Rusty: Hear me out Captain. I need something shipped. It's perfectly legal.

Mal: So why me?

Rusty: You have a reputation for getting shipments through in... ah... adverse circumstances. Two of my last five shipments were destroyed. Another was 'lost' under Alliance protection. Those're pretty unusual odds, wouldn't you say?

Mal: Yeah, I'd say. For something legal it seems to be attracting a lot of attention. What is it?

Rusty: Medicine, Captain Reynolds. Not pills. A micro-pharmaceutical factory. I set 'em up on contract. It costs them an arm and a leg, but then deliveries are so reliable. Cheaper too. In the end everybody wins."

Mal: Except...

Rusty: Except the pharmas. Very powerful. Connections that go up out of sight. My biggest problem isn't marauders, Captain. I know how much money I've put into security. There's too much money behind it. Intelligence too. Things only the Alliance knows. I can't exaggerate how difficult our shipments have gotten.

Mal: I like a challenge as much as anyone.

Rusty: If I can solve this problem, Captain, I've got the pharmas by the balls and they know it. I can't afford to stiff my contractors. I need results. I'm paying four times the going rate for this shipment; half before shipping, and half on delivery.

Mal sits back in thought.

Rusty: As you can see, this shipment is important. We're keeping this under blackout. It'll come through Evangeline Tools. They think they're shipping parts. (laughs quietly) They are. There is one other complication. The micro-pharma needs a tech. She goes with the setup.

Mal: I don't take passengers!

Rusty: Your operations might be sensitive. I understand. I can restrict her to the cargo bay, but that's the best I can do. Is that good enough?

Mal: Can I say no? It seems I already know too much your good... or mine, for that matter.

Rusty: (smiles) Very simple Captain.

He brings up a small gun-shaped object. Mal lurches forward in his seat and is restrained by Guard 1's heavy hand on his shoulder.

Rusty (continues) We just give you this. It'll wipe out the last ten hours or so. Gives people a nasty headache, but it's better than being dead, right? Remember that drink in the bar? We gave you a preconditioning dose before you came. It'll run out in an hour. I hate to pressure you into a deal, but you need to decide before then.

Mal: Thinks about the money, and the risk, and the money. You've got a deal.

Rusty: Ok, let's work out the details. First this, though.

He gets up, and puts the gun to Mal's upper arm. You hear a hiss.

Rusty: I'd hate for you to forget.