Emma Libby stood in the middle of a large room. The white plaster walls where punctuated by large rough-hewn timbers that supported the high roof. Against them, a variety of bladed weapons were arrayed on wooden stands. She stood barefoot on the tatami mats that covered the floor, wearing only a white gi. It was, in every detail, a perfect reproduction of a traditional martial arts dojo from Earth that Was, right down to the Buddhist shrine that was set against one wall.

"Now, we fight," said the man before her, as he bowed. Brandishing a katana, the man attacked. Emma, unarmed, quickly cartwheeled to her left, avoiding his attack, and bringing herself to a rack of swords. Grasping one, she brought it to bear just as the swordsman was delivering his second attack. Emma parried with the technique that had been drilled into her, but too slow. His blade bit into her shoulder, severing tendon and bone. The swordsman then followed up ruthlessly with a thrust through her chest. As she fell to her knees, the sword fell from her hands, and Emma could feel her warm blood dampening her gi. She didn't quite know when her body hit the floor, as the room was already fading to white.

Emma Libby stood in the middle of a large room. It was, in every detail, a perfect reproduction of a traditional dojo from Earth that Was, right down to the Buddhist shrine that was set against one wall.

"Again," said the Samurai before her, as he bowed.

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The white-coated doctor watched as the subject's body bucked suddenly in the operating chair to which it was strapped. "Looks like she died again," he said emotionlessly, as he checked the large needed that was inserted through her forehead into her skull.

Another doctor, slightly younger, looked at a display screen. "Hmm, not very good with a sword is she."

"She's no River Tam, granted, but she is better than average, this is a tough simulation."

The woman's torpid body jerked again, as she let out a scream, causing both men to wince slightly. "How long do we leave her in there?" asked the first doctor.

"Until she doesn't die," replied the second.

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Emma could barely stand from the phantom pain that her brain stem told her she should be feeling, even though the simulation had reset her physical condition each time she was cut down.

This time, as the swordsman charged, Emma did not try to evade him. She simply stood, waiting for him to come. Just as he was bringing his sword down upon her chest, she stepped forward and grabbed his wrists. Ducking low under his swing, she pulled the heavier man off balance, a perfect Jujitsu throw. As the man landed behind her with a thud, Emma wasted no time in rolling to the wall, this time grabbing a long staff with a large blade affixed at one end. She turned just in time to bock a vicious slash from her tireless opponent who had already regained his feet.

The staff felt more natural in her hands than the awkwardness of the sword which had failed her earlier. It reminded her of the play fighting she had done as a girl with her brother behind their Willowbrook mansion. She smiled, remembering the time she had knocked Jason off a fallen tree while they were play acting Robin Hood and Fryer Tuck. He had fallen into a stream and almost caught hypothermia by the time she had gotten him home. Of course the skills that she used now were of a far more serious and lethal nature.

Emma blocked her opponent's attack to her head with a resounding crack of metal on wood, then swung the staff around in a wide arc at his own. The swordsman ducked effortlessly, and slashed at her exposed side. Emma sidestepped, allowing the inertia of her weapon to carry through, whipping around her. She passed it from one had to the other behind her back, bringing it around once more, sweeping at the swordsman's feet. He jumped to avoid the move. That was her chance, he could not change trajectory once in the air. Grasping the staff with both hands, she suddenly twirled the weapon around, bringing the bladed end to bear and slamming it into the Samurai's chest just as his feet returned to the mat.

There was a moment of silence as her opponent looked down at his chest, where the blade impaled his heart. The sword fell from his hand, and once again the room faded to white. Though this time, the training hall did not reappear.

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"She's dreaming," said the younger doctor.

"She cleared the Level One opponent then. That was quicker than I though," replied the older doctor, peering at the display screen. "Huh, she used the Naginata. Not many choose that weapon. Odd girl. Give her a few moments to rest, then initiate Level Two."

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Jason sat up in bed, sweat dampening his chest. The dream had been so vivid; even now he remembered it like an actual event, the swords, and the staff. It was like when he was a child, and had shared his sister's dreams on occasion. Though not a true telepath himself, he was close enough that sometimes snippets from their unconscious minds would spill over. It was always his sister's dreams that spilled over to him though, not the other way around. He could never initiate it. Which was odd, because they were nowhere near Newhall yet, and there was no way he could be picking up on anyone else in the crew.

"My imagination is really running away with me," he said to himself. It must have been brought on by the recent episode with the Reavers, he reasoned. Likely some type of mild post traumatic stress. He certainly wouldn't be the only one. Earlier, he had gone up to the kitchen to find Linda and Rick asleep on opposite ends of the couch with the boy between them, as if they were all too disturbed to sleep in their own beds. Even now he could hear the sound of Sarah whimpering from some nightmare through the poster-covered hole that still connected their two cabins.

Jason was contemplating getting up for a glass of water when an alarm tone began beeping over the speaker that was wired into his cabin from the bridge. With a start, he heard Sarah wake from her dream.

"What's that," he heard her ask.

"Proximity alert, seems there’s another ship. I'll take care of it, go back to sleep." He had already pulled a flannel shirt on over his boxer shorts.

When Jason made it up the stairs, into the common area however, he saw Sarah emerge from her bunk as well, still clad in a worn cotton night gown. Looking to the couch, he saw his other three crew members asleep in the same spot.

"Dammit, Rick," said Jason. "You where supposed to be on watch."

The only response he got was a snore. Jason sighed as he entered the cockpit and began looking over the display screens.

"Is it the Reavers," asked Sarah coming in behind him, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't think so, pulse beacon is Alliance military," replied Jason with relief as he looked back at her. She was clutching a tiny gun in her hands.

"Where did you get that," he asked.

"Was one of the guns Linda found on the 'Rose. She said it weren't useful, so I took it," replied Sarah, holding it out for inspection. Jason took the small double barreled derringer from her. It was a pretty piece, something a Companion might carry.

"Hate to tell you this Sarah, but we run into Reavers again, two shots isn't going to be much use against the likes of them. Specially not in this caliber."

"If we run into Reavers again," she replied, "I figure I'll only need one."

Jason started at her a moment, as the gravity of her statement sunk in. The silence was broken as the radio crackled to life. "Unidentified vessel core code EV-71624, please identify, this is the Alliance Curiser Nietzsche,"

Jason turned back to the console in front of him. "This is Mosquito class Transport Willowbrook Shire, core class code EV-71624, en route to Newhall, over."

Sarah's expression once again became frightened. If the ship got searched, would the Alliance still be looking for her?

"Copy that Willowbrook Shire. You are approaching our restricted fly zone, please bear two degrees starboard and keep a distance of two hundred nautical miles from our position."

Jason adjusted the ship's course as directed, then sat back in his seat. "Our lucky day, I thought they liked to search everything." Sarah relaxed, but said nothing as Jason handed the small derringer back to her. Looking out the window, they could both see the large cruiser now. Bathed as it was in the characteristic green glow of Alliance military ships, it looked like a small city floating in space.

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“So the only reason we are going to Newhall is to find your sister,” asked Linda.

“Pretty much,” replied Jason with a yawn. Between the dreams and the encounter with the cruiser, he had gotten a poor night sleep.

“So we don’t get paid?”

“I’ll pick up another mail run, easy peasy.”

“But, you are saying, we are not getting paid, sir.”

“Aw, lay off Linn, I think its sweet the way Jason’s looking to his mei mei,” interrupted Sarah, drawing a chuckle of amusement from Rick.

“You find this amusing,” added Linda. The fact of the matter was, since coming on board the only payday Linda had seen, not counting getting bought out of slavery, was when they completed the mail circuit, and the payout had been anemic at best. She respected Jason, but her own pockets were uncomfortably empty; more so, she estimated, than anyone else on the ship.

“Emma weren’t Jay’s mei mei," replied Rick. "She's older by near two years. That would make her what, gi gi? Hell, growing up she was always looking after him, wiping his nose and keeping him outta trouble. Almost like a second mother. I remember one time”

"That's enough," Jason cut off his friend's story to everyone's disappointment. "I'll get a job after Newhall. Besides, we got the salvage from the 'Rose we can fence. 'Sides the golf cart, what else did you find?" Jason had almost completely forgotten about that.

"Most all the cargo containers were too big for the 'Shire. Looks like they were transporting mostly large vehicles, heavy construction equipment; all stuff we couldn't take if we wanted. I pulled the safe from the captain's quarter's though, dunno what's in it yet," replied Rick.

"Found some jewelry in one of the passenger quarter," said Linda. "Maybe a couple hundred credits worth."

"Not much when split six ways," said Jason, "But not nothing either."

"Six ways?" asked Sarah.

"Five people plus one cut to cover ship related costs equals a six way split," answered Jason.

"Wait, I get paid," asked Sarah.

"She is just a passenger, sir," added Linda, eyeing the other woman. "Can't hardly call her a passenger anymore," replied Jason. Then he turned to Sarah, "Figure you pulled your weight and then some, this trip."

Linda frowned, but accepted this.

The problem with Jason's scheme, he was beginning to realize, was that everyone that was added to the crew reduced the cut that everyone else received. He was beginning to wish he had decided to pay flat percentages instead, if it was going to cause hostility. Damn he had a lot to learn about these captainy things.

"Well, seems I have a ship to land," said Jason, evading further discussion, as he retreated to the cockpit.

Linda turned to Sarah, "You might want to strap yourself in."

"Why?"

"You haven’t experienced one of Jason's landings yet."

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Sarah had her duffle bag packed and was standing in the cargo bay with the rest of the crew. "So this is where you get off then," asked Jason.

"Suppose," replied the girl.

"Any idea what your gonna do?" he followed up.

"Dunno, I'll find something, always do."

"That's good," replied Jason, somewhat uncertain what to say. Rick looked at Linda and rolled his eyes.

"Sir," Linda interrupted. "Is there anything you want us to do?"

Jason sighed. "Take the jewelry and fence it where you can, give Miss Cobb her cut, then do as you like. Meet me back here by noon local time. Rick, you watch the ship." Jason took one last look at his crew and strode into town.

Jason located the town hall quickly. It was the only brick building among the shabby wooden structures. It was also the sheriff's office and town jail. He dinged the bell he found at the front desk.

"What you want," asked a grizzled man sleeping in a chair in the corner, his large hat pulled low over his eyes. Jason hadn't even noticed him there.

"Would you be the town clerk?" asked Jason.

"Clerk, sheriff, and mayor, now whaddya want."

"I was looking for the Red Satin Inn."

"The what?" asked the man who raised his hat so he could look Jason in the eyes. The man's expression was one of genuine confusion. Jason went over in his head what Aaron had told him. He was sure this was the right town.

"The Red Satin Inn," repeated Jason. "It's more of a place of entertainment, with girls…"

"Oh, you mean the old whorehouse. Sorry, forgot that's what it was called. You looking to buy the place or something?"

"Ah, no. I'm looking for someone who works there."

The Sheriff-Clerk-Mayor chuckled again. "Sorry friend, that place has been outta business sent it got burnt out back during the war. Ain't been anybody there since then but rats."

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Jason returned to his ship an hour later after having taken a walk through the Red Satin Inn. True to the Sheriff's word, the place was a burned out shell. Jason was as confused as he was disappointed. Aaron Freedman was a lot of things, but he was rarely wrong. And that bank account used to buy his sister had clearly been attached to the abandoned property.

When he reached the ship, his mood brightened somewhat when he noticed that Sarah was still hanging around. “How’d things go,” asked Rick as Jason walked up the ramp.

“Not so good,” Jason replied, without elaboration.

“We leaving this dustball, sir,” asked Linda from inside the cargo bay.

“Reckon so,” replied Jason. Then turning to Sarah. “I have something for you to do, if you don’t mind tagging along for a while longer.”

“Though you’d never ask,” Sarah brightened at the offer. “I know I said I’d be happy at the first place you could put me off, but this towns got less going on than Canton.”

An hour after they lifted off, Jason put in a call to his old acquaintance on Londinium. It took Jason a moment to recognize the face of Aaron’s wife with eyes puffed up the way they were and her normally immaculate hair a mess.

“Mandy, is that you? It’s Jason.”

There was a pause as the signal propagated across the distance of space. “Oh Jason, it’s so nice of you to call. Will you be able to make it to the funeral? We’re burying Aaron this Saturday.”

Later that afternoon, Jason was sitting in the dining room, sipping a small glass of Rick’s whiskey, which the larger man had insisted was medicinal. He had been so close to finding Emma, it had seemed so simple, and it had been snatched away from him. On top of that, Aaron was dead. Jason was still having trouble with the thought. Granted, the man had never been much for taking care of himself, but he had hardly been more than a few years older than Jason himself.

“Found some information for you Jason” came Sarah’s voice from the direction of the cockpit as she entered the kitchen. Her tangled hair cascaded in front of her face as she plopped down into a chair across from him. It was sometimes difficult to tell if the girl was coming or going when the front of her head looked so much like the back.

“That was quick,” he remarked, looking up at her. “You hacked into the bank records already?”

“No, silly Captain, that would be damn near impossible, and I already have one wanted poster to prove it. Property records, however, aren’t very well guarded. Was a snap to get through the Newhall central archives. Anyway, the property is not abandoned, not in the legal sense that is. So the bank account is very likely valid and attached to the current owners.”

“Who owns it then?” Jason had heard of criminal organizations doing things like that, to launder money or to traffic people. He dreaded the thought of his sister winding up like he had found Linda and her son.

“Alliance military,” said Sarah, as Jason looked at her with a look that said he had not heard correctly. “The annexed the property along with a bunch of other unclaimed land during the Unification War. Most of it was sold off to cover expenses during the reconstruction period. Somehow this property never was. Whoever bought your sister was part of the government.”

Jason drained his whiskey, the day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

And that was before Anastasia called.

TO BE CONTINUED

Authors Notes: I really wanted to include the ensuing conversation with Anastasia in this one, but somehow when I tried, it seemed like I was putting too much together at once. Besides, everyone likes a cliffhanger...