What Begins with an Apple, Part 6b
A/N: Again, more thanks to my friend Julie, Official Fowl Consultant and Chicken Wrangler Extraordinaire, for her contributions to the chicken-y portions of this fanfic. Also, thanks to the readers and reviewers at Fireflyfans dot net for their hilarious speculations about the chickens…a number of them found their way into this chapter.
Just us chickens.
"So, the Captain's wife stowed away in one of them chicken crates. Didn't much like bein' cooped up, did she?" Jayne remarked as he entered the passenger lounge, glancing into the infirmary, where Simon was tending to Saffron. Most of the rest of the crew were already gathered outside the infirmary. Zoe, with her knee in a brace, lay on the sofa.
"She is not my wife," Mal countered, defensively.
"Bet that put her in a 'fowl' mood," Jayne chuckled, ignoring his protest, as the others groaned.
"Captain married her on Triumph, near two year ago," Zoe filled in, not-so-quietly, for Ip's benefit.
Mal's reaction was immediate. "Zoe, cut that out. That marriage was invalid from the word go."
Ip stretched his eyes. "You really did marry her?"
"I was tricked!" Mal exclaimed, almost a whine. "That evil snake has married half the men in the galaxy, just to take advantage of them. Ain't none of those marriages real."
"Was real enough when you let her cook for you and be your nubile little slave girl," Zoe returned, not missing a beat. "Was real enough when she took to your bed."
"I will not put up with this," Mal said, trying to glare at Zoe at the same time as he shot a guilty look at Inara, who would not make eye contact. Neither the glare nor the look was very effective. "You're misleadin' Ip." He glared at Zoe again. "You're not playin' fair."
"Cap'n had a little make-out session with—" Kaylee began.
"I was poisoned!" Mal exclaimed. "Y'all are makin' Ip think I was some kind of evil lecherous hump."
The idea had of course not occurred to Ip before the Captain suggested it, but now he was intrigued, and wanted to know the full story. "Why would I think you were an evil, lecherous—?"
"Captain?" Simon leaned out of the infirmary and beckoned Mal in.
. . .
"She's a bit dehydrated, and there are some abrasions—and peck marks—on her arms and legs that are a bit infected, but otherwise, there's nothing a shower and a good meal won't fix," Simon informed the Captain. Saffron lay on the infirmary bed with her eyes closed. "She won't tell me how she came to be in the chicken crate," Simon added quietly, for the Captain's ears only.
Mal responded with a hard look, then he spoke aloud. "Good. Right. Well. I'll, uh, I'll have someone make up a room for her. Probably just wants to…" He paused, unsure whether to offer the meal, the bath, or the bed as the first option.
Simon took over. "Someone should escort her to the shower first. Then she needs a meal—she said she hasn't eaten in more than twenty-four hours. After that she can get some rest in a proper bed."
"You're not foolin' nobody, Saffron," Mal said. "Get up. One of the ladies will escort you to the shower."
. . .
"—naked as the day he was born!" Snorts and guffaws drowned out the rest of the tale.
"Kaylee," Mal called out, interrupting what was obviously a hilarious gathering in the passenger lounge, clearly at his expense. Inara was the only one who wasn't looking amused. "You willin' to lend Yo-Saff-Bridge here somethin' clean to wear? And maybe bring some soap and uh, y' know, woman-bathing things…"
Zoe snorted with laughter, earning another glare from the Captain. Kaylee, wearing a huge grin, responded, "One dress and woman-bathin' things comin' right up, yessir, Cap'n Tightpants," and went off to her bunk.
"Ya need any help doin' a strip search, Cap'n?" Jayne offered. "After all, she's the 狐狸精 húli jīng in the henhouse, ain't she?" Jayne chuckled at his own wit and leered unabashedly at Saffron.
Mal favored him with a withering look, then addressed the assembled crew. "For those of you ain't met her yet, this here's Saffron, also known as Bridget, also known as Yolanda, also known as con-woman of the first order. She is confined to her quarters at all times while she's aboard this ship. She's allowed out for meals and visits to the shower and head, only, and no other reason. And she ain't allowed out at all without escort."
"She's a liar." River's voice sounded through the comm. "A liar and a thief."
"That she is, Albatross," Mal agreed, and glared at the assembled crew. "You turn your back on her for a second, she'll get the drop on you. Like to steal the ship out from under us, and we'll all find ourselves floatin' back to Beaumonde." Saffron somehow managed to combine a pouty face with a winsome smile, and directed this look primarily at the male members of the crew. "It's true," Mal reinforced. "This woman is dangerous, cold as ice, and dead crazy on top of it. Don't trust her out of your sight." As Kaylee re-appeared carrying a towel, a dress, and some sundries in a basket, Mal addressed himself to Saffron. "Alright, go get yourself clean." He gestured towards the shower door, just off the passenger lounge, then turned to his crew. "Seems to me y'all got jobs to do, go do 'em. Jayne, go feed the chickens."
. . .
Luxuriating under the hot water spray, Saffron contemplated the success of her mission so far. It was going very well now, despite having gotten off to a very bad start with no one checking on the chickens for so long after the crates were brought aboard. She'd counted on Malcolm Reynolds to be more conscientious. A couple hours among the chickens was bad enough, but tolerable—an inconvenience she'd been willing to put up with, given the rewards she would reap from playing this game. But a day and a half among the fowl was true misery. Saffron didn't "do" misery. Misery was for other people. She hadn't been acting, not completely. When Malcolm Reynolds lifted the lid off that crate, she could have kissed him, she was so grateful. And gratitude toward Malcolm Reynolds—that was not a feeling she wished to have anything to do with, near nor far. Kissing Malcolm Reynolds, on the other hand…
"Hey! Yo-Saff-Bridge! You plannin' on usin' up all the water on this boat?" Malcolm Reynolds's irritated voice was accompanied by banging on the shower door.
"Come on in, sugar," she called out, adding, "I'm naked."
The banging stopped.
Keeping the water running, Saffron took the time to secrete several items that she had carried in her clothing in various places in the shower room. This was one of the places on the vessel that she would have regular access to, and it was less likely to be searched for contraband than the room that would serve as her cell. The chicken crate was already loaded with a vast array of tools and toys, many of which were still stowed in their hidden compartments, but she would only be able to access them when she managed to score an unescorted excursion around Serenity. Not that that would be all that difficult. She was really looking forward to playing the game.
"Make yourself decent and come on out."
Saffron was delighted to find that her…assets…barely fit within the confines of Kaylee's dress. Another advantage in playing the game. She opened the door suddenly and walked squarely into Mal as he leaned in to begin knocking again.
"Oh! Didn't expect you to be so…close, sweetie." She handed her dirty clothing to an astonished Kaylee with a condescending nod. "Search me?" she offered, raising both her hands, which hiked up the dress to show a considerable length of bare thigh. An embarrassed flush rose in Mal's face as he attempted to perform a business-like pat-down in front of his guffawing crew, who, needless to say, had not dispersed to perform their jobs. Saffron assisted by moving slightly so that his hands came into firm contact with her backside.
"You missed a spot," she hummed, her voice super sexy, as she writhed into him.
Mal removed his hands as if they were burned, but his only response to Saffron was a glare. Zoe hooted with laughter, which earned her a glare. "You're gonna be cleaning the latrine with your face, you don't cut that out, Zoe," he called. "Start walkin'," he ordered Saffron, and marched her off to the passenger dorm room. "Someone'll come fetch you for dinner," he told her, and locked her in.
. . .
Saffron didn't waste any time. As soon as the door was closed, she investigated the room from one wall to another, floor to ceiling. The passenger dorm rooms didn't have private heads, which was all to the good as far as Saffron was concerned. The nearest head adjoined the shower where she'd hidden her tools, and that meant that she'd have a reason for frequent access.
The room itself had potential. The walls were a lightweight paneling, as was the ceiling, and as she stood on the bed running her fingers over the surface, she detected a break in the ceiling panel. With a little work, she decided, she could work it loose. Going over the details of the late model 03 Firefly in her head, she planned her next move.
With a satisfied smile, she lay back on the bed and stretched out to her full length for the first time in a day and a half. Inspector 代號 Dài Hào was an ass. And his aptly named minion Pugh was even stupider. Of all the asinine, 缺心少肺 quēxīnshǎofèi, 白目的 báimùde, 愚不可及 yúbùkějí modes of entry, they had to think of stowing aboard inside a chicken crate. A chicken crate! Filled with actual live, beady-eyed, clucking, pecking, pooping fowls. And the smell!
The first evening wasn't so bad. The hens' water container was still full, and they had plenty of chicken scratch to find and eat. The fearful ones kept aloof, while the curious ones came over to check her out. Although some had tried to pluck at her hair, and a few explored her arms and legs with their beaks, most just gave her that one-eyed chicken-y stare and scratched around in the straw. With the onset of nighttime, the birds had all settled down, and the worst she'd had to endure was having a dozen hens snuggled up next to her like so many loaves of bread, sleeping with their heads scrunched down and their eyes closed, making occasional muttering sounds.
But when day dawned (or rather, when the lights came up as the ship's day cycle began), it was a different matter entirely. The chickens soon scratched out all the good things to eat, and her freckles and birthmarks began to attract much more unwanted attention. The 愚蠢 yúchǔn birds thought the marks were bugs, and found them irresistibly attractive. (Saffron was used to being considered attractive, but she had no desire to be considered attractive because someone thought there were insects crawling over her skin.) Saffron discovered that the term "bird brain" was no exaggeration—to her very great dismay, as the same bird pecked at the same freckle over and over and over again, only to discover each time (and forget two seconds later) that it was not a delicious tick. The chickens became more aggressive in their search for food as the day wore on, pulling her hair, fluttering onto her shoulders, arms and legs, and pooping—pooping!—on her. It was intolerable. Luckily, when the water ran out, they began to wilt a bit, and were not quite so active. But by that time the straw bedding was completely filthy, and she discovered to her very great chagrin that the phrase "fouling your own nest" was not just an idle expression.
Saffron wasn't one to get angry with herself. But she did regret that she'd been fool enough to let that 傻瓜 shǎguā Inspector 代號 Dài Hào talk her into it. It was a mode of entry that was really beneath her. A goddess didn't arrive on the scene in a chicken crate. A chicken crate was way too déclassé. A goddess came down from the sky. Dea ex machina. She'd suggested the apple crate as a better mode of entry, but unfortunately the crate wasn't big enough. Too bad. It would've been more fitting. What begins with a crate of apples, will end with a Trojan horse. What begins with a crate of chickens…ends in fowl play. Do not cluck with me….She shook herself. The time in that ungodly hell of a chicken crate was really affecting her brain.
. . .
.
.
.
glossary
狐狸精 húli jīng [fox spirit, idiom for "overly seductive woman"]
代號 Dài Hào [code name]
缺心少肺 quēxīnshǎofèi [brainless]
白目的 báimùde [moronic]
愚不可及 yúbùkějí [impossibly stupid]
愚蠢 yúchǔn [silly, stupid]
傻瓜 shǎguā [idiot]
代號 Dài Hào [code name]
Dea ex machina [Goddess from the machine (Latin)]
A/N: So, what would you do? Disperse and go about your business, like the Captain ordered? Or would you stick around and watch Saffron make the Captain all flustered? Leave your comments here.