Usual disclaimers apply: Not mine, not mine, not mine.

This flashback is taking longer than I thought. Hopefully I can get the crew to the Common in one piece (!)

Please comment: critiscm is good, guidance is better. ------------------------------------------------------- The captain was still clearly annoyed by Chase’s presence. “Okay, so no feds.” Just as she heaved a sigh of relief he added “for now. I can’t exactly say I’ve got reason to trust you, if’n your lot is all that you say. And if that wacky Academy is involved, well…that doesn’t bode well for me and mine.”

“Je comprends,” Chase said. “You have family to think about.”

That observation drew more than a few knowing looks. It appeared that the sentiment was shared and well know to this crew, but it was never actually stated out loud. In more ways than one this man reminded her of Nicholas the Elder---for everything he knew, he still had to think first of the whole before himself.

“Reckon that’s so, but still, I’ve got the problem of what-in-the-sphincter-of-hell-do-I-do-with-you?” The captain stood for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the floor in thought.

“Well, it’s not like we’re just going to leave her…are we?” piped up the girl who reminded her of sunshine. Looking closer at her, she was a plain sort of beautiful, which made her disposition all the more radiant. She strode over and sat down in the chair on the other side of Chase (the first being taken by River). Putting her arm around her, the girl continued: “Don’t worry. Are ya hungry?”

“Hey!” Chase could see the light going off in the tall man’s---Jayne’s---head. “You’re the one left those dishes last night!” he started to walk over towards the table with a slight menace in his eyes. Chase stood suddenly, not daring to let anyone else intimidate her again if she could help it.

“Mais oui, those were mine. I was a little preoccupied with my end table impersonation to clean up.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Stupidity on my part.”

Jayne then turned to give the pretty girl next to her an unmistakable ‘I-told-you-so’ look. “See there, lil Kaylee? Wasn’t me who left ‘em there.”

“Yes, Jayne, wasn’t you.”

Chase turned and took a few steps towards the pot the girl had left during the search of the ship. It contained a sort of whitish-brown substance that looked like it might crawl out of the battered tin container and attack her. She turned her head at a strange angle, trying to determine if her teeth would break off if she tried to eat it. She then looked quickly at the rest of the crew, who were beginning to settle a bit and soften their hardened and worried demeanors ever so slightly. It looked to Chase like they had all of their teeth more or less intact.

“How about I try to make something for you out of this, miss?” she offered. Other than news dealing, her other specialty was cooking, and she hadn’t had the opportunity to put her talents in that department to use in five years. She looked at it as both a challenge and a peace offering---for all the trouble she knew they would be facing once someone got wind of her warrant, making a decently edible breakfast was the least she felt she could do.

“Cooking? You mean like, real food?” Jayne asked a little too quickly. It seemed whatever hesitation he’d had with her was forgotten for the moment.

“If you like.”

The young man sat down next to the girls at the table, the worry still evident on his face. “Can you cook?” he asked, clearly interested in the idea of breakfast but not wanting to concede anything.

“Watch.”

She then scoured the cupboards. She found there was a good deal of tea, which she began brewing immediately. In several of the lockers she found bits of bread, three eggs, two more blocks of the brick-like substance (these ones in shades of red and yellow), a white flaky powder she recognized as instant potatoes, and a small jar filled with dried spice. “Je peux travailler avec ceci,” she muttered softly to herself.

“Hey, there---don’t go talkin’ in no funny tongues,” said the captain. “Don’t need you tryin’ to poison the food or somesuch. I still got half a mind to just toss you out the airlock and be done with it.” Chase didn’t need to turn around to hear the very slight smile he was trying to hide in his voice. She assumed that had she posed a real threat to his crew, she would never have gotten the interrogation she had upon her discovery---all she would have seen was the blackness of space.

“Mal, it’s not “a funny tongue”---it’s French,” said the lady. “At least, I think it’s French.”

“It’s French.” Chase began slicing parts of the red and brown bricks into little squares as the eggs began frying in a shallow pan. “River’s right---Creoles, or Shadows as we call ourselves, speak mainly French. We also speak English, Chinese, and in our vernacular we use bits and pieces of other dead languages. Federales, for example, is a Spanish term, I think.”

The captain---Mal---kept mumbling something Chase couldn’t quite make out and leaned forward in his chair. He’d apparently decided that sitting was a better alternative than standing and staring at the floor.

Chase scraped in the squares of brick into the half-cooked eggs. She wished she had some milk to spread the egg around, but if wishes were horses, she’d be eating cornbread. She dropped in about two tablespoons of the dried spice, added water to the pot of instant potatoes, and fired up the stove so she could start making toast out of the few bits of bread. Chase decided that she might try to make a deal with the captain: she’d stock them if they would get her to the Common, and perhaps she could be of further help to them. There was this lingering feeling that this crew hadn’t been able to get decent work in quite some time, and she found that that bothered her.

Finally the teakettle whistled, the potatoes were solid enough to spoon onto a griddle and fry, and the toast was nearly finished. Chase had heard several compliments on just the smell of the food, and to her, that said a lot. For her, food was just as important as information and loyalty. That the mere smell of decent food was enough to bring a smile to these people’s faces sid a lot about the fortunes of this ship.

“Ce’st bon,” she said finally as she tossed the last fry cake onto a plate. “Could I have a hand in putting this on the table?”

Kaylee, River, and the young man---who Chase learned was called Simon---each sprung up to take on of the plates of food from the counter. Jayne eyed the large omelet as if he hadn’t seen one before in his life. The tall Amazon---Zoe---reached for a piece of lukewarm toast and munched thoughtfully. The lady---she’d introduced herself as Inara---began pouring tea in mismatched glasses. The captain worked a few of the fry cakes onto his plate and tasted them as if he was eating a foreign object.

“Damn, Mal, the girl’s a hell of a cook,” said Jayne, who was working on his third piece of omelet. Simon and Kaylee raced to get a hold of another bit of egg before Jayne could come back for fourths. “Maybe we should keep her, ‘stead of spacin’ her…”

“Ain’t no one getting spaced, Jayne.” The captain bit into a piece of dry toast. “There’s more that needs to be considered…though, I must say, this is a fine spread.”

Simon eyed her with both caution and a hint of approval. “How long did you say you were at the Academy?”

Chase looked up from her teacup. “About five years, give or take.”

“And you can still cook like this?” This caught everyone’s attention.

“I cooked long before I worked for the marchand de nouvelles.” Privately, Chase was impressed that she still had the knack.

“The…what?”

“News dealers. Gatherers of information wanted by others. Things no one else can discover, might be useful. Good omlet.” River smiled, a bit of red brick caught between her teeth.

“Right.”

“Information and a cook? Aw, Mal---can’t we ditch the ruttin’ crazy girl and the doc and take her instead?”

The captain shot a look of pure lead at Jayne, which silenced him in an instant.

Just then an alarm went off. It was deep and booming, and it sent everyone from their seats and towards the head of the ship.

“River, wo de ma?”

River sat down next to a very complicated looking control panel and began perusing the skies through the window ahead of her. It looked to Chase like she was searching for something in particular…

“Company’s calling,” River said finally, taking care not to disturb a pair of plastic dinosaurs from the far end of the control panel.