Easy Tickets

by mal4prez

Serenity has a few guests come aboard, but they're not the welcome kind.

6. Part 6 of 9

Easy Tickets: Part 6/9 (Chapters 16-18)

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

---

Chapter 16.

Edward Verdande II had been at his father's side all through the family's difficult rise to wealth and power. He understood the foundation of the position handed to him, and he loved the planet Niflheim as his father had before him. The terraforming process, though long and difficult, continued to completion.

As Edward II passed middle age, housing units for the mining crews were constructed on the planet's surface, and the first settlers were brought in. By the time he passed away a few decades later, Niflheim had begun to develop its own civilization. It was no longer completely dependent on goods brought out from the Core, or from the neighboring fertile planet of New Borjomi.

Edward III had been born after his grandfather's cartel was established, and he grew up in the Core, accostumed to wealth and privilege. He believed himself to be a giant among men, and found the mutterings of his father and grandfather regarding the responsibility of the powerful embarrassing and absurd. But he agreed whole-heartedly with their plans of making the planet independent. He hoped that Neiflheim would someday have population and wealth sufficient to earn its own seat in Parliament. He had no doubt as to who would occupy that seat.

The third head of the Verdande cartel was a shrewd businessman, and he would need to be. The mineral rights which were the basis of the Verdande's wealth and power were due to expire, according to law, one hundred and twenty five years after the date they had been purchased by Edward I. The rings would then be open for development by other parties. This was due to happen in the sixteenth year after Edward III took over the Verdande cartel. He was determined that the glory of his family's business wouldn't fade, but he needed something to keep him ahead of the other cartels who would be buying their way into the market.

The Verdande empire had always relied on the standard method of extraplanetary mining: scans were run on target bodies within a certain size range, then spectral methods identified those with rich crystal content. Mining crews towed these bodies out of the rings and into orbital pre-processing centers, where the crystal material was separated from the rock as much as possible. The scrap was released into the inner rings; the extracted crystals were packed into freighters for shipment to labs located on industrial moons in the Core. Corporations independent of the Verdande empire charged a hefty fee for the complex processing required to ready the crystals for use in optical computer systems.

In the decade before the Verdande mineral rigths expired, engineers for the Verdande cartel, backed by almost bottomless funding from Edward III, developed a new system for mining lithium dubniate, one which secured the cartel's position at the top of the market.

.*. .*. .*.

Xiaojun's directions led Zoë, Jayne, and Wash to a walled-in compound on the outskirts of the crumbling city of Alsvidh. The trip took much longer by hovercraft than it had by ship; by the time they arrived, it was getting near sunrise.

There was a single entrance to the compound: a brightly lit gate guarded by a lone sentry in a booth. Wash parked the hovercraft at the edge of the circle of light, then he and Zoë climbed out. Wash waited while Zoë checked her weapons and gave Jayne instructions. Nothing complicated – just stay awake and guard the mule.

"Can't Wash babysit?" Jayne whined. "I already had my turn, and it's borin' as hell."

"It's your baby," Wash replied, patting the side of the hovercraft. Then he grinned and continued in a half-lecturing tone, "Jayne, you have to accept the responsibility for your actions. You got her, now you have to take care of her. Besides, you two need to spend time together to form that lifelong bond. Get to know her, cuddle her a bit – I hear breast feeding helps."

Jayne glowered at Wash, but they were interrupted by Zoë."For you, dear," she said, holding out a small handgun. Wash took it and held it up for a closer look.

"We're going into unknown territory and I get one little tiny pistol?" he asked his wife.

Jayne grinned. "Little man gets a little gun to go with his little – "

"Jayne," Zoë snapped, "you better be takin' this seriously. If we can't get help from this Bucky guy, this mule may be all we have." She looked the thing over with cold appraisal. "Mayhap we can barter it for something more useful."

"You don't barter my mule away!" Jayne said, reaching his arms out to caress the back of the seat he was sprawled on.

"Whatever," Zoë replied, then she nodded to Wash. "Come on. Time's a'wastin'."

"You and Vera have a nice evening with the little one," Wash called back to Jayne merrily.

Zoë shushed Wash as they approached the security booth next to the gate. Inside it, a single dim reading light shone on a tattered paperback held in a grubby hand, and a dull glow was thrown upward to illuminate an oily, red face. Zoë stepped up to a grating in the window of the booth.

"I heard there's a fellow name a' Bucky livin' in here," she said. "We need to have a word with him."

"That's nice," the man replied without looking up from his book.

"Hey," Zoë said, raising her voice. "It's real important."

"You'll have to explain to me why I care," he replied, still focused on his reading.

Zoë put a hand up to the glass and tapped it lightly with her thumb. There wouldn't be any bullets getting through that, which left one way to get to the man's caring side.

She dug into the money bag that Kaylee had left with her, picked out a coin and slapped it against the window. The man looked up at the sound of metal against glass, then twisted the reading light to shine on the coin nested in her palm. He leaned forward to look at it closely, then shone the light on Zoë, and on Wash behind her.

"I'll need one of those for each a'you," he said.

Zoë's eyes narrowed, but she took her hand away from the glass and added another coin to it, holding them up for him to see.

"Fine, put em in here." A little drawer pushed out under the window. Zoë dropped in her coins and stepped back, looking to the gate. When it didn't open, she glared at the guard.

"I'll need two more if ya wanna take those firearms with ya." When Zoë didn't move, he added, "I'm breakin' the rules here. Could cost me my job."

"You can have one more and feel real good bout it," Zoë replied as she dug into the purse and dropped another coin in the drawer.

"So then, how bout one for – "

"Fèi rén, don't push it," Zoë snapped, holding up her carbine. "You're hidin' behind a mighty fine window, but I wouldn't mind seein' how big a dent I can put in your little shack."

"She's very good at denting," Wash added.

There was a slight pause, then the drawer pulled in and the gate slid open.

Just inside the cartel compound, Zoë and Wash passed a crumpled jungle gym and a set of uneven swings. They stood out against the graying sky like a pile of broken bones; it looked more like a graveyard than a playground. Wash thought about children living in this grim place, and he shivered. He'd seen such housing compounds before, even stayed in them plenty of times back when he piloted for transport companies. Usually there was some greenery to hide the cracking walls and peeling paint, but there was nothing to soften the bleakness here.

There were several housing units, all roughly a dozen stories, arranged in a neat but stifling grid. A few early risers hurried along the dusty sidewalks, preparing for whatever business the new day brought. They didn't seem surprised to see armed strangers wandering through, nor did they seem happy about it. Folks stepped aside and looked on tensely when they saw Zoë and Wash coming.

Near the center of the compound, a short line of people were waiting quietly for their turn at a counter in the ground floor of one of the high-rises. Wash paused to look at the list of prices on the wall; the place seemed to be what passed as a grocery store. Most of the items were crossed out, and the prices had been written over several times. Wash made a grunt of disgust.

"Honey," Zoë prompted softly, noticing how everyone in line was watching them.

"But do you see?" He raised a hand at the board. "That's robbery, and you can barely live on that gōu shī anyhow – "

"I know, dear. It's not our business. Let's just find our man."

No one in the line would talk to them, but, after waiting their turn, they bought a protein pack for much more than its advertised price and got the worker to admit he knew of a Bucky. They bought another protein pack and got directions. By then, it was near full light. Wash handed their purchases to a woman in line and they went on their way.

There weren't any maps of the compound; despite the neat layout, it took some time to find the door with the right number on it. Zoë was glowering when they finally got there. The many delays had worked on her already short fuse, and Wash could feel her frustration like heat coming off a really big ember. She was ready to take it out on the first convenient target, and Wash just hoped it wouldn't be him.

They finally found the right door, and Zoë knocked. It took two more hard knocks before it was answered by a man in a tattered robe. He was tall and out of shape, the robe hanging off his weak shoulders and tied over a sagging belly. His light brown hair hung in thin wisps over his forehead and ears, and dirty stubble littered his worn face.

"You Bucky?" Zoë asked.

He looked at her skeptically. "Who's askin'?"

Zoë didn't answer, just stepped forward. She didn't have to push him; he backed away. Wash followed, pausing to close the door behind him. The man continued to stumble back, and when Zoë stepped into the light of the shabby living room his eyes locked onto the carbine in her hand.

"Hey, lady, you can't just be comin' in here and threatenin' me – "

"I ain't threatened you yet," Zoë said. "You'll know it when I do."

"I ain't just some miner! I keep things runnin' – if I go missin' they'll be lookin' to see what happened!"

Wash caught up and stepped in front of Zoë, doing what he could to diffuse things. "Sweetie, it's okay. Mister… um, Bucky is it?"

The man straightened, putting on a rather brave show, considering that two armed stangers had just barged into his home. "That's right, I am."

"Well, Bucky. You'll have to excuse my wife…" Wash gave Zoë a would-you-relax look, and the glare she returned said don't-butt-in-or-we'll-be-talking-about-this-later . Wash took a deep breath and decided that later would have to take care of itself. He looked back to Bucky, who was staring at Zoë like he wasn't sure what to make of Wash's use of the word "wife."

Wash laughed awkwardly and rubbed his hands together. "Zoë here is actually cuddly as a podokesaurus, especially to people who she's asking for help." He looked at Zoë as he stressed the last word, then back to Bucky. "She's just a little… uh… stressed. Because who wouldn't be after the day we've had? Am I right, Zoë?"

She tilted her head to the side as she gave him a dark look, but then she let out her breath and put her carbine away.

Wash looked around the room, taking in the shabby furniture. "How about we all sit down and have a friendly chat, all right?"

His suggestion was grudgingly accepted. Bucky went to a bulging old armchair and Wash took one side of a green two-seater sofa. Zoë seemed to think it wouldn't be daunting enough to squeeze onto the other half of the sofa, so she leaned stiffly on the arm of it.

"You know a man name a' Ray?" she asked without preamble.

Bucky looked startled at the name. He took a few seconds to recover before he replied. "Whatever he's got himself into, I ain't had nothin' to do with it."

"So you know him?"

He made a disgusted face. "Used to."

"And now?"

"Ain't seen him in years." He was looking at Zoë with obvious distrust; her mention of Ray wasn't sitting well with him.

"Well, it appears that he and a few of his cronies stole our ship," Zoë said. "They're threatenin' the lives of our crew."

Bucky grunted and looked back and forth between Zoë and Wash. "You the folks came down the other day, been walking round town with some browncoat, lookin' for ship parts?"

Wash met Zoë's eye, then they both looked at Bucky.

"Small place, we don't get private ships visitin' too often," he explained. "Word gets round. So what're you doin' coming to me? I'm a mechanic, but I don't know nothin' about deep space transports – "

Zoë interrupted impatiently. "A woman named Xiaojun sent us after you. She said you'd help us out, if we told you about Ray and Jase. Now I don't know your connection to these folks and I don't much care. But I got coin and I can get foodstuffs if that's what you're after."

Zoë was pushing her deal, and didn't notice until she was done that the man had turned pasty white. He was staring at her with his mouth half open.

"Jase?" he asked.

"That's the one set us up," Zoë replied. "A Chinese kid. Well, teen. You know him, too?"

Bucky didn't reply. He looked away from them and wiped his hand over his face, looking like he'd seen a ghost.

"I think we can take that as a yes," Wash said to Zoë.

Bucky looked up at Wash. "You … how do you know?"

"We talked to one of them over the comm; they made it clear they needed our ship working and would kill – "

"No," he cut Wash off impatiently, "about Jase. How do you know bout him?"

"He talked to our mechanic. Yesterday morning, right here in town. He sent us out to the countryside to meet Xiaojun – and that's where these people got to our ship."

Bucky stared at Wash, but his look slowly turned inward. "A Chinese kid, named Jase," he mumbled, half to himself, "with Ray."

Wash glanced at Zoë, confused at the man's response. "Ye-ah," he said. "Should I write this down? Draw a diagram maybe? A flow chart?"

Bucky stood up and walked to the far wall. He pushed open heavy curtains to let in the morning light; the window looked out on another wall a few meters away, but Bucky stared out like it was a whole grand view.

"Hún qiú," he said softly to himself. "Bastard told me he was dead." Wash heard Zoë taking a breath to speak, but he laid a hand on her arm and shook his head. They waited quietly until Bucky turned back to them. "You know anything bout his mother?"

"Sorry," Zoë answered. "We didn't catch the full family history. Now why don't you explain some of this?"

Bucky didn't answer, just stared out the window at the blank wall. "Stupid hùnzhàng's got him doin' crime," he said quietly.

"If this kid means somethin' to you," Zoë said, "you might wanna get a move on. We got good reason to think he got shot when they took the ship."

Bucky turned back to her sharply. "Shot? Is he all right?"

"Don't rightly know," Zoë answered. "All we know is what we got from tracks they left in the dirt. We think he was alive when the ship took off, but that was yesterday afternoon."

"Where are they now?"

"In orbit," Wash answered. "The ship had a mechanical problem that slowed them down, but they'll have fixed it by now, so we need to move fast."

The man was getting past whatever had shocked him. He put a hand to his jaw, scratching his stubble and looking at the two of them closely. "Xiaojun told you about me?" he asked.

"She did," Wash answered.

Bucky looked back and forth between them. His look settled on Wash, who he seemed to view as the likelier of the two to give a square answer.

"Who exactly are you people?"

"I'm Hoban Washburn. I go by Wash. This is my wife, Zoë."

Bucky's face had recovered its color. In fact, he was looking a little flush now, like some anger had been stirred up.

"Hell," he muttered, "if you're just messin' with me, I guess it don't matter. Ain't got much to lose."

With that, he went into a side room. They could hear drawers opening, clothes rustling. Bucky came back into the room a minute later, wearing tough khaki trousers and buttoning a dark brown flannel shirt over a white tee.

"I work on the transport ship that moves miners to and from the rings," he said. "I do maintenance only - can't fly it. Can one a' you can figure out the controls?"

"I think we'll manage," Zoë said with a look at Wash.

"Good. My I.D.'ll get us into the docks," he said as he pulled on a pair of heavy boots. "There's a few guards might raise a fuss about you two once we get in, but I'm thinkin' the lady here won't have a problem getting em to back down. Just don't hurt anyone, okay? They're friends of mine."

Zoë nodded.

"What about Jayne and the mule?" Wash asked her.

"The mule can take care of itself." She turned to Bucky. "We got a man outside the compound to pick up."

He nodded, then pulled open the front door and they followed him out into the hallway.

Stealing the transport was even easier than Bucky had made it sound; the security folks backed off without argument. There weren't even any lockdown procedures to overcome before they could lift off. Within fifteen minutes of leaving Bucky's apartment, they were in the air.

"People are pretty desperate to get off world," Bucky explained to Wash over the whine of the engine, "so the company only uses transports that won't get far. Anyone stupid enough to steal this thing gets stuck in orbit, and cartel security eats em up. Not many try anymore."

There was just room for Bucky to squeeze into the cockpit behind the pilot's seat. He watched Wash work the controls, and guided him to the compound's entrance so they could pick up Jayne. Zoë was back in the main hold, looking though the compartments to see if there was anything that would help get to Serenity.

"What took you so gorram long?" Jayne asked Zoë when she stepped out of the transport.

"It was a fine night of wining and dining and dancing under the stars," Wash answered. "We could hardly tear ourselves away. Hope the kid wasn't too much of a problem."

Jayne wasn't bothered by the jibe; his lip curled in a satisfied sneer. "Had a few locals sniffin' around. I just showed 'em this." He pulled his favorite large knife out of his belt and gave it a look of love. He seemed to want to continue with the full story of his daring defense of the mule, but Zoë didn't let him.

"Time to move on," she snapped, "Let's go."

She nodded over her shoulder, motioning for Jayne to get on the transport. He stepped away from the mule, but suddenly stopped and turned to stare at it, then looked back at Zoë with an expression of confused desperation.

"We can't leave it here," he said. "It's gonna get stole!"

"Can't help that, Jayne."

"But, it's…" he turned back again, and his voice held a note of real grief. "It's my mule. We was bonding."

Zoë sighed. "Jayne, I'd be happy to leave you here with it, but I'm like to need your gun to get Serenity back."

They both turned when a voice spoke behind them.

"Hang on - give me a sec," Bucky called. It was more like thirty seconds, but then the back end of the transport swung up, making an entrance big enough to drive the mule into. Bucky walked out the wide opening.

"We gotta have a way to move machinery around," he explained, then he smiled. "Don't even need to put the ramp out to get that thing in."

"Hell, I call that downright convenient," Jayne replied. "You that Bucky guy?"

"I am."

Jayne looked him up and down, then nodded something like approval. Then he turned to Zoë.

"So then, how we gettin' on Serenity?"

"Workin' on it," Zoë replied.

.*. .*. .*.

Wash turned off the comm as he flew out of Alsvidh's airspace. There was no point in listening to the threats and demands of the local traffic control, as he had no intention of obeying them anyway. Once he got clear of the city, he set a course that would get them into low orbit, then went back to the main hold of the transport to see if Zoë had made any progress with the plan. Or, more specifically, if there was a plan at all.

Wash had some ideas – he knew the blindest angle to use on the approach to Serenity, and he should be able to get them close, as long as the bad guys didn't run an active scan. Hopefully, they'd be too busy to worry about keeping a keen lookout. With Mal onboard and River running around loose, that was entirely possible.

The real problem was how to get onto the ship. There was the top side hatch, the one Jubal Early had used. Coud be no one had locked it down, as had been Mal's habit ever since the bounty hunter made his visit. It'd be worth a try. But getting aboard Serenity was Zoë's problem, one that Wash had every reason to believe she'd solve. His wife had a way of getting to whatever place she wanted to go.

He worked his away around the mule; they'd had to fold up all the seating in the transport to fit the bulky hovercraft in. Zoë and Jayne were going through compartments in the aft bulkhead, Bucky sitting by watching. Zoë pulled out an old spacesuit out of a largish compartment just as Wash got to her.

"That's what I need," she said with a half smile, and started gathering together little parts that went with the suit. The thing appeared to be a bow to some barely enforced safety regulation – it was old and battered and looked like it hadn't been used in an age or two.

"Is that the only one?" Wash asked in a worried voice, glancing hopefully into the open cabinets.

"It's the only one," Zoë replied, and looked at him with a dark glint in her eye. "Guess it'll be little ole me against three bad guys."

"Great plan," Jayne said with a roll of his eyes. "And what do we do after you get yourself caught or killed?"

"You'd rather go then?" Zoë asked, holding out the suit.

"Hell, I could take out three men in my gorram sleep," Jayne boasted, but he shifted uncomfortably and didn't actually offer to go in her place. Wash noticed how his eyes lingered on the ratty space suit.

"Actually, I was referring to the condition of the suit," Wash clarified. "That one's looking a little… um… death-trappy."

"It's what we got," Zoë said, "and it's what I'll use."

"But, honey – "

A beeping from the cockpit called Wash away. "Come up with something else," he said as he squeezed back around the mule. "I'd prefer not to be married to space debris. At least send Jayne instead – he'd make much better debris."

Instead of snapping at Wash, Jayne just shrugged and backed away from Zoë, clearly not wanting in on the spacewalk.

Once back in the cockpit, Wash checked the display. They'd reached orbit, and it was time to go on the hunt. The little transport was meant for limited use – traveling known routes from the surface to mining platforms. There weren't many advanced capabilities on her, such as tracking and active scans. But basic traffic control required a display of pulse beacon signals nearby. Wash would just have to circle the planet until he found Serenity, assuming the hijackers hadn't gotten whatever it was they wanted and left the system already.

He set out on a path that meandered over the rings, since the majority of traffic clustered there. He had to stay in the cockpit during the search, to monitor every blip that showed on the ship's screen.

It took only half an hour to find her. Serenity was perched over the outer rings, looking like she was resting on the edge of the disc. He approached her from much higher up, then turned the shuttle to point down at her from directly above. Once he got positioned, he called Zoë to the bridge.

"Anyone tryin' to talk to us?" Zoë asked over his shoulder.

Wash checked the comm. "Nothing. Must not have noticed us."

Zoë leaned over the back of his seat to see out the cockpit window. "Are they movin'?"

"Hold on." Wash had no viewer to help, just his old-fashioned eyesight, so he nudged them closer. "I sure hope they don't see us coming," he mumbled, knowing that they were now a very large blip on the helm controls, there for anyone to see.

"The attitude jets are firing," he saida minute later. "They're maneuvering. Being very careful about it, though. Just small adjustments."

"What's goin' on?" Jayne asked. He and Bucky were squeezed in the door behind Zoë, trying to see out the window.

Neither of the Washburns answered, just waited as they crept toward the ship. They were soon close enough to see through the windows over the dining room. There was someone Wash didn't recognize standing next to the table. He adjusted their position so he could see better – it was a woman. After a few seconds, Kaylee and Book crawled out from under the table. The preacher accepted a hand from Kaylee, and leaned on her heavily as they left the room, the strange woman behind them.

"Can we fly round back?" Zoë asked, "Stay out'a view? This is too risky."

Wash nodded and took them behind the Firefly's tail and partly below her. Then he carefully moved underneath the ship. She was so close to the rings that he'd be in danger of catching a few rocks to the craft's belly if he got any lower, but he inched forward until he saw what Serenity was doing.

A small cylindrical craft – craft wasn't right, it was more like some kind of machinery – was sticking halfway out of the Firefly's cargo hold. An attitude jet fired, and Wash cringed when the machine banged into the port side of the airlock. But it also worked its way a little further into the ship's hold.

"That's kind'a kinky, huh?" Jayne asked.

"Bèn shă guā," Bucky muttered.

"I'm just sayin' – " Jayne complained, but Bucky interrupted him.

"I ain't talkin' 'bout you."

Zoë looked over her shouder at Bucky. "What is it?"

"Verdande harvesting unit. That right there is the big bucks of the Verdande cartel. Whole reason they still own this gorram planet."

"How's that?" Wash asked.

"I don't know nothing technical about the minin' business. But the cartel I work for is the Skuld's, and they can't use those things. Can't even go near em. Some law about rights, who owns what."

"What's it do?" Jayne asked, still watching in fascination as the object disappeared into Serenity's hold.

"I'm tellin' ya, I don't know squat about minin'. But I know that if Ray is tryin' to make off with one of these, he sure as hell ain't got any smarter over the years. Verdande's'll be after him like he stole their first born."

"So how bout we get to him first," Zoë said. "We got us an open door, let's make use of it. Wash, get us close."

Wash turned to look at her. "Are you thinking of putting that suit on?"

"More than thinkin'," Zoë replied, and she turned to go into the hold.

Wash glanced at the controls, then he slid out of the seat and past Bucky and Jayne."That's really not a good idea," he called after Zoë.

"You got another?" She started to squeeze her way around the mule, Wash following behind her.

"Can we just talk about this?" he asked.

"Nothin' to talk about."

"Actually, there is one pretty big thing."

Zoë reached the aft bulkhead. "I'm ain't fightin' about this."

"Oh yes, I think you are!" Wash said. "Getting yourself dead is not going to help anyone."

"Don't have much time, dear." Zoë picked up the suit from the floor.

Wash caught up to her and pulled the suit out of her hands. "This thing is ancient! I won't have you going into hard vacuum – "

She grabbed it back. "What you will or won't have ain't at issue here. This could be the only chance we get. If what Bucky says is true, they'll disappear quick once they get that thing on board." Zoë was pulling open the suit as she talked, and she began stepping into it.

"I understand that, but this is not the way to help!" Wash looked into the locker, grabbed the tank of compressed oxygen. The fullness indicator was shattered. "You don't how much oxygen is in here! And these!" He grabbed at the attitude control jets on the back of the suit. "Zoë – this one's all clogged up! What if you miss, go floating off into the rings? I won't be able to help you!"

Zoë replied coolly. "I guess you better get us as close as you can so I don't miss." She pulled the suit up around her waist and pushed her arms into the sleeves.

Wash folded his arms in front of him and glared at her. "No."

She froze. "What did you say?"

"I said – hell, no."

"Wash, this is not the time to be playin' husband."

"I don't 'play' husband; I am husband. This is idiotic, and I won't let you do it."

Zoë stepped close to him, drawing up to her full height to look down at him, and Wash felt a lot like a grunt in basic training, with a hard-assed lieutenant dressing him down for insubordination.

"You ain't got a choice in the matter," Zoë said. "I outrank you. I made a decision, and I am givin' you an order. Get back in that cockpit and move us close as you can to that open door."

Wash didn't back down. "Zoë, dear, you can gēn hóu zi bĭ díu shĭ."

He saw something very scary crackle in his wife's eyes, but more immediately scary was the shock that went through the hull of the transport as something collided with her underside.

"Can y'all have words later?" Jayne asked from the hatch to the cockpit where he'd been spectating. "Kinda be nice to have someone flyin' this thing right now."

"Huài le," Wash muttered. He took one more look at Zoë, saw that scary thing still in her eyes, then he turned away and ran back to the cockpit.

The transport had drifted too close to the rings, and was surrounded by small chunks of rock. Two more hit before Wash moved them to a safer place, which wasn't easy considering how narrow the gap between Serenity and the rings was. He had every intention of resuming the argument as soon as he had them safely situated, but then Zoë called out:

"I'm suited up. Airlock takes sixty seconds to cycle. How close I am to Serenity when I step out is up to you." Wash heard a hatch slam and knew she'd just shut herself into the airlock.

Wash wasn't a man to get angry. Sure, he got grumpy and moody. He'd complain or swap harsh words when he thought something asinine was going on. He'd resort to dirty tricks like rewiring shuttle controls so he could have his way. But mind-numbing explosive rage was a new thing to him.

For a few seconds that felt much longer, he was unable to do anything. He sat frozen with his hands on the controls, trying to process the choice his wife had just left him with.

"Jayne," he said distantly, "get back in there and stop her."

"How d'you suppose I do that?"

Wash turned to look up at the merc. "Manually shut down the cycle!"

"No way. I ain't getting in the middle of this." Jayne folded his arms stubbornly. "You ain't gettin' me anywhere near that airlock."

Wash gripped the controls, noticing how his hands shook, and his eyes swept the panel for some kind of override. His gaze caught on the traffic display – there was a third blip on the screen, another ship approaching from above Serenity. It was close - Wash squinted at the signature displayed next to the blip, and he swore.

There were a few more hard knocks as he recklessly powered the transport backwards, pulling them out behind the Firefly. Then he rotated the craft so he could see the approaching third party.

"I'll just go shut down the airlock," Jayne said helpfully.

"Who is it?" Bucky asked.

Wash realized his mouth was hanging open. It took him a few seconds to turn his brain on and reply: "The Alliance."

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
fèi rén: useless person
gōu shī: crap
hún qiú: no-good bastard
hùnzhàng: son of a bitch
bèn shă guā: stupid idiot
gēn hóu zi bĭ díu shĭ: engage in a feces hurling contest with a monkey
huài le: shit on my head

---

Chapter 17.

The Verdande cartel needed a technological miracle, and its engineers delivered. They developed a new method of mining the lithium dubniate crystals that enabled Edward Verdande III to maintain his stranglehold on the Niflheim system.

Viewed as a whole, the new solution was not elegant. The final product of more than a decade of very expensive research, referred to as a "harvester," was essentially a large mechanical intestine. It was a cylinder roughly four meters in length and one meter in diameter. When in operation, one end of the cylinder extended a wide conical funnel of reinforced aluminum, and like a whale shark from old earth, it wound through the gaps between larger bodies in the rings, gathering pebbles and dust into its gaping maw.

The initial separation of flakes of crystal from the rock matrix, which happened in the main gullet of the tube, was relatively simple. The local Verdande processing centers had been applying this process for nearly a century. The dust was vaporized, and the lithium dubniate particles were selectively drawn into the walls of the main cavity of the cylinder. The depleted rock and ice passed through, ejected out the back to leave a trail of stony excrement.

The main technical advance, a complicated process for which several Verdande engineers earned luxurious early retirements, was the processing done to the separated lithium dubniate. After being gathered into chambers in the walls of the machine, they were put through several cycles of heating and cooling and treated with a series of purifying and bonding agents. The crystals were doped with iron or copper ions and layered with semiconducting alloys according to the specifications of the computer manufacturers who contracted with the Verdandes.

In this way, the finished product was formed from the raw materials in one easy, unmanned, relatively inexpensive step.

.*. .*. .*.

Ray followed the woman – Inara – onto the bridge. She paused just inside the door, and he stopped behind, his fingers tapping together in impatience. He was in a hurry, thoughts flying back and forth across his mind. He was almost out of this, almost through the worst years of his life, and he could barely keep himself from pushing her out of his way.

Then he noticed how Ginger gave Inara a menacing look. Āi yā – one more complication to deal with.

"The missin' shuttle showed," he said with a nod toward Inara, hoping that he wouldn't have to say any more about where the woman had come from. "You found the harvester?"

"We're all set to load it on," she replied. "Just gettin' lined up. I talked to the old lady, too. She'll be waiting for us here." She handed Ray a slip of paper with some coordinates scrawled on it.

Ray kept his response to a quick nod. Seeing an end to this job made his brain light up more; he didn't trust his voice.

"Where's Will?" Ginger asked.

Ray took a breath to get himself together. He didn't want to explain it all: Will and the lady and the odd girl in the infirmary. It was too much to handle. Besides, he wasn't optimistic as to how Ginger would react. Could be she'd raise a fuss – certainly she would about Will. She'd have to check on him, take him to the infirmary. And then she'd want to tie up the girl and the doctor, lock them away somewhere they couldn't help Jase.

"Will's busy," he explained as simply as he could. He could deal with Ginger when they were loaded up and safely out of the system.

Ray looked to his captives: the lady, Inara, was hugging the mechanic tightly. The captain sat by, looking out the window. This was getting to be too many people to watch over; he couldn't risk things going awry now. He turned back to Ginger.

"I want only the captain up here, to do the flyin'. Anywhere we can put the other two to keep em out of the way?"

Ginger chewed on the idea, then she nodded. "I can disable the shuttle, and we can lock em in there."

"You can lock a hatch so they can't get out?"

"I can do it from the controls in here."

That made him think. "Any hatch on the ship?"

"It's called technology, Ray."

He glared his annoyance at her. "Lock down the infirmary, too."

"The infirmary?"

"That's what I said."

"If we're doin' that, why don't we put them all in there – "

He cut her off sharply. "No!" He glanced toward the front of the bridge. Inara and the girl had heard, and were looking at him. He tried to calm his voice. "No," he continued. "That's… too far. Just put em in the empty shuttle. The one you took down to the surface, not the one that just got here." He paused a second, then added, "Take the mechanic first, and grab the preacher on the way."

Ginger tipped her head, looking annoyed. "We ought'a leave that one where he is. You recall what Will said bout him? He's like to put up a fight."

"He's been tied up for hours – ain't likely to be so limber right now."

"But, Ray – "

"Shut up and do it! I got enough problems from that damn wannabe cowboy, I won't take any from you." His voice was low, but Ginger clearly felt the intensity behind it; she backed up a step. "Lock those two up," he continued, "then come back for the fancy lady."

"I'll take her along now – "

"No you won't – lady's got some training." Ray looked at the woman in question; she was still watching him, looking about as dangerous as a new-born kitten. "She knows how to make trouble," he continued lamely. "You can't keep an eye on her and the preacher at the same time. Now get to it; I ain't tellin' you again."

Ginger looked like she didn't care for being talked to like that, but she nodded and did as he said.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee's hug wasn't as warm as usual, but Inara relished the contact. She felt so lost, she barely heard the words that the girl whispered in her ear. Something about a weapon. Her shoe. Needs one minute...

The message was interrupted by Ray's loud voice. Inara and Kaylee both turned to watch and listen, still clinging to each other for comfort. The woman, Ginger, eventually came forward and hit a few switches on the console, then grabbed Kaylee by the arm and towed her off the bridge. Inara watched them go, feeling alone again. She folded her arms around herself.

"What the hell are you doin' here?" a familiar voice demanded from beside her. She looked toward the pilot's seat; Mal glanced up at her, his face a mess of bruises and dried blood that she hadn't been able to make out when she first saw him. She had to swallow hard before she could speak.

"I waved you, you didn't answer," she explained, trying not to show how his appearance startled her.

"Mayhap you can see why."

Inara's relief at finding him alive quickly turned to frustration at his harsh tone. "My appointment was cut short – " she started, but he interrupted her.

"You're not leavin', right? It didn't work out? Complicated?" He stared at her for a second, then looked out the window at the planetary rings that were now right under the ship. He rubbed his forehead, a worried gesture, then looked at her again.

Inara straightened as she realized what his words meant. "You were listening? You heard me?"

He looked away again, and his reply was unsure. "No. I don't… I just knew it."

At first Inara thought he was giving her a cocky I-told-you-so, referring back to the argument they'd had before she left the ship a few days ago. But she watched him, saw how his eyes wandered over the helm controls, like he didn't want to look at her.

He wasn't cocky, she realized; he was lost.

When he finally looked up, his eyes focused on her bruised cheek. "You all right?" he asked softly.

Inara had thought she had herself under control, but suddenly she very much wanted to cry. She forced herself to smile instead, and nodded. "Obvious things aside."

"That's good. That's… that's a load off my mind."

Something about the way he said that made Inara turn away to hide her face. She went to sit in the co-pilot's seat, falling into it heavily. She looked over to Mal, catching his eye for just a second, but he looked away from her quickly. As if the sight of her caused him pain.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal had noticed something before Inara came onto the bridge, but seeing her distracted him from it. He saw the bruise on her cheek and a weight came into the pit of his stomach that he didn't know how to handle.

She's just another worry, he told himself. That's all. Just another care when I got too many already.

Talking to her didn't help, so he set it aside. It was something he'd become good at lately, he realized, setting aside worries that he couldn't do anything about.

He returned his attention to the thing he'd noticed – it was a little blip on the display, another ship nearby. He'd left it alone while Ginger was on the bridge; the woman might have noticed what he was doing. He wasn't so worried about Ray, since the man didn't appear to have been on a ship before. As soon as Inara sat down and Mal could get his mind to focus on something besides her, he discreetly ran an active scan.

The approaching ship was a transport; its pulse beacon identified it as an errand runner for one of the local cartels. It was slowly closing the distance between itself and Serenity, creeping in from directly above, but it hadn't tried to make contact.

Mal had an idea about who was at the helm of the transport. And if he was correct about that, he also knew who was standing right beside the helm, working on a plan to pull his own pìgu out of the fire it was in.

Mal couldn't stifle a small grin. Wasn't a thing could hold Zoë back for long. It made him feel almost chipper, thinking about Zoë with her carbine and Jayne with Vera, spacesuited up and getting ready to float on in to the open cargo bay where they could raise some hell. Yep, that took a few weights off his back for sure.

He turned on the co-pilot's console display and gave Inara a few seconds to look at it. When he glanced over at her, she nodded slightly, letting him know that she'd also seen the contact on the screen. Mal picked up a toy dinosaur that had managed to keep its place on the console through all of Serenity's recent misadventures, and he flew it through the air in front of him, making a soft whshh sound to accompany it. He glanced at Inara again, saw that she understood.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Ray asked from behind them.

"Playin'," Mal said, and he spun his chair around. "Good for the soul. Keeps you young at heart. You should give it a try." He tossed the dino to Ray.

Ray caught it in his left hand and gave it a suspicious look, like he expected it to explode. "Just load the harvester," he said, and tossed the toy over Mal's head. It fell down the ladder in the front of the bridge and clattered in the dark space below.

Mal gave Ray a look of disappointment. "Bet you were loads of fun at recess."

"Don't start," Ray warned, but he sounded more annoyed than threatening. He was tapping his thumb against his leg as if he was too wound up to be still. "Just get on with it," he said.

Mal turned back to the controls, checked the harvester's location on the screen, and started inching Serenity towards it. But he was grinning, remembering a little time he'd spent alone with Wash recently.

"You may not have realized it," he said to Ray, "but that little dino that was Queen T. Rex. I hear that she won't stand for bein' treated like that. May steal your brain or somesuch."

Ray wasn't the only one who looked at Mal like he'd gone completely insane.

Mal shrugged at Inara. "What? That's what Wash said, and he'd know. Who am I to question?"

Inara swallowed hard and looked away from him, like she wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. It stole away his giddiness, seeing her act like that, seeing how pale she was.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee didn't speak as Ginger followed her down the hall to the dining room. Wordlessly, she held her hand out, and Ginger handed over her knife so Kaylee could use it to cut the Shepherd free.

She returned the knife when she was done, then helped Book get out from under the table and climb to his feet. He wavered a bit when he stood, and only spoke to thank Kaylee. Ginger motioned them forward, and Kaylee held Book's arm and led him on.

Once they got into Shuttle Two, Ginger ordered them to stay near the hatch, then she went into the cockpit. Kaylee heard metal scream as a panel was forced open, then there were smaller indistinct sounds.

Ginger came out a bit later. Without expression, she let them know that if they tried anything, people would die. She looked Kaylee in the eye when she said, "Starting with your wēnshén captain."

Kaylee felt herself fuming inside, but she kept quiet until the hatch closed and locked. Then she cut lose with a string of words that made Book look more than a little shocked. He finally put his hands over his ears, and gave Kaylee a pleading look.

"Oh, Shepherd, I'm sorry!" she said, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

"That's all right," he replied. "Why don't you just finish up with that while I make use of the head."

Kaylee took a few deep breaths to calm herself, then she went into the cockpit to assess the damage. The panel just to the right of the steering column, the one that housed the wiring for the helm control and communication, had been ripped open and every wire inside had been slashed.

It was too much. Rage and the helplessness overwhelmed her, and Kaylee sank to her knees and bitter tears finally worked their way free. After a bit, she felt Book sit beside her and touch her shoulders, offering a hug that she gratefully returned.

"Oh, Shepherd Book!" she said, so angry it nearly made her sob. "Look what they done to my girl! And… and they hurt you and tied you up and did something to almost kill the captain and Inara was so shook up and who knows what they done to Simon and River. And now they gotta be cuttin' on my girl, too!"

When she ran out of crimes to list, Book told her gently, "They haven't killed us, Kaylee. It might have been easier for them if they had, but they didn't. There's something to that. They must have some decency in them."

She pulled back and looked at him. "How can you say that? After the way they treated you? How long'd they leave you all tied up like that?"

He smiled. "Longer than I'd like, truth be told. But they let me loose. Far as I know, they had no reason to do that, other than their humanity."

Kaylee made a disgusted sound and stood up. "I dunno bout that, Shepherd. I dunno. If you had seen the captain, seen how he was, all tied up and gagged, and that bùyàoliăn hùnzhàng was laughing bout it…"

She walked out into the main room of the shuttle, then plopped down on the floor and started pulling a shoe off.

"I got somethin', Shepherd. Next time one of them comes in here, I'm gonna get em. Hurt em like they hurt you and the captain and Inara."

Book crouched next to her. "Kaylee – I'm not saying they have a right to act as they are, but we have to be reasonable about this. We have to think clearly."

"Oh, I'm thinkin'," Kaylee said as she dug inside her shoe and pulled a little metal disk. "I'm thinkin' lots of things, especially how much thanks I owe a lady name'a Xiaojun." Her eyes glinted darkly as she studied the disk. Book reached out toward it, but Kaylee pulled her hand back.

"I have a good idea of what that is," the Shepherd said, pointing at it, "and it's like to be helpful. But let's make the best use of it that we can, all right? We have to be careful about this."

Kaylee tore her eyes away from the object in her hand to look at Book, and she gave him a tense nod.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal and Inara both cringed when a faint shudder went through the hull – the harvester had knocked against the airlock wall.

"Careful," Ray said.

"I'm bein' all kinds of careful," Mal replied. "This ain't exactly easy."

"Just take it slow. I can't have the thing get broke."

Mal quickly checked the scanner display; the boat that he hopefully thought of as the Zoë-to-the-rescue ship was below Serenity now, creeping forward through the narrow space between her belly and the planetary rings. It stopped right under the wide open cargo bay. Definitely Zoë. The longer he kept the doors open, the more likely that his overpaid gunhands would get on board and finally make some use of themselves.

"Goin' as slow as I can," Mal said distantly. "Gorram tortoise don't go no slower. Gorram tortoise with no legs."

.*. .*. .*.

As much as Inara wasn't in the mood for humor, it did comfort her in some way to see that Mal's irreverence in a dangerous situation hadn't changed. She wasn't up to laughing at him – very nearly the opposite – but she did feel a sense of normalcy return as he chatted with Ray. Her mind started working again, and she deliberately went over everything she knew about the situation.

The crew: Simon and River were in the infirmary, Book and Kaylee were locked in Shuttle Two by now, and Mal was here with her on the bridge. That left three crew members missing: Wash, Zoë, and Jayne. Mal believed that this other ship – she glanced at the display on the console in front of her – was being flown by Wash. It seemed reasonable to assume that Zoë and Jayne were on it as well, and getting ready to invade.

As far as the people holding the ship, there appeared to be only two who were active. That was by no means insurmountable.

Even more interesting, Kaylee had said something to Inara when she'd first arrived on the bridge, whispering in her ear while Ray and Ginger were talking. Inara had been too rattled at the time to process it, but now she recalled something about a weapon, a weapon that needed a minute's notice before it could be used.

Inara was pondering whether she remembered that correctly when Ginger returned to the bridge. Mal quietly flipped a switch and the scanner screen in front of Inara went black.

"The mechanic and the preacher are locked up," Ginger said to Ray. "The shuttle's disabled, and they won't be goin' nowhere. How we doin' with the harvester?"

"Should be done by now," Ray said loudly, as if asking Mal.

"Yep, your harvest-thingy's just bout on board," Mal said. "Gotta close up and re-pressurize the bay, and ramp up the grav. It'll take a few more minutes."

"All right," Ray said, "Ginger, take the lady here and lock her up with the other two."

Inara didn't wait to be ordered or forced, she stood up and turned toward the back of the bridge. Ginger wasn't ready to go; the woman was studying Ray, looking suspicious.

"Sure would help if Will was here," she hinted.

"That it would," he replied, giving nothing away.

"Why don't you just tell me what the hell he's doin'?"

"Cause I don't want to. Take the lady and go. And take care, I don't want no more fightin'."

Ginger humphed and gave Ray a look of frustration, then drew her pistol and motioned for Inara to go ahead of her. She stepped back out of reach as Inara walked by, taking Ray's warning seriously.

"It must be difficult working with a man like Will," Inara said as she passed by the crew quarters.

"Pardon me?" Ginger replied from behind her.

Inara glanced back, wanting to gauge the woman's reaction, but Ginger motioned for her to keep walking.

"It must be hard to get anything done when you have to work with someone that unprofessional," Inara elaborated.

Ginger sounded annoyed. "That man's as pro as they come, lady."

"Oh, excuse me. I hadn't realized."

Inara feared that she'd been too subtle with her sarcasm, but as they reached the stairs leading down to the bay, Ginger took the hint. "You got some reason to think Will a fool?"

Inara glanced back again. Ginger's look was openly challenging.

"That's not exactly the word I'd use," Inara replied in a light voice, "but I am surprised that he acted as he did, given that you and Ray have such a tight schedule to keep. Will would have made himself much more useful if he'd tied me up and left me in my shuttle, instead of attempting to rape me."

Ginger responded quickly, her voice sharp. "He did not."

"Actually, he did. Unfortunately for him, I know how to handle that kind of threat, and all he did was talk."

Inara reached the hatch that opened onto the cargo bay catwalks and she paused, wanting more time to work on Ginger. She wasn't entirely sure what she hoped to accomplish, but she clearly had all the ammunition she needed to get this woman off her game. Inara turned back, leaning against the bulkhead in a relaxed, non-threatening pose, and she smiled sweetly.

"Well, he talked and also did some groaning in pain. That's what Ray was referring to, when he mentioned my 'training'."

"You're sayin' that Will attacked you and you stopped him, easy as that?"

Inara studied her nails. "Mm-hmm."

"No way. I ain't buyin' it."

Inara looked up and gave Ginger a just-between-us-girls smile. "Come, now – Ginger, is it? – you're a woman in a man's profession. Surely you've figured out by now that one can make up for a lack of brute strength."

Ginger studied Inara, her jaw clenching as she considered it. "So, where's Will now?"

"In my shuttle, unconscious. I didn't kill him." Inara said the last like she expected to be thanked for her generosity.

Ginger shook her head. "You're full of niú shĭ – tryin' to stall or somethin'. It ain't gonna work. Now move." She nodded at the hatch, and Inara stepped through.

"We could stop and see him, if you'd like," Inara suggested, pausing at the intersection with the catwalk. "It's just this way." She pointed to the left, toward her own shuttle.

"Don't think so, honey. You're gettin' locked up with the rest." Ginger gave her a nudge to the right.

Inara turned toward Shuttle Two, staying silent for a few seconds while she worked on an idea which was just coming to her. If Kaylee really did have a weapon, distracting Ginger – and letting Kaylee know they were coming – might be all she needed to do.

"Will means something to you, doesn't he?" she asked.

"What is it 'bout folks on this ship, not knowin' when they ought'a stop talkin'?" The woman's tone was threatening, but Inara wasn't bothered. Oddly, she was beginning to enjoy the exchange.

"I'm just curious," she said, "and I think you might be able to explain…" They reached the shuttle and Inara turned the lock on the latch just enough to make a sound that could be heard inside, then she turned back to Ginger.

"Did I make a mistake by fighting Will off? Did I perhaps miss out on something momentous by not falling right onto my back and letting him go at me?"

Ginger looked confused by the combination of Inara's pleasant voice and crude words. When she finally replied, her tone was short. "Actually, he's a great lay, but trash like you ain't never gonna know bout that. You're a whore, ain't ya?"

Inara easily held the pleasant smile on her face. The word didn't offend her, not when it was being used by this woman.

"Something like that."

"Thought so. You smell like one. Look like one too. Bet you ain't good for nothin' else." Ginger's face scrunched up in disgust as she looked Inara up and down. "If Will did come onto you, he was only treatin' you like what you are. He'd never be like that to an honest woman, one who deserves better."

Now, that did annoy Inara. "I suppose you're right," she replied, outwardly unfazed, but her words rang with blatantly plastic concern. "Oh dear, now I feel bad. I hit him quite forcefully in a delicate place. I do hope I didn't damage him; I'd hate for a whole generation of honest women to miss out on his prowess because of me."

Ginger started to reply, but Inara drew in a quick breath, as if a new idea was just coming to her. "But… I guess I needn't worry about his skull, which may have cracked open when he fell on it. His value as a person obviously doesn't reside at that end of his body."

Ginger's eyes narrowed, and Inara waited with a smile. She was going a bit beyond providing a distraction, but she found herself almost wishing the woman would make a move against her. The gun wasn't pointed directly at her, and Ginger was standing close. Inara would be able to reach her quickly…

Ginger let out a breath and stepped back. "Fēng sĭ sānbā. You're just as nutty as that gorram captain. You're tryin' to tick me off, ain't ya? Like Ray said – you got some trainin', and you think you can take me down."

Inara shrugged, letting the woman's conclusion stand. "It was worth a try."

Ginger sneered. "Open the hatch, I'm done with you."

Inara followed the woman's instructions, pushing the hatch open and stepping inside with Ginger following just behind. Ginger was so focused on Inara that she missed the arm reaching out from behind the open hatch. Kaylee's hand pressed against the bare skin of Ginger's forearm, and the woman dropped like a sack of rocks.

.*. .*. .*.

"So, boss," Mal said, "where to now?"

Ray stood still behind him for a nearly a minute. Mal waited, surprised at the man's hesitation. Finally, he turned around to see what the hold up was.

Ray looked at him, then took a deep breath and made his decision. "Nowhere yet. I gotta check the cargo."

"All right, I'll be fine here, I'll just keep her warm – " Mal started, but at Ray's impatient sigh he gave up. "Check the cargo? Great. I'm lookin' forward to seein' what's so gorram important. Let's go."

Mal switched the scanner display and comm completely off, just in case Ginger came back while he was gone, and got up to follow Ray. He had to force himself to keep his eyes still as he walked down to the cargo bay. He felt his nerves jangling, ready to jump into action as soon as a gun fired or a body flew out of a dark corner. He'd given Zoë plenty of time; she, and possibly Jayne, had to be on the ship somewhere.

But they made it to the hold without any surprises, and found a bright blue cylinder rested at an odd angle in the middle of the space. Brightly colored as a warning, Mal thought, just like a poisonous snake. This thing didn't want to be touched. It had ownership labels imprinted up and down its sides: Property of the Verdande cartel; protected under article blah-blah of the Alliance property rights blah blah blah. Legal-ese, the kind that was important to a boatload of brass sitting around drinking whiskey that cost more than most folks make in a month.

Ray wasn't concerned with the warnings or those that put them there. He walked around the cylinder, dragging one hand over it like he was looking for something.

Mal stood quietly by the stairs, the same ones he'd been tied to not long ago, although it felt like it'd been weeks. He took the opportunity to scan the space, to check the shadows for a furtive wave telling him someone had gotten aboard and was about to spring a trap, but there was nothing. He noticed that the hatch to Inara's shuttle was open, but Shuttle Two was closed tight. He wondered where Ginger had gone.

Ray didn't seem concerned; he seemed to have forgotten about everything but his quarry. He stopped and worked a finger into a small slot on the cylinder and a panel on the side of it popped open. He stared into the panel for a second, then pushed a series of buttons and a drawer beside the panel slid out. He reached inside, then lifted his hand with thumb and two fingers pinched together. Small sparkling objects trickled back into the drawer as he rubbed his fingertips against each other.

"There's this school, on Sihnon," Ray mumbled, not looking away from whatever it was he held. "Kids live there. Rich kids."

Mal wasn't sure if he was expected to reply, so he didn't.

"Saw it on the Cortex, while I was workin' the security desk late at night." The steam of particles falling from his fingers tapered off. "Fancy lookin' place – lots a' gardens and such. Same city my wife was from, but she never went near there. It's expensive as hell." He took another pinch of the stuff in the drawer, but this time he caught the trickle in the palm of his other hand.

"This little tiny bit here," he said, staring into his hand as if trying to estimate how much he held, "this'll pay for a couple years for a new kid, with a little extra so they won't be bothered by how far behind he is."

Ray stared into his hand a little longer, then he came back to himself with a start. He didn't look at Mal, just tipped his hand over the drawer to empty it. Carefully, he released the whole drawer from the machine and set it on the deck. He took a strip of soft leather from an inside pocket of his coat and emptied the drawer into it, spreading out what Mal could now see were small dark brown cubes and pyramids that glinted where tiny wires ran along their surfaces. Ray rolled up the leather, put it in a cloth bag, and tucked it inside of his coat. Then he stood up, and finally looked at Mal.

"I got what I need. Now we just gotta get rid of this thing," he reached out to the harvester, replaced the drawer and closed the panel, "and then get clear of the system. All done."

Ray had no learning about machines, but he'd seen plenty of diagrams and descriptions of the one in the hold of this ship. He'd studied them for weeks. The details escaped his understanding, but he got the bigger picture; he knew what this thing was for, and he'd memorized a few basic commands.

He'd been working security for the Verdande cartel for five years, getting hours off and on as the VIP's came planetside or didn't. He said 'yes, sir' in just the right way, and he was always on time. It got to be that he was trusted. He was trusted enough to have time alone inside a compound where he could get to a computer terminal.

A stranger had gotten him started down the path that led him here, betraying that trust. The old lady who called herself Aunt Betty had contacted him nearly a year ago, given him passwords for getting into the Verdande internal cortex, told him where to look for notices of offline harvesters. He'd checked when he could, waiting till a message came through, and when it did he buried it.

No one in the Verdande business knew about this harvester. It had been sitting dead for nearly two weeks, two weeks he'd spent frantically trying to find a ship he could use to retrieve it. He'd tried to get Aunt Betty to provide him one, but she refused, saying he had to earn the payoff he'd be getting. She obviously didn't want the theft to be tracked back to her.

So Ray had gathered a team, bringing in Will and Hank, and Will brought in Ginger. And Ray sat at home studying diagrams he'd smuggled out of the Verdande complex, learning what he'd need to get to his treasure.

Two weeks of waiting, then a day of hell on this ship, but he had it now. It was enough to pay Will and Ginger their cut, and enough for him. And enough for Jase.

Ray had a story all made up: a couple dying in a crash on a remote planet, Jase growing up an orphan on the rim until he got found by his rich Uncle Ray, who wanted him brought up right. Brought up with wealth and comfort. Ray would set up somewhere on the edge, maybe Persephone. Somewhere folks wouldn't question how an ignorant hick like him had come up with so much money, but he'd be close enough to check in with the school on Sihnon, see that Jase was being treated proper.

That was his plan. And here was the crux of it, these sparkly little crystals all wrapped up in his pocket.

He hadn't believed Aunt Betty at first, that she meant to let him walk away with all the wealth and leave her only the machine that gathered it, but so she'd insisted. He supposed she could be planning on double crossing him, but he had to take the risk. Double crossed and dead was better than living the life he had for the past ten years.

As he approached the bridge, Ray's mind came back to the present. He was grateful that the captain had become so docile – the way Ray's mind was wandering, he was an easy target. He had to make himself focus; just one more stop to get rid of the machine, then he'd have the captain drop him and Jase where they could catch a safer ride to the Core. Almost there. Almost free.

Mal sat down at the helm. He'd been playing it safe, passing by the openings Ray was leaving him, hoping that Zoë or Jayne would show up and make it easy. But nothing had happened.

Before he could ran a scan and see what had happened to his ruttin' rescue, Ray tapped him on the shoulder and held out a strip of paper.

"Time to move on. We got someone to meet, right here."

Mal checked the coordinates – it looked to be the planet they'd come from, the place with the good swimming hole and Jayne's strong beer in the cute wintry town. With the ship working now, he could be there in a few hours. That wasn't too bad – it was possible he could unload Ray and Ginger and the rest and be back before day's end to find Zoë. That was something like a plan, anyway.

He pulled Serenity's nose up and set the engines to firing, but then he swore and reversed them with a jolt, pulling to a hard stop. He'd nearly run into the Alliance battleship sitting directly above them.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
āi yā: Damn: interjection for surprise or regret
pì gu: butt
wēnshén: troublemaker (literally "plague god")
bùyàoliăn hùnzhàng: shameless son of a bitch
niú shĭ: cow shit
fēng sĭ sānbā: crazy bitch

---

Chapter 18.

Edward Verdande III had struck a goldmine almost as big as his grandfather's. The newly developed harvester required minimal manpower to maintain, so he had no need to hire and support mining crews. He no longer needed to subcontract to Core companies to process the lithium dubniate, since final processing could now be carried out concurrent with mining. Transport fees were greatly reduced as well; an entire year's harvest, fully processed into ready-to-install computer components, could be shipped on one smallish freighter.

Edward III maintained control of the riches of Niflheim, completely dominating the market. The competing mining companies were, not surprisingly, eager to know all they could about the new mining process that so limited their share of the wealth. But Edward III had everything protected; as long as he kept his technology patents up to date, he was beyond their reach.

However, he had another motive for keeping the details of his new mining method a secret. There was a complication, only recently brought to his attention, that he very much wanted to hide. No one suspected this. No one, that is, except for the woman heading the Skuld Cartel.

Beyla Skuld: called Auntie Beyla by her playboy nephew, known as Aunt Betty to certain other parties she had hired for a delicate job. She'd stumbled onto information which could bring the Verdande Cartel down – all she needed was hard proof.

.*. .*. .*.

"But… how… ?

"What in the… ?

"Where did… ?"

The string of unfinished questions was interrupted by a commotion. Wash didn't look into the larger room behind the cockpit where he sat stammering; he wasn't capable of turning away from the Alliance battleship practically sitting on top of his little transport. In any case, he was pretty sure that the source of the distant noise would come find him in the very near future, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

He was dimly aware of an echoing clang when the airlock hatch slammed open, and the string of half-spoken questions and statements that followed was a lot like the one he'd just uttered, but much louder and decorated with many colorful profanities. Then there was a crash which Wash decided was a big body being knocked into the mule – payment to Jayne for interrupting Zoë's plan to get herself killed by going for a spacewalk in a crappy spacesuit.

A deep voiced roared through the tiny shuttle. "Wash!"

Wash's reply was tiny. "Yeah, honey?"

"You better bào fó jiăo, cause you're sittin' in no big steamy pile atrouble and I am gonna – "

Zoë's voice had been rising in volume as she approached the cockpit, reaching something near a bullhorn as she shoved Bucky aside and squeezed her bulky space-suited form through the small hatch, but she stopped mid-rant when she saw what Wash was staring at. There was a pause, and her voice was nearer normal level when she spoke again.

"That… ain't what it looks like," Zoë haltingly declared, then her voice got even smaller. "Is it?"

"Actually, it's…" Wash started, then he paused to fish around for the proper description. When he got it, he turned to Zoë, his hand motioning toward the battleship outside the window. "Mĕi zhōng bù zú!" Zoë gave him a dark look.

Jayne caught up to Zoë a second later, and stood outside the hatch rubbing his backside. "Āi yā, woman," he grumbled. "You could have asked why I stopped ya before you knocked me over."

Zoë ignored the mercenary. "Why exactly are they… here?" she asked Wash.

An authorative voice sounded through the comm: Stolen Skuld cartel transport – you are under arrest. Shut down your engines and await docking.

Wash let out a heavy breath. "I'm not feeling inclined to argue." He looked to Zoë. "What do you think, lamby-toes?"

She just glared at him, so Wash turned back to the console and started to shut things down.

He changed his mind when Serenity's engines fired up. He had to fight to keep from getting blown into the rubble of the rings as the Firefly tilted, the back end of her beginning to light up. Then her nose lifted high enough to catch sight of the Alliance ship, and she suddenly reversed engines and slammed to a stop.

"Yeah, welcome to the good times," Jayne said with a sneer.

.*. .*. .*.

"Ray's the only one left," Inara told Book. She stood near the shuttle's closed hatch, holding a small gun that she'd taken out of Ginger's limp hand. Carefully, she checked the ammo in the clip.

"We'd best move careful," Book replied as he tied the unconscious woman to the pipes running along the base of the shuttle's bulkhead. "We don't want to push him to do anything desperate."

Inara lowered the gun, satisfied that it was ready for use if needed, although she hoped it wouldn't come to that. "I'd like to try talking to him," she told Book. "I think I can reach him."

Kaylee made a scoffing noise. "Don't you fool yourself, nara, there's only one way to deal with these folks."

Inara wasn't sure if she'd heard right. She turned to see Kaylee sitting on the deck, spinning the metal disk in her hand and staring at Ginger. Kaylee's chin was thrust forward, her mouth pinched and eyes narrow. Her face had a ferocity Inara had never seen in the girl before, nor had ever thought she would.

"I don't think so, honey. Ray very nearly apologized to me when he found me in my shuttle."

"He was lyin'," Kaylee said. "They ain't nothin' but liars, lookin' to take what's ours." She looked up, and there were tears in her eyes, but her jaw was still clenched.

"Mèi mei," Inara said gently, and she knelt down in front of Kaylee. "This isn't you; you don't hate like this."

"You don't get it. You ain't seen what they been doin'!"

"I do know. Kaylee, the other man tried to rape me."

The girl's mouth fell open, and, across the shuttle, Book gave Inara a look of concern. Inara raised her voice to explain to them both, "Will was waiting when I docked, and forced his way onto my shuttle."

The wildness left Kaylee's eyes. "Did he – "

Inara's face softened into a comforting smile. "Of course not. He was sloppy and overconfident. He never even touched me."

Kaylee reached out and gently touched the bruise on Inara's face. "Then what's that?"

Inara's smile fell; she'd actually forgotten. "Long story – let's save it for later. We need to focus on getting to Mal." She stood up and turned back to Book. "When I left, they were on the bridge. Ray seemed almost done getting whatever it is he's after."

Book set Ginger's sniper rifle against the far bulkhead, then looked up at Inara. "Whatever we're going to do," he said, "Let's do it soon. Before Ray notices that this woman hasn't returned."

"I'm with the Shepherd," Kaylee said. "I'm thinkin' now's the time to get our ship back."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal sat at the helm and stared out the window, completely dumbstruck. The Alliance ship was barely half a kilometer above Serenity. In space, that's a hair's breadth.

"How the hell did you not see that?" Ray asked from where he stood behind the pilot's seat.

"Scanner was off," Mal said distantly.

"Off?"

"It's… complicated."

"Whatever."

On a whim, Mal flipped on the comm.

Firefly cargo ship – you are under arrest for theft of cartel property. You will shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded…

Not surprisingly, the Alliance wasn't here to say a friendly hello. Mal reached for the handset to reply, to say something appeasing to keep the bullies from blasting his engines off just for their own fun, but Ray flipped the switch before Mal could reach it and the transmission was cut off midsentence.

"Get goin'," Ray said, "You got some flyin' to do."

Mal turned and gaped at Ray. "Are you insane?"

Ray's face contorted and he pulled out his gun, shoving it in Mal's face. "You keep your mouth shut and get us out'a here."

"Whoa – whoa there!" Mal said, jumping to his feet and backing into the gap between the consoles, throwing his hands out to his sides. "Now, I don't know your personal history, but I'm thinkin' you can't possibly hate the Alliance any more than I do. But I'm tellin' you – we ain't gettin' away from that." Mal pointed his finger at the window, at the ship beyond.

"Not if we sit here." Ray cocked the gun.

"And sure as hell not if you shoot me," Mal said, taking another step back. "I'm the only one can fly this boat."

Ray lowered his gun, conceding the point, but he didn't give up the argument. He glared out the window, then back at Mal, shaking his head. "I ain't gettin' caught – not now. If I can't shoot you, I'll find somebody else."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara insisted that, before they do anything else, they make sure Will was still unconscious. Tying him up so he wouldn't be a danger seemed a good idea. She crept along the catwalk behind Book as silently as possibly, Kaylee following behind. They noticed the bright blue cylinder on the deck below, but no one commented on it until they were shut inside Inara's shuttle.

"Do you have any idea what that thing is?" Inara asked Kaylee.

Kaylee shook her head. "Ain't got a clue."

They both looked down when they heard a deep-pitched groan from the man on the floor. Book was kneeling beside Will, checking his pulse. The Shepherd looked up at Inara.

"Nicely done."

Inara smiled and curtseyed at the compliment, but then she looked at the half-conscious man's bloody face and felt a wave of coldness rise inside her.

"He's stirring a bit, though," Book continued. "We'd best get him bound."

"Not in here," Inara said quickly, wanting the man out of her shuttle as quickly as possible. It occurred to her too late that it was a frivolous request; moving him through the cargo bay was an unnecessary risk, and a delay. But she had to have him out of her space. To her relief, Book agreed, though for a different reason.

"Of course," he said. "It'd be best to have him in the same place as the woman."

Book tied Will's hands with a scarf Inara provided, then heaved him over his shoulder and carried him through the hatch. Kaylee, after a sidelong glance at Inara's pale face, picked up Will's discarded clothing, and followed after Book.

Inara paused as they left, letting herself savor the warm, comforting atmosphere of her shuttle for a few seconds before she followed them out. The moment was necessary – she needed to pull herself together, let go of her anger and gather her wits before moving on to what needed to be done. She had to talk Ray down. Alone. That was the best way to finish this as peacefully as possible.

She caught up with Kaylee in the empty shuttle. Will was still groaning, not quite awake, but weakly pulling his arms against the bindings that Book was wrapping around him.

"It'd be best if you stayed here," Inara told Book. "I'm going to the bridge."

Kaylee's eyes opened wide in fear. "Don't do that, Inara. Not by yourself."

"Ray believes the Shepherd is a threat – he'll get defensive if he sees Book coming, we don't want to pressure him." Inara's voice was strong; she was sure about this. "But he's somewhat familiar with me." She put a hand on Kaylee's shoulder, trying to reassure her. "I don't believe he's out to hurt anyone, and I can make a deal with him. I'll find out what he needs, and do all I can to help. It may be that we can get out of this without any more violence."

Kaylee didn't look convinced, but Book nodded. "These two need looking after anyway," he said. He had Will's gun on the deck beside him; by 'looking after' he didn't mean simple care-taking.

"But, Inara – " Kaylee started.

"It's all right; I have this," Inara held up Ginger's small pistol, then tucked it into the pocket of her robe. "Just in case. I'll be all right. You stay here with Book."

Kaylee looked at the two bound hijackers, then shook her head. "No," she said, her voice as determined as Inara's. "I gotta check on Simon. He's in the infirmary?"

Inara hesitated, then nodded. "That's a good idea – let him know what we're doing. And keep a look out for Zoë, Wash, and Jayne. There's a small ship following us; Mal thinks it's them. They may be trying to board."

Kaylee exhaled at the news. "It's almost over then," she said and her face finally relaxed in relief. "We're all gonna be just fine."

.*. .*. .*.

Mal turned to look again at the ship behind him. He grunted in exasperation, his brows pulling together as he ran a hand through his hair and scratched at his head.

"Look," he told Ray, trying to reason calmly. "I ain't that good a pilot. My regular guy's the best, and I'm tellin' you, even if he was here, there's no way we're gettin' away from that." He motioned at the ship outside the window again.

Ray wasn't moved. He continued to glare at Mal, his eyes lit with an intensity that was beyond reach. It reminded Mal of the glint he'd seen in the other gunhand's eyes, the one he'd shot down. Hank.

"I ain't endin' in a cell," Ray said, his voice low and forceful, "and Jase ain't going to some crappy orphanage. This job is gonna get done."

"I understand that it would be nice to keep all your sparkly pretty goods and go running free through the Black. I hope you make it there someday, I really do. But today ain't the day."

"Get to flyin', or I'll have Ginger bring your people up here, one by one."

Mal's voice rose in pitch as frustration overwhelmed him. "You're just gonna get us blown up!"

Ray stepped forward, grabbed Mal's shirt and pulled him out from between the consoles and shoved into pilot's chair, then he reached up and triggered the comm. "Ginger, get up here." He looked Mal in the eye as he added, "Bring the little mechanic."

Mal glared at Ray, but a soft voice spoke before he could do anything.

"Ginger's not coming."

Ray and Mal both swung their heads around to stare into the back of the bridge. Inara was stepping through the hatch.

"You're the only one left, Ray," she said. "It's over."

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee approached the infirmary from the cargo bay. She was planning to go straight around to the hatch, but what she saw through the window had her crouching down and staring.

Inside the little room, a body was lying on the exam table and River was sitting next to it, hooked up to a transfusion IV. But Kaylee barely noticed the two of them – Simon was standing at the counter to Kaylee's right, his shirt off. He was focused on a scattering of mottled bruises on the left side of his stomach and rib cage. He used his left hand to locate a sore spot on one of his ribs, the pain he caused himself showing in his face, then he picked up a syringe from the counter and gave himself an injection.

"Oh… gosh," Kaylee whispered. She'd seen Simon with no shirt before, when they were all swimming, and she'd fully appreciated the view. And to see that fine body hurt like that, and Simon dealing with it all by himself…

He opened a jar of ointment and scooped some out, grimacing as he spread it over his bruises. Kaylee rapped on the glass, and Simon turned to her in surprise. "I can do that for ya!" she said in a loud whisper.

Simon walked over to the window, his face screwed up in confusion, his mouth forming the word What? Of course – he couldn't hear her. Kaylee stood up and jogged around to the hatch. It was closed tight, and when she tried to lift the handle, it didn't budge. She harrumphed in frustration and went back to the window.

Simon was pushing on the door from the inside, but with no more success than she'd had. She took a second to study the body on the bed – it was the boy she'd met in town, the one who'd set all this up. And it registered with Kaylee that River was helping him, was giving him her own body's blood.

Simon turned and saw Kaylee in the window. He pointed at the hatch, then held his hands out helplessly. She could see all the hurts on his torso, the bruising on the side of his face. He noticed her stare, and turned away self-consciously to pick up his shirt from the counter.

"No..." Kaylee whimpered to herself. She wanted to be in the infirmary, to nurse poor Simon. He was a healer, a really good one, doing his best to treat a patient even though the boy had been involved in an attack on his ship. And they'd beat Simon for it. Those no-good gorram monsters had beat him and locked him up.

.*. .*. .*.

"The hell it's over!" Ray told Inara. "I ain't gettin' taken down when I'm this close. All we gotta do is shake that ship – "

"It ain't gonna happen!" Mal interrupted, still trying to convince a man who couldn't be reached. "Look – I ain't happy bout this my own self. Alliance is like to be lookin' for me, not you. But we try to run and they'll crush us. We're caught!"

Ray stepped across to the port side of the bridge, putting distance between himself and Mal, then he raised his gun and aimed it at Inara. He looked to Mal.

"I beg to differ."

Kaylee felt herself fuming again. Simon always took care of everyone else, and this was the thanks he got for it. He needed someone to take care of him like he deserved. If only the hatch was open…

That hatch could be unlocked from the bridge, and it occurred to her that she had every right to do it. This ship was Kaylee's girl; it didn't belong to no one else but her and the captain. She should be able to go wherever she needed to go. Besides, Mal and Inara didn't know that the infirmary was locked, and Kaylee couldn't use the comm. Not unless she knew everything was all settled. She'd have to go up top at some point to let them know.

Simon was sliding his arms into the sleeves of his shirt, moving carefully to avoid hurting himself. He had his head toward River; his sister was telling him something, and judging from the way his eyes shifted to Kaylee, it involved her.

He returned to the window and put his hand up against it. He spoke slowly, as if Kaylee could read his lips, but he said a lot and she couldn't make out the words. She put her hand up against his and looked into his eyes. She saw worry there - Simon was fretting over her. Even all bruised and hurt, he was more worried about her than himself.

"I'm gonna be back," she whispered "I'll be real careful, stay out'a the way if it's not all done. And when Mal and Inara get the best a'that sĭ guĭ, I'll unlock the hatch and come back n help you."

She smiled at him, pressing her palm harder into the glass as if the warmth of her hand would pass through and reach him, then she turned and headed up toward the bridge.

Inara tried to ignore the gun pointed at her, focusing on Ray's eyes instead. "You don't want to do this – "

"Don't you talk like you know me!" he snapped at her. "And don't be trying none of your fancy moves. I will shoot you."

"No you won't," she said calmly, but her right hand brushed against her robe, feeling the weight of the pistol in her pocket. She gripped her hand lightly around it, grateful that she had the gun as a backup. This Ray was a different man than one she'd talked to in her shuttle. His desperation was making him deaf to reason, blind to the reality of the situation.

"You don't need to shoot me," she continued. "I want to help you."

"You can help me by gettin' him to fly us out'a here!"

Mal started to speak, but Inara interrupted in a calmer voice than he would have used. "That's not possible. That's a battleship. It's made to chase down little ships like this one. It can destroy or disable us easily. But you can trust me – I'll help you talk to them. I'm sure they can be made to see reason."

Inara was grateful that, for once, Mal kept his opinion of the Alliance to himself. Ray glanced at the ship outside the window, as if considering his options, but his face was set with resolve, and he shook his head.

"No," he muttered. "They don't care a damn for people like me. I seen how them security bastards treat folks. They'd just as soon shoot me down as listen to a word I got to say."

While he was looking away, Inara felt the shape of the gun through the thin fabric of her robe. She shifted it so the butt was in her palm, and her finger brushed over the trigger guard. She could probably manage to disable Ray, to shoot him in the arm or shoulder…

But she didn't want to do it. I'm a Companion, she thought. I comfort people; I find the joy in them and bring it out. It is not my place to cause pain. And yet, she'd been doing little else lately. That was life in the Black, that was the life she'd chosen to explore. It could bring out the beast in a man, and it had found the worst in her, too…

Inara noticed that Ray was watching her again, staring at her right hand, and he must realize that she had a weapon. She let go of it, holding out her hands and opening her mouth to explain, but then the ship rocked sideways and there was a metallic shriek from the starboard side of her.

"Cào wŏ!" Mal swore. "They shot at us!" He bent over the console checking the displays, then he muttered. "Everything's on line – that was just a warning. But I gotta shut her down, now!"

Inara had turned her head toward Mal and the ship outside the window, but she saw Ray moving and looked back. He was coming toward her and there was no mistaking the intent in his eyes. She reacted as quickly as she could, backing away from him and trying to push his gunhand away, but Ray was expecting it, and he deflected her hands.

Mal was out of the pilot's seat and about to leap on Ray, but suddenly he froze, staring. Inara felt something cold and hard press into the soft spot underneath her chin. Ray was holding the barrel of his gun against her. She looked him in the eye, trying to find compassion. She saw nothing but crazed determination.

"Captain," he said, and his voice was cool and flat. "Do we have an understanding?"

.*. .*. .*.

Simon watched Kaylee go into the cargo bay and start up the stairs.

"Did you think she understood?" he asked without turning around.

"She went," River replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's all that matters."

Kaylee disappeared from his view, and Simon turned to face his sister. "And you're sure she's needed up there?"

River nodded. Her eyes were focused down into the corner of the room, and she didn't look up as she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Made a mistake. Didn't see both sides."

"Of what?"

She looked up at him. "Good end, bad means."

.*. .*. .*.

Inara's head tilted back as the gun pushed harder into her flesh.

"That ain't needed, Ray," Mal said. "They got us. I can't change that."

Ray ignored him for the moment. His hard eyes bored into Inara's. "Take that gun out," he ordered her in a quiet voice. "Move real slow, and drop it." Inara did as he said, and he used his foot to slide it toward the back of the bridge, out of Mal's reach.

"Captain," he continued in a louder voice. "You're gonna find a way out or the pretty lady here loses her head."

"Ray – " Inara started, but he didn't let her talk. He had his left hand on her shoulder, and he grabbed hold and pushed her back, making her stumble and come up hard against the lockers, the gun still pressing painfully under her chin. When he had her securely pinned against the wall, he turned to look at Mal.

"I'll kill her," Ray said in a certain voice. "Don't you doubt it."

There were a few small clicks as he cocked the gun. The barrel was pushing so hard that the back of Inara's head pressed painfully against the metal locker behind her. She tried not to think about it, or to imagine what it would feel like to have a bullet pass up through the center of her mouth, tear into her sinuses and settle in frontal lobe of her brain.

That was definitely the wrong thought to have. Inara felt her legs weaken; she couldn't move her head at all, couldn't see Mal's face, but she heard him take a step back and sit down at the helm. Then she felt a slight flutter in her stomach as the ship went into motion.

.*. .*. .*.

Stolen Skuld shuttle – if you do not shut your engines down immediately, we will fire weapons to disable the transport and you will be held accountable for the cost of repair.

"That's just insulting," Wash whined. "They'd shoot us and then make us pay for it?" But he did as they said, setting about shutting the shuttle down.

He fired her right back up when exhaust from Serenity's engines blew them toward the rings again.

"What is he doin' now?" Wash heard Bucky ask. He couldn't answer; he was too busy trying to right the shuttle. He had them steady again just in time to catch a glimpse of Serenity's tail as she disappeared through a gap in the rings, a gap too narrow for the Alliance ship to follow.

Stolen shuttle – you will shut down and stay where you are until we return.

"Um – okay," Wash muttered. There wasn't else much to be done. He finally shut the shuttle down fully, leaving just the life support on. The four of them sat in the darkness and watched the cruiser dive around the outer edge of the rings in pursuit of Serenity.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara swallowed hard, fighting down panic. She studied Ray, unable to see anything else. As soon as the ship began to move, he let out a breath and a bit of tension left his neck and shoulders. He had gotten his way, and some of the fight was leaving him. Probably, he was beginning to feel shock at what he was doing. He met her eyes again, and for the first time, Inara felt like he was really seeing her.

"How long can you keep this up?" she asked, trying to speak clearly, even though she could hardly move her jaw.

"Shut up," Ray said. But his voice lacked the ferocity it'd had before. Inara struggled to push her fear aside, to focus on reading him. Perhaps it wasn't too late to salvage this.

"You need to find a way to work with us," she continued. "It's the only way. You know by now that none of us are helpless, including me. As soon as you let your guard down – "

"Maybe I ought'a finish you off right now," he said, but his shaky voice belied the threat of his words, and Inara felt a twinkling of hope.

"You could kill me, but it won't do you any good."

"Inara, you're not helpin' the situation," Mal said over his shoulder.

"I don't think he's a murderer," Inara replied, still looking Ray directly in the eye. He was staring back, and she could tell that he was seeing the pain in her face and hearing the tension in her voice. He's human, Inara reminded herself. Treat him that way, encourage it. "He's desperate and frightened," she continued, ostensibly speaking to Mal, "but he's not a cold-blooded killer."

"You don't know anything," Ray said. "I've killed before. I've killed when I needed to." But the gun wasn't pressing as hard as it had been, and the hand clutching her shoulder was weakening.

"Not this time," she said as gently as she could. "There's another way."

His voice lowered so only she could hear him. "Lady, I don't want to hurt you." The gun backed off a little more, so it was touching her but not pressing. She was getting through to him.

"I know. You're better than this," she told him. "I know you are."

He shook his head. The gun pressed again and his words barely squeezed past his clenched teeth. "I told you - you don't know anything about me."

"I see more than you think. I know you're not cruel, that you didn't mean for all this to happen. I'll tell the Alliance that you took no part in the violence." She was able to move her head a little, and she saw Mal turn around, his mouth open to object, but she went on before he could speak. "I'm a Registered Companion, what I say has some weight. I'll do all I can for you."

The gun backed off again, so that it was barely touching her. Carefully, Inara raised her right hand, letting it slide up his forearm so he'd know what she was doing. No surprises now. Please, no surprises.

"It's all right, Ray. We'll work together. We'll get through this. All of us."

His free hand moved from her shoulder to her throat as her fingers reached the wrist of his gunhand. "Stop it," he whispered. "Don't make me hurt you."

"It's up to you whether you hurt me or not," she said. "You don't have to. You can choose."

Gently, she started pushing the gun away. For a second he let her, and she thought she had him. But then his eyes lit with determination and regret and he tightened his hold on her neck.

"No," he said, "there ain't no choice for me anymore."

Inara choked as her windpipe was squeezed closed, and he easily twisted his gunhand free of her grip. She couldn't move to avoid the blow she saw coming – he raised his right hand, ready to bring the gun down on her temple.

Before the blow could land, there was a gunshot from Inara's left.

.*. .*. .*.

Shepherd Book didn't move when the bound man finally raised his head and focused his eyes.

"You're gonna regret this," Will mumbled, and his face broke into a feeble grin. "You have no idea who I am."

"I can see enough for my needs," Book replied coldly.

The sound of a distant gunshot interrupted the man's reply. Book sat up straight and looked toward the hatch, tempted to go see what had happened.

"I hope it's that gorram bitch," Will muttered. "I hope she got a bullet right in her pretty face."

Book didn't reply. He stayed where he was, watching the bound gunhand until the man passed out again.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara coughed, dragging air through her bruised throat. She turned toward the back of the bridge to see Kaylee standing in the hatch, holding the gun that Inara had dropped. Kaylee didn't look at Inara; she was stared at the deck. Inara looked down too – Ray had crumpled in a heap, and he wasn't moving.

A voice startled her. "Were you bein' factual?" Mal asked, "about him bein' the last one?"

Inara was still gasping and couldn't speak, but she looked to him and nodded. Mal quickly turned back to the controls, and brought the ship to a hard stop.

Inara looked down at Ray again, then crouched beside him. The bullet had entered the side of his rib cage, which had been exposed when he raised his arm to strike her. She felt his neck – there was no pulse. Blood pooled on the deck at his side.

Distantly, she heard Mal speaking into the comm: "This is Captain Harbatkin … We were hijacked, I had no control over my ship till now. But the last of em is down. We won't resist…"

Kaylee voice, stern but forced, broke through Inara's shock. "He was chokin' you," she said. "He was gonna hit you." Inara looked up; the mechanic was gripping the edge of the hatch, her face pale and the gun hanging from her shaking hand. "He was gonna hurt you bad," Kaylee continued. "He was just like the other one."

"Mèi mei…" Inara started, but she broke into another fit of rough coughs.

"Is he…?" Kaylee's voice pinched out before she could finish the question. Inara couldn't answer, but she didn't need to. Kaylee knew. The girl slid down the wall awkwardly, landing heavily on the deck just outside the bridge, and she turned her face away from Ray.

"He was a bad man," she said quietly. "I had to…"

"Oh gods!" Inara said, realizing that Kaylee might be going to shock. She stood and stepped through the hatch, then crouched in front of the girl. Kaylee let Inara take the gun out of her hand, but she resisted Inara's attempt to hold her.

"Not now," Kaylee said, not looking at Inara. "Just leave me alone a sec. I gotta think bout this. I just gotta think…"

.*. .*. .*.

Mal had everyone gathered in the cargo bay as the Alliance finished docking. Everyone except River, who had given him a brief but tight hug as soon as she saw him coming down from the bridge. She was somewhere in the upper levels of the ship now; there hadn't been time to ask where she meant to hide. Wherever it was, it wasn't like to be good enough.

He had to prevent the Alliance from searching the ship. Everything else could wait. Just give them what they needed and stop them from searching…

The site of his crew brought him a nearly overwhelming wave of exhaustion. They didn't look much better than he felt. Simon was bruised and stood slightly hunched to one side, favoring his sore torso. Book was holding a compress to the back of his head, his wrists chafed and red. Inara had a bruise high on her cheek and red marks on her throat, and stood wavering on her feet. Kaylee…

Mal couldn't look at the mechanic. He was afraid of the change he'd see in her eyes. She'd had to shoot someone. Kill someone. His little Kaylee –

A hollow boom echoed in the bay as the docking equipment locked down. Mal turned forward, eyes scanning the bound man and woman lying next to the dead man on the deck.

One problem solved, he thought. When the airlock door started to swing open, a dull voice in his mind added: But the fun never ends…

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
bào fó jiăo: clasp Buddha's feet; make a hasty last-minute effort
mĕi zhōng bù zú: (idiom) a small problem in what is otherwise perfect
āi yā: damn
mèi mei: little sister
sĭ guĭ: bastard
cào wŏ: fuck me