Unable to sleep due to a pounding headache, Mal decided to go for a walk and check on Serenity while he was up. He didn't want to think about the chair that Jayne had placed, in a huff, outside of River's door where he had intended to spend his "baby-sitting" time.
More specifically, the weary Captain did not want to think about the fact that the chair was now empty. He was certain that the girl was asleep--that was determined with a quick bed check. Jayne had better make it back to his post, double-quick.
Arriving in the docking area Mal stumbled, still a little drunk, and narrowly avoided colliding with a sinister looking man. He was striding purposefully to wherever he was headed and probably would not have stopped if the weaving Captain had run into him. The normally observant Captain had barely given the man any more notice when something interesting caught his eye.
His ship was efficiently being loaded with crate after crate...dozens of them.
Concerned, he walked over to one of the dock hands and asked what they were doing.
Pleasantly the man answered, "Ah! Captain Reynolds. The Boss said that you'd prolly come on by to check on yer ship. This here's the cargo he contracted with ya to take to--well, I don't rightly know where. Guessing that you do, though."
Mal was irked that no one had told him that they were already doing this. He expected the job to take at least another half day. He strode over to the crates and lifted the lid on one.
Inside, he saw row after row of ceramic Russian Nesting Dolls.
With a laugh he hefted one of the items up for closer inspection. It was a great deal heavier than he had anticipated. The surprising weight, combined with a bit of drunken clumsiness, caused him to drop it on the deck.
As it shattered, he noticed that the inside of the ceramic was coated with a thin layer of a dull, matte, gunmetal-colored paint. But what shocked and angered him was that, in the midst of the brightly decorated shards, lay a package of explosives. C-4 to be precise.
Angrily, he picked up one of the smaller ones and crushed the painted object, bloodying his hand in the process. In his palm remained a tightly wrapped pack of Grizwalds.
Might be best if I didn't try that again, he thought shaking his head in disbelief.
In another, this one cracked open on the edge of the wooden crate, he found a box of bullets for a semi-automatic rifle.
Jester was using him, using his ship, to smuggle weapons, ammunition and explosives.
On the casino floor, a fuming Mal caught up with the former ally and confronted him.
"What the hell is goin' on here, Jester? I get caught with that cargo, me and mine go to prison. We'll be lucky to get a trial first."
"So don't get caught," Jester responded with a slight laugh.
"Ain't funny. And it's easy for you to say. Why didn't you tell me that's what I'm haulin'? You coulda given me the option of helping you. I don't like being blindsided."
"Malcolm, I apologize for the surprising way in which you--"
The Captain cut him off, "Apology not accepted."
"You've been known to smuggle and sell Alliance marked goods; you infiltrated and ripped off a Core Planet Hospital I do not understand what makes this any different?" the confused proprietor commented.
"First, those jobs I knowingly took. Made the decision to do it myself. Second, you made this out to be a milk-run, like we were gonna help you launder your ill-gotten gain," he accused.
Jester narrowed his eyes and replied, "Oh, it is not illegal profit that I reap here. I just don't want to pay the enormous taxes that go with owning it and with reporting the revenue. Not to the Alliance."
"Deal's off," Mal announced firmly. "Get that go se off of my ship. I ain't losing her because you're too cheap to--"
"Please, Malcolm. Sergeant..."
At the use of his former military title, Mal froze. Jester no longer referred to him as such, not since the war had been over.
"Those items are destined to armor a new resistance. The Independents have not given up, not completely. Every day there is more and more unrest, more disillusionment from the masses that were assured Unification would better things for them. They are slowly realizing that they were lied to--and they are angry."
"I don't aim to reenact that war. I saw enough bloodshed, lost enough friends and soldiers."
"But, you see...we don't want that either! That is why we've taken a page from the training manual of Intel and Double Ops, like Jayne was. The infiltration has proven to be enormously successful. You have no idea how many Browncoats now sit in positions of power, leadership, education, government--even in the almighty Alliance military. Our hope is to achieve our goals, this time, through a relatively bloodless coup. Those weapons? The are simply a back up...a contingency plan."
Mal was skeptical of his claims and was not sure Jester was telling him the truth about the weaponry.
Trying to make a point, Mal told the man, "We'd never make it past a Fed sweep. We get buzzed and we're humped..."
Smiling, Jester answered, "You saw the cargo; did you notice that each of the ceramics was lined with a thin coat of lead? It keeps the Alliance from detecting what is inside! Also, there are plenty of empty ones that are cleverly marked so that you can offer them up for inspection. The paint we used to decorate all of them is ancient--and lead based itself. We acquired it from a man named Haymer on Bellerophon; he never even asked what we wanted with such a toxic substance. It will provide a plausible excuse for the irregular scans and you can smash open the decoys to prove such."
With a friendly hand on the Capitan's shoulder, the now animated man told him, "Malcolm, we have carefully orchestrated and tested this plan."
Just then, Jester raised his hand to press the receiver more firmly into his ear. With a worried glance at Mal, he asked him, "Can we finish this discussion later? Something...disturbing has come up. If you will excuse me?" he requested as he turned to talk into his comm.
The man then hurried away.
"This ain't over Jester," he muttered and went off to find Zoe. He needed to discuss this development with his First Mate and fellow Browncoat.
And he hoped the 'disturbing news' did not pertain to him. Or Serenity.