Moab wasn't a fully terraformed world. In fact it had no business being inhabited at all 'cept it happened to be orbiting just where a refueling stop was needed. Gregg's Port was a cluster of enviromental domes sheltering the 'good' part of town: Corporate offices, Terraforming board, a few classy hotels, restaurants and shops, the expensive residences of the high muckety-mucks and row houses for the respectable hoi-polloi. All fringed by dock slips and port locks with tunnels leading down to the less salubrious parts of town or raying out in all directions to connect the port with Terraforming stations and the domed estates of the handful of really rich.
Mal and Zoe sat on a sofa with Maxx Williams all three frowning down at a digi-map of Gregg's Port and environs spread out on a coffee table.
"This is where our wannabe Ser Toh lives," Williams tapped an outlying dome and the map rippled, changing to a close up of that sector.
"House itself's a blank I see," Mal observed.
"Yeah. Privacy. I got Henderson - my mechanic - seeing what he can dig out of the Cortex but he doesn't hold out much hope."
"I just love going in blind," Zoe remarked.
"Me too," Maxx agreed.
"Can't think knocking politely at the door and asking for our cannon and money back will get us nowhere," Mal observed.
"I doubt we can get our rightful property back at all," Maxx rejoined grimly.
"Don't know about you, sir, but Captain Reynolds and I feel no inclination to just walk away," said Zoe pointedly.
Williams flashed her a brief grin. "Nor me, Washburn, nor me." He looked again at the map. "We might have to settle for other compensation though."
"Fair enough," Mal said. "Way I see it this reuben owes me and mine somewhere in the neighborhood of six or seven hundred credits with maybe a little added on for aggravation."
Maxx's grin reappeared, much broader. "Counting in the damage done my arm I won't settle for a credit less then a thousand."
"Nor should you," Mal agreed heartily, returning the smile with interest. Former purple belly or not he liked the way this man's mind worked.
The three of them were in a sort of loft above the Aces and Eights crew quarters. Pipes and wiring pressed close overhead but the sofa was deep and comfortable and covered in fine leather. The map lay on the polished surface of a fine wood table, its rim and legs deeply carved in abstract patterns. And the carpet underfoot was as fine and silky as any in Inara's shuttle. It was clear as clear that Aces and Eights was a rich man's yacht - but not Williams' own. Mal's guess was he and his crew were hired hands dabbling in crime on the side. And why not, a man's got to live don't he?
The metal ramp linking their little loft to the one with the ladder sounded beneath feet and a boy came in with a CAD board in his hands.
"What you got, Henderson?" Maxx asked.
Mal did a bit of a double take. This kid didn't look like any mechanic he'd ever seen with his neat pressed trousers and spotless white shirt. His hair was shorn short on the sides with a brown thatch on top and his face half eclipsed by a bulky pair of glasses.
"Not much, sir," he answered putting the CAD down on the map. The house seems to be a standard plan, he touched a key and a schematic appeared. "Neo-Wright - very nice."
"So our Ser Toh has good taste in architecture if nothing else," Zoe said dryly.
Henderson's cheek flushed red beneath his spectacles. "Yes, ma'am. No record of any alterations but that don't mean he didn't make 'em."
"Understood," Maxx said, crisply business-like. "What else?"
"A list of weapons and security devices purchased over the last year or so," Henderson answered as a small screen appeared in a corner of the schematic..
Mal whistled. "Look's like the man's equipped him an army."
"Well, sir, we've taken on armies before," said Zoe.
"And lost," Mal replied with a side glance at Maxx.
"From what I've heard about you, Reynolds, you are not a man frightened by numbers," he answered good naturedly.
"I do seem to find myself on the wrong end of them more often than not," Mal conceded.
"So do I," said Maxx. "That's why I cheat."
"Cheat like crazy," said Henderson, as if quoting some one.
Maxx grinned again. "You got it, son. Anything else?"
"Well, the complex's links with the transport system and other utilities are a matter of public record."
"Now we're talking!" said Zoe.
...
Down in the galley/salon Sue switched off the Cortex and swiveled to face Hwa Ling and Nyota at the table. "So - what are we all wearing?"
"My gold sari." the Companion answered promptly.
"Dark red brocade." Hwa Ling said, mind still on other things.
"So I should go for green or blue," Sue considered.
"Something cool toned," Nyota agreed.
Hwa Ling's fingers tapped nervously on the table. "I got a bad feeling about tonight."
The other two women looked at her startled - and concerned. Hwa's feelings were to be listened to.
"Have you told Jack?" Nyota asked.
"Yes, but he's still set on going," the bodyguard sounded annoyed.
"You know how he hates changing plans," said Sue.
Nyota smiled wryly. "Gambling's not just what Jack does, it's who he is. No way in this 'Verse he won't take a chance."
"Can't be anything or anybody on this picayune rock who's a match for you," Sue told Hwa Ling with an absolute confidence that made the other woman smile.
"I surely hope not. But that's not to say I can't do with a bit of help. I want you both equipped for trouble, hear me?"
Nyota and Sue nodded obediently.
Sue went off to her cabin to get ready - a lengthy process and their evening was due to start early with a dinner party given by Sir BonTriumph. She opened up the big marquetry armoire and looked through her working wardrobe. It included clothes of all kinds; sports, formal day, casual day, and of course evening, all very expensive and in the latest Core fashion. Something in blue or green, and fancible as she possessed as they were going to a ball.
After some little time she chose a shimmery silver-blue number with halter top, watteau back and an abundance of rustling pleated skirt. Now, what should she do with her hair? Sue sat down at the round, marble topped table against the end wall and touched a control under the rim. The top opened up, a three way mirror expanding into being and two trays swiveled out on either side one holding combs, brushes, pins and switches of real hair exactly matching Sue's shade of blond; the other cosmetics and perfumes in glistening boxes, jars and bottles.
After bit of experimentation she decided on a severely elegant diadem of braids that emphasized her long slender neck and the lines of cheekbone and jaw. Then put on a face to match; shading the hollows beneath to make her cheekbones look higher, painting her mouth full and red and pouty, then using eyeshadow and mascara to get that sensuous, sulky heavy lidded look. The resulting mask of haughty beauty was about as far from her real face as you could get.
Sue switched off the working surface and lifted out her jewel box, opening the lid on a dazzle of stone and pearl and platinum. She had no idea if they were real or synth and didn't really want to know. The jewels, like the fancy wardrobe, belonged to Jack not her. After serious consideration she decided on a diamond fringe, worn as a bandeau, and a pair of opal and crystal earrings that hung nearly to her shoulders. The dress went on over a bouffant taffeta petticoat and then it was time for the final touches - the equipment for trouble Hwa Ling had ordered.
The fighting knife Sue strapped to her right forearm, where it would be hidden by evening gloves, and the derringer she tucked into the pocket at the small of her back were her own, bought on Gold Rush, but the transmitter/signal unit disguised as a diamond and sapphire bracelet came from Hwa Ling, as did the explosive lipsticks and gas compact Sue slipped into her little evening bag.
Hwa's instincts were as sound as the Alliance Credit. If she had a bad feeling then it was sure as sure that tonight wouldn't be anywhere near as boring as Sue had expected. She checked the clock and rustled out to meet the others. Such was life with Jack; long periods of dragging boredom punctuated by moments of stark terror. And they were overdue for more of the latter.
...
Some miles away another girl, aboard another boat, was also preparing for a busy night. Kaylee sat of the floor of her engine room surrounded by just about every tool and gadget she possessed choosing out the ones she'd need for tonight's crime and packing them into a carry box. A throat cleared and she looked up. It was Simon.
"Well, hello stranger!"
He reddened a little but said; "Getting ready for tonight?" in the tone of a man determined to say what he'd come to say with no diversions.
"That's right," she answered, a little wary.
"What the Captain's planning sounds dangerous." Simon said and he didn't look at all happy 'bout it. Her heart lightened.
"Maybe a little. But I'll have Jayne to take care of me."
Simon nodded in a thoughtful sort of way. "I've seen Jayne in action. He's amazing."
Kaylee agreed. Her own faith in Jayne's ability to handle violence was bottomless and well merited. She knew she'd be safe with him no matter what went down.
Simon was looking intently at something behind her right shoulder. "You - you be careful. I - I'd be very upset - no - I'd be deeply grieved - if anything happened to you."
Kaylee's heart sang joyful hosanas. That was as close to a declaration as Simon had come yet. Then his eyes shifted to nail hers straight on. Her breath caught. There was love in them - but a sadness too...
"I couldn't stand it if you got hurt," he said steadily. "If I somehow put you in the way of danger - well I'd never be able to live with myself."
Kaylee swallowed painfully. She was a smart girl, she knew what he was saying to her. She wanted to tell him he needn't worry, she could take care of herself, but it weren't true and they both knew it. "I'll be careful." she managed.
He saw his message had been received. "I wish -" broke off and started again. "I'll be waiting up, just in case. See you later."
She forced a smile. "Alive and well, I promise."