Disclaimer: Don't own Firefly or Serenity. Just playing in Joss's sandbox.
A/ N ~ This story was started ages ago under an old screen name, but, life being what it is, it fell by the way side. I found it recently in an old folder when I was reorganizing my computer files, pulled it out, wiped off the electronic dust, and decided to expand, re-post and finish it. Enjoy!
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Heart of Stone
Chapter One
As Caroline Burgess rode over the bleak, hot terrain towards the Heart of Gold she let her thoughts drift aimlessly with no attempt at control for the first time since the news of her husband's death. Ever since his men had ridden up to the house bearing the body and the news of what had happened she had been trying to stay sharply focused on whatever task had been at hand. But now she freely let her mind wander, thinking idly of memories of days past and speculation on days to come.
She unconsciously adjusted her white veil as the shining building rose on the horizon. From a distance it could have been a palace of polished silver encrusted with diamonds rather than a den of inequity that had recently been witness to a slew of killings. She found herself amused by the fact there was no clear road out to the whorehouse, just a thousand random horse trails made by the many customers, all taking different paths, but all heading for the same lusty goal. Caroline wondered what her husband had been thinking as he came along this same way, that last time. Had there been even a twinge of remorse, of doubt, of guilt? Perhaps even a hint of shame at the thought of what he had been planning? She sighed at her own foolishness. No, not a chance in hell. Too full of pride, of power, of his own absolute surety in his own righteousness for any qualms to bother him.
Not that she was free to judge, Caroline reminded herself. There had been no qualms on her part either, only anger. And jealously as well, but mostly anger. She had spent that morning pacing around, seeing that everything would be in order for her husband's return with the child. She ground her teeth in frustration. How dare he? she seethed for the thousandth time, How dare he throw something like that in my face? But she had been given no choice in the matter. Rance's word had been law, both in town and in his household.
So, after watching him and his lackeys depart early that morning, she had refused to let herself brood and so she occupied herself with minutely overseeing the final preparations for the Nursery, arranging the placement of all the new things Rance had ordered even before buying that wicked looking genetic assayer. Sitting on the horse now she smiled at the mental image of taking a blowtorch to the area of the house that had once held so many hopes and dreams when she had first decorated the Nursery with what had proved false anticipation years ago, superseded recently by Rance's grand Plan B for an heir.
She let herself indulge in the idea of watching the hand sewn teddy bears, and the newest (and most expensive) Play'N'Learn gadgets - those brightly colored toys promising to ensure mental stimulation - and the delicate blankets to keep the baby warm but not smothered, and the impossibly tiny outfits to parade the child around in, and the pastel painted changing table with all sorts of cupboards and shelves storing everything needed to keep a baby sanitary at all times, and the stroller to show the child off in, and the antique wooden cradle that had been in the Burgess family for generations - all going up in smoke.
She wouldn't, of course. Now she had several plans in mind both for the Nursery and its contents.
But that fateful morning she had just been sitting down to compose the christening invitations – Mr. and Mrs. Rance L. Burgess invite you to come celebrate the christening of their son – when the men had come riding up to the house. She had braced herself to have the baby and all the insults it symbolized thrust in her face, plastered a complacent mask on her face, and rose to greet her husband.
Who never came.
Instead, a jumble of men, some bleeding, all looking extremely ashamed, came into the entry way, and, piecemeal, she got the story of the Battle of the Whores, and the subsequent deaths that had followed. She followed the crowd of men outside to where they showed her the bodies they had brought back, slung over horses like saddlebags, including the unmistakable sight of her husband's body slung over one of the geldings, never to smile or shout or sneer again.
On another horse was a girl, Chari, the one Caroline had seen sneaking in and out of the house like a thief in the night the past few months to deliver news about Petaline's pregnancy. Chari was sitting behind a man bleeding from his right shoulder. With a sulky expression on her face Chari had her hands pressed to the wound to try and stem the bleeding. The man, Dunstan, hopped off, whining about needing a doctor. Chari, her hands covered in blood, slid off and nervously tried to blend into the background. Thrusting all emotions aside, Caroline had begun brusquely giving orders.
She had pointed at one of the men who looked relatively unscathed. "Meyer, go into town and fetch Doc Peters. He should be awake and sober by now – or close enough to sew everyone up." The man nodded brusquely, got back on his horse and galloped off to fetch the aging medic who was just as well known for his drinking as he was for his doctoring skills.
"And you Perkins," she had ordered one of her husband's foremen, "get coffins for the bodies. Ling," she next turned to the household majordomo, "Those who have families, return the bodies to them and express our deepest condolences. And tell them that the Burgess estate will be providing generous severance packages. Also, if any of the widows or children needs work, tell them to apply to me and I will personally see to it they get jobs. Jackson, those without families, see to it they are buried in the town cemetery as soon as possible. And the rest of you, for my husband's body, gather wood and prepare a pyre." She had then pressed her lips firmly together as she thought, I'm giving you a lovely send off, husband, as much noise and attention as you'd ever want. And then I'll see you scattered to the four winds, less substantial than smoke.
She had then reached into her dead husband's coat pocket and pulled out the set of keys that had never left his person. She rifled though them until she came to the small bronze one that went to the wine cellar with the passcode scancard to the parlor liquor cabinet attached. She addressed the group in general, "Tell everyone that I will be providing enough drinks for all assembled to honor my husband's memory tonight." She had added dryly, "I'm sure it will help ease the pain of all those who were lost today."
She had thought to herself that this was as good a way as any to get rid of some of the types of alcohol Rance had always insisted on buying. Nouveau riche brands that he bought to impress the people he used as his social circle, with himself in the center. Certainly this would be as good a time as any to put the huángjîn xiong mao niao 2510 Chateau de Xuanzang to the most good. She had always tried to convince Rance to buy the classier – and, in her opinion, better tasting, brands – but he had always chosen the more well known brands, the type new celebrities were seen using on the Cortex, rather than what the Old Society in the Core or on one of the more refined Border planets like Greenleaf or Persephone would use.
Either way, the men didn't notice. That night, with the entire staff, and most of the people from town and neighboring folk that Rance had mingled with, along with numerous hangers on, gathered outside the house for the impromptu funeral / party, and she had personally poured most of the drinks, but not drinking herself, calmly thanking people who offered condolences, careful to strike a balance so that she appeared sad, but resigned rather than devastated; she knew it was vital to keep everyone calm, to not let people start assigning blame or to get riled up.
The previous night her husband had gotten his ranch hands and quite a few others ready to charge into battle with his oratory; that night Caroline took upon herself to do the lunar opposite with her words; she dredged up from her memory a time or two when Rance had shown a human side, telling people anecdotes of nice things he had done, editing out any hypocrisy in the stories. She was running on automatic, set on hostess mode, seeing to it that everyone had food and drink, that the kitchen ran smoothly, and that everyone was having a pleasant time. She rounded up a few workers whom she knew could play passably well and set them to playing quiet, soothing music in the background while people drank and, taking their cue from her demeanor, talked quietly.
The Li's were there, and the O'Shea's, and the entirety of the Fa family, from little Jia in her pigtails to old Shan, halfway bent over his walking stick but still insisting he didn't need anyone's help. The Chen's and Zhang's had the grace not to look smug that their major rival in their social circle was dead, but the Dumont's looked slightly superior, with Mr. Dumont's smirk practically saying 'he-had-coming.'
Caroline sourly reflected that it was easy for him to judge – the Dumont's had four sons: Ravi, Pierre, Armand, and Jean, all there, all looking bored. The Madison boys came for the party – Charles already drunk – and the Singh triplets all expressed their condolences to her, voices cracking with age rather than emotion. Mr. Chou was there, as was Mrs. Wooster and her three daughters, Madeline, Florence, and Gwendoline, always eager for any social occasion, even a funeral.
The fact that all three daughters were still unmarried said a lot about the extent of their annoying traits – girls were still out numbered by about two to one on Deadwood, even now. Now matter how carefully colonizations were planned, the gender ratio always did seem to be tipped dramatically in one direction or another for a generation or two before either a settlement balanced out and prospered, or faltered and was abandoned. Deadwood's ratio being more men than women these past score of years certainly accounted for the founding and prosperity of that brothel.
Caroline kept a sharp ear out as she circulated, determined to quash even a whisper of more violence towards said brothel, but, despite the alcohol, everyone was in a relatively somber mood, especially with Caroline doing her best to infuse everyone with a business-as-usual mindset, and, with no leader rallying them to commit bloodshed, no one seemed inclined to carry it further. She made a mental note to personally visit the widows and stress that they would be taken care of.
The three musicians, two field hands quite good with guitars and a third playing passably well on a flute, managed to harmonize a slow and mournful tune as she calmly took one of the torches and lit her husband's pyre herself. Closing her eyes, she had recalled her childhood in Northanger, the second largest of the three main cities on Greenleaf, and thought back to what she remembered of church services. She remembered the sun shinning through the stained glass windows, two stories tall, showing both heaven and hell, as she had listened to the minister as he had recited a prayer over her mother's coffin. As her husband's pyre lit up, she recited in a clear, strong voice: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."
She continued the psalm, speaking of green pastures and still waters, of a god that would bring comfort to each and every soul, and lead men down the path of righteousness, and as she spoke she wondered why so many men felt the need to bring guns as they walked down that supposedly righteous path, straight into hell.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Death, I will fear no evil," she said loudly to the now utterly silent crowd. As she went on with the prayer she thought of the Unification War, and all of the valleys filled with the righteous dead, and of that first battle graveyard on Greenleaf that had taken over the entirety of Gosford Park where she had played as a little girl. She recited of the promised good and mercy that would follow in the hereafter, and wondered if there were any good and mercy left in the 'verse.
"And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever," she finished, without a note of irony in her voice.
She then stood in the front of the pyre and watched it burn to the ground, her mind a cathedral of cold space where she mentally, and soon physically as the night wore on and everyone drifted off, stood alone, silently mourning the dreams of her youth. But she didn't cry. She had stopped crying a long time ago and had no intention to start up again, especially when she felt no need to.
The implications of what Rance's death really meant didn't fully hit her until the next morning. She had woken up at her usual time soon after sunrise. She was alone in their bed and for a brief moment she wondered irritably whose bed he was asleep in this time, and then she remembered that he was dead, and the full force of what that meant hit her like a physical blow, and she gave a quiet gasp.
All of the power Rance had held was hers for the taking – all she had to do was reach out and grab it before some other da sha gua man did. She was free, free to do and say as she liked, with money and men to back up her decisions and no husband or father to slap her down. She practically leaped out of bed and was still pulling on her robe as she left the room and made her way downstairs to start giving everyone their orders for the day.
There were some changes she was going to make.
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Movement on the horizon now caught her eye and jolted her out of her recent memories as she rode up to the Heart of Gold. Someone had darted from the front of the whorehouse to the main door. No doubt she had been spotted. She wondered if they would meet her with guns as well. Somehow she couldn't work up any anxiety over that thought. Her emotions, mostly the lingering anger at all the insults her husband had forced her to endure, were currently acting as a shield against any thoughts of vulnerability.
She got to the house and paused for a moment on her horse. It seemed almost the entire staff of the Heart of Gold had assembled outside to see what the widow Burgess had come for. She took a long measuring glance at the bordello she had heard so much about but until now never seen. It was the dilapidated shack she had expected – a pile of cinderblocks and a few planks covered with a layer of cheap solar sheeting. She suppressed a smirk at the sight of the Buddha statue in the meager garden with one end of a clothesline tied to His praying hands - weatherworn but still serene as underwear flapped in the breeze next to Him.
Caroline dismounted in one smooth motion. Paying no attention to the many eyes watching her she calmly tied the reins to her mount, Firenze, to one of the riding posts in front. Then she smoothed her gown, made a slight adjustment to her riding habit, and approached the line of people standing in front of the brothel. She looked up and down the line. Most still wore a white veil or white shawl to show they were in mourning for the brothel keeper that Rance had shot. Quite a few of them wore fresh bandages. Clearly the fight had cost the Heart of Gold the same amount of injuries that it had brought Rance and his men. But none of them were holding a baby.
Caroline had never laid on eyes on Petaline before, but it seemed the girl was wisely staying inside while the rest found out why the very recently widowed Mrs. Burgess was there. "My condolences to all of you," she stated blandly, then stood motionless, waiting for one of them to respond before continuing.
A few in the line shifted nervously. "And to you as well," one of the girls finally said uneasily with reasonable politeness. The girl who had spoken was shorter than the rest, although she may have been trying to make up for some of that height in a rat's nest of black hair piled atop her head.
Caroline inclined her head graciously in acknowledgment, and then said, "I wish to speak with Petaline and to whoever is now in charge."
"Petaline's the new House Mother," said one of the boys. "We decided last night."
"Very well," said Caroline, inwardly calculating what this meant and how it could impact her plans, "I will speak with her now."
There was a ripple of voices as several people disagreed with this at once. She cut through their protests loudly, "I have come a long way today, alone and unarmed, and in full mourning, and wish only a few minutes of the girl's time." She surveyed the various stubborn and or disbelieving looks, sighed, and said, "I promise I will cause her no harm. I am not my husband."
One of the oldest looking of the whores, a tall blonde with an assortment of spangles all over her short blue dress, stepped forward and said, "Well, a few minutes then."
Caroline gave a simple nod of thanks. And now we shall see, she thought, wondering which direction things were about to go in now.
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Caroline Burgess was ushered into a back room that was halfway between a parlor and an office. It was just as gaudy and dusty as the main room, a theme that probably ran throughout the décor of the whole house. She wasn't surprised. Obviously the whores had attempted to achieve a look of elegance and good taste, and had failed as much as a monkey would fail at refined manners at a tea party.
She swept herself onto the red couch, neatly arranging the folds of the silk dress around her. The woman who stood next to the doorway, clearly left as a guard while Petaline was fetched, glared at her. Caroline gave her an exasperated look. She was hardly going to be intimidated by a common whore. It would take a lot more than that to discourage her after having been married to Rance Burgess.
The young girl Petaline entered the room, holding a wrapped up bundle Caroline could only assume was the baby whom this entire hurricane of change centered around. She very barely repressed a snort of irritation.
Petaline sat down across from her after instructing the watcher to leave them alone and to shut the door, which surprised Caroline. She wondered if it was showing the other whores she was the leader, or showing Caroline they were equals and did not need people backing her to meet with the woman she had personally widowed. Perhaps a mixture of both.
Caroline surveyed the girl cooly. Still quite a lot of pregnancy fat, but other than that Petaline looked like she should still be someone's child, rather than a mother herself.
"Well, why did you want to see me, Mrs. Burgess?" Petaline asked without preamble, a mixture of curiosity and hostility in her tone.
"I will get straight to my point," said Caroline brusquely, "as soon as my husband learned of the DNA results of that…" she hesitated over what noun to use, "child," she said as diplomatically as she could, nodding at the bundle, "he rushed to his lawyer and changed his will. Not out of any suspicion of a need for this action, mind you, but merely as another chance to boast and brag about his…vitality. Something I am sure you are aware Rance was prone to do," she added, unable to stop herself from goading.
Petaline nodded slightly, but other than a slight coloring in her checks, refused to show any sign that the shot had hit any marks.
Caroline took a deep breath. "He made that baby in your arms heir to absolutely everything he owned, which is considerable holdings, with myself appointed as his legal guardian until he came of age. Basically, I am in charge of the Burgess estate until the child turns 18, when he will then inherit to use as he pleases."
"You can't have him, I don't care what some gorram piece a paper says-" the girl began babbling, clutching onto her baby.
"I don't want him," snapped Caroline angrily. Then she made herself take another deep breath to calm down. She would not play the villain! Despite the fact, a cruel voice whispered in her head, that she genuinely did not want the baby and was probably the only person involved who did not care at all about this child. Hated him, to be honest, for what he symbolized.
"Well, what do ya want?" asked the girl, sounding exasperated.
"I'll be crudely blunt – if some whore's bastard is going to come into that kind of inheritance, I want to help manage his upbringing to ensure that he is worthy of it."
"Why do you care? Why don't you just take the money and go back to the Core? Leave us and the rest of the dirt you so obviously despise behind you?" Petaline sneered at her.
Caroline sneered back, "Ever lived on a Core planet? I'd be considered a lowly country bumpkin. A nobody. And worse, the rumors and whispers about what happened here would soon follow me. I would be looked down or out right shunned from whatever social circles I could have managed to get into. When alls said and sifted, I'd much rather rule the social circle here on this little moon." She gave Petaline a parody of her usual charming society smile.
Petaline was quiet, looking genuinely surprised at the idea of Caroline Burgess being called a country bumpkin.
Caroline paused, wondering how much more to tell the girl. And she really was still just a girl, thought Caroline cynically. She sensed the backbone that let Petaline talk back to her was a result of the baby. Petaline had never tried to play any power games with Rance. Then again, those games hadn't helped Chari. Perhaps Petaline was smarter than she looked. Caroline decided speaking openly now would get the best results.
"That bullet you put in my husband's brain did a lot more than protect your baby from abduction," pointed out Caroline. "It has shifted the balance of power dramatically. Everything's been thrown up in the air. I want to make sure everything is in place for the new management before the dust clears. I plan on using this turn of events as a fresh start to make new long range plans for this moon. Different from the way my husband was running this settlement."
"And where does my son come into this plan of yours?" Petaline asked, still hostile and suspicious, her hold on the baby still nervously tight.
"Job security, plain and simple. Everyone who worked for my late husband, which is to say, a large percentage of this moon's population, breathes easier at the thought of a son and heir growing up being groomed to take over this place when he comes of age. No need to worry about property being split up and sold to conglomerates or Alliance and end up costing everyone their way of living." Caroline silently congratulated herself at what an effective tool the simple truth could be. Living with first her father and then her husband, she was so used to doubletalk that the idea of actually speaking the truth out loud was a refreshingly new experience.
"And how would you plan on educating him?" Petaline sounded much less hostile now; still suspicious, but willing to hear Caroline out.
"I'll pay for tutors to come here at first, to his home," she gave the tiniest stress to the word, giving a small nod in the direction of the door, indicating the Heart of Gold in general, knowing what this girl needed to hear right now was that no one was going to take her baby, "and then," Caroline went on gently, "when he is grown old enough to leave your sight for a bit, I'll arrange for him to go off world, hopefully as near the Core as can be arranged, for some formalized schooling at the very best of schools, so he can learn more of the 'verse." Caroline could tell she'd hit jackpot at the mention of education. Petaline's face lost its mulish set and became rather soft as she looked down at her son.
"Well," hesitated Petaline, "when he's old enough he should go to school, but for right now-"
"For right now you are his mother and he is yours to raise."
Petaline looked at her sharply, as if checking for sarcasm.
"I am not my husband," Caroline said as forcefully as she had said earlier.
"Glad to hear it," snapped Petaline angrily, "'cause he sure was a qingwa cao de liumang."
Caroline was honestly shocked for a moment to hear such language coming from the little girl's mouth – for about two seconds – then she burst out laughing. "He was at that," she gasped when she finally managed to get herself back under control.
The baby suddenly started crying. "Oh, hush baby," crooned Petaline, rocking him back and forth. "Don't fret, xingan, the lady will be going soon." She shot Caroline a significant look.
Caroline ignored the heavy hint to leave. She had a better view of the child now and was somewhat relieved that it wasn't a spitting image of Rance. "What have you decided to name him?" she asked, pushing aside an unacknowledged feeling of jealously.
"Jonah," said Petaline promptly.
Delivered safe from the belly of a whale, thought Caroline sardonically, but all she said out loud was, "And when will the christening ceremony be?"
"Uhhh, I haven't thought about that yet," admitted Petaline, caught off guard.
I'll bet there's a lot you haven't thought about yet, little girl, thought Caroline scornfully. Out loud she said, "Well, since I no longer have a use for them, as an early christening present I will send over all of the baby things Rance had arranged to be shipped in – on one condition," she added just as she saw Petaline's eyes light up at the prospect of things she hadn't even begun to suspect she would need for the caretaking of her baby.
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
"You pick the godfather and I pick the godmother."
Petaline paused, obviously looking for some sort of trap. "Well… ok," she agreed slowly.
"Good, I will be godmother."
"Um… ok?" said Petaline, sounding very unsure of where this was going.
"Hen hao," said Caroline, glad the girl wasn't going contest every single thing she said. "I'll come back in a few days with the baby's things and once the date for the christening is set we can start planning it."
"I'll tell the girls to expect to see you and some folk coming back here soon," said Petaline, awkwardly firm, assuming the role of leader like she was putting on an oversized coat.
"Good," said Caroline, and got up.
"Chari…" Petaline began hesitantly.
"Is now indentured to me," said Caroline flatly.
"A bond slave? Why would she agree to that?"
"She was… persuaded," said Caroline darkly, "that it was the best course for her. I don't hire spies and traitors. They are too untrustworthy." Caroline looked at Petaline straight on and decided to thoroughly test the girl's decision to throw the little spy out. "Property is much easier to control," she said cooly.
Petaline didn't flinch.
"Oh, and here," Caroline causally laid a heavy silk pouch on the table. "A birthday gift to be used as you like on this child's home."
Petaline tipped it upside down and a pile of platinum cash landed on the table, a shining heap of solvency. Petaline's eyes went wide. "That must be-"
"About what I figured was three months income for the Heart of Gold," finished Caroline. Petaline looked at her questioningly. "I've banned all of my employ from visiting Heart of Gold for the next 90 days. I thought that would be best for everyone. It will give everyone a… well, let us call it a cooling off period." And with that she gracefully exited the room.
As she got back on her horse, she considered stopping by the fresh grave of the brothel keeper – Nandi, that was her name, and offering a brief prayer for the dead, but she decided against it, suspecting the girls at the Heart of Gold might mistake her honest respect for the only person she had ever seen stand up to Rance as a mere mocking tribute, and come after her with guns this time. As she rode back towards town she wondered if it was possible to have the kind of courage this Nandi had obviously had and still come out alive.
She very much doubted it.
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When she got back home she immediately gave orders to the household staff that the entire contents of the Nursery were to be packed up and be made ready to be moved over to the Heart of Gold. She received a few brief startled looks from the staff but no one made any objections. She then sat down at her desk in the morning room. She rifled through a few papers, but suddenly she stopped. Caroline had never liked the morning room; it wasn't in the best positioning for morning light, but Rance had never let her move the room because he had always insisted he needed the section of the house that got the best morning sunlight for receiving visitors; besides, he had always told her patronizingly, it really was best for her to have the privacy he was sure she needed in the back of the house, away from everything and secluded rather than being consistently interrupted by this and that nearer the front door.
Caroline allowed herself a small smirk as she rang the bell for one of the house servants, Teyu, a middle aged woman from Ita. Teyu was one of the thousands who had been forced to flee that moon when Ita's terraforming went haywire and the whole moon flooded, killing more than a quarter of the population and leaving the rest to immigrate and find whatever shelter and work they could around the Rim, despite lofty promises of aid from the Alliance that had never quite materialized. Now there were only the vultures circling – salvagers seeking what drowned goods they could find and selling them for scrap. Teyu had landed on Deadwood with most of her meager belongings still damp, and grateful to be alive after a harrowing near drowning. When Caroline asked her soon after she had started working for the Burgess's if she was settling in all right, Teyu had told her she never wanted to see a body of water largest than a bathing tub again, and was happy that Deadwood fit the bill.
Caroline now told Teyu to have all of the office things packed up so they could be moved to Rance's study. That room was, after all, was just sitting there, empty; those large windows, that sleek wooden paneling, the tall shelves and the heavy mahogany desk would never again be needed by Rance. "And send the new girl – Chari – to see me there," she called over her shoulder as she briskly made her way down the hall to her new domain.
Caroline drew out Rance's key ring and unlocked the door and stood on the threshold, surveying her new territory, savoring the moment. Rance had favored a traditional style of the Yansong School of interior decorating; she pursed her lips, the basic architecture was well enough, but the feng shui was all wrong in here. She walked around the study, making mental notes of what to keep, what to discard, what to move, and what she would need to buy. She then sat down in Rance's heavy mahogany chair, and began shuffling through the things in his desk, considering what to keep and what to discard. Several minutes later she was interrupted from her examination by a knock on the already open door.
"You sent for me, Mrs. Burgess?"
Caroline looked up from her examination of a stack of Rance's contacts and saw Chari standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Caroline blandly said, "Come in and shut the door behind you." As Chari did so, Caroline blatantly looked the girl up and down; she had told her housekeeper to make sure Chari got some decent working clothes, rather than that ridiculously skimpy – and blood spattered – outfit she had shown up in. Her hair was still done up in its fancy bouffant with the feathered headband, but she was now wearing a dull brown skirt that fell down past her knees and a plain, red, short sleeved, button up shirt. The skirt looked slightly too small and the shirt slightly too big – the only two sizes borrowed clothes ever came in. Caroline made a mental note to make sure the girl had a decent fitted working wardrobe provided for her.
Chari stood in front of her nervously, waiting to see why she had been summoned. Caroline started by sternly telling her, "In future, you will refer to me as Madam, is that clear?"
"Yes, Madam," the girl gulped hastily.
"So Chari," she asked with patently fake solicitousness, "We haven't had a chance to really talk yet. Tell me, how are you settling in here?"
"Madam, I only wanted to help your husband-" Chari began to stammer, trying vainly to justify her actions and to avoid censure.
"Don't lie!" Caroline snapped, her emotions suddenly flaring to the surface. She took a deep breath to get back under control and went on coldly, "What you wanted was to not only save your own rutting neck but to gamble on it too. Never bet more than you have, girl. Next time it might cost you more than a ten year indenture contract."
"You told me you'd have me dumped in the middle of the Carmine Desert if I didn't sign that gorram bond!" protested Chari.
Caroline surveyed her grimly. Clearly the girl still needed breaking in. "I was just making your options clear to you. My money or your life. It's not a bad arrangement, girl, you've got a guaranteed position in my household for the next ten years, and at the end of it, I hand over your wages and you're free to go wherever in the 'verse you want. Now, do you understand your duties?
Chari sighed and said, "Assist the cook."
"Assist the cook, what?" Caroline asked sharply.
"Assist the cook, Madam," she said in a tone somewhere in between meek and sulking.
Caroline drew a piece of paper out from her own sheath of paperwork. "This is a reminder list of the terms of your bond. Pay strict attention to the Don't list. And comb your hair out and put it in a braid or I will cut it off for you," she ordered sharply.
She sent Chari back to the kitchen and turned her attention back to re-arranging her husband's study to fit her needs. She summoned Teyu and told her to lay a fire in the study's fireplace, despite the day's heat, so she could personally burn Rance's pornography collection. She swept most of his useless brick-a-brack into a box, but hesitated over a lump of silver quartz. It was a souvenir from Fenris. Caroline had met Rance on Fenris, Greenleaf's smallest moon. She and her father had been visiting her father's business interests on Fenris where Rance had been working as an overseer at one of the moon's main mining companies.
Her father, like many of the settlers on Greenleaf, had worked mainly in the pharmaceutical business, drawing on the rich botanical supplies in the planet's rainforests to be processed into a profitable product in the planet's cities. Greenleaf's moons provided much in what was needed in non-botanical supplies, such as the sand and limestone needed to make the thousands of square acres of glass needed in test tubes and Petri Harmonia, Greenleaf's second to largest moon, most of the population was employed in glass production, smelting the minerals extracted from Fenris and Avalon.
Growing up around the pharmaceutical business that ran Greenleaf she had learned early on that there was no money to be made in always following the rules, nor would it have done any moral good to stick rigidly to the letter of the law. Small minded folks - the grasshoppers, her father had called them - who thought only of today and not of tomorrow didn't see the need for things like human testing. After all, they were all volunteers, it wasn't like they were forced to sign up for clinical tests, and those that lived were always compensated, and those that died always provided important test result information that would, down the line, provide the key to creating drugs that could save millions, even billions, of lives. One life in exchange for the population of a Core planet like Sihnon? Or Ariel? Or a prospering Border world like Persephone? Or the total population of dozens of the smaller Border worlds put together? Or hundreds of the Rim colonies? Who in their right mind would say one life wasn't worth that?
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A week after speaking with Petaline, Caroline had the entirety of the Nursery packed up and ready to go. She personally escorted the delivery of the baby things to the Heart of Gold, the wagon full to the gills with her christening gift. All of the girls oohh-ed and ahhh-ed over the crates of toys, clothes, blankets, bottles, diapers, and furniture. As she had calculated, she saw this peace offering was going to make her presence much more tolerable.
"May we speak?" Caroline asked Petaline. Petaline nodded, handing over Jonah to one of the little blondes. Caroline and Petaline went back into the same office they had met in before. Petaline sent one the other girls to get tea, and when the two women sat down to the tea service, they looked almost civilized, smiling hard and brittle, but polite, smiles at each other over their delicate teacups. It was rumored Nandi had come all the way out from the Core. If so, Caroline suspected the fine boned tea set had once been hers.
"Thank you for the baby things, Mrs. Burgess," said Petaline, most of the earlier hostility gone.
"Think nothing of it," Caroline said with a little gracious nod. "I certainly had no use for them," she added dryly. Before Petaline could respond she jumped right in with, "I've been making inquiries about getting a preacher out here – both for the christening and to get someone out here permanent like rather than the occasional itinerant shepherd we get strolling on through here every six months or so. I'd like to see an actual church set up here on Deadwood."
Petaline blinked in surprised. "Have you heard anything back?" she asked curiously.
"I've actually had a reply from a young man new to the cloth. He's from Beaumonde and he sounds eager to bring the Word out to the edge of the 'verse. He'll still need to settle his affairs at his old home, ready his belongings and book transport out here, but he should be here within a few months. In the meantime, I'm going to get my men started on building a church for the man to preach in. We can probably start planning on having your son's christening in a real church with a permanent minister on Landing Day."
"Just like that?" Petaline snapped her fingers. She gave Caroline a look of disbelief. "You send a wave and - poof - we got a preacher and a church?"
Caroline chuckled coldly. "Yes and no. There is going to be some paperwork in getting the minister out here and I'll either have to find a damned good foreman or be out there myself, day in, day out, if I want the men to get this church built well and on time, but, yes, taking the reigns of my husband's accounts means quite a lot of money can now be redirected into building up this moon instead of wasting it as he did on useless technological frivolities. Speaking of which - my husband's skimmer. Where is it?"
"We left it where it crashed," Petaline shrugged. "We ain't got no need of it."
"I don't think I'll need it that much myself, but it might come in handy. Where did it crash?"
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Following the directions from one of the girls, the men who had loaded and unloaded the Nursery contents found Rance's skimmer not far from the Heart of Gold. As they set about righting and preparing the skimmer for towing, Caroline circled around watching. Her foot kicked something in the rocky sand – looking down she saw it was the gun Rance had been so proud of. She picked it up, shock off the sand, and gave a nearby bush an experimental shot. The gun made a desperate whirring noise, the side read-out blinked the message 'low battery', and then it died completely, and she was left holding a paperweight that had cost 1,300 platinum. "Oh Rance, you and your toys," she sighed in exasperation.
Once the skimmer was ready to be towed behind the wagon back to town she gave it a once over, trying to judge how banged up it was. She idly ran a hand over the sheepskin that lined his seat in the skimmer and reflected on how like him it had been to insist on shipping the latest technology out here, trying to build a mini-Core here on Deadwood, ignoring the fact people had to adapt. She looked down at the useless gun in her hand – adapt… or die out.
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As Caroline and her workers retrieved the skimmer, Petaline watched them from the front of Heart of Gold thoughtfully, one hand shading her eyes as she watched them set off. She handed Jonah off to Lucy and told her she had to make a call. "I'm going to get in touch with Serenity."
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Transaltions
Mandarin:
huángjîn xiong mao niao– golden panda piss
da sha gua – idiot
Hen hao – very good
qingwa cao de liumang – frog-humping son of a b*tch
French:
nouveau riche – newly wealthy and new to the upper class