“Watch your back!” Kaylee cried. Simon spun about, bringing his weapon to bear. He lunged for the attack but soon found himself retreating again. His assailant suddenly went on the offensive, launching a barrage of tittering chirps and devastating rodent chatter. “Kaylee!” he exclaimed. “I need that window open!” “Listen, Buster,” Kaylee protested, “I ain’t leavin’ the safety of this bed!” The squirrel leaped onto the bed and, squealing, Kaylee scampered to the window and flung it open. Simon swiped with the toilet plunger once again, missing, and the squirrel jumped from the bed to the window sill and out the window to the nearest tree branch. Collapsing to the ground, both Kaylee and Simon burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Tears streamed down their faces as Kaylee crawled over to hug Simon with one arm and clutch her stomach with the other. “That...” Simon heaved, amidst bouts of guffawing, “...was fun.” “I need a shower now,” Kaylee professed as soon as she’d calmed down enough to do so. “I think that counted as a full-fledged exercise routine.” She climbed to her feet. “Mind if I join you?” Simon inquired, a sparkle in his eye. Kaylee grinned. “Not a bit, Doctor.” ************************************************************************

As soon as The Operative, hands held openly visible and a leather-bound portfolio tucked under one arm, stepped through the airlock and into Serenity’s cargo hold, his expression changed from one of expectancy to one of amusement. “I see no guns trained on me,” he observed cheerfully, “although, of course, you are all armed.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m glad to see that we are developing more of a trusting relationship, Captain.” Mal smirked as Gabriel and River flanked the newcomer. “If a terrible need came about, why would we need to waste the bullets?” The Operative glanced from the psychic to the superhuman. “Point taken,” he conceded. He moved his hands, pulling the portfolio from his armpit and holding it up. “As I can see you wish to keep our arrangement as professional as myself, I suggest we commence with the briefing, and I can be on my way.” “That suits me just fine,” Mal replied, extending his hand past Zoe and Inara and onward toward the rear of the ship. “You know the way.” The Operative nodded. He glanced again at Gabriel. “It’s good to see you again, Gab,” he ventured, “and in good health.” “My name ain’t Gab,” Gabriel corrected, although it was always in vain, “and though I ain’t upset yer still alive, Jim, remember that I work for *him,* never you.” “I’m well aware of that,” The Operative assured, strolling across the hold. He scaled two sets of stairs and found the common room, where he opened the portfolio and began laying reports, a map, blueprints, and photographs across the table. “*Mal,*” Inara hissed into the captain’s ear, “*what is he *doing* here?*” “Man’s got a job proposal,” Mal replied aloud, “ain’t that so?” “Indeed,” The Operative responded without looking up. He continued to arrange and stack the sheets. “You’ve recently fired a weapon,” River observed. Mal, Inara, and Zoe frowned at the girl. “Reading his mind, are we?” Mal guessed. “Laser pistol,” Gabriel continued. He cocked his head strangely before explaining. “Leaves a distinctive ozone smell in the clothing, as opposed to a cartridge firearm that leaves gunpowder residue.” “I don’t smell a thing,” Zoe admitted. “It doesn’t matter,” The Operative insisted, looking up as he interrupted the conversation. “It has nothing to do with the current mission.” “Yeah, forgot,” Mal muttered, noting the man’s hasty and urgent change of subject. “Professional.” The Operative straightened and gestured toward the paperwork before him. “As you said before, Captain, you don’t like heading into a situation half-blinded.” He shrugged. “I give you sight.” Mal and Zoe leaned over the table to study the information. Gabriel and River observed from behind The Operative. Inara crossed her arms across her chest and looked uneasy. Mal’s face paled noticeably. “Shadow,” he read. “Yes,” The Operative confirmed. “There are several reasons for the meeting to take place there; none of them would interest you.” Inara frowned at Mal. “Mal? Are you...?” “I’m fine,” Mal grunted. “I just... haven’t been to Shadow in a long time.” Zoe eyed her captain knowingly. “He says he’s fine,” she defended, “he’s fine.” Mal pointed to a photograph of a bald, black man. “I know him,” he stated. “Manfred Baile,” The Operative narrated. “I believe you sold him some laser pistols some time ago.” Mal nodded. He slid two other photos away from the first. “Who are they?” “Duncan Farley and Maria Rivera-Lopez,” The Operative informed, pointing to personnel files on both. “Both are key resistance members working directly for Baile. Together, the three form one of the groups involved in this meeting.” The man stepped sideways to reach another pile of papers. He slid several apart, focusing on a photograph of an elderly, white gentleman with curly white frizz atop his head. “This is Judge Leonardo Guduyva, a man with prominent connections to Parliament. This man is an issue. He is very important to many plans, but his standing also brings his integrity into question.” Moving to the next photograph, a gaunt, spectacled Caucasian with a needle nose and no hair, The Operative tapped his finger against the image twice. “Edgar Harding. This man is, perhaps, the greater threat. He works directly for Judge Guduyva, and he is, undeniably, a psychic.” Every head in the room rose with wide-eyed wonder to stare at The Operative. “A psychic,” Zoe repeated. “Yes,” The Operative stressed intensely, “and, unlike our troubled young woman, he has focused and controlled ability. He also has no conscience.” “Sounds like someone else we know,” Mal observed pointedly, holding his gaze upon The Operative for a moment longer before bending his head back toward the table. “So, what do we do about him?” The Operative frowned. “Do? You do nothing.” He glanced over his shoulder toward River. “Unless your own reader has somehow mustered the ability to block another’s mental advances.” “Well, you’d-” Gabriel began, but quickly cut himself off. “Sorry, Sarge,” he apologized, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Don’t wanna say more than we gotta.” The Operative grinned, although he was not looking at any particular person. “I have a great deal of respect for you, Gab,” he admitted. “Don’t convince me to take any of it back.” “That would be a shame,” Gabriel retorted. At that moment, Mal noticed that Gabriel was far more intent on studying The Operative than on paying attention to the briefing. *Make note of that, Mal,* he thought to himself. The Operative’s hand settled, at last, near the final photograph. The image showed a thirty-something Asian man. “Now, this is-” “Agent Park Nanaka,” Mal and Zoe answered in unison. “Boobs Nanaka!” River exclaimed excitedly, and Gabriel broke out of his normal, broody demeanor to laugh. “Yes,” The Operative confirmed. “Well, now I *know* that you’ve met *him.*” “Yes,” Zoe concurred, “we have.” She knowingly met the gaze of Gabriel, who had ceased laughter as quickly as it had begun. “Good thing nobody on this crew shot him then, huh?” “Judge Guduyva has been performing various tasks that would be considered treasonous in nature,” The Operative continued, “whereas Agent Nanaka has recently begun extracurricular investigating and illegitimate networking. Neither know the other quite well, nor do they especially trust one another, but for this negotiation, they are on the same side.” The inscrutable man pushed the photos and files out of the way to make room for the map and blueprints. “You will meet with Guduyva, Harding, and Nanaka at this abandoned ranch six miles south of Gainsworth at precisely twenty one hundred hours. Nightfall will protect against any possible satellite surveillance, and the area is sparsely populated enough to avoid unnecessary detection by local residents. Shortly thereafter, Baile, Farley, and Rivera-Lopez will arrive.” “What, exactly, are we negotiating?” Mal inquired. The Operative straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back with a stretch, and he made eye contact. “Establishing communication networks and exchanging favors,” he explained. “Nothing as grand or flashy as I’m sure you’re used to.” Mal shrugged. “Dull an’ unentertainin’ fer a change sounds just right to me. What’s the pay fer this sorta operation?” Smoothly, The Operative turned to the leather portfolio case and emptied the last of the contents onto the table. They were gold coins, and Mal scanned the sizeable pile for an estimate. *Two fifty, three fifty...* Gabriel whistled. “That’s four hundred chits right there,” Mal spoke aloud. “Yer payin’ us four hundred just to *talk* to some folk?” The Operative shook his head. “That’s only one third for your initial payment. Once negotiations have closed, I will send you an additional eight hundred.” *Twelve hundred...* Mal’s head reeled. “Yer serious about this?” he inquired. “This ain’t some strange game yer playin’?” “And how can we be sure you’re being honest about the risks?” Inara piped up, joining the conversation for the first time since the meeting began. “For that much money, I’d half expect there to be a federal installation in the vicinity.” The Operative shook his head. “No lies, and no hidden dangers. The pay matches the importance of the meeting, not the risk involved.” He stepped back from the table, clasping his hands before him. “This concludes my briefing. I am open to any other questions, if there are any more.” “Just one,” Mal decided. “Why are you goin’ to all this trouble to chafe The Alliance?” The Operative returned with a tight-lipped smile. “Now, if I answered that, I wouldn’t be the man I am at all, would I?” ************************************************************************

“Now,” Darcy explained, “with the flour coatin’ the pan, the dough won’t stick when it bakes. Y’see how that works?” “I see,” Helen replied uncomfortably, wondering if she should inch a bit closer to better see the process or inch a bit further to avoid crowding the busy woman. “Honestly,” Darcy Cobb muttered, shaking her head as she flew about the room, “I never met a woman din’t know her way ‘round a kitchen before.” “Yeah...” Helen replied. “Not exactly my job field. And honestly, there’s quite a few of us out there.” “Not around these parts.” Darcy grasped the well-kneaded ball of dough with both fists, turned back to the pan, and squished the dough against the bottom. “So, how’d y’all meet, anyhow?” She began to stretch and press the sticky dough. “You an’ my boy, I mean.” Without batting an eye, Helen answered with, “We were trying to kill each other.” Darcy straightened for a moment to narrow her gaze down her nose at the other woman before stooping back to her work. “If’n I hadn’t spent some time on that ratchety ol’ boat myself, I’d be tempted to think ya were foolin’ with me.” She paused to close her eyes for an instant. “Jayne was right; I still got nightmares of them Reavers crawlin’ up the stairs at me.” “I’ve never actually seen one,” Helen admitted. “The one chance I got, I was a bit...” She pondered her choice of words. “...tied up with something.” “Yeah?” Darcy had spread the dough across the entire bottom of the pan, and began to curl the edges with her fingertips. “Ya run with my Jayne fer much longer, you’ll get yer chance.” She shook her head again, a gesture that, Helen noticed, Jayne Cobb’s mother was quite fond of doing. “I tell ya, my first stroke’s gonna be ‘cuz of one of these boys of mine.” “Don’t think it’s gonna be today, Ma,” Jayne announced as he and his daughter strolled through the front door. “Gramma!” Janie exclaimed, running over to hug Darcy’s leg. “Papa bought me a gun!” “Oh, he did, did he?” Darcy bent over to bring her head to Janie’s level. “C’mere an’ give yer Grandma a hug. Oh, can’t touch ya with my hands, Sweety!” She crooked her elbows around Janie’s little neck. “Flour, y’see.” Jayne handed a small, lever-action .22 to Helen for inspection. “Prob’ly be a couple years ‘fore she can use it, but I got a good deal.” Helen frowned curiously at the man. “You planning on not being around in a couple of years?” Jayne shrugged. “Like I said: good deal.” ************************************************************************

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” The Operative began as he stopped before the airlock and turned toward the crew, “if all goes well, this should be the last you see of me for some time.” “Why do I get the feeling that won’t be the case?” Gabriel inquired. His tone was very wary and his meaning was very calculated. The Operative grunted a recognition, but said nothing. “You’ll contact us when the job’s done?” Mal queried. The Operative nodded once. “We’ll be in touch.” He turned and disappeared into his own vessel. Moving to the controls, Mal closed and sealed the airlock. He immediately turned to Gabriel. “All right. Start talkin’.” Gabriel ran his fingers back through his hair. “I was gettin’ a funny vibe comin’ off that rutter from the instant he stepped foot onboard,” he explained, his expression blank and his gaze far and away. “He wasn’t lyin’ ‘bout nothin’ during the mission brief, but there’s a lot he wasn’t tellin’ us, an’ it directly involved us.” “Okay.” Mal turned to River. “Got anything better than Gab’s ‘feeling’, helpful as it was?” River appeared quite perplexed. Some of her expression may even have been worry. “I...” She cocked her head and stared absently at the ceiling, as Gabriel was frequently known to do. “I couldn’t really tell anything at all.” Mal and Zoe exchanged the glance. “You couldn’t tell?” Mal repeated. River shook her head and looked dejectedly to the floor as the ship shuddered with The Operative’s ship disconnecting. “Nothing he thought really stuck out as...” She suddenly appeared very frustrated as she looked at Mal helplessly. “I don’t know.” “Somethin’ ain’t right, Sarge,” Gabriel stated, stepping back in. “I don’t like it.” Mal crossed his arms. “But the job’s legit?” Gabriel shrugged. “Clean as a whistle, near as I could tell. Too bad I ain’t psychic.” “He’s right about that,” River agreed. “The whistle, not the psychic.” Mal glanced from Zoe to Inara and back to Zoe. “All right,” he decided. “That’s all I need to know for now.” He turned to River. “River, set us a course for Shadow. Be about a four day trip, from what I conjure.” “Am I free to wash up?” Gabriel inquired, raising his arm and frowning curiously at his armpit. Mal wrinkled his nose. “By all means. I insist.” Gabriel nodded and moved to murmur something into River’s ear, then touched her lightly on the arm and headed toward the lounge and the guest quarters. River crossed the hold as well, scaling the stairs and heading for the cockpit. Mal shook his head with a small smile. “Those two are on a completely different planet,” he observed. “I’ll start gettin’ the table ready for chow,” Zoe offered, and moved to her self-assigned task. Sighing, Mal turned to Inara. “Yer gonna be a big help to us on this job,” he mentioned. “An’ it’s one ain’t involvin’ petty thievery.” He gave her a friendly smile. “Excited?” Inara nodded, her expression downcast. “Thrilled.” Mal stepped forward and reached for the woman’s shoulder. “Inara?” he asked. “You okay?” Inara moved her shoulder to avoid the captain’s touch. She nodded, but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m fine. I just...” She stepped back. “I think I’m going to go lie down until dinner.” Mal watched Inara ascend to the catwalks and disappear into her shuttle. Gritting his teeth, he kicked a nearby crate. He kicked it again. Then, he sat on the crate, crossed his arms, and lost himself in thought.

ELEVEN DAYS