Chapter 4: Duties, Miscellaneous, as Assigned

Serenity had touched dirt again, and Standish and Jayne were loading the cargo onto pallets. Wash used the forklift to remove the crates from the cargo hold.

"Nice, cool breeze," Kaylee called back to the ship from outside.

Jayne wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I could use a nice, cool breeze."

"Me, too," Standish agreed. He followed Jayne outside.

The breeze was cool, and pleasantly scented with some flower that Standish didn't recognize. He looked around, and seeing several trees that vaguely resembled crepe myrtle, guessed they were the source of the smell. He saw battered freighters to the left and right of Serenity. There were no docking bays, just ships parked on were in front of them: bars, pawnshops, cheap diners, brothels. As spaceports went, he'd seen better. But there were people there, plenty of people. Enough of a crowd to provide a distraction if he moved quickly enough.

Suddenly Zoe was by his side. Ezra neither heard nor saw her approach. "Don't even think about it," she warned.

"Think about what?" he asked innocently.

"Breaking your contract without even saying goodbye."

"You wound me, madam. I assure you, I never even thought of such a thing," Standish lied.

"In the ship," she ordered him.

Standish suppressed a sigh. "Yes, ma'am."

Mal stepped into the galley and stared at the sight before his eyes.

"Why you washing the dishes?" Mal asked Jayne. He felt a little nervous seeing the gunsel scrubbing the dishes, not sure he trusted his stomach to Jayne's standards of hygiene. "That's Standish's job."

"He beat me at Tallcard."

Mal frowned. Before he'd 'rescued' Ezra Standish, the crew used to play cards all the time, with the losers getting stuck with unwanted chores. One of the first things he'd done after buying Standish was assigning half those chores to him. On the one hand, Standish had gone against his wishes in putting those jobs up as Tallcard stakes – and going against the captain's wishes was foolhardy for any crewmember, and downright dangerous for one the captain owned. On the other hand, sooner or later he'd need Standish's gambling skills, and he couldn't afford to let him get rusty.

Ezra Standish sat on his bunk, cleaning the mud off the captain's boots. His friend Josiah Sanchez used to say he had a knack for recognizing the ridiculous in life, a knack which helped him keep his balance. Standish mused a moment, seeking the ridiculous. He could use a good laugh.

Well, the very notion that he, a former peacekeeper, was working on a ship of crooks was ridiculously ironic … though not as ridiculous as the fact that he had actually been, for a short time, a peacekeeper. 'Twas ridiculous that a former lieutenant was cleaning an ex-sergeant's boots.

Things could be worse, he reminded himself. He could be in prison. He could've had his labor contract sold to some farmer, and be sweating as a field hand on a planet that lacked indoor plumbing. At least with Mal he had a chance of finishing his five year sentence in five or six years. Someone who signed an indenture contract voluntarily usually had his wages and length of service agreed to in advance. For someone like him, involuntarily indentured for penal servitude or for debt, the length of the contract was more a suggestion than anything else. Mal was paying him a decent wage, although he didn't see any of it. Legally, his bondholder could pay him mere pennies, which meant it could take him years to pay off the price of his contract. Longer if his bondholder charged him for room and board, or for tools; debt could easily double or triple the time a bondservant served. He tried to cheer himself up by thinking of ways his situation could be worse. Mal could've ordered him to address him as 'master' or 'my lord' instead of 'captain' or 'sir.' Since he preferred to eschew informality, it was no hardship for him to address Mal as 'CaptainReynolds' or 'sir'.Mal could've ordered him to clean the boots while he was still wearing them.

It was a good thing he hadn't. That order he would've disobeyed. And he had yet to learn the penalty for outright disobedience – he'd seen Mal fight, both in battle and in barracks room brawls, and had no desire to be on the wrong side of Mal Reynolds' gun or fists. He'd forced himself to comply with the captain's demands and instructions up till now. But if Reynolds had expected him to kneel and clean his boots … no, he drew the line there.

Although the fair Inara was off-limits, he could at least enjoy the view. Shepherd Book and Dr. Tam provided decent company and conversation. And – he stopped, unable to think of any other benefits to his current situation.

Once the dirt was off, he started to polish the boots. Halfway through the job, he stopped. If he polished them well enough, he was likely to find bootboy added to his ever-growing list of jobs: cook, steward, stevedore, janitor, etc. If he didn't polish them properly, Mal was likely to give them back and order him to do it over.

"Got a customer I wanna keep honest," Mal explained.

"You trust me with a gun?" Standish said in disbelief. Nonetheless, he took the weapon Mal handed him. "What's to keep me from shooting you?"

"Zoe and Jayne," Mal replied matter-of-factly.

Standish automatically checked the weapon. It was loaded, and appeared to be in good condition.

"Zoe's likely to just wound you. After all, my will leaves the ship and everything on it to her … which includes you." Mal smiled maliciously. "Jayne, he'll probably just kill you. Likes killing, Jayne does. Besides, I ain't likely to turn my back on you, Standish. I know you too well to trust you."

"You don't trust anyone, Captain." Standish realized the words were incorrect even as he spoke them. Mal trusted Zoe and Kaylee. To a lesser extent, he trusted Wash and Inara. The others … perhaps. But not him. Definitely not him.

"Live longer that way," Mal replied. "Ready?"

"Yes, sir." Standish managed to keep the honorific respectful, not sarcastic. He hadn't been off Serenity in weeks, and even if he wouldn't have a chance to escape, at least he'd be breathing real air for a few hours.