suggest you learn a bit more about the landscape here, before you cart off buckets of stones from your employer's Zen garden. That is, if you'd like to keep your job."
Mal opened his mouth, to thank her for the advice, but he was interrupted by Talmai Davis, stomping toward them. The man's face had cracked at last, into a scowl. Mal decided he liked the blank expression better.
"What the hell-" He got close enough to see the girl, and almost fell over. "Hel-Hello, Miss- uh, forgive me, Miss…"
"Miss Serra. I'm the one who called you, groundskeeper." The girl shot Mal a glance, before she added, "But it was a mistake."
"What happened?" Davis looked down at the rocks in disarray, the discarded bucket, and lifted his eyes to glare at Mal. "What have you done?"
"He did nothing wrong," the girl cut in, before Mal could defend himself. He shot her a look. If she noticed, she didn't show it. She continued to address Davis in a smooth, entitled voice that made the hairs on Mal's neck bristle.
"I wanted to rearrange the stones in the garden, and I asked him to help me. The fountains were in our way, as you can see," she gestured to Mal's dripping shirt, "so I tried to turn them off, and called you by mistake."
She shook her head in self-deprecation, and flashed Davis a dazzling smile. Mal hated when people said that of smiles, but in this case it applied. He wasn't even the recipient, and he was almost dazzled by it himself.
"Sorry to hear you were having trouble. Anything I can do to help, so Wesley can get back to the stables?" Davis pointed the last bit at Mal.
"No, thank you," said the girl. "I must be going, actually."
"Yes, Miss Serra." The groundskeeper gave her a clumsy bow. "Again, I apologize…"
"No need." Another smile, serene and gracious, and this one she lifted to Mal, as if granting him some kind of honor. "Thank you for all your help, Wesley."
He nodded gruffly. If Miss Serra expected him to fall all over himself with gratitude that she lied to his supervisor on his behalf, she could forget it. He watched her walk away, toward the front drive, where a sleek chromium land speeder waited for her. Mal wondered where she was going.
Davis grunted. Mal snapped his eyes back to him.
"Listen up." The man snatched the bucket from the ground, and shoved it into Mal's arms. "I don't know how you ended all the way up here, but let me make this clear: you are the stable hand. You work in the stables. You don't leave the stables unless I ask you to. Got that?"
"Got it." Mal nodded. "But say, sir… This garden has given me an idea." He lifted the bucket. "What if I used stones to fill that hole out in the field? I could do it myself, that way you won't have to worry about it."
Davis stared at him, settling back into his dead mask. "Fine. But not these. You can get some out of the gardener's supply, if you ask him." He pointed to a large, well-furnished shed some ways beyond the mansion. "He should be there."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be on my way, then." Mal grinned. "Have a nice day!"
He left Davis with his hands on his hips, staring after Mal, shaking his head.
Mal's smile lasted all of two seconds, before slipping into a grimace.
That girl, Miss Serra, had brought him within an inch of disaster. With her stupid stick, prepared to defend herself against him. She'd almost gotten Mal fired, then plucked him back from the edge, with the power of her fine clothes and elocution. Mal's neck grew hot when he thought about it.
Who is she, anyway? He shook his head. It didn't matter. Mal knew a zǒugǒu when he saw one. Alliance-bred and fed, without a doubt. Just because she'd extended herself to protect him, for whatever reason, didn't mean he owed her a single moment of consideration.
The gardener's shed loomed ahead, and Mal gripped the bucket handle, reminded of his purpose. Fill the hole, keep the job, stick to your mission. He shoved the girl, smile and all, out of his mind.
translations:
rén zhā - useless person, human garbage
hùndàn - prick, a**hole
gǒu cāo de xī niú guī sūnzi - dog-f*cking, cow-sucking, bastard son of a turtle
zǒugǒu - lapdog (as in, someone who flatters/lives to please those in power)
In case you couldn't tell, I'm a big fan of awkward meet-cutes, so... that's what our two sweethearts got. I would be thrilled to hear any impressions of Mal and Inara's first encounter, or of the story in general. Even if you only have time for one or two words, it would mean the world to me! Constructive criticism is especially welcome.
I hope to see you in the next chapter. Until then, stay awesome!
