Chapter 3

River was drawing. She sat at the head of the dining table, with her crayons and pencils neatly lined up in front of her, bent over a large sheet of paper and with a deep frown of concentration on her face. Simon kept half an eye on her from where he stood at the kitchen counter, preparing lunch. He didn't like that frown. It usually meant something was frustrating her, and River in her post-academy state didn't handle frustrations very well.

She seemed calm enough for the moment, though. He glanced at her drawing. It was a lot more childish than her usual detailed work. To him it looked like nothing but doodles, lines and twirls in different colors, all intertwined in a random pattern. He shook his head. As long as she remained quiet, he wasn't going to ask.

He shifted his attention back to the task at hand. Kitchen duty wasn't his favorite chore, but it was far better than many others. Laundry, for instance. Laundry on this ship was... interesting, to say the least.

They did have a washer, but Mal didn't like them using it during flights, when water supply was limited. The filters in the ship's water recycling system were old and not efficient against detergents, and water for consummation had preference. Which made sense, of course, but also meant that the pile of dirty clothes had a tendency to grow considerably between laundry days. Plus, there always seemed to be a lot of blood on those clothes, not to mention certain other bodily fluids.

Of course, as a doctor, bodily fluids shouldn't really bother him, and it usually didn't, but when not fresh and stuck in someone else's clothing, clothing that had also been to a dirty brothel or two... no thank you!

Simon shuddered. At least even laundry duty would be less disgusting without Jayne onboard. If he really had left for good. Truth be told, Simon was very confused about the whole thing, and a lot less relieved than he'd thought he'd be.

"No, no," River began to mutter, and Simon looked up to see if an intervention was needed.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"It's all wrong," she said, staring at her drawing. "There's no red. There should be red. Doesn't work this way."

She grabbed the paper and frantically tore it apart. Simon put down his carving knife and hurried over to her. "River." He tried to grab her hands, but she evaded him and kept ripping the paper into increasingly smaller pieces.

"There should be red!" she panted, louder now. "Already lost the gold, and now there's no red."

Simon's eyes quickly darted across the room, towards the bridge. He didn't want his sister's outburst to draw any attention. Things were tense enough already.

"River," he soothed, trying unsuccessfully to stop some of the tiny pieces of paper from falling to the floor.

"It can't be completed without the red," she cried.

"River, there's a red crayon right here." He handed it to her, and she took it, but only to chuck it across the room, missing Captain Reynolds's head by an inch as he came in through the door just then.

At the sight of him, River immediately stopped her fretting and sat back in her chair, just staring.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Simon said before Mal could even open his mouth. "We're just upset about our art, apparently."

"Then why is she looking at me like it's my fault?" Mal replied.

Simon, who was already on the floor scooping up the pieces of paper, looked back up at his sister, and did actually find her glowering at Mal with disdain.

"I'm not angry," she said, before Simon could ask, "just disappointed."

"Oh, okay," Mal said. "Glad we... cleared that up."

River just shook her head, eerily like the way their mother had when she'd been cross with them back when they were children. She then stood and left the room.

"I'm sorry," Simon said again, picking up the last of the paper and disposing it in the bin in the corner. "I'm sure she didn't mean –"

He stopped himself. What was there to say?

"No harm done," Mal said as he poured himself a cup of coffee, and Simon silently sighed with relief. He could never predict how the captain would react to such things, even less so than usual these days. "Wash tosses things about when he can't get it right sometimes, too. Seriously, I got a T-Rex in the head once."

Simon had a hard time picturing Wash hurling his dinosaurs around, but chose not to weigh in.

Mal pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. "Touchdown tomorrow early afternoon ship-time," he informed Simon, as if Simon didn't already know that. "I'm one man short as you know, so I'll need Kaylee with me. Which means I'll be needing you in the cargo bay, Doc."

"Doing what?"

"Closing the door. In case we need to make a hasty retreat."

Push a button. He could do that. "You think it's likely?"

"No. Aberdeen's a decent kinda place. And we're dealin' with good folk. Not in for the riches. They'll play nice."

"Then what are you worried about?"

"Jayne."

Simon felt the uneasiness he'd tried to ignore grow. He hadn't voiced his concerns about Jayne because nobody else had, but if the captain was secretly thinking the same thing… "You think he'd sell you out?"

"In a heartbeat." Mal drank from the cup and leaned back in his chair. "Not this time, though. He don't have the resources for it. No wrench to throw in my works, so to speak. I think we'll be safe for now. But I'll be glad to see this job done nonetheless."

"But do you think he'd...?" Simon couldn't even get himself to say it.

"Call the Feds on you? No."

Simon frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because Jayne Cobb is one self-serving son of a bitch," Mal replied, "and he won't do anything unless there's somethin' in it for him."

"There's the reward money."

"He knows he won't get it."

"Wha... why?"

Mal looked at him. "You do remember Ariel, don't you?"

Simon froze. How much did the captain really know?

"I'm not likely to forget that anytime soon," he said, opting to stay vague about the whole thing.

"He got pinched, didn't he? Which means they got a file on 'im. He's a wanted fugitive too now. And they don't pay out reward money to criminals."

"Yes, but… does he know that?"

"He ain't stupid."

Simon almost laughed. "He's not?"

Mal glared at him, suddenly all serious. "No. He's ignorant and not well educated, easy to manipulate if you know how, and impulsive and illogical to a fault. But do not get that mixed up with unintelligence, Doctor. That'll be to underestimate him. That man knows how to survive." He took another sip from his cup. "And that same survival instinct is also what keeps him from trusting others, which is why he's not likely to bring in a third party to help 'im out either. So, no, I wouldn't worry."

"But he might come for you?"

"He might. But if you want my honest opinion, I think he's just busy drinking and whoring away the last of his money. And when he's run out, he'll wave and ask for me to come pick him up."

"And you will?"

Mal thought on it for a while. "Most like. He's always been slightly more of an asset than a nuisance, and I'd rather want him on my crew than as an enemy."

Simon nodded. "That makes sense, I guess."

"Oh, I'll make him beg, you mark my words."

"Looking forward to witnessing that," Simon said and returned to his work at the counter. "I best enjoy my reprieve whilst I can, then."

But he wasn't enjoying it. Not really.

Svetlana Peng's ship was a Titan class heavy-bulk transport, larger than Serenity and with a larger crew. It was long and sleek and looked rather like a fish to Jayne, and its name was also quite fittingly The Sturgeon. The inside wasn't as sleek as the outside, though, at least not the crew quarters, the mess hall and the cargo bay, which were the only parts of the ship he'd been allowed to see. It was clean enough, as clean as you could get it with eight guys living atop of each other, but it was also quite dark and sparsely furnished.

The crew cabins were situated aft of the ship, no private rooms, just bunkbeds, and the upper decks were off limit not just to him, it seemed, but to most of the other men as well. Only Moab, who Jayne had learned outranked the rest, moved freely up and down the stairs. He also spent most of his time upstairs. Jayne had barely seen him since they'd left Persephone, and Svetlana Peng herself he hadn't seen at all. She didn't mingle with her crew, it looked like, and still they seemed very loyal to her.

He'd noticed that on the second day onboard, when he'd tried to pick a fight with a mean-looking Paquiner named Bjorn, just to suss out what he was dealing with. Bjorn had scowled at him, but not fought back, and the others had just looked at Jayne as if he was an undisciplined child not even worthy of their time and effort.

"Svetlana runs a tight ship," Rufus had told him after pulling him aside. "Military style. You can't provoke 'em."

"Now, where's the fun in that?" had been Jayne's sour reply.

This certainly wasn't an upgrade from Mal Reynolds and Serenity. Not here on the lower decks, at least. He glanced towards the stairs, not for the first time. Perhaps up there? But it didn't look like they were going to promote him, not unless he played his cards right. Right now, he wasn't even considered part of the crew. The boys played nice, let him sit in on games, and even talked to him now and then. But they hadn't given him his gun back, and they had taken his knife away as well, so he was little more than a prisoner for the moment.

"When do I get to see the captain?" he asked Rufus.

"She'll send for ya," Rufus assured him. "In her own time."

And she did. But not before the eve of arrival. He was cheating hard at a card game when Moab came to collect him. "Alright, Cobb, come with me."

"Good luck," Rufus told him, and then added in a low whisper, "Remember, she likes information."

Jayne ignored him. He didn't need Rufus Miller's advice on how to treat women.

Moab led him up the stairs and into the promised land, and it really was like stepping into a different world. It was rather spartan up there, too, but polished and warmly lit, like one of those awful waiting areas on Alliance ships, where he'd spent an uncomfortable amount of time over the last years. He was taken down a narrow hallway and into a room that, according to the sign at the door, was the captain's lounge. Inside were no less than five women, all seated on a dark red corner sofa.

Now, that was a sight!

Jayne had wondered where all the women on the crew were hidin', and in the end concluded that there were none, except the illusive captain herself, apparently. But here they were. And it eventually dawned on him what that meant:

The women were running the show. The captain, the first mate, the pilot, the quartermaster, the medic... they were all girlfolk.

He took them all in, quickly, for now. It was best to keep his wits about him. None of them would be considered great beauties, but at least two had that rough-around-the-edges, play-with-me-at-your-own-risk look that he liked. They all looked strong and confident, intimidating perhaps, to some men. But not to Jayne. He knew women like these. He'd been raised by one.

One of them stood. She was older, maybe mid-forties, short and stocky, with graying hair, buzzed on one side. She bore her hazel brown eyes into him. "I am Captain Svetlana Peng," she introduced herself.

"I know. I'm Jayne Cobb."

"I know," she threw back at him. "Sit."

She gestured towards a chair in the middle of the room.

"I prefer to stand," he told her.

"Why?" She tilted her head. "Are you afraid?"

"Not at all. Just unarmed. 'Cept for my charms and my impressive cod, that is."

Two of the women, a blonde and a redhead, snorted with laughter. The rest remained silent. And suddenly Jayne did feel a little intimidated. It felt like they were laughing at him, not with him.

"Don't get lewd with me, boy," Svetlana said, and Jayne scowled at the use of the word boy. Svetlana was hardly more than five years his senior. "You've spent a couple a days with my lads. You really think you're more impressive than they are?"

"Hell yeah! You just haven't seen me at my best."

The redhead giggled again. "I'll take 'im," she said.

The others laughed. Even Svetlana smirked a little. "Don't get your hopes up, sweetheart," she told Jayne. "She's only sayin' that on account of your name. She's into girls."

"At least we have that in common, then," Jayne retorted.

Svetlana just glared at him for a moment or two. Then she took her seat on the sofa again. "As you've gathered, I plan to unburden your boss with his cargo tomorrow."

"Ex-boss," Jayne corrected her.

"So you say. I'm not totally convinced, though. Can't take the chance of you warning him."

"Why would I do that? I don't owe that hùn dán nothing!"

"You were with him for quite some time."

"I was. He paid well. But he's lost his touch. Slipping, you might say. Over the hill." He met her gaze and held it. "I know when to jump ship."

"Just like the rats," one of the other women, a brunette, said, earning a little laughter from the rest. Jayne threw her a glare, she only looked defiantly back at him.

Svetlana wasn't laughing. "D'you know what the cargo is?"

"Medicine or some such. Don't know for what. Don't much care."

"Don't much care, either. I only care that it's worth a gorramn fortune."

"So I've been told."

"If sold to the highest bidder, that is. And your boss ain't gonna sell it to the highest bidder, is he?"

"His loss, our gain."

Svetlana raised her eyebrows. "Our gain?"

"Yeah, I'll join ya."

"Really? Why would I take you on? You killed my man."

"He was a fool. I'm not. And a lot, I mean a lot, more man."

Svetlana's whole demeanor suddenly changed. She'd run out of patience it seemed. "You keep your dirty thoughts to yourself, mister, and give me somethin' I can use. Or I'll have you shot dead, right here and now!"

"Fine. What you want?"

"You know Mal Reynolds. What's his style?"

"He'll do the drop himself," Jayne said. "He'll have one person with 'im, and another one hanging back, out of sight. You better have that one under control before you try anythin'."

"Good to know."

"But you might not even have to waste bullets. He's very protective of the crew." Jayne tried to ignore the little spark of sadness that for some reason formed in his gut. "He might even give up the stuff without a fight, if you play your cards right."

"A sap? Interesting." Svetlana's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe I should use you as a bargaining chip?"

Jayne laughed. "Hell, you try that, he'll likely shoot me himself."

"So, no love lost between the two of you, then?"

"As I've been trying to tell you."

"Who will he have with him?"

"Only one real fighter beside hisself. If the pilot in the ugly shirt starts puffin' up his chest, ignore 'im. He's harmless. Same goes for the mechanic. She's gun shy, no need for you to shoot at her."

"Sounds to me like you're quite protective, Jayne Cobb."

Jayne scowled at her. "Just a waste of bullets. Don't let the shepherd fool you, though. If he's there."

"There's a shepherd? My, my, this crew's certainly somethin'." Svetlana threw her girls a smug smile, which they all reciprocated. "They sound rather precious, truth be told. I'll try not to harm 'em too much." She shifted in her seat. "You've been useful to me, Jayne Cobb. For now. You'll remain on the ship while we do the job."

"I could –"

"No!" She cut him off. "Like I said, that's a chance I ain't takin'. But if the info you've given holds water, I'll let you live. And I'll even consider giving you your gun back. Dong ma?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Yes, Captain," she corrected him.

"My bad... captain."

She waved for Moab, and he nudged him out of the room, to the sound of laughing women. And as the door locked behind him and Jayne descended into the musky man cave again, with that unfamiliar feeling of shame churning away at his innards, he realized just how long and steep those stairs were.

"You look out for you," he recited his mother's words. "'Cause no one else will."