A/N: Thank to everyone who reviewed and/or followed. Here's the next instalment. Dean is on the Moon, now inhabited and officially named Luna, and on his way to meet with an old friend...

The Pompatus Box (Chapter 2: Business in the Back) by frostygossamer

Compared to a typical Terran city, Serenity still looks like a shiny new build, barely out of the box. Long pedestrian-friendly tree-lined avenues spiral out from the commercial heart, enhancing atmospheric oxygenation. Citizens lounge in outdoor cafes nursing expensive fashionable drinks, laughing, carefree and safe. Dean has reason to know the night life is great here too. He has made more than a few juicy pick-ups in this cattle-market. Liberal-minded modern women are abundant in Serenity.

The 'Moon Dreamer' tavern is in the eastern quarter, set back from the main thoroughfare in a mock-quaint little courtyard. What Ash sees in this fake-ass place Dean can't fathom. He prefers the less saccharine bierkellers of the southern sector where a man can still get himself an actual meat-burger and a glass of traditional beer for a credit fifty.

Dean finds Ash in his usual spot hidden in the snuggery of the cosy tavern, tinkering with a visualizer. He is surrounded by empty bottles of imported Terran PBR. Dean knew him when the monkey on his back was something considerably more illegal and harder to obtain. As he approaches, Ash looks up and grins.

"Captain Dean. Man, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Dean returns the grin as he pulls up a chair and flops down across from him. He signals with two fingers for the waitress to bring them more PBRs. He turns back to Ash and smiles, businesslike.

"Got a little job here on Luna. Runaway kid. His grandpa's kinda missing the little rascal."

Ash taps the visualizer. The girl places two opened bottles of beer on the table and accepts Dean's credits.

"We're talking Prince Samuel of Campobello? Grand Duke Samuel's grandson and heir, yeah? Not so little anymore. The guy's already celebrated his quarter century."

Ash eats up celebrity columns like a maiden aunt. He eagerly brings Dean up to speed on the wayward prince's story.

=O=

As a boy, young Samuel was the darling of the media. He duly blossomed into a tall, handsome and headstrong youth. All Campobello expected him to make a formal alliance with his grandfather's choice of bride, a member of his social set, Lady Amelia. However, the prince had more romantic notions about what a prince's life should be. More storybook notions.

While away at university, he met and fell in love with Jessica, a well-bred girl from a relatively poor family. Samuel had found his Cinderella. Their romance became so popular with the Campobellan people that the Grand Duke finally agreed to let their marriage go ahead, to the delight of press and public.

The young couple's happiness wasn't fated to last.

The day before the nuptials, poor Jessica tragically lost her life. Her fashionable new creation of a wedding dress caught light during a last-minute fitting. Ironically, her confection of silks, ribbons and lace was ignited by a candle flame. Poor Prince Samuel's heart was shattered. Naturally the poor kid blamed himself for his beloved's accident. Why hadn't he had the candelabra removed before the fitting. He should have known better.

The entire palace household withdrew into obligatory mourning. The last thing anyone expected was that the bridegroom would flee the city and the planet, and lose himself in the far reaches of the system, like some absurd tragic hero. The Grand Duke had tried hard to keep rumours of his disappearance out of Satellite News, without success.

=O=

Dean nods. "Yep. That'd be the fella right there. Last spotted a couple months ago jumping on a shuttle outta Port Campobello headed for Dianapolis. Hasn't been seen since."

Ash chuckles knowingly. "Not by the authorities maybe, but I have my eyes out there. Seems like he dodged immigration at Dianapolis and headed darkside. Dangerous country for a Terran city-boy. Those old terraformers like their meat young and easy."

"Can you get a line on him?" Dean sips his beer.

Ash snickers. "Man, you're looking at the dude who decrypted the viceroy's secret SECRET expense account. Two times! The system I can't hack hasn't been invented yet."

He again taps his visualizer screen for a few seconds then peers at it, a scowl settling between his eyebrows. He leans back and airily takes a swig from his bottle.

"Got a possible eyeball right outside of Boristown."

He jots the coordinates on a scrap of paper and hands it to Dean.

"It's a chicken scratch of a place. But they got themselves a high security compound. Creepy dude name of Boris calls the shots out there. That's where I'd start if I was dumb enough to go looking."

Dean snorts. "If that's where the kid's at, then that's where I'm going."

The darkside of Luna isn't only lawless country. The refuse of the terraforming process had to go someplace. The part of Luna that permanently turns it's face away from Terra was where it wound up. Heavy metal pollution and disease-carrying detritus corrupt the unlit surface, making the entire dark region a tar pit for any traveller unfamiliar with its every in and out.

Ash drains his beer. "You have time for another cold one?"

"Sorry, Ash. Need to get moving on this."

These outlawed Lunar settlements, a hangover from the terraformers' rough-and-ready camps, bristle with villains and assorted criminals on the lam from official justice. They exist on those portions of the lunar surface that have yet to be cleansed of radioactive dumps and terraforming disasters, often plaguey and pestilential. These unlawful encampments provide perfect hideouts from the long arm of the proper legal authorities. Many go there. Few return.

"Yeah? Well, good luck. You're a braver man than I am, Captain."

Dean stands up, drops a handful of credits on the table and signals to the waitress for another beer for his friend.

"It's what I do."

TBC

A/N: Dean knows no fear. Now he has to prepare for a journey to the Dark Side. More soon.