Author's Note: To the Guest that noted they'd like to see how life is different under the Covenant, I hope that the next couple of chapters will sate your curiosity! To BigBigWater, while the Human-Covenant War did go on for several years in this timeline, it was significantly shortened. This afforded the Spartans with far fewer opportunities to familiarize themselves with Covenant weaponry. Either way, hope you enjoy the rest of the story.
2039 Hours, February 2543
Kalaqoa System, Planet Biko
The fire burned bright and warm against the dark night. The music upbeat and the dancing lively. All around the bonfire, settlers spoke, laughed, and sang loudly. It painted a happy scene, the likes of which Biko had not enjoyed in many months.
"This is quite the honor," Cortana remarked as she settled down on a log bench next to John. "The people here really seem to have taken a liking to you."
The captain nodded, smiling as one of the dancing settlers tripped over his own feet and landed face down in the dust, only to come back up still laughing and singing. "Well, folk tend to do that when you drive off rustlers and thieves," he said coolly, turning and giving her a conspiratorial wink.
"The way Fred tells it, you did more than drive them off. Seems it turned into quite the firefight."
John shrugged one shoulder. "Oh, we gave the boys a chance to surrender. Unfortunately for them, their trigger fingers were a mite itchy."
Cortana bumped him with her shoulder. "You did a good thing for people who don't have money to pay for it, John," she said softly. "It wouldn't hurt you to acknowledge that on occasion."
"Nothing to it," he answered distractedly. In an effort to avoid his companion's gaze he scanned the crowd once more. One of the dancers caught his eye – a beautiful young woman with dark brown hair and eyes to match. She slowly began picking her way through the crowd toward them.
Fred and Kelly, who had until now danced and sang right along with the others, collapsed on the bench beside John. "These people know how to throw a party," Kelly said, breathing deeply. "I don't think I can feel my feet."
"Is that because of the dancing or because of the drinking?" Cortana asked with a smirk. Kelly elected not to answer.
John was still focused on the young woman approaching them. He watched as she wordlessly walked to a table just past Fred and selected one of the several woven floral crowns laying there. Then, just as silently, she crept over and knelt in front of John. Instinctively, he leaned back to create room between them. However, worried about upsetting the peoples' customs, he sat still when the woman reached up and placed the crown on his head. Then she placed a bowl in his hands.
The captain accepted the bowl, then lifted it to his lips and took in a mouthful of the liquid it held. The drink was hard, but smooth. Spiced with something sweet that left his head buzzing. The girl watched him drink and then, with a smile, rose to her feet and moved back into the dancing throng.
"Well that just doesn't seem right," Fred complained, reaching over to grab one of the other wreaths and spin it in his hands. "Why didn't anybody give me a fancy flower hat?"
Kelly sighed loudly and plucked the crown from his hands, then shoved it onto the man's head. "There, do you feel pretty now?"
Fred smiled brightly at her. "The prettiest."
Kelly laughed and took the bowl from John, sipped from it, and passed it to Fred. She remarked something about the strength of the drink, but it was lost on John when the same girl from before danced in front of him again.
She reached out to grab both of his hands and tugged him to his feet, pulling him toward the dance. John threw Cortana an apologetic look over his shoulder, who merely laughed and waved him on. To the doctor's side, Fred jumped to his feet and pulled Kelly back into the dance.
John allowed himself to be swept up in the happy throng. His head buzzed and his feet tripped over themselves as he spun around in unfamiliar circles and patterns, but the strange woman kept him upright throughout. He stole glances in Cortana's direction whenever he felt he could do so without drawing attention, and could not help but smile at the relaxed happiness in her face.
Cortana lifted her eyes to meet his at one point while he was staring at her. The fire reflected in her gray eyes, and the smile on her lips struck him so much he nearly stumbled to the ground then and there. He was of half a mind to go and ask her to join him. Then the young colonist was back in his arms, spinning him away through the firelit night.
The sun bore down into John's eyes the next morning. As the colonists loaded Serenity up with supplies, the bright light made him swear – not for the first or, most likely, the last time – to not allow anyone to draw him into partying an entire night away again, whatever the reason.
The settlement's elder was paying his respects and offering his apologies for not being able to pay money for their service when Linda radioed that a Covenant patrol was due their way soon.
"Well we'd be pleased as punch to get to come back and spend another night someday, and we'll call that even," John said, clapping the elder on the shoulder with one large hand. "Unfortunately, it's time for us to take off. Places to be and galactic governments to avoid, I'm sure you understand."
"Of course," the bearded man responded genially. He clasped John on the forearm and bowed his head. "May your road ever be lighted."
John bowed his own head. "And yours," he responded. Then he turned and walked up Serenity's ramp as the elder called the last of his people out. In minutes the colonists cleared enough space for them to safely take off, and they were back in the air.
The rest of the crew were already off dealing with their duties while John remained in the hold to strap down a few of the looser parcels the colonists left them. He was almost through with his work when he heard the quiet shuffling of bare feet against the hold's cold, metal floor behind him.
John whipped around, his gun already in hand. The stowaway was of slight build and medium height, with chocolate colored hair and eyes. Through the headache of the morning it took him a moment to recognize her as the girl from the night before.
"What are you doing here?" he asked suspiciously, lowering his pistol but refraining from holstering it just yet.
The woman looked confused. "What am I . . . well, where else would I be?" she asked, as if it were a silly question.
"Back home," John answered coldly.
Her eyes dropped to the floor as she took a tentative step toward him. "But Captain Reynolds . . . this is my home."
John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. You do one good deed, and the 'Verse always finds a way to make you pay for it, he silently bemoaned. Then he said, this time out loud for the girl's benefit, "No it isn't."
"Well, this is your home, is it not?" she asked timidly, daring to meet his eyes now as she spoke.
"Yes, but - " John began.
"Then if I am to cleave unto you, it must become my home as well," she interrupted, finding some confidence now in her voice. "I am your wife, after all."
Whatever the captain had been preparing to say, it vanished from his mind. "My . . . my what?" he stammered, flabbergasted.
The fear entered her eyes once more, and she dropped her gaze back to the floor. "Did the town Elder not speak with you about this? We had no money or cattle, so I am here as the payment for services rendered."
"You're here as what?" John repeated, his entire body tensing and his voice betraying how incensed he was at the situation.
"Do I not please you?" she asked, sounding as though she were on the verge of tears.
"Pleasing's got nothing to do with it," he answered exasperatedly. "You can't be my wife, I haven't the foggiest idea who you are!"
Kelly emerged from the medbay, undoubtedly drawn by the captain's raised voice. "Did I just hear you call this poor girl your wife?" she asked as she strode over to them.
"She is not my wife," John answered resolutely. "Kelly, get Linda down here. We need to turn around."
Kelly nodded and jogged over to the comm station. "All crew report to the cargo bay immediately," her voice blared over the ship-wide intercom.
John rounded on her, arms spread wide. "I only asked for Linda," he shouted in frustration.
"Everyone has a right to meet the newest addition to our team," came her defiant answer as she stared him down with an impish smirk.
Soon, the crew arrived from all corners. Joy and Miranda from the engine compartment, Linda from the bridge, Fred and Avery from the galley, and Cortana from the medbay. They formed a half-circle around John and the poor, terrified colonist who looked as though she was going to reach out and take hold of his arm for security.
"And just who might this be?" Fred asked as he stomped his way down the stairs, gesturing to the woman with a nod.
"Captain's gone and found himself a wife," Kelly answered happily.
Fred's jaw dropped. "Well . . . I've always hoped you'd find it in you to settle down, John," he finally said. Then he turned to the newcomer. "Who are you, exactly?" he asked slowly.
"It doesn't matter who she is," John cut in gruffly. "Linda, get us turned around. We're dropping her back off."
"Can't," the redhead replied with a shrug. "That Covvie patrol that just arrived in-system? Apparently one of the bandits you shot up had some big family ties and they're here to investigate his death."
The former soldier resisted the urge to curse loudly. "Well she can't stay here. What are we supposed to do with her?"
Once again, Linda shrugged. "Unless you want to walk into a firing squad, I suggest we take her on with us and drop her at our next stop. In the meantime, you can enjoy your honeymoon."
"For the last time, I did not marry her," he said as calmly as he could muster. He could hear her begin to sob quietly as he spoke.
Avery spoke up from the base of the stairs, holding a rather large book in his hands. "I'm afraid I'll have to beg to differ with you there, captain. You married her last night." He strode forward, reading from the book. "The marriage custom on Biko is a relatively simple process made up of two actions. The woman lays the wreath upon her intended. He then drinks of her wine, followed by a dance with joined hands."
The old man slapped the book shut with a smug grin. "Face it, son. She's made an honest man out of you."
Suddenly, the woman left at a run, disappearing down the hallway toward the medbay.
"You'd better go and get her, John," Cortana said calmly. When he looked at the doctor, he was surprised to find she was the one person aboard Serenity who didn't seem to be laughing at him. Instead, she looked angry. She gave him a cold look. "The poor girl doesn't deserve to be treated this way." Then she marched back into her medical suite.
The girl was tucked back in the engine compartment, quietly sobbing, when John finally found her. He made a point to noisily stomp his way back to her so as not to frighten her by suddenly appearing in front of her. When she came into view, she was busy wiping tears from her cheeks.
"There you are," he said, finding himself with a total lack of anything better to say.
"Yes," she said, her voice choked. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have fled. I just thought –"
Sitting on the floor beside her, John held up a hand to forestall her rushed apologies. "Nothing to forgive," he said quickly. "In fact . . ." he paused, chewing his lip nervously for a moment. "In fact, I'm the one who needs to apologize. I didn't mean to scare you back there. It's just that I've never much considered myself the marrying type. I don't even know your name."
The girl perked up at that, sitting forward to bring her face closer to John's. "My name is Parisa," she said eagerly. "It means 'fairy-like' to my people."
John nodded slowly. "John," he introduced himself, striking out a hand and gently shaking hers. "I don't know if it means anything."
"Blessed by God," Parisa said quietly.
John raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, I can't say that feels entirely accurate. But I appreciate the sentiment, I suppose."
A long silence stretched between them before Parisa sniffed, wiped her eye, and asked, "Are you . . . are you going to kill me?"
John's jaw dropped and he turned to look at her in indignant shock. "Kill you?" he asked incredulously, "What in the 'Verse could give you that idea?"
"Stories come back sometimes that when the men are displeased by their wives, they . . ."
John surged to his feet, incensed. "What kind of crappy backwater is that place?" he barked. He turned to the young woman and pointed at her. "Hey, if anyone ever tries to kill you, it's your God-given right to go ahead and try to kill them right back."
"Then you don't plan to dispose of me?" she asked, seemingly taken aback by the venom in his words.
The captain muttered a few choice expletives under his breath. "No, I don't plan to dispose of you. I'm going to drop you off somewhere." He paused, letting his breath hang heavy between them. Finally, he added, "Look, we'll make landfall in five days. We'll find you someplace nice, where you'll find a job. You'll be able to find your own way."
Parisa's gaze fell slowly to the floor, but she finally nodded. "If I am not to be had by you, then I suppose I could find a life of my own. But in those five days . . . I would still be your wife, yes?"
John was very uncomfortable again. "I suppose that's so, but I wouldn't –"
He never got to finish his thought. Parisa was suddenly on her feet, back to her old chipper self. "Excellent!" she declared triumphantly. "Then I will be the kind of wife that you would be proud of," she said, and bustled toward the door. "What is your favorite meal?" she asked over her shoulder as she barreled toward the galley.
The former soldier stood in stunned silence for a moment, left to wonder just what was going on. Finally he collected himself enough to start after the young woman, intent on telling her that she didn't need to cook for him. He was only a few steps down the hallway, however, when the stern expression of one Avery J. Johnson stopped him in his tracks.
"A word, Captain?" he asked in a tone that implied it was no request.
John simply nodded for the man to continue. "Seems most everyone here wants a word these days. What can I do for you, Preacher?"
The man's generally amiable face was hard as stone. "That's a fine young lady who's attached herself to your arm," he said stiffly.
"Seeming finer by the moment," John answered, hesitating.
"If you take sexual advantage of that girl, you'll be headed straight for a special level of Hell. The level reserved for child molesters, and people who talk at the theater."
John's brow furrowed. "You might ought to think twice before you start accusing me of something I have no mind to do," he growled.
Avery took a step back, allowing some levity to enter his dark expression. "You could be right. I may be speaking out of turn," the older man conceded, turning toward the staircase. He paused at the top of the stairs and spun around to look at John once more. "A special Hell," he said again, then retreated toward his quarters.
As he watched Avery leave, John resisted the urge to knock his forehead against the corridor wall in frustration. "You do one good thing . . ." he muttered.
John opened the hatch and tiredly climbed the ladder down to his personal quarters.
Two days had passed since they left Biko. Two days of absolute madness. The judgmental glares from Avery, silent fuming from Cortana, and near-constant fits of laughter from the rest of the crew would be enough to drive him insane on a good day. But now, he had the added stressor of constantly attempting to hide from his 'blushing bride,' as Fred insisted on calling her.
Parisa, for her part, seemed intent on convincing him to allow her to stay on as his wife. She cooked every meal for him, she followed him around and tried to clean up after him, and she seemed to take an aggressive possessiveness of him whenever the other crewmembers were around. It was downright unsettling – especially considering the arrangement that led to their 'marriage' in the first place.
So for now, the captain was retiring to his quarters – the one place he was safe from his long list of stressors. He made his way to the bottom of the ladder and closed the hatch behind him, sighing contentedly to himself once he finally secured some proper 'alone time.'
His newfound peace and quiet was immediately cut short when he turned and found someone lying in his bed.
"Good evening, husband," Parisa said demurely, stretched out on his bunk. "I was worried we might never find time alone."
"Well, that was the idea," John answered through gritted teeth.
The young woman rose to her feet, a hurt expression crossing her face. John noticed she had changed from her regular attire into what he assumed passed for sleepwear on Biko – a sheer gown with a rough shawl thrown over it.
With a grunt, the captain fixed his eyes on the ceiling of his bunk.
Parisa slowly stepped toward him. "Do I not please you?" she asked timidly, pulling the shawl tighter around herself.
John kept his gaze cemented firmly on the ceiling. "The issue isn't whether or not you're pleasing. The issue is that you were handed to me as payment, and you don't seem to understand how that isn't right."
"This is our custom," Parisa said quietly. "We are a proud people on Biko, and do not accept goods or services without repaying our debt. I have seen many of my sisters married off to ugly, cruel men in exchange for the goods they provide our people. I . . ." she trailed off, her silence finally forcing him to look her in the eye. "I never dreamed that I would be sent to a man as handsome and caring as you."
She stepped closer to him, the shawl slipping daintily off one of her shoulders, and John fixed his gaze back on the ceiling. "You are strong, and brave, and smart," she said slowly, her voice growing louder with each step she took in his direction. "If I were to be given to a man, I am pleased that it was you."
John felt a soft hand touch his chin, and in spite of himself he allowed Parisa to turn his face toward her. Then he felt her lips – smooth, gentle, soft, warm – press against his own.
The kiss was slow, soft. Unlike what he expected. He felt his eyes grow wide in surprise when she made contact with him. Quickly, he stepped back. "No," he said firmly, "this isn't right."
Parisa stepped back, smiling up at him. But her smile seemed different now. Where before it was timid and innocent, it was now sharp. He imagined it looked very similar to what he would see if a snake were to smile at him.
"Oh, John," she said, and even her voice seemed different. Colder. Harder. "Always so noble. So good. If only that could help you now."
John opened his mouth to respond but found himself without words.
Parisa pressed a finger to his lips and gently shushed him. "No, no. Save your strength. Trust me - to survive what I just coated your lips with, you'll need it."
John tried to lift his arm and found it entirely unresponsive. It took him several seconds to realize that was an issue. It took him several more seconds to realize that was an issue. "Why, you . . ." he started, but lost the strength to finish the insult halfway through. Then he lost the strength to stand. Then his vision started going dark.
He was already unconscious by the time he crumbled to the ground.
Parisa watched disinterestedly as the large man thunked to the floor. She prodded his inert form with one bare foot. He laid there, practically snoring on the cold floor.
"Finally," she muttered, pulling a set of warmer clothes from beneath the covers of the captain's bed. She quickly dressed, throwing the shawl over herself for good measure. She made her way to the hatch, but paused once to glance back at the drugged ex-soldier. "Why are all the good men dead?" she wistfully asked the air. "Or, more accurately," she added with a sharklike grin, "about to be."
Then she climbed the ladder and made her way to the bridge. Part of her hoped to find it empty, but she knew the likelihood of that was practically zero. True to her suspicion, stretched languidly in the pilot's chair was Serenity's second-in-command, the one they called Fred.
Just before she stepped through the doorway, Parisa plucked a small device from a hidden sheath within her left boot. It was a taser, strong enough to take down a Brute without an issue. Its only drawback was that it required a certain amount of time to build its charge up to an effective level.
So, after activating the device's charger, the woman decided to opt for Plan B on the bridge crew. She only hoped there was enough residual drugged lipstick to deliver a second successful dosage.
"Is there room for one more?" she asked, once again putting on her sweet and innocent façade. Parisa loathed this particular character. Timid, demure, and everything Parisa wasn't. But it was the character she was hired to play; not to mention the most likely to sneak under the crew's suspicions. If she were perceived as too innocent to be deceitful, they wouldn't even attempt to discern her actual purpose for stowing away aboard the ship.
The large man clearly heard her come in, but he spun in his chair and seemed surprised to find who had entered the bridge. "Oh, it's you. I thought you were . . ." he trailed off, then made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "Never mind. What can I do for you?" He offered her a charming smile that most would probably call disarming.
But Parisa was not one easily disarmed.
"I just wished to sneak a view of the stars," she said quietly, gently sitting on the edge of the co-pilot's chair. "They are so beautiful, and we don't have views like this on Biko."
The truth was, she had no idea whether or not one could see the stars from Biko. She only arrived on the colony half a day ahead of Serenity – just enough time to integrate herself with the colonists [there](1) and make herself appear as though she belonged. Every story she told about the planet, and there were many, was completely fabricated.
The man leaned back in the chair, resting his hands behind his head. "Yeah, the stars sure are a sight, aren't they? Whenever I pull night duty, I spend most of my time trying to come up with new constellations."
Parisa forced a look of wonderment across her features. "Oh, how delightful," she purred, leaning forward to take in more of the stars through the ship's clear blasteel canopy. "Do you see any now?"
A grin turned up the corner of Fred's face as he looked Parisa over. "Well, there's one at eleven o'clock low that looks vaguely like a dog," he said slowly. "I was trying to come up with a story for him when you came in."
"Oh, I adore dogs," Parisa said, clapping her hands. "You must show me."
There it was. She'd given him the opening. Even the densest of men had to realize he had the opportunity now to step in close, reach around her to point out specific stars, put an arm around her shoulders . . .
Apparently, despite being a hopeless flirt, Fred was particularly dense when it came to someone flirting back with him. The man simply moved one arm to point out a few stars from his seat. "Well, there's the point of his tail, and there's his leg, those three stars make one of his ears . . ."
Am I going to have to do everything myself? she thought.
Out loud, she hummed thoughtfully before saying, "No, I still can't see it. You need to show me." Then she crossed the bridge and took a seat on the edge of Fred's chair. There was no way he'd miss that, she reasoned.
She reasoned wrong. It was all she could do to keep the annoyed groan from escaping her lips when the large man awkwardly scooted as far away from her as the chair allowed and made a haphazard effort to show her what he was pointing out, resolutely refusing to take her bait.
Time to kick it up a notch.
"I always wished to see the stars," she said dreamily, staring out the window and leaning ever so slightly toward the larger man. "I would lay awake at night, imagining the day when I would be swept off my feet and into the 'Verse." She dropped her gaze to the floor, effecting an appearance of innocent nervousness. Then she turned to Fred, bringing their faces within centimeters of each other. "The captain does not wish to keep me aboard. But truth be told, he does not interest me so much anyway. Perhaps you could . . ." she trailed off as she leaned forward, puckering her lips just slightly to make clear her intentions.
It was a sloppy rush job, there was no denying that. But she was on a time crunch. She didn't have all night for this moron to get it through his head that she wanted him to kiss her.
For the fourth time that night, she was rejected.
"Look, Parisa," Fred said quickly, rising from the chair and brusquely brushing past her. "You're beautiful and sweet and all, but you're technically married to my best friend. Besides, you're not exactly my type." He made his way to the door and slid it open. "I think you'd better go."
Parisa nearly rolled her eyes. Luckily, she felt the device tucked away in her left palm buzz to alert her that a sufficient charge had built up. She slowly rose from her seat and made her way toward Fred.
"I'm so sorry," she breathed, her voice nearly panicked. "I do not know what came over me. I am John's wife, and I should never –"
Then she hit him with enough voltage to take down a horse. The large man's eyes went wide for a moment, then slid closed. She released her hold on the button and allowed him to collapse, giving one very slight push with her free hand to make sure the bulk of his weight landed outside the door.
Then, with practiced precision, the woman raced to the pilot's bench. She keyed in a set of coordinates, waited for Serenity's computer to accept them, then set the radio to a special frequency and spoke one message: "Mission accomplished, target inbound." In a rush, she peeled the paneling off the bottom of the command module and ripped out a handful of wires connected to both the navigational computer and the communications system. Then she turned and made her way to the door, pausing only long enough to drag the unconscious Fred's boots free of the doorway and to place a strip of thermowelding tape within the hatch's frame.
She activated the strip of tape just before slamming the door shut, nodding to herself and barreling down the gangway once she was confident the tape was doing its job and sealing the door to its frame. She needed to get to one of the escape vessels waiting on Serenity's wings – if she didn't get off the ship in time, she was just as dead as the rest of them. Her employer wasn't likely to wait long enough to ensure she would survive what they planned.
She rushed down the length of the ship without so much as a snag. It was late and the entire crew was either asleep or unconscious. She could practically feel the Gekz in her hands now as she keyed in the passcode to one of the escape vessels.
"Parisa?" said a concerned voice from behind her. "Is something wrong?"
Without turning around she knew it was the doctor. Cortana. The one who had avoided her and shot the captain dirty looks ever since she arrived. Over the past two days Parisa made a concerted effort to behave particularly possessive of John whenever Cortana was around. The woman clearly came from high society, after all. She was the most likely to have some random bit of obscure knowledge that could out Parisa as a fraud. But now, all she represented was an obstacle.
Quickly squeezing out a few extra tears onto her cheeks, Parisa whipped around. "I'm sorry," she sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I was just . . . I didn't . . ." she broke down into sobs again, using the opportunity to identify anyone else in the room. It was just her, the doctor, and the crazy one – Joy, she thought – who was tucked behind her sister.
Cortana rushed forward, folding Parisa into a comforting hug. "You're alright," she cooed. "You're fine. Just tell me what happened."
Parisa wracked her shoulders with a very convincing emotional breakdown, if she said so herself. "I angered him," she wailed. "I thought he might decide to harm me. I thought my only chance for survival would be to escape while he was asleep." She looked pitifully at the escape vessel. "What did I do for him to hate me so?"
"She's lying," Joy said flatly, her face entirely dispassionate as she watched the whole affair from several paces back.
Cortana ran a soothing hand through Parisa's dark hair, smiling softly at the young woman. "I know," she said.
As the doctor took a step away from her Parisa reached for the taser on her belt, only to discover it was no longer there. She looked up to find Cortana twirling the small device through her fingers. "Lose something?" she asked, her voice an absolute mockery of innocence.
"You're good," Parisa admitted with a smile.
Cortana shrugged. "You were in a rush, I get it. But you were way off the mark when you tried to make me believe that John could ever harm a sweet creature like you've been pretending to be." She stopped twirling the stolen device and instead pointed it in Parisa's direction. "Now, who are you?"
A blaring alarm echoed through the cargo bay, and several overhead lights started flashing red. Someone must have found Fred, she reasoned. While the sisters' eyes were turned toward the flashing lights, Parisa opened the shuttle's hatch and stepped inside the doorway. She turned back to the doctor to bat her eyelashes and declare, "I'm John's widow."
Then she sealed the hatch, found the pilot's chair, and bid the doomed Serenity a fond farewell.
When John finally forced his eyes open, his head still buzzed like there was a nest of angry hornets inside. A significant part of him wished he could just close his eyes and go back to sleep.
"Good morning, lovebird," he heard Cortana's bemused voice say from somewhere in the corner.
"Not you too," he groaned. "I thought you were the only person on this ship who didn't find the whole 'marriage' thing funny."
The woman hummed before stepping in front of him. "I didn't think it was funny. But then your blushing bride turned out to be a would-be assassin that was planted on Serenity to kill us all, and suddenly the whole situation became far more comical."
That particular statement should have surprised John, but after his strange interactions with Parisa over the past several days and the fact she had evidently poisoned him, it just seemed to fit.
"What did she do to me?" he asked gruffly, forcing himself to his feet. As soon as he stood, he found himself dramatically swaying from side to side as his dizzy head tried to reorient itself.
He felt Cortana's small hands press against his chest, supporting him. "Easy there, killer," she admonished. "There was a drug laced in her lipstick. When she kissed you – and I'm trusting that it was she who kissed you – it knocked you out."
"Best kiss I've ever had," John mumbled sarcastically. Cortana looked up at him sharply, and John suddenly realized how close they were. Not for the first time, he felt an inclination to say something stupid. Luckily for him, Cortana awkwardly cleared her throat and continued on.
"Parisa managed to escape on one of the shuttles. I had to let her go so that I could come here and make sure you're okay. Unfortunately, we've got bigger problems to deal with now."
"Some woman boards my boat, masquerades as my wife, and tries to kill me – and that doesn't even get to be the most pressing concern we're dealing with?" he groaned.
Cortana laughed sympathetically. "As much as I'd love to spend the next few days babying you back to health, that's going to have to wait until we make sure that any of us actually survive the next couple of hours. We need to get up to the bridge." With that, she turned to the ladder and began making her way out of his bunk.
John shook his head, as much in dismay at the continued ridiculousness of his situation as to clear his head of the painful cobwebs left behind by his drug-laced kiss. Finally, he reached the rungs of the ladder and climbed his way toward the bridge.
The entire crew was already gathered by the time he arrived. Miranda and Linda were buried elbows-deep in the guts of Serenity's command module, Avery was pacing in the lower section of the bridge, and Kelly was knelt in front of Fred, dabbing blood away from a gash in his forehead with a wet cloth. Cortana and her sister were tucked away in one corner, trying to not take up too much room.
"What happened to you?" John asked Fred as he stepped into the already cramped section of the ship. "Barber take a little too much off the top?"
"She hit me with a taser," the other man countered. "What's your excuse, Don Juan?"
John cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Sitrep," he ordered, changing the subject as quickly as he possibly could. The sparkling laughter in Cortana's eyes didn't escape his notice. He'd have to find some way to get back at her for immediately spilling his embarrassing situation to the entire crew.
"She trashed my whole system," Linda's disgruntled voice wafted up from where she was hidden within the guts of the ship. "Keyed in coordinates and then tore everything else out. Miranda and I are trying to get things back in order, but there's no way we'll finish before Serenity is toast anyway."
"Where are we headed?" John asked, trying to find the nav computer in the mess of machinery strewn across the console.
Kelly rose from where she had been crouching in front of Fred, leaning one hand against the seated man's shoulder. "It's not where that's the issue. It's what's waiting for us when we get there." She leaned over the console before John and tapped a few keys, bringing up a holographic diagram of a large vaguely ring-shaped structure. The sides were angular, forming more of an octagon than a circle. A large rod extended from each point of the octagon and pointed toward the center.
The vessel was large – the empty circle in created wide enough for a Halberd-class Destroyer to fly through without issue. More than enough for a relatively tiny ship like Serenity.
Looking at the oddly shaped vessel, John swallowed a curse.
"What is this?" Cortana asked, stepping forward to get a closer look. "Some kind of docking station?"
"Of a sort," John finally muttered in response. "This is a Net. It's a floating chop shop. Those rods in the center of the ring will form an ionized Net that fries anything living within a ship that passes through it so that the Net's crew can pick the ships over for parts after."
Cortana made a strange sort of choking sound. "Well . . . that doesn't sound particularly pleasant."
John turned back to Linda. "How long until we have navigation back?"
"A couple of hours at least," Linda answered, extricating herself from the console and sitting up.
"And how long before we pass through that Net?"
Kelly and Linda shared a concerned look. "About twenty minutes," Kelly answered.
John cursed again.
Joy calmly stepped around her sister and made her way to the holoprojector. She lazily passed her hand through the floating representation of the Net and mumbled. "Marlin-class Space Net, developed by pirate operators of the Hydra system in the late 24th century. Typically deployed alongside a fleet of armed ships, due to the fragility of the structure." She paused, passing her hand through one of the conducting rods that pointed to the center of the Net. "The destruction of a single conducting rod results in an overload that turns the electric Net back on its own structure."
"Right," Kelly grumbled. "Unfortunately, Serenity isn't exactly equipped with the weapons systems to destroy one of those rods."
Joy shrugged. "The M99 Special Application Scoped Rifle is rated for vacuum. I believe Linda owns one," she said calmly, then left the bridge without another word.
"That's . . ." John said slowly, trailing off as he thought. "That could do it. Linda, how long will it take you to get suited up and ready to fire in the airlock?"
The redheaded sharpshooter surged to her feet. "Fifteen minutes," she answered. "Someone will need to get my rifle for me while I suit up."
"I'm on it," Kelly said, and flew from the bridge in a blur.
"Linda, get to the hangar. Fred, see what you can do to help Miranda get things working again," John said quickly, moving to the doorway after Kelly's rapidly retreating form.
"What about the rest of us?" Avery asked from behind him.
John paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. "I don't know," he answered sincerely. "Pray?"
[SCENE BREAK]
Linda loved space. The silence of it. The weightlessness. The freedom. It was why she ended up becoming Serenity's designated pilot. She lived for the stars she could see through the bridge canopy.
Now, as the airlock door slowly cycled open, the beauty of the stars hit her with a force she rarely got to enjoy.
"For a crew that live in space, we don't do this nearly often enough," Kelly said beside her, her voice quiet and scratchy over the radio of their EVA suits. The pair stood for a moment, watching the beauty of the unfiltered stars burning on into the infinite darkness.
Slowly, the Net drifted into view.
"Distance to target?" Linda radioed to the bridge.
"Ten kilometers," Miranda's voice drifted into her ears. "I hope you're really as good a shot as Fred keeps telling me you are. We're going to be cutting this a little close."
Linda smirked, hefting the M99 Stanchion rifle to her shoulder. She sighted down the scope and picked out one of the ionizing rods at random. They had a few more seconds before they drifted into the rifle's seven-kilometer effective range. She felt confident she could take a shot from further away, but she wanted to see the net fire up for herself before she risked it.
She took in a long breath. There was no wind to adjust for, no friction to slow her round. This was quite possibly the easiest shot she would ever take. Still, it was also possibly one of the most important. She breathed out, resting her gauntleted finger against the rifle's trigger.
Finally, the crackling blue electricity spread from one ionizing rod to the next, forming a veritable spider's web of life-ending energy.
"Firing."
Six kilometers away, the round connected with the central point of the peak ionizing rod. The long piece of machinery broke in two, which collapsed in on themselves and erupted in the beautiful perfectly spherical explosions of vacuum. The electric web quickly dissipated, drawing back into the vessel along its own charging rods. Linda watched as explosions burst and then extinguished in a fraction of a second, as the Net tore itself apart.
"Mission accomplished," she reported happily. "Kelly, close the airlock. Let's get back inside."
As the outer doors cycled closed, Serenity passed peacefully through the center of the self-destructing weapon, its silent explosions rippling all around her.
Parisa relaxed on the over-stuffed couch in the ridiculous cabin her employers left for her. It was a lavish place, safe and warm against the harsh environment of Biko's fourth moon, Seoba. She never would have chosen such lavish lodgings on her own dime, but sometimes it paid to do work for the Banished.
They had deep pockets.
A part of her felt guilt after missions like the one she just completed. She squashed that part. Buried it deep in her mind. It was not becoming for an assassin and spy to fall prey to the quandaries of a guilty conscience. She would not have it.
Still. Miranda and Joy were both very young. It was a shame to send children to their deaths.
She looked out the window to see the shuttle she stole from Serenity. It performed its duty – succeeding admirably against the long voyage back to Biko. She would have to consider attaching it to her own ship when she scored big enough to afford one.
She settled back into the couch and closed her eyes. Soon, the representative from her employer would arrive with the rest of her pay. Then she would be on her way. Back to work. But for now, she could rest.
Then the front door to the cabin fell off its hinges.
"Wife," said a by-now familiar voice. "Did you miss me?"
She jumped to her feet and went for the gun on the table, but he was on her impossibly fast. He held her fast by the wrists and forced her back onto the couch, then shoved the barrel of an M6D in her face.
"You're alive," she said simply, finding herself truly impressed.
"Hate to disappoint," John replied, offering her a shrug. "But hey, what's marriage if not one disappointment after another?"
Parisa nodded, letting her left arm fall over the armrest of her couch. She had a blade concealed there. If she could only reach it . . .
"If you don't quit reaching for that knife, I may well have to ruin that fancy couch you're sitting on." John's voice was cold. Hard. The look on his face matched.
Parisa opted to do as he said.
"I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to kill you the past couple of days," John admitted, his grip still tight on the pistol in his hand. "Shooting you would be too quick, stabbing you would be too messy. I even considered just kicking you out the airlock and seeing how long you can hold your breath, but that just felt too dramatic."
He settled down slowly on the low table in front of her, keeping his sidearm trained on her forehead. "I'm sure you'll be happy to learn that in the end I decided not to kill you. Too much to deal with. So, I'm here to collect my shuttle, anything you took from my ship, the advance payment you received for this job, and the name of your employer. Then I'll be on my way."
Parisa let a smile cross her face. "Do you really expect me to believe that, darling?" she asked sardonically. "I know how these things work. You say this to get my cooperation in finding what you want, and then you'll shoot me anyway."
John shrugged. "That's possible. You aren't in much of a position to stop me, even if that is my plan."
"That's true," Parisa agreed, drawing out every syllable and slipping into a sultry tone of voice. "Of course, I can think of plenty of positions that you wouldn't mind me getting in if you'll just –"
John pulled back the hammer on his gun with a resounding click. "Parisa, please. We're past all that, aren't we?"
The dark-haired woman glared at him, but finally nodded. Slowly she reached under the cushion of the couch and produced a small purse filled with Gekz. "This is the advance payment," she grumbled. "I'm sure you've already seen where your shuttle is stationed. As for my employer, his name is one you should be very familiar with by now. Apparently you went back on a deal with him back on Tarsus."
The captain's eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise. "Escharum," he said under his breath.
Parisa nodded again. "You put a big target on your back when you went against the Banished, John. You might need to start paying better attention to just who you let aboard your ship."
"Thanks for the tip," John grumbled. He hefted the coin purse in his left hand and stood. "I know this isn't all they paid you, but I'll let you keep the rest. Maybe it will be enough to buy your way off this rock before your employers come after you for failing to make good on your end of the deal. I have to say I sincerely hope not. Either way, though, you'd do well to make sure we don't cross paths again."
He collected her gun from the table and left. A few moments later, the engines of the beaten shuttle came to life and it left the ground with a roar.
Alone in her cabin, Parisa felt a smile cross her lips. The mission may not have been successful. It was possible that she just earned herself a new enemy in the Banished. But one thing she could not deny – she loved her job.
Serenity left Biko's orbit for the second time. This time there were no inbound Covenant cruisers to chase them away. No stowaways either – John checked three times just to be sure. They even made enough money from Parisa to be squared for the work they did for the colonists on the planet proper. In all, it was a far less problematic stop than circumstances would have implied.
"Well," Fred said, clapping a hand on John's shoulder in the galley, "yet another adventure. Parisa may be a liar, a cheat, a murderer, and an all-around shenaniganer. But she did something right, and I think we all owe her thanks for that."
John turned a skeptical glance on the other man. Parisa did something right? Maybe Fred hit his head harder than they realized.
"She made an honest man out of you," Fred said with a toothy grin. "And that's more than can be said about anyone else aboard this boat."
John changed his mind. Perhaps Fred hadn't hit his head hard enough.
Laughter passed around the table as everyone, even Joy, took some enjoyment out of John's humiliation. John let them have their moment of fun, then stood from the table.
"I've actually been thinking on just that subject, and I have to say I disagree," he said, quietly pacing across the floor and tapping a finger against his chin. "I can't say as I remember everything that happened that night on Biko, but I do seem to recall watching Kelly put a flowered wreath on Fred's head and then offer him a bowl of wine – a bowl which he certainly elected to drink from."
Fred's mouth hung open. Kelly stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well you're grasping at straws on that one," she muttered.
John held his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm not grasping at anything. Avery, if you would be so kind as to remind us of the wedding tradition on Biko?"
The holy man's smile was wolfish, and his eyes twinkled dangerously. "As I recall it, the lady presents a wreath to her chosen as a proposal, and if he drinks of her wine then her proposal is accepted." He stood up, brushed off his pants, and made his way to the door. "My congratulations to the happy couple," he called out as he left.
The room was silent for several long seconds. Then Miranda began to giggle.
"Now you wait just a minute!" Fred shouted, suddenly lurching to his feet and barreling down the hallway after the quickly retreating preacher. Kelly followed right behind him, though she seemed to consciously keep some distance between them so as to avoid any further teasing.
"Where are you going?" Cortana asked as Miranda jumped up a moment later and began happily bounding toward the door.
"Oh, I wouldn't miss a second of this for the world!" the young girl answered before grabbing Joy's hand and leading the other girl down the hall after the others. Even Linda silently rose to follow them.
Finally, John and Cortana were left alone in the galley. An amiable silence stretched between them for a time, broken only by the muffled cries of an incensed Fred, too far away to make out what he was saying.
Finally the doctor looked at him, curiosity written across her face. "Is it true what you said earlier?" she asked slowly. "That Parisa was the best kiss you've ever had?"
John felt his cheeks redden and he coughed. "Well, I can't say as I've had too terribly much experience on the subject," he stammered, more honest than he'd meant to be. The truth was that growing up in a top-secret military super soldier program did not leave one with the kind of experiences typically expected in youth. When he grew into first a soldier, then a bandit living on the run from an alien empire, it hadn't done much to increase his odds of finding a 'typical' life.
Cortana hummed, looking thoughtfully at the table. "That's a pity," she said quietly. "Maybe we ought to fix that someday."
Then she rose from her seat. "I'm off to see Fred try to talk his way out of this," she said chipperly, holding out a hand to John. "Would you care to join me?"
Left speechless by the conversation, John just stared at her outstretched hand for a time. Finally, he took hold of it and with a grin allowed Cortana to pull him to his feet. Together, they chased after the growing sounds of Fred's argument with Avery.
Their hands remained linked until they found the rest of the crew, separating only a moment before stepping through the doorway to face the others. Of course, that meant nothing. John was still recovering from the aftereffects of Parisa's drug, he reasoned, and Cortana was helping him keep his balance.
Quietly, though, the captain allowed his mind to wonder what a good kiss might actually feel like. He'd have to find out. Someday.
