CHAPTER 7 Wash could not have been happier to see Siwa through the front window, the glow from the twin cities – Shali and Aghurmi – framing the landing port. With Zoë sleeping soundly on top of him, he considered just entering a low orbit and circling the planet until morning. The cockpit being slightly more insulated from the barking in the cargo hold, the two had slept together in the pilot’s chair many nights over the past week. “Zo-bug,” he whispered softly, shifting to disengage the autopilot and alter their approach. Gracefully, she slid off of him, stretched her body, and found her boots. She kissed his cheek as she took the blanket off his lap, folded it, and put it away. The planet was coming up quickly, but that just made landing more fun. He was surprised when Zoë headed out of the cockpit before they were down. “Where are you going, babe?” “Cargo bay. So help me God, I am getting those damn beagles OFF my ship tonight!” “I may just hover over the landing pad,” Wash joked. “Then I will open the damn door and throw them to the damn ground! But they are not staying on this damn ship one damn second longer than they damn well need.” Furiously, she opened the storage locker and pulled out the blanket again. “I’ll parachute the damn animals out if I have to. Xi niu, qing wa cao de liu mang…” Wash laughed nervously, unaccustomed to seeing Zoë so testy, or to hearing her swear so many times in one sentence. He radioed Mal, to tell him they were landing and warn him that the dogs may be prematurely jettisoned. Mal was not amused.

*~*

When Mal met Zoë in the cargo bay, Jayne and Book were already there, helping move the caged animals to the door. In a few brief waves to their contact on Siwa, Mal had requested a direct meeting with Jantis following their delivery of the dogs. Apparently, Jantis was so excited to receive the cargo, he was coming to the space port that very night to pick one out. “Let’s hose them down once more and make sure they’re fed,” Mal ordered, feeling the brief thump as Serenity landed. The door to the cargo hold opened and a gust of dry air swept through, ousting the smell of dogs with it. Despite the pre-dawn hours, the Shali spaceport was aglow with constant activity – ships arriving, cargo moving. As soon as the door opened, a wiry black man peered in and asked if they’d be needing a forklift. Zoë stopped yanking at the cages long enough to say “Yes, please,” and then she followed the man out to get the vehicle. Mal wiped his brow, wondering if there was any surcharge involved with using the forklifts, but decided he’d bill it back to Jie-rui. Briefly, he poked his head out of the ship and looked to the sky, but the stars were obscured by city glow. He glanced around the spaceport at the sea of blue jumpsuits, amazed at the perpetual motion, but also by something else. “Shepherd, can you take a look at this?” he said quietly, pointing Book in the generic direction of the laborers. After a moment of seeing nothing unusual, Book asked, “What is it?” “Everybody we see. Everybody is black.” Book nodded, shrugging one shoulder as if such a sight were normal. “Do you think it’s just in the spaceport?” “It’s not an infection, Mal.” “Jie-rui said I wouldn’t be able to walk around this planet without being noticed. I think this is what he meant.” Book stood straight and surveyed Mal, looking somewhat offended. “Something wrong?” Jayne asked, coming to see what the others are looking at. “Not wrong,” Mal answered. “Just different than I expected.” Jayne peered out and smiled. “It’s a sight, ain’t it? Being the minority.” “Don’t tell me you knew about this!” Jayne scrunched his face in confusion. “How do you mean? Everyone knows. If you want a black woman, you go to Siwa.” Mal’s jaw dropped at the crassness of it all, but Jayne continued. “An Asian girl, go to Sihnon. Whities on Muir. Oh, sweet Latinos on Angel...” “What is there a catalog?” Mal interrupted. “Naw, I’m just saying. Don’t mean you can’t find a black woman other places, but you know you’ll find one here.” “All this time and we still have segregation,” Book mused. “It’s just people, Preacher,” Jayne said, tightening his gloves as Zoë drove up the ramp with the forklift.

*~*

Shepherd Book’s hand rested uncomfortably on the pistol tucked away in his belt. By the time Jantis arrived, Mal had decided to let Zoë take point in the handoff. Despite her protests, Book stayed nearby, blending in with the cages of dogs. Jayne and Mal were hiding just inside the ship, waiting to spring into action. Book worried that the howling dogs were attracting the very kind of undue attention they were hoping to avoid. A silver car glided through the spaceport, it’s polished trim looking out of place next to the drab forklifts and cargo vessels. As soon as the car stopped, a gray-suited man hopped out of the passenger seat, letting loose a spry little girl with pigtail braids and a tall man in a dark suit that Book immediately recognized as his old friend, Amadi. Could it be? Could Amadi really have become Jantis? Book started to step around the dog cages, but Zoë warned him back with a look. On edge, he wrapped his hand around the concealed pistol and waited. Amadi did not seem to notice the barking dogs, or Zoë for that matter. His eyes were fixed on Serenity. “Mr. Jantis,” Zoë said, stepping firmly into Amadi’s path, but the man paid her little mind. When he spoke, Zoë wasn’t even sure he was speaking to her. “I knew you were bringing beagles, but the Firefly is a surprise. How much for the ship?” “The ship is not for sale,” Zoë answered sternly. Amadi started, looking at Zoë for the first time with a sneer that twisted Book’s insides. Protectively, the Shepherd inched closer to Zoë, his heart quickening. “Everything is for sale,” Amadi countered. “Not this boat. You can rent space in her cargo hold, you can charter passage, you may even lease a shuttle, but you cannot buy this ship from me. So long as I live, I will live on this ship, and when I die, my ghost will haunt her hallways.” “Your attachment seems a mite unhealthy,” Jantis chuckled darkly, surveying the ship again. “Daddy, I want these three,” the little girl interrupted. “Just one, baby girl. Make a choice. It’s one or none.” Jantis did not look at his daughter once during the conversation. His greedy eyes had shifted from Serenity to Zoë. “Do you have a good pilot?” “Only the best.” “Stay until Friday next, fly in my show. You will be compensated.” “I will consider it,” Zoë seethed, evenly. Although Book knew they were on the same side, Zoë’s tone struck fear in his heart. “You will do it,” Amadi assured, immune to intimidation. He strode over to the dog cages and placed a hand on the little girl’s head. “This one,” she said, pointing to the runt. With hardly a glance at the dog, Amadi pulled out a wad of bills and handed them over to Book. Suddenly, Amadi’s grip tightened on the cash and his eyes scanned Book with disdain. “Is this what you’ve become?” he snarled under his breath. Book yanked the money from Amadi’s hand, their eyes locked in angry reunion. “And you?” Book growled.

*~*

Inara knelt by the window of her posh prison, her skin parched and cracked from the dry air. She tipped open her first aid kit, willing a moisturizer into the mix. The various items, useful for dulling the pain of abuse, would not help her break out of this cell. But now, she had a different escape in mind. Even for that, the supplies came up short. There was not enough of any drug in this kit to overdose. The peroxide concentration in the cleansers was too low. The instant cold pack… what was in that? Her fingers trembled and tripped as she turned over the packaged to see. She was weak and hungry, numb to human contact, convinced that her visit from Elle was naught more than a dream. She had dismantled her altar and eaten the food, having given up on prayer. The sense of invisibility she’d felt when she first met Jantis had taken permanent residence in her soul. She was an empty vase, stored in a closet, waiting to be taken out and filled with flowers. “Woman.” “Ren ci de Fo zu,” Inara murmured, turning with a tearful smile. Jantis had come into her chamber and spoken her into existence. Would he say her name? “Mr. Jantis,” she stammered, trying to appear as though she expected him. What was he doing here, looking at her? “It has been too long.” “Don’t let me interrupt.” Inara turned back to face the window, donning a cloak to conceal the bulge of her first aid kit. She dare not leave it in the room. “Are you cold?” “The air outside is brisk,” Inara said glibly. “I cannot serve so well if I catch cold.” “I did not intend on going outside,” Jantis said, clasping his hands behind his back and looking amazed. “But it is a nice day to walk the grounds.” Inara smirked inwardly, applauding herself for directing an action. A small victory, but empowering. In the most gentlemanly of fashions, Jantis held out his arm and Inara accepted it gracefully. By his kindness, Inara had to wonder if she were dreaming and why should wasn’t dreaming herself back onto Serenity. They walked across the soft green lawn where she had first seen Jantis sparring. The buffalo herd had moved to the far pasture and planes and ships darted through atmo, practicing formations and frightening the birds. “Elias told me you shot a man,” Jantis began. Inara ducked her head, ashamed. Osiris seemed like a lifetime ago, but at the mere mention, the man’s face haunted her. He had been unarmed, she was trying to escape. When she didn’t answer, Jantis persisted. “Why did you shoot him? He was going to die anyway. Why not shoot your captor?” “Shooting Elias did not offer escape. He had me trapped. That man…” Inara trailed off, remembering the smell of the man she had killed… the fear in his eyes. “That man was suffering on my account.” “You don’t like to watch people suffer?” “Nor do you,” Inara countered, searching for composure. “I’ve seen by your tactics.” Jantis laughed evilly and eerily. “You misread. My daddy once told me ‘Don’t play with your food—it may jump off your plate and bite you in the ass.’” He guffawed at his own reverie. “We steamed crabs that night.” “Did one of them bite you?” “No, but one of them did manage to climb out of the pot. Made it half way across the kitchen before we caught it.” Inara smiled at the imagery, but feared also that she was no more than a crab to Jantis and he would boil her alive. The free air did her a measure of goodness and she could feel her face lifting in rejuvenation. Jantis led her back inside and took a meal with her in a private dining room. Next, he led her to what looked like a medical lab and Inara stopped dead. “What is this?” Inara whispered sharply, flashing back to Prio’s torturous exam rooms. Jantis’ face changed immediately from calm to annoyed. Instinctively, Inara pulled her hands close to keep Jantis from breaking one of them. “It’s the Medical Lab. You are to be examined.” Inara’s face went white at the possible implications. Jantis rolled his eyes at the delay. “Aren’t companions required to undergo routine medical exams? This is no different.” Inara looked doubtful as a white-clad doctor approached her. Finally Jantis leaned in and whispered, “I intend to get sexed tonight. Should you have a clean bill of health, I will be sexed by you. Otherwise, we will revisit the terms of our agreement.” Inara swallowed hard and forced a smile. Jantis was seeing her, talking to her, and wanted to have sex with her. This was her golden opportunity to find a way out. Mustering all her charm, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Of course, Mr. Jantis. I will be ready for you.”

*~*

River loved the daytime moon, if for no other reason than most people missed it. The sun rules the day, the moon rules the night. And surely when it’s up at night it dominates the sky. But the moon is not confined to the night the way the sun is to the day. The moon comes up whenever it damn well pleases. Today, it was pleased to be high in the sky in the early morning, glowing with pale elegance against a deep blue backdrop. River crept to the rim of the ship, held in by Mal’s watchful eye. She wanted to be outside, away from all the tension happening in the cargo bay. Book, Zoë, and Mal stood in three-way face off. Jayne had retreated from the scene, intending to transfer his weight set back into the cargo bay, now that the beagles were gone. If she closed her eyes, River could still hear the yapping dogs being transported out of the space port. It almost drowned out the snarling argument behind her. Zoë punched the preacher square in the face, and he didn’t even try to block. “Zoë!” Mal grabbed his first mate and held her back. “You know him!” Zoë seethed. “You know Jantis!” “I do.” Mal was suddenly not so keen on holding Zoë back. “And just when were you planning on telling us?” “I haven’t,” Book paused, searching for the right answer. “I haven’t seen him since before I became a Shepherd. He wasn’t called Jantis then.” “Does he have a grudge against you?” “Didn’t seem to like you that much,” Zoë fumed. “Let me go into town,” Book suggested. “No rutting way. I ain’t letting you near that hun dan unless you’re coming back with Inara.” “Like he’d let me close. But if he’s here, I know certain others will be nearby, and I have some old favors I can call in.” Mal looked doubtful and Zoë looked ready to clock him again. “I’ll send some waves around, see who’s still alive. Give me a couple hours. We’ll find Inara.” Zoë cast a side-long glance at Mal, knowing he was being defeated by emotion. River hummed silently to herself, but could not drown the turmoil of the room. Suddenly, a strange rhythm played counter-melody to her humming. Wash entered, his body astir, his eyes wide and fixed to a handheld capture. “Mal. Mal. Mal. Mal.” “Wash, I’m kinda in the middle of something here,” Mal said evenly, his gaze firmly on Book. “Mal, look at this.” “We leave in three hours,” Mal said icily to Book, glaring daggers until the Shepherd left. Taking half a breath to change task, he turned to Wash. “What is it?” “It’s Nia Stolte.” His body still tense, Mal took the capture and considered the picture. The angle was familiar, a woman on Mr. Stotle’s arm at a party. Only the face was wrong. “That ain’t her. This is… who is this?” “I... according to the caption, it’s Nia Stolte.” “Where did you get this picture?” Zoë asked, taking the capture from Mal. “From our own memory banks. This is the very same image we downloaded from the cortex a month ago.” “Doesn’t look the same to me.” “Sir, do you think someone is hacking our computer looking for Elle?” Mal shook his head in concern. “I don’t know what to think. But I know who to ask.”

*~*

As Wash bolted upstairs to wave Mr. Universe, Mal took a moment to collect River and close up the ship. Ever since Prio had wandered through his back door, he’d taken a strong disliking to strangers dropping in. Jayne dragged the weight bench noisily through the cargo bay, taking care to put it back just so. Jayne liked to work out in such a way that he could easily reach his gun and had a clear view of the room. Damn distrustful… Mal trudged to the bridge, wearied by the prospect of his day, he heard a quiet clamoring in the weapons locker. At first, he thought Zoë might be in there, but that didn’t make sense. River, Jayne, Kaylee… Saskia! Mal was startled to find the tan-skinned woman standing upright, rooting through the weapons locker, arming herself to the teeth. “How did you …” Mal stammered. Wordlessly, Saskia tossed him a lock and key and continued arming herself. “Those ain’t yours! Put ‘em back,” Mal demanded uncertainly, wondering if the woman would follow his orders. Saskia gave him that same stupid smile Jayne did when he wanted to bring more grenades on a job. “I can’t face Jantis unarmed.” “You’re not facing him at all. Doc says you should be tied to a bed.” “Your doctor exaggerates.” Mal didn’t want to agree, and he didn’t like that he was losing this argument. He was the Captain! “Still, I have half a mind to strap you down myself, just to save me his yammering.” “Like that’ll work,” Jayne snorted, having taken a short break from moving things to eavesdrop. As Jayne retreated again to gather bar weights from the common area, Simon brushed past, heading upstairs to the galley. On seeing Mal and Saskia at the weapons locker, he completely misread the situation. “Captain, you’re not taking her with you, are you?” “Nothing is decided,” Mal said, rubbing his temples, trying to decide how to silence both Simon and Saskia on this matter. “You need another gun hand,” Saskia countered. “Not one that’ll keel over mid-fight.” “I won’t wait for death alone in a bed!” “Bi zui!” Mal said, looking to the bridge and not wanting to deal with the next problem any more than the current one. After a moment of consideration, he turned to Saskia. “We leave in a few hours.” “Captain!” Simon protested, but Mal held up a hand to silence the young doctor and continued his order to Saskia. “You take to bed now. Rest till then, and I’ll consider letting you come along.” “You’ll consider?” Saskia repeated, unconvinced. Mal held out his hand. “And give me the guns. Angrily, Saskia disarmed, slapping the weapons into Mal’s hand one at a time while he returned them to storage. When she held back a shotgun, Mal gave her a stern look, not wanting to waste words. “I sleep better with a gun.” Firmly, Mal pulled the weapon out of her hand. “You’ll just have to do without.” Saskia huffed like a child, but didn’t protest. She glared at Mal just long enough to chill his bones, then headed down the stairs back to her quarters. As she passed Jayne in the hallway, she swiped his pistol. “Hey, that’s my…” Jayne began, but stopped when he saw the look on her face. Saskia’s gaze floated defiantly from Jayne to Mal, then back to Jayne again. With an insolent smile, she tipped her head to Jayne and said. “Come on.” Mal could feel a headache rising as he watched the exchange. His condition didn’t improve when he turned and saw Simon still frowning fiercely at him. Mal closed his eyes, wondering if it were possible to control Saskia at all. He knew that he could at least rein Jayne in with coin. He hadn’t yet found the bit for Saskia. Still, he had to try. “Captain, you can’t let her go with you,” Simon protested. “No room in this plan for a loose cannon. She means to kill Jantis with or without us. I just hope to delay it till after we find Inara.”

*~*

Mal was too bitter to enjoy Mr. Universe’s wild black curls and enthused smile as he rambled on about his love-bot. He looked at the capture again, wondering why Wash had called up the picture to begin with, but felt concern just the same. He didn’t like the idea of someone playing with his memory, or his mind. When and how had the picture changed? Were Jayne and Elle manipulating the crew? Mal felt his control on Jayne slipping, ever since Ariel. But Mr. Universe had recognized Elle by her face and called her “Misty.” That, at least, was real. “What can you tell us about Misty?” Wash asked, interrupting Mr. Universe’s gleeful story on the latest violence from the cortex. “Ah, mysterious,” he sang. “Shen me?” Mal asked. Mr. Universe looked surprised at Mal’s surprise. “Misty… the mysterious.” Mal closed his eyes, wishing he could smack the man through broadwave. He had no time for games. “I found this photo. It’s the same one I had of your “Misty” a month ago, but her face has changed.” “Yes, that is one of Misty’s talents. It’s as though she can break into your personal photo capture. She can become and unbecome a person in the blink of an eye.” “So who is she? Who am I dealing with.” “Oh, not to worry Mal. She can change a digital photo, but she can’t change your memory. Whatever name she gave you, she’s the real Mysterious. I can almost guarantee your photo is what reports the name in error.” “But how?” “Face recognition software. She has some worm in the works that recognizes and modifies her face so security software can’t match it.” “Can’t they just trace the worm?” Wash countered. “I’ve tried.” Mr. Universe smiled in admiration. “She’s in too deep, has too many decoys. You can’t track her by machine.” “No sense tracking her now,” Mal said, satisfied that the problem was not likely to blow up in his face. “She died on Three Hills.” “When was that?” Mal paused, wondering why a man would ask when, but not how. Why didn’t he look concerned? “A few weeks ago, why?” “No reason,” Mr. Universe stammered. Mal exchanged a doubtful look with Wash. “It’s just always fun seeing where she’ll pop up and disappear next.” “You’ll let us know if she pops up.” “Of course,” Mr. Universe assured with a tight, lying smile, before closing the connection. “He’s seen her,” Wash said confidently. “I gathered that too. But I don’t think he’s free to talk.” “Do you think Jantis…” Mal nodded gravely. “I do.”

*~*

The bright afternoon sun cut through the wide-open streets of Shali, casting light in the shop windows, and highlighting the sky scrapers at the city center. Every ten feet, a young sapling was planted in a circle of green grass in effort to integrate nature and development. The air was dry and thinner than it should have been at this altitude. Every now and again, fighter jets zoomed over the city, drowning out all sound. Mal’s coat flapped in the soft breeze and he held it down with his hands in effort to keep his gun concealed. With all that was in him, he tried clear the swirling gou shi floating through his head and focus on the task at hand. Book was half a block ahead of him, Zoë and Saskia across the street, Jayne a block behind. Mal was accustomed to turning heads with his brown coat, not his white skin. As much as he tried to be discreet, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with the number of disdainful looks he garnered. Were their whispers about him or was he paranoid? Book walked the streets confidently, sidestepping automobiles, a placid smile drawn on his face. They crossed through a residential district – a place with families and children – and Mal knew he’d think twice before firing his gun. The Shepherd had not been forthcoming about their destination and it made Mal edgy. Truthfully, he’d always expected Jayne to betray him before the Shepherd. Now Mal was waiting for both at once. Jayne Book… Saskia as well. Zoë was the only one he trusted now and they were in the all-too-familiar disadvantage – outgunned and outnumbered on a foreign world. The Shepherd stopped in front of a public library and surveyed the recommended reading selection in the window. Mal stood a little straighter, pretending to read a restaurant menu and see what happened next. A caramel-skinned, Q-tip lady stepped out of the library, shook Book’s hand, and the two conversed. The woman was at least as old as Book, if not older, thin as a rail, with a shock of white hair gathered in a ball on top of her head. Mal stayed by his restaurant, letting Zoë inch closer to try and get an ear on the situation. If only those beagles hadn’t been yapping all week, he could have come up with a better plan! “My, my, it’s just raining white-folk on Shali today,” a deep, gruff voice commented. Mal turned to face the man who smelled of rotting fish and refuse, knowing that things had gone from bad to worse. His hand on his gun, ready for the draw, Mal tipped his head in a sinister greeting. “Caddock.”

*~* Go to Chapter 8