So, first off: I'm SO sorry for not updating sooner. To be honest, I've had a rough year. Dear God it's been a year.(Okay, eight months) Well, I actually wrote the beginning of this a while ago, but never really finished it till today. This isn't my best work. In fact, having read past chapters, I've found myself to be a sloppy writer. Hopefully anyone who has been reading this will enjoy. I always delight in constructive comments.

Side Scarlett~

Chapter 10: Minot Part III (The Trouble With Skip)

"Hold yer head, there fella." The shuttle gently landed at its docking station safely on Appaloosa. The conductor grabbed Skip's hand getting ready to help him out of the ship. Skip quickly jerked his hand out of the man grasp.

" Look here, I may be blind," Skip replied , pulling his hand back aggressively, "but I'm not completely helpless." Skip pulled out a cane, and firmly hit the ground with it. Putting his hand smoothly to a small device fixed to his temple, he tapped a small button that was flush with the device. A small red glow grew in Skip's glasses. "Got this after my part in the war," said Skip with a self righteous smirk. He gathered his belongings, and began to tap his cane in front of him. The device on the side of his head pulsed slightly, guiding Skip, without assistance, out the shuttle.

Appaloosa was hot, and dry, as always. Many people say on their dusty porches, under shade, trying to escape the scorching sun, as the day, like any day on an outer-rim planet, seemed to slowly inch along. Yet, despite it's lack of industry and the blistering heat, the prosperous trading planet smelled of culture and fresh produce. And, unlike Manitoba, Appaloosa had an invigorated infrastructure with roads, and even a system of trolleys running through town. "My god," said Skip, "ain't you a sight for sore eyes." Briskly exiting the train station, Skip headed for the main road of Appaloosa City. Rounding the corner of the Micah Bank of Appaloosa, Skip briskly walked to the nearest trolley and hopped on. The wind pushed against Skip's thin face, as he faced towards the front of the moving trolley. There wasn't much on his mind, save for what he was going to be having for dinner later that night. And that was the trouble with Skip: there never was much on his mind (not even the very important details.)

Skip stepped off the trolley onto the street in front of his store, appropriately titled Peters' Mining Hardware & Supply , its writing had become faded from the hot sun of Appaloosa, and had chipped in a few places along the edges. Skip put his hands on his hips and leaned back slightly to survey his shop. He took his cane once more and firmly hit the ground with the end of it. Nearly instantaneously, the images of the store began flood back through the device in his eyes. The robustly built building, painted a soft maroon color(though he couldn't really see color), was handsome, and looked well maintained from a distance, but was starting to show signs of age in certain areas. Skip smiled, and puffed up his chest a little, saying, "mei guan! " He put his cane back down on the ground and headed into the building.

Snaking his way past a few isles of his products, the blind man guided himself into his office and sat down at his desk. A small machine that glowed faintly, lay on the corner of the desk. It suddenly vibrated softly. "Messages," Skip muttered. He taped the device, and a small hologram of a well dressed, but modest looking man appeared.

"Hey Skip, Emir here, from Micah Bank." Skip, listening to the recording, began to take off his coat. "Listen, um... about those reports you sent to me about those stolen drills. Seems that those scans you made of their serial numbers you made a while back were a little fuzzy. Could you write them in?" Skip pulled a bottle of liquor out and a glass. "You know, better than I do, about those damn forgery laws." The man in the recording chuckled, as skip downed a swig of the rice wine. "Yeah, well, you're no liar. Anyway, I need them to make sure that those insurance claims you collected are gonna hold. Alright, take care Sk--" Skip tapped the machine again, skipping to the next message.

"Hey honeybun, it's Jean." Skip turned his head toward the recording, as he poured himself another glass of the cheap wine. "Listen, your son's all set on goin' out with that girl from the ranch. I just thought I'd letcha know dear. Hopin' that you had luck with your trip to Minot. Love ya dear. Bye Bye." The machine turned itself off. Skips office was now darker, as the day had been passing on. Putting an elbow down on his desk, and hunching forward, Skip propped himself on his downed arm, and raised his liquor glass to his head, letting out a large, pained sigh. The cool bottle against his brow was soothing, but did little to keep the churning inside his head from growing worse. As the last bit of sunlight crept out of the office, Skip took a deep swig from the bottle. He wasn't in the mood to start thinking about his problems.

-~*~-

"So..." Simon began slowly, "we are really going to kidnap his wife?" Mal shrugged, and sat further back in his chair. "Mal, I know this crew has done some questionable things to get money, but, I mean, seriously? There's the potential for us to get caught by alliance!" Simon put his hands up in frustration. "Dammit, captain, just say something!" Mal looked up at Simon from his seat, expressionless.

"zhu zui , " said Mal tersely, not looking up from where he was staring. Picking up his gun from where he had earlier set it, Mal impulsively fiddled with it. Simon, caught off guard by the captain's earlier comment, recovered, and spoke his mind yet again.

"Captain, this isn't right, taking this assignment." Simon, pulled up a chair to the table and sat down to speak with Mal at eye level. "What if something goes wrong? What if his wife gets hurt during the extraction?" Mal continued to fiddle with his gun, now spinning it on the table. "What if--

"Simon," Mal said, in a now exasperated tone, "what are you really worried about." He was now glaring at the doctor. "This is by far one of the easiest jobs we've done, or fer that matter, we're ever gonna do." Mal stood up, holstered his firearm, and began walking away from the table.

"Mal, what if we don't get properly compensated by this man?" He stood up, blocking Mal's way to the door. "Both you and Zoe have questioned his integrity!"

"Look," said Mal, putting his hand on the Doctor's shoulder, "knowing Skip, even if we botch this," gently pushing Simon aside to continue his walk, "I figure there'll be a way to get paid." Mal walked out the door toward the barracks. Simon quickly turned toward Zoe, who sat smirking in the corner.

"Is there something more about this man that I haven't been told?" He raised his hands in confusion.

"Well," Zoe said, tapping the table, "lots. But knowing about him won't do much ta help our cause."

"Cause?" said Simon, with a hint of anger in his voice, He stood completely upright, looked away, and sarcastically chuckled before turning back to Zoe. "For money?! From a man who doesn't have it? On a planet that, despite being in the middle of the outer rim, has very powerful connections to the Alliance." Simon briskly approached the table, pulled up and chair and sat down to meet Zoe at eye level. "After Miranda I thought we would take engagements of a less," pausing to search for the right word to say, "conspicuous... nature." Zoe seemed unfazed by his outcry.

"You know Doc, you've known us now for a while," said Zoe calmly, " and how many times have you seen the captain's judgement bring us bad luck?" Simon tersely answered.

"Many, many times." Zoe visibly tightened her lips before replying.

"Eh... well, you're gonna have to trust Mal on this one." Simon tapped the table in an impatient fashion.

"What makes you think that we will be able to make more money, without drawing any attention from the authorities?" Zoe smirked widely.

"We know Skip." she said, unholstering her gun, and laying on the table. "he always used con Mal n' me outta everything." She aimed the pistol at the space across the table. "It's only fair we beat him at his own game." She pretended to shoot her firearm. "Boom boom."

-~*~-

"Hey Lou." Kaylee slid open the door to the room Lewis was being held in.

"I'm sorry," said Meyer, standing up from the desk he had been leaning on, "have we met?"

"Hm," said the mechanic, rolling her eyes upward in thought, "no, not really. "Better now then ne'er, right?" Meyer gave the Mechanic a confused look.

"I suppose...?" Kaylee thrust her hand out.

"Name's Kaylee. I'm the mechanic on this here bird," she said smiling and vigorously shaking Meyer's hand.

"Lewis Meyer," the former Alliance member replied, "your prisoner." Kaylee laughed at his comment while pulling up a chair sitting near the desk to sit down in. She lifted her legs and heavily propped them up on the desk. Her shoes, covered with years of oils, smelled faintly of candy and old food.

"You're hardly a prisner round here." Kaylee pointed to his hands. "Mal even took them fetters off of ya."

"Jayne did actually," said Meyer rubbing his wrists absentmindedly. "He figured that I should be allowed to use the restroom at my own free will." He sat back down on the table. "So," he said, "you're the genius that manages to keep this hunk of junk afloat." Kaylee, mildly offended, flicked her foot nearest to Meyer so as to wipe a trace amount of grunge onto his shirt.

"This," she said, looking around the room, "is a labor o' love, Lou. It ta--"

"Lou?" Meyer interrupted.

"Well, I can't be callin' you Lewis or Meyer every two seconds," said Kaylee in reply. "Tain't fittin." Meyer, now Lou, shrugged.

"Fair enough."

"Shiny." Meyer looked down, putting his hands into his lap. "Kaylee, right?" he said, now looking at the mechanic. "Is there any particular reason for you gracing me with your presence? It seems that your captain has been systematically sending different member of his crew down here to have heart to heart talks with me."

"I came here on mah own vuhlition," she replied, quickly scratching away an itch on her neck, "although I suspec' Mal's doing that cuz he fancies you somehow."

"We have some similar life stories."

"Ah," said Kaylee, "That'd do it." She nervously began to fiddle with her hair. "Why'd ya work for them Alliance?" Kaylee didn't look Lou in the eye. "You grew up same us most of our crew. An' I head your story back there, from Mal--"

"He told everyone?"

"Yes... we were awful curious," replied Kaylee, almost ashamedly. "How could you support somethin' like them?"

"To tell you the truth Kaylee, they're not as bad as you think." Kaylee gave a shocked expression.

"They're far from anythin' nice an' cuddly in my opinion."

"Well, be fair. You've been on the wrong side of the law for several years now." Kaylee relented.

"Suppose I may bear a semblance of a grudge toward 'em."

"Look," Lou began, "what they've done: A lot of it's been bad. Really awful. But look what they've brought to the planets: Order, stability. Even an uneasy peace. These men, coming after you. Most of them are not brainless drones of some imperialistic army. They're people, like you and me."

"People don' murder most of a world, an' turn the rest into Reavers."

"An experiment gone wrong."

"Maybe the capt'n was wrong 'bout you," said Kaylee, with an edginess in her tone.

"The Alliance has bad people in it." Lou quickly interjected, " and perhaps a malevolent body running it. But the bureaucracy it has keeps the planets, for the most part, safe to live in. Maybe those years in their schools have rubbed off on me, but I can't, in good conscious, simply blame the government as a whole for the misgivings of individuals within that world."

"You know, Lou," said Kaylee, now calmer. "You're prolly right bout them things you said. But that don't make what they took part of any better." She stood up, pushed her chair back towards Lou. "I'd rather be a crook, livin' under my own rules, than a law abidin' goody goody (chinese equiv?), forced to act like a trained mutt for some damn government." Kaylee, having said these words, left the room briskly, leaving Meyer sitting on the desk, rubbing his head.

-~*~-

"Captain, is there any reason why we are in Appaloosa's orbit, as opposed to being on the surface?" River was sitting up right in her chair, facing Mal who had been slumping in his chair, playing with some of Wash's old plastic dinosaurs.

"Do ya even really have to ask?" said Mal, pretending to make the stegosaurus fly through the air. "Can't ya just do that, " he pointed with the other dinosaur toy to his head, and twirled it in a vertical circle, "min' reader thing?"

"I'd rather hear in person." Mal looked up from his boredom induced play.

"We're just waitin' fer the right time ta pick up Skip's wife for the ransom." Mal looked out the front window towards Appaloosa. "We've got a good day n' a half before we go stormin' inta town."

"Is that why you're playing with those dinosaurs." Mal looked down the plastic dinosaurs in his hands.

"I guess..." Mal put the toys back onto the top of the control panels, and sat up a little straighter in his chair.

"You have a lot on your mind." River was now sitting in the co-pilot seat, with her legs curled up so that her knees were in her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, and her chin resting on her knees. Mal nodded in agreement.

"Skip's been one gorram lucky sunnuvabitch for as long as I've known him. But he's in trouble. Big trouble. I know what he's gonna do. I know he's gonna skimp on something. When the deal gits done, he's gonna try to pocket most of the money to pay off loans." Mal sighed. "Gorram idiot knew better than ta trust any bank men round these parts." Mal pushed his hand through his hair, in slight frustration. That's the trouble with Skip. Fool's always depended on his luck to get 'm through problems. He's probably been gambling like he used to."

"That's not all that's on your mind, captain," said River, interjecting.

"Yeah..."said Mal slowly. "Still got Lou down there in that room. What in hell am I gonna do that lil'--"

"Captain, I don't really need to guess what you're thinking," said River, smirking.

"Please," said Mal, "please, albatross, stay outta my head while I'm right next ta you." River frowned.

"Well, Malcom, it is only natural that you would be thinking of," she paused, "certain... loved ones right before a job."

"Yeah, well, it ain't best to pick atta man who's got a lot on his mind," said Mal, rolling his fingers in a circle on his temples. River sat silent.

"Dua Bui Chi," she replied quietly.

There she was. A labor of about 12 months of lazy unfruitful procrastination and neglect. I'll admit, I'm not proud, but it gets the story across. I've been thinking a lot recently about Skips problems. Let me put them into an easier perspective to understand: Skip, a pathological risk taker, is not content with family life, and has poor luck in shady business practices. While he does love his wife, he is not willing to risk his own safety, or money, to help her, and their child, Scotty (I ripped that right from the movie Fargo) But in true Serenity fashion, Mal and Zoe, his two former friends, who hold a grudge against him, are planning to swindle him of his planned self reward. Yeah, lame. Maybe. I'm horrible at setting stuff up like this. I really need to stop just having these little braindumps of thoughts while I'm writing the story. It makes sense to me, but probably, and most importantly. not to you, the reader. The title was originally going to be called "Skip's Luck," as I had a few pages of flash backs about Skip Peterson's former daredevil ways, but decided against it. I've realized that I've had Lou (Louis Meyer, my OC) in the backround for far too long. It's time he start to work his way up into part of the crew status. Comments would be greatly loved.

Translation Notes:
mei guan -Artisticly beautiful
zhu zui - Shut up
Dua Bui Chi - Sorry

Next Chapter: ..to Make Things Worse.

Hopefully you haven't become disgusted with my writing. Happy readin' ya'll.
Sidescarlet~