One delivery deal, two new passengers, and three days had gone by, and there had been no visible sign of the Doctor. No change in the box's appearance. The only indication that he was in there were the occasional sound of thumps and his voice, usually muffled but generally raised in frustration.
Book carried a tray of food from the latest meal to the hold. Each day, a different person had been assigned by the captain to do so.
His mind drifted back to the meal just ended. Things hadn't ended so well...
"What kinda repairs do you think he's doing in that crate, anyway?" said Wash. "It can't be comfortable, crammed into that tiny space."
He reflected a moment on the size of the bridge he was on at almost all hours, then amended his statement. "Well, tinier space."
Mal and Zoe shared a look, then Mal said, "Can't rightly say. Man wants his privacy, I'll respect that."
Simon gave a quiet 'huh.' "Man," he muttered.
Mal stared hard at him. " 'Course, I wouldn't want to be 'round someone looked at me like I wasn't worth scrapin' off their boot." He raised his mug to his lips.
"I-"
Jayne thumped the table, startling Simon out of whatever he had been about to say. "Lissen, you 女人氣猴子. Maybe he ain't human, but he's shown himself to be more of a man than you'll ever be!"
Mal felt in definite danger of raisin' an eyebrow at this. The Doctor was a good guy, no question, but it was suprisin' all the same to see yet again how much of an impression he'd made on the big merc.
Simon's face stayed stony, but flushed a moment. He rose from the table in a careful, precise manner, turned, and walked out of the room.
Jayne leaned back in his chair with a smirk, then leaned forward to continue poking at and trying to eat his 'food', pointedly ignoring the glances of the rest of the crew.
Book sighed at the memory and entered the hold. "Doctor, I've brought-" He stopped, and looked down with some surprise. The previous two trays sat stacked in front of the crate's door, with the dishes neatly arranged on them. He set down the tray in front of the door, inspecting the dishes more closely.
They were sparkling clean.
"Hm," was all he said. He paused.
If the Doctor had gone through the trouble of avoiding them just to clean the dishes, why had he then brought them back here?
He knocked at the door once, and waited. The door opened a crack. "Yes, thank you, I'll retrieve it when I've finished with this- oh blast," said the Doctor. Before Book could reply, the door shut with an emphatic click.
How could anyone manage to stay in there voluntarily, let alone be 'repairing' something, for that long?
Book shook his head. Hopefully, the Doctor would be done with whatever he was doing soon, and would be willing to talk about it.
He retrieved the trays and returned with them to the galley.
Later, he walked into the sick bay as Simon was taking inventory.
"The man has been in that crate for three days. Three days," he said. "Don't you find that the least bit strange?"
"I wouldn't know, I'm not familiar with the vagaries of alien physiology, let alone psychology," said Simon. "Besides, I've been rather busy fixing up everyone else."
"I couldn't help but notice that you've been rather... judgmental toward him lately."
Simon looked up from his work, eyebrows raised. "He's an ALIEN, Shepherd. There are no substantiated records of anything other than humans out there, and we encounter not one, but two distinct kinds of beings in the space of a couple of weeks!" He set the clipboard down and rubbed his face in his hands. "What I find astonishing is that the rest of this crew are acting like...." He paused, frustrated.
"Like it's business as usual?" said Book. "I admit, I found it odd myself." He thought a moment. "It may be that, having interacted with him and fought alongside him, they're more likely to be accepting of things about him. Of course, I can't be sure it will last... it may just be the shock of discovery hasn't worn off yet."
"Exactly! I... well, I have to consider the medical implications. What diseases could he be carrying that could infect the crew? Parasites?"
"Nothing has happened like that. Perhaps, there's nothing to worry about?"
"You don't know that!" snapped Simon. "We have only the slightest idea of his biology. Two hearts? A lower general body temperature? What else is different? What else? Maybe we could open him up and check?!"
"Now hold on, son, just calm down," said Book, grasping his shoulder. "I don't think that sort of thing should be brought up, even in jest."
"How do you know?" Simon said in a shaking voice. "Maybe he can just open himself up and let us take a look!" He shook his head. "Maybe even he's right," he said. "Here I am, acting like some panicky yokel, practically recanting my oath. Though really, veterinarians euthanize sick animals, or ones proven dangerous to humans..."
For the first time, he seemed conflicted on the subject. "Well, it's an argument for-"
River's voice wafted from the vents above.
"The blood is on the other hands now?"
Both men blanched and looked at each other, then up at the ceiling vent. "What do you mean?" said Book.
"Savior of men, blood on his hands. Finds someone he can't save. Some people take that kind of thing as a personal affront."
River's head popped out from another panel in the ceiling, startling both. She caught her brother's gaze. They looked into each others eyes for a long moment.
"Can you forgive the one you can't cure?'
Another pause. Finally, tears began to leak from her eyes, tracing down her forehead to drip to the floor.
"Simon? You do forgive... Why can't you... you want to protect me, but why can't you forgive..."
She pulled back into the vent. "River, wait-" said Simon, but she was already gone.
He turned away from the vent, his eyes hooded. "She doesn't need forgiveness, she needs help."
"Most people need the one before they can accept the other... if only from themselves."
"Well, in some cases that-"
He found he was addressing an empty room.
Jed Kathan looked up at his newest visitor and customer seated across the desk from him, a Mr. Padrone, and smiled in a professional way, starting his "customer collections" routine.
"Your package is on its way," he said. He paged through a few papers on his desk, then looked at another one. "The other... item's been taken to our secured area." He set down the paper. "All in all, I'd say I've kept my side of the bargain." He held out his hand.
The dark-clad man across from him sat silent a moment, stroking his goatee. He then smiled. "Yes, I believe you have, Mr. Kathan." He produced a pouch and placed it on the desk.
"Now, if we're done here-"
"Do you think you'll be seeing those smugglers again?"
"I don't think you've paid for that inform-"
"Yes, yes- whoever it is you had delivering the package."
Jed frowned. "I suppose so. I give them the odd job from time to time."
"Excellent," said the man. "If you do see them again - kill them."
Jed stared at the man, then gave an unbelieving laugh. "Transport, detainment, hell, kidnapping is fine if the price is right," he said. "I even have the contact info for a couple of guys for wet work, if ya need it." He scratched his head. "Problem is, if I start killin' off the people who come to me to do the payin' jobs on just anyone's say-so, I'd be outta business real quick."
"I will pay triple the going rate. Consider my offer carefully; I only extend this as we have had such successful dealings - "
Jed scowled, and motioned to his man at the door. "This meeting is over," he said. "Mike, please show him out." The man nodded, then stepped forward, raising a hand...
Mr. Padrone turned in his chair and looked up at Mike, who stopped, a confused look on his face.
"Go outside and await my arrival."
Like a puppet, Mike spun in place and marched stiffly toward the door.
"Mike. Mike! What the 吃鸭子的饼!" Jed's hand slapped down on the secret panic button on his desk, causing a panel to slide away at the front. His other hand gripped the handle of the scatter-gun mounted there, finger on the trigger. "All right, you backstabbing bast-"
The man had turned back to him, and fixed his eyes with a glare. He strained to pull the trigger, to shout for his other men, but he couldn't move a muscle!
"Tsk, tsk," said Mr. Padrone, smiling and shaking his head. "You humans always have to make things hard for yourselves... but it doesn't matter, in the end. Whether by the carrot or the stick, alI I require is your complete obedience and your submission to my will!"
The man, his eyes suddenly deeper and more powerful than Jed thought possible, stepped forward and put a gloved hand around his neck. Jed tried to resist, but found like before, his muscles refused to obey. He felt himself sinking...
He released his throat and stood back. "Now. Let go of the weapon, and rise."
He tried to focus, to regain control, but found himself releasing the trigger and standing up.
In his last moment of conscious thought, he heard his own voice speak in a dull monotone.
It said, "I obey, Master."