Disclaimer thingy: Firefly/Serenity are owned by other folks and not by me, though I appreciate being able to write some stuff purely for fun inspired by the Firefly 'Verse. All constructive comments and feedback from you shiny readers out there much appreciated!

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When Mal came into Serenity’s dining room for breakfast at the end of his watch, he found most of Serenity’s crew already seated at the table. Kaylee and Inara were engaged in relaxed early morning banter, both women laughing out loud; River was listening in with frank curiosity. Jayne sat hunched over a bowl heaped high with food, which he was shovelling into his mouth. Even Zoë was there, sipping at a mug of coffee. Mal nodded a hello towards Zoë and the others, as he headed for the coffee pot standing on the galley shelf. He tilted it up over a mug and about a teaspoonful of gritty dark liquid trickled out. He set the pot down. “Jen dao mei…” The pot was barely warm: he took it to the sink and swilled the used grounds out, then took down more coffee from a storage cupboard. “If you’re making fresh, I’d love another cup.” Inara turned at the table, smiling across at him. Mal nodded, tipping another spoonful of ground coffee into the pot. Kaylee also looked up. “Oh, so would I – if there’s enough, cap’n…” Mal added more coffee. Zoë raised her head and half turned in her seat, lifting her own mug from the table; Mal caught her eye and held his hand up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m makin’ enough for everyone. Soon as I get my own damn cup out of it, you can all have a refill.” Jayne’s head came up, the big mercenary’s attention momentarily diverted from his food. “You makin’ coffee? I’ll have some.” He did a double-take at Mal’s face, then looked at the others. “What?” Finally Mal got his own cup of coffee and sat down at the table. He sipped at the hot liquid slowly, half listening to Kaylee and Inara’s banter. He let himself lean back, easing the muscles in his back and shoulders, stiff after the night’s duty in the cockpit. He was tired: his mind felt fuzzy round the edges and that was what the coffee was aimed at. Just over a day till we hit Beaumonde. Find a job. Refuel – yeah, tyen shiao de? Ah hell, we’ll work something out. Then we can get moving again. He took another swig of coffee; then looked up as Simon walked into the room. The young doctor looked weary: he smiled and said a quiet good morning to the table in general, touched Kaylee’s outstretched hand briefly with a warmer smile as he passed her, and helped himself to coffee. Then he took a seat at the table, opposite Mal, who caught his eye. “Mornin’, doc.” Simon looked momentarily surprised by Mal’s greeting, but recovered quickly. “Good morning.” He took a sip of coffee. “How’s that patient of yours doing? Shaping up?” “He’s doing pretty much as I expected he would.” Simon shook his head. “Not good.” “He gonna be walkin’ off this boat come tomorrow?” Mal asked. “Not unless he makes medical history,” Simon replied. “He’s running a fever of a hundred and four. I’m barely keeping him stable.” “Well, give him whatever you need to give him to get him up and about,” Mal instructed. “Because we land on Beaumonde tomorrow afternoon, and the plan is when we take off again he stays there.” “That may be the plan,” said Simon slowly, “but the plan isn’t going to work. That boy’s not going to be able to get up off that bed for at least two or three days. Maybe longer. That’s if he makes it.” “If he don’t make it, ain’t no problem,” stated Jayne. “We give him a burial in space and get the hell on with our own business. We’d likely be better off doin’ that now anyway.” “Jayne, don’t say that!” exclaimed Kaylee, appalled. Simon looked incredulously at Jayne, shaking his head. “This may come as hard concept for you to get your head around, Jayne, but as a doctor I have these things called ethics that I live and work by. Of which one is that I don’t push my patients out through an airlock if they aren’t getting better quickly enough.” “Hell, the way you’re talkin’ he’s likely goin’ to end up that way whatever. Why not do it now, save ourselves a mess of trouble?” “Thanks for the medical consult, but I think I’ll try another method. Call me radical, but I actually prefer not to murder sick people when they’re defenceless.” Simon’s voice became louder, his eyes growing angry. “That’s just a funny little doctory thing, you know?” “Yeah well, plan is we get shut of that little hwoon dahn soonest, and I figure that’s a plan worth stickin’ with. I ain’t so crazy about wakin’ up to find he’s made some kinda miraculous recovery and bust out of sick bay to start huntin’ through the knife drawer.” Jayne leaned his fists on the table. “It was bad enough when your sister blew a coil and took a blade to me. I ain’t waitin’ for another kind of shiong-mung de kuong run to make his move.” “Well, I can understand that you would want to corner the market in the violent lunatic stakes yourself,” Simon countered. “I guess that this ship is really only big enough for one cerebrally-challenged individual who likes to play with knives - and funnily enough I’m not talking about my sister.” “Bi-jway!” Mal’s raised voice cut between the two bickering men and they fell silent. Mal looked from one to the other. “An jing yidian.” He waited for the silence to stretch a beat, then continued. “Ain’t no-one being put out an airlock. Not unless they give me some serious provocation.” His eye rested meaningfully on Jayne, whose eyes flickered then dropped to the table. Mal looked back to Simon. “You think this boy really ain’t gonna be fit to leave Serenity once we reach Beaumonde?” “No.” Simon took a deep breath. “He’s got too much of that chip toxin into his system. I’ve done what I can, given him as much antidote as possible, but he’s having a hard time fighting it off - ” “I don’t need the full medical history, doc,” said Mal. “Just give me the edited highlights.” “No, he won’t be walking off this ship on Beaumonde. Not unless we’re staying there maybe a week.” “That ain’t gonna happen.” Mal shook his head. “So fact is, looks like we got ourselves this non-paying passenger for a little whiles longer.” Jayne shifted restively in his chair but Mal quelled him with a look. “I ain’t especially happy about that, but can’t change the way things are. Just gotta deal with it.” “Jun ta ma yu bun duh…” Jayne growled. At Mal’s levelled gaze, the mercenary exclaimed, “Well hell, Mal! That little piece of gos-se snuck on board outta that prison, you figure he’s not trouble? We should dump the liou mahng soon as we can!” “We’ll put him off the ship when the doc says he can go.” Mal spoke clearly. “I didn’t invite him on board, and I’m surely not happy about this turn of events any more than you are, Jayne. But he ain’t done me any wrong, saving stowin’ away on Serenity. We don’t know what he did to fetch up in that prison, but from what I understand he paid a heavy price in there for whatever it was.” Beside Mal, Zoë lifted her gaze to rest on him. “Maybe paid more than he earned. Federal justice can be a mighty blunt instrument; you and me and everyone on this boat knows that by now.” Mal paused, then shrugged. “He stays on board. We land on Beaumonde and get our job. Then all we gotta do is drop him off at the next port of call. Big enough ‘Verse for him to disappear into, once he’s fit to travel; and we just go on our way.” Jayne said nothing, but his mouth set in a discontented line. Mal drained his coffee cup, then stood up. “That’s the way it’s gonna be. So best get comfortable with it.” He looked at Simon. “You left the infirmary locked?” “There’s no way he’s getting up off that bed - ” Simon began, but Mal cut him off. “Wasn’t asking you that, doc. You keep that sick bay door locked. It ain’t locked now, you go lock it.” He glanced at Zoë. “Any trouble, you let me or Zoë know right away. That boy stays on board but he stays in the sick bay behind a locked door. We don’t take any chances.” He nodded at Zoë. “You got the ship. I’m gonna go get some sleep.” “Okay, sir.” Zoë nodded, and for a moment he thought he could see an unspoken approval in her eyes. It was gone so quickly that he almost wasn’t sure. He held her gaze a moment longer, then looked at the rest of the crew around the table. “Okay.” He nodded. “Let’s get to Beaumonde and we’ll take things as they come.” There was a quiet murmur of assent around the table, and Mal turned away.

* * * * *

The morning before Serenity was due to reach Beaumonde, Kaylee spent a busy few hours going over the ship’s systems, making inventory. Then she sought out Mal, finally tracking him down in his cabin. Though naturally optimistic she had no great hopes of what she could achieve with her list of Serenity’s engineering requirements, but she determined to try anyway. The encounter did not start promisingly. In response to her knock and cheerful enquiry, Mal’s response was less than welcoming. “What is it?” “S’only me, cap’n. Got a minute?” There was a pause, then Mal’s taciturn reply. “If it’s only a minute. Come down.” Kaylee descended the ladder, to see Mal sitting at his desk, obviously in the midst of working. He looked up at her as she entered, brows drawn down into a frown of thought. Kaylee tried a smile, stepping hesitantly into the cabin. “You look pretty busy…” “Yeah. Going through the numbers.” Mal looked briefly back at the paperwork and databook in front of him, then back at her. “Somethin’ on your mind, Kaylee?” “Well, I been running over Serenity’s systems, just seeing if anythin’ needs doing. Seeing as how we’re touching down someplace.” She saw his frown deepen and wanted to stop, but made herself continue. “So I put together this list of stuff we need.” She carefully held out the piece of paper she’d written the engine parts on and laid it on the edge of his desk. Mal looked at it, then up at her. Kaylee found herself overcome with an urge to explain. “I mean, most of ain’t real urgent, we can probably scrape by without the hydraulic couplings for a while longer, and the stabilizer’ll probably hold out long as long we don’t do too much manoeuvring in atmo, but if we can get a good second-hand flow regulator that would be a priority I guess, because I ain’t gonna be able to keep the one we got going much longer and if it jams up on us that’s somethin’ of a difficult job to fix up if we was out in the black…” She faltered as she saw the look on Mal’s face. It wasn’t that he looked angry. She had been prepared for him being angry. What stopped her was the weariness in his eyes as he stared down at her list, leaning his forehead on his hand. “Kaylee.” Mal straightened up, letting out a short breath. “Sorry, cap’n – you’re real busy, I know. I didn’t think... This, this stuff can, umm, wait a while - ” She reached out to take the list back, but Mal put his hand on it, stopping her. He looked up at her. “No. Leave it with me. I’ll take a look. Just… might take a while before we can go shopping for parts. Gotta get Serenity fuelled up when we dock. Then we’ll have to organise some work. After that, maybe.” He managed to smile at her. “You’re thinking ahead, nothin’ wrong with that. It’s just we’re running a little close to the margins right now.” “Okay.” Kaylee put on a cheerful smile. “Well, Serenity’ll keep on keepin’ on. She’ll run as long as she has to.” Mal smiled back at her. “Are we – runnin’ closer to the margins than usual?” She failed to keep the worry out of her voice. Mal looked down at his desk, then back at her. His face was at last the Mal she knew: his eyes steady, a wry smile turning up one corner of his mouth. “That’s for me to worry about. No need for you to.” He nodded briefly at the desk. “Got us a few irons in the fire; one of ‘em’ll come through and we’ll earn ourselves some coin. Then you can go shopping and get what you need.” He paused, then qualified his last statement. “Some of what you need, anyways.” “Shiny.” Kaylee smiled again, a genuine smile of relief this time. “Be good to have a job. Ain’t much fun bein’ shuh-muh gong zuo do mei yo for so long.” “Sure ain’t,” Mal agreed. “It ain’t just bein’ short of money I don’t like when we ain’t working…” Kaylee spoke slowly. “It’s… just… the time drifting by, nothing to fix on. Nowhere to aim for.” She lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug, then let them drop with an almost apologetic look at Mal. “I don’t know what I mean. Just, I like it better when we’re workin’ a job.” “Yeah.” Mal nodded again. “You and me both.” There was a moment of quiet, until Kaylee broke it. “Well… I better leave you to work in peace.” She smiled one last time. “Thanks, cap’n.” Then she moved back to the ladder and climbed out of sight. Mal watched her go, then turned his eyes back to the notes on his desk. Okay. So all I gotta do now is get one of these irons in the fire to come through and we’ll be working a job like I promised. He rested his chin on his hand and began again to work through the names he knew, potential leads for when they reached Beaumonde. It’s gotten harder since Miranda but there’s still some folks’ll consider hiring us. And even some folks more interested than before. Guess that’s what a reputation will do for you. For a moment his gaze drifted upwards, not seeing the cabin wall in front of him. A reputation for what, is the question. What’re they saying about Serenity and her crew? About Malcolm Reynolds? That I’m bad news? Nothing but trouble? Marked by the Alliance, keep clear unless you want trouble too? Images of Haven came unbidden into his mind: the smouldering houses, the pathetic heaps of people dropped dead in their tracks by the Operative’s ruthless attack. Shepherd Book breathing his last, killed by the deadly pursuit that had taken his community, his home, his life, just because he had given Mal and the rest of Serenity’s crew temporary sanctuary. Mal’s eyes shut for a moment, eyelids pressing tight to drive the images out of his mind. Enough. There’s work to be got and a living to be made. No time for walking with ghosts, or begging their forgiveness. I got enough to do taking care of the living. He opened his eyes and bent back over the desk, his mouth set in a firm line. After leaving Mal, Kaylee headed down to the infirmary, to check on Simon. She’d missed him over the past two days, seeing little of him except at mealtimes and at night. Still thinking about her exchange with Mal, she descended the stairs from the ship’s aft passage and came out into the common area outside the infirmary’s brightly-lit windows. River was curled up in one of the soft furnished chairs, a thick book spread open in her lap. She lifted her head and smiled at Kaylee, her long her hanging forward over her eyes like a curtain. “Hey.” “Hey, you.” Kaylee moved over to River with an answering smile, sitting down on the chair next to her. “What’re you reading?” River bent back over her book. “Astrogation theory and orbital mechanics.” “Oh. Gee.” Kaylee paused, then tried a half-joke. “Any good?” “I don’t know until I’ve finished it.” River turned her head slightly on one side. “I’ve found some errors in the differential calculus, but I think I can avoid them by re-ordering the primary equations. Apart from that it’s pretty workable. It’ll come in useful for navigation.” “Um… Yeah.” Kaylee looked at Simon’s sister for a moment, momentarily thrown as she often was by River’s dauntingly high intelligence. At one time she’d been frightened by River’s unpredictability, her wild mood swings. There had been the times she and River had played and fooled around together, laughed together as they ran around Serenity… And then there had been the firefight at Niska’s skyplex when they’d gone to free Mal, when River had picked up the gun from the deck and shot three guards dead without even looking at them. Kaylee had never forgotten the curious half-smile River had turned on her as she lowered the gun and murmured, - Nothing in the ‘Verse can stop me. But everything’s different since Miranda. River’s different. We all are. Kaylee looked at the reading girl beside her and knew she didn’t fear her any more. River was still unpredictable, still given to speaking out in ways that confused or surprised you. But she smiled more; liked to joke and to play jokes; was more relaxed a lot of the time. She’s Simon’s sister so I’d love her for that if for nothing else. But I love her anyway. She saved my life – all our lives. And when that door opened on Mr Universe’s station and I saw her standing there with those Reavers lying dead at her feet I never was so glad to see someone in my life. I truly thought we’d lost her, when she ran back through there to throw us Simon’s medical bag. Simon was shot and bleeding and I was fading out and we were all hurt bad one way and the other and all I could see was that door closing with River’s hand reaching out like she was telling us goodbye. Gently Kaylee reached out and tucked a lock of River’s hair behind her ear, revealing her face as she read studiously on. “You got enough light to read here?” “It’s sufficient.” River glanced up at her. An impish smile played across her mouth. “I’m all right. You shouldn’t worry.” Kaylee nodded and stood up, turning away towards the infirmary. She’d only walked a couple of steps when the double meaning of what River had said struck her. - I’m all right. You shouldn’t worry. She paused and glanced back, but River was once more engrossed in her book. After a moment Kaylee moved on. Simon was sitting with his back to the infirmary door, bent over a databook when she entered. He looked around at the sound of the door opening, laying down the databook when he saw it was her. He smiled but his eyes were tired. “Hi.” “Hi.” Kaylee walked towards him and took one of his hands, giving it a squeeze. “How’s it going?” “Oh… About the same.” Simon looked across to where Leon lay on the bed. “He seems to rally a little, then his temperature rises again. He’s still in a pretty bad way.” Kaylee crossed the room and stood beside the bed, looking down on the unconscious youth. Leon’s face was pale and shone with sweat; dark shadows were drawn deep under his eyes. As she watched, his head moved to one side, his lips parting slightly: a muttered groan came from him and he clenched one hand into a fist onto the coverlet. Simon crossed the room too, to stand behind her. “He’s wakeful, which could be a good sign. But he’s still really out of it.” “Poor guy.” Kaylee looked down on the restless, feverish youth. “He spoken at all?” “Bits and pieces.” Simon shrugged. “None of it making much sense. He’s running a really high fever still… I don’t think he knows where he is, or what’s going on.” He turned away to check the monitor. “Which is probably not a bad thing.” Kaylee sat on the chair by the edge of the bed, and tentatively laid her hand over one of Leon’s. Surprisingly his eyes flickered open: his gaze wavered across her face, but his eyes looked unfocussed. His hand twitched under hers and she gently curled her fingers around his, trying to smile at him. Nervousness sat in the pit of her stomach. “Hey, there. It’s okay.” His hand felt hot in hers: she felt the muscles of his arm tremble. “It’s okay.” His eyes narrowed as if trying to focus; his breath caught, then drew in. A drop of sweat slid down the side of his face. “…Ttt…” His mouth tried to form words: momentarily he shut his eyes, then opened them again and stared up at her with a gaze bright with fever. She heard him swallow dryly, then try again. “…Tell… Jake… He’s…got to… get away.” His eyes held her, his body shaking with the effort. “Tell who?” Kaylee leaned closer, trying to make out the faintly breathed words. “You want us to tell someone something?” “… Jake… Tell Jake… To get away… Got…to go…” Leon’s head seemed to strain off the pillow, an urgency audible in his whispered plea. Kaylee felt the hand in hers tighten to a shaking grip. “… Tell him… To go…” “Jake? Tell Jake?” Kaylee repeated, trying to help the youth. “Jake who?” Leon drew in an unsteady breath, holding onto her hand like a lifeline. “… Jake… Ryder…” He was unable to hold his head up any more and it fell back against the pillow: his fingers, slick with sweat, curled feebly around hers. “… Jake… Ryder… Tell… him… ” His eyes flickered shut and Kaylee felt his grip slowly relax, until his hand was limp in hers. Simon spoke quietly behind her. “He’s out again.” Kaylee slowly laid Leon’s hand back on the bed, looking thoughtfully at his unconscious face. “Sounded like he wants to get a message to someone.” She looked round at him. “Did you hear what he said?” “Yes.” Simon sounded non-committal. “I heard it. But he’s running a fever, remember? It’s likely he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about.” “Maybe… But maybe this – Jake Ryder - is someone he knows. Someone we could get a message to.” “That’s possible.” Simon laid a hand carefully on hers. “It’s also possible that this Jake Ryder, if he exists, is a prisoner back at the security facility he broke out of. In which case I don’t think it would be a good idea to be sending him messages.” “Oh.” Kaylee pulled a face. “I didn’t think of that.” She looked glumly down at the unconscious Leon. “I keep forgettin’ where he came on board from. Looking at him now, so sick and all… He don’t look like a convict. He just looks too young, to be so messed up.” “Yes. He is young.” Simon squeezed her hand, then let go. “But with some luck, he’ll live to get older. And as he’s young… Well, he’s young enough to start over. Maybe he’ll make a better way in life if he gets another chance at it.”

* * * * *

Serenity entered Beaumonde’s atmosphere right on target, Zoë bringing the ship down in an easy landing at New Albany docks. Mal left her in the bridge to power down, joining the rest of the crew in the cargo bay to go through the procedures. “Okay. We ain’t staying long, so no sight-seeing and no wandering off. Zoë and me’ll take a walk to our contact, get the skinny on the job. Jayne, you stay here on Serenity, with the doc and the ladies.” Jayne looked less than overjoyed at this pronouncement. “All goes as it should, we’ll be back within the hour.” The clattering of footsteps down the cargo bay steps announced Zoë’s appearance. Mal looked up at her as she approached. “All set?” “Ready to go when you are, sir.” “Ready now.” Mal nodded at the rest of the crew. “Stay onboard and stay outta trouble.” With that, he and Zoë were gone. “ ‘Stay out of trouble’ ?” Simon shook his head. “Exactly what trouble can we get into if we’re confined to the ship?” He looked around the cargo bay and sighed. “Don’t see why Zoë gets to go out and I have play nursemaid,” groused Jayne. Inara gave him a sidelong look. “Maybe Mal thought he and Zoë could handle the deal with just the two of them.” “I can make deals!” protested Jayne. “I ain’t dumb!” “No, of course not,” said Inara. She tried to think of something encouraging that wasn’t stretching the truth too much. She decided to play on Jayne’s sense of honour. “But what’s so bad about taking care of the home front, Jayne? Anyone would think you didn’t like the responsibility of looking after Kaylee and River and me.” Jayne looked at her under lowered brows; River, standing beside Simon, let out a snort of laughter. Jayne shot her a dirty look, then began to stomp away up the stairs. “You all can take care of yourselves,” he growled. “I’m goin’ to my bunk. Anythin’ happens, you can call me.” “Well, there’s a reassuring thought.” Simon raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to go and look after my patient.” Kaylee sighed. “Suppose I better go take out some fuel cells, ready for loading new ones.” She smiled apologetically and headed away up the stairs after Jayne. Inara looked at River, who met her gaze and said decisively, “We’ll go and sit in your shuttle. You can do my hair and tell me about being a Companion.” “We could do that.” Inara smiled, as they started to walk away. “Although I don’t think I want to tell you everything about what I do.” “That’s okay. I only want to hear about the sex parts,” replied River.

* * * * *

New Albany was a busy town, with the docks a hub of incoming and outgoing trade and travellers. Stock markets for Beaumonde’s thriving cattle trade rubbed shoulders with factories and industry, whilst a steady stream of powered and foot traffic crowded the streets. Zoë and Mal walked to the rendezvous Mal had settled on, which meant that they arrived there somewhat jaded by New Albany’s smoggy midday sun. Mal turned into a narrow street and stopped just outside the doorway of an unpromising-looking bar. Florid neon Chinese characters announced the bar’s name as The Golden Lily, an elegant soubriquet undermined by the bar’s doorway where a hefty shaven-headed doorman lounged and watched all passers-by with narrowed eyes. “Okay. This is the place.” Mal paused in the street, looking speculatively at the doorman. Zoë eyed the man too, then ran her gaze over the bar’s frontage unenthusiastically. “We goin’ in here, sir?” “I was told this is where this Jing Mei hangs out, and that’s who can make us an offer of work.” Mal spoke briskly, although he too was looking less than happy about the prospect before them. At Zoë’s lack of response he glanced at her. “Look, I know it ain’t exactly salubrious, but work’s work. This Jing Mei has a rep for dealing fair and paying in a timely fashion, so I for one ain’t about to be too picky about her business frontage.” Zoë nodded slowly, her eyes still on the doorman. Mal let out a short breath and advanced to the door, Zoë following. The solidly-muscled guardian slowly stood upright as they approached and folded his arms, blocking entry. Mal stopped, smiling insincerely. “We’re heading inside, so it’d be mighty appreciated if you was to give us room to step by.” The doorman gazed impassively at Mal, but made no move to free up the bar entrance. Beside Mal, Zoë took a deep breath. Mal kept eye contact with the doorman and spoke again. “Y’know, we got business with Jing Mei. But bein’ as how we don’t want to shout it from the street, you’re gonna have to let us inside.” “Kwai chur hun yuan de di fahng, fei fei de pi yan.” The doorman’s voice was a low grunt of contempt. Mal registered the insult with only a slight tightening of the jaw, but Zoë recognized instantly the subtle change of his stance. Inwardly she readied herself for the move she knew he was going to make, not allowing her face to show her intentions. Here we go. Nothing ever goes smooth. “Nah mei guan-shee…” Mal feigned reluctance to provoke the doorman further, his hands raising in a placatory gesture. The doorman’s eyes followed Mal’s hands suspiciously, which left the field open for Mal’s knee which came smashing up into the man’s groin. The big man bent over with a grunt of pain and Mal followed his initial assault up with a smashing downwards blow to the back of huge shaven head that left him cursing and wringing his fingers. “Kao!” Zoë was already moving through the doorway, ready for whatever might lie beyond as Mal hurried after her. They’d taken barely three steps when a knot of men materialized out of the gloom, moving as one: the bristling click of weapons being lifted and aimed at the two interlopers stopped Mal and Zoë in their tracks. Mal’s hand automatically moved to his gun but he stopped it midway, instantly recognizing the suicidal nature of following his action through. Slowly he lifted his hands into the air, whilst beside him Zoë did the same. She closed in to his side as the armed men approached, her eyes fixed on them: behind them Mal heard the groans of the doorman picking himself up off the floor. “That went well,” Zoë said out of the corner of her mouth, as the men stepped closer. “What was the next stage of your plan?” “Hadn’t got much beyond gettin’ us inside,” Mal replied. “Well, that part worked fine.” Zoë kept her eyes on the men. “Now you might want to work on getting them to put down their guns.” “They do seem a mite unfriendly,” Mal allowed. “Could have something to do with you dropping their colleague on the doorstep behind us, sir.” “He’s getting up, ain’t he?” “Yes.” “How ‘bout you keep an eye on him back there, while I reason with these gentlemen.” “You’re the one that hit him, sir. I don’t think I’m the one he’s going to want to talk to.” “Okay…” Mal let his hands drop, his brows drawing together. “Well, if surrenderin’ don’t buy us any favours, the hell with niceties.” He clenched his fists. “You take the doorman, I’ll hold these guys back.” “That’s the plan, sir?” “You got a better one, I’m fielding all suggestions.” Mal felt her move from his side, turning so that the two of them were back to back facing the oncoming men from both directions. He felt a strange rush of mixed emotions: anger at the approaching men, dismay at the fight that they were both inevitably going to suffer in, remorse for having got them into this situation – yet at the same time a curious sense of ease. He could feel the steady pressure of Zoë’s back touching his, and for a moment all was right with the world. “Deng yi miao!” A voice rose sharply from the dark recesses of the bar. The men in front of Mal stopped moving, although they kept their weapons up and ready. A muttering voice came from behind them, increasing in volume as the source of it approached from the gloom. As Mal watched, a small elderly Chinese woman appeared at the bar, the men stepping smartly to one side for her. She was still muttering, in a sharp high-pitched voice. “Ni mun dou shr sagwa…” She swatted a gun to one side as if brushing away a fly, and regarded Mal with piercing eyes. “Hah.” She made a dismissive gesture towards him, speaking to the men. “Jan dou de yi kuai rou.” She waggled her little finger, grinning, and the men laughed. She shooed at them with her hands and they backed away to the bar, stowing their weapons. The woman nodded at them, then turned back to Mal and Zoë, who still stood braced back to back. “Wah… You can come in now. Just don’t hit any more of my men. It makes them angry.” She began to walk back into the recesses of the bar, signaling them to follow. “And it pisses me off, too.” “Apologies.” Mal followed the small woman, after exchanging a swift glance with Zoë. “Wouldn’t have tangled with your man on the door if he’d been more accommodating.” “He’s paid to keep people out. He didn’t do his job so well.” The small woman seated herself behind a table, nodding at two stools opposite her. “If you hadn’t kicked him in the testicles I would have.” She lifted her head and shouted, “Bai-jiu, ma shong!” towards the bar, then lowered her gaze and swept it over the two of them. “So you are Malcolm Reynolds.” Mal nodded an affirmative, adding, “This is my first mate, Zoë Washburne. And I’m assuming you’re Jing Mei, though we ain’t been introduced yet.” “You assume right.” Jing Mei let her eyes rest assessingly on Zoë for a moment, then they switched back to Mal. “Introductions would seem a little redundant after your dramatic entrance into my bar. So let’s just get down to business.” “Whatever you say,” Mal agreed. Jing Mei settled herself back into her chair, folding her hands on her stomach. “I hear that you make a habit of finishing a job properly, Captain Reynolds.” “Nice to know I’m so highly regarded,” Mal replied. Jing Mei let a thin smile curve her lips. “I also hear that you’re trouble. Big mess with the authorities, lotta people not very happy with you.” “Well, can’t please all of the people all of the time.” Mal let an insincere smile flicker briefly over his own face. Jing Mei regarded him narrowly for a moment, then rested her elbows on the scarred wooden table, steepling her fingers under her chin. “You got federal heat right now?” “No.” Mal spoke more confidently than he felt. “No-one’s on our backs, if that’s what you mean.” He resisted the impulse to cross his fingers where his hands lay hidden under the table. “My ship and crew are free and available for hire. If the price is right.” “Wah, so quick to talk about money…” Jing Mei grinned wickedly. “Maybe you’re a little low on resources, hah? Maybe the right price is for me to name, and for you to take whatever you can get?” She laughed with a throaty cackle. You goddamned old witch. Mal felt the anger rise in him, but managed to keep his face outwardly calm. “Well, you get what you pay for. But I don’t work for anythin’ less than makes it worth my while.” “I bet.” Jing Mei raised an eyebrow. “So Adelai Niska didn’t make it worth your while?” Mal’s head lifted, his eyes fixing on hers as a jolt ran through him. Jing Mei was watching him closely, her face unreadable. After a pause Mal spoke. “Niska’s price wasn’t the issue. What he expected us to do was. I returned his money when we cancelled the deal: didn’t have a problem livin’ with that. Seemed like he did.” Mal was keenly conscious of Zoë sitting quiet beside him: of what her memories of the repercussions of their dealings with Niska must be. “Whole matter got resolved some time ago, anyhow.” Which is all I plan on telling you about that whole nightmare, you evil old puo-foo. There was a pause after his reply. Jing Mei said nothing further, continuing to regard both of Serenity’s crew thoughtfully. Footsteps signaled the approach of the barkeeper, who set a bottle of clear bai-jiu spirit on the table together with three glasses, then went away. Jing Mei pursed her lips. “Hmm.” Her cold eyes still held them. She reached for the bottle and poured herself a glassful of the strong white spirit; held it in one hand with her elbow resting on the table. “What the hell. Always thought Niska was jun ta ma shiong-mung de kuang-run, anyway.” Her deeply lined face broke into a mocking grin. “About time someone gave him a dose of his own medicine.” She lifted the glass and gestured at the bottle with it. “Help yourself to a drink.” For a moment Mal and Zoë did not react, disorientated by the sudden change in mood. But as Jing Mei’s smile broadened, the tension at the table broke. They exchanged glances, then Mal reached for the bottle of bai-jiu and poured himself and Zoë a careful measure each. They lifted their glasses as Jing Mei mock-saluted them. “Gan bei!” Then she tipped her head back and tossed the liquor down in one gulp. Mal and Zoë did the same and instantly regretted it: the fiery alcohol struck the back of their throats and rendered them both speechless for several seconds. Jing Mei obviously relished their discomfort, setting her glass back down on the table with a throaty chuckle. “Good bai-jiu, hah?” Mal blinked the water out of his eyes. “Smooth,” he managed to say, swallowing the fire that was scorching its way down towards his stomach. Jing Mei chuckled again and refilled her glass. She proffered the bottle in their direction. “Another, maybe?” Both Mal and Zoë reacted instinctively, their hands covering the tops of their empty glasses. Jing Mei grinned even more broadly and raised her second drink in a mock toast to them, before downing it as swiftly as her first one. She set the empty glass down and let out a contented sigh, then pushed it and the bottle to one side. “Okay. Now we do business.” She folded her hands together on the table. “I have a delivery to be made to a buyer on Athens. Buyer will pay on delivery, at the price previously agreed with me. You make the delivery, get my money, I pay you when you bring my money back here.” “Sounds simple,” said Mal. “Which means that it ain’t. You want to be a little more forthcoming with the details?” “You want the job, Captain Reynolds?” Jing Mei cocked one eyebrow. “Depends on what I’m delivering, and who to.” Mal folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Reckon if it was just a matter of transporting goods to market, you’d be doing it yourself.” Jing Mei laughed. “I don’t make deliveries. I pay other people to do that for me.” She gestured with one hand around the bar. “I like my home territory. Travelling is bad for the health. If I was to transact all my business in person, who would look after my enterprises here on Beaumonde?” She smiled. “I believe in hands-on management.” “Wise policy,” said Mal. “But that don’t tell me any more about why you need someone like me to ferry your goods to market.” “Like I said: people say you finish a job properly.” Jing Mei’s eyes fixed on Mal levelly. “I need someone I can trust to handle my business interests on Athens.” “What I’m hearing is, you don’t trust your buyer overmuch,” Mal said. Jing Mei made no comment, sitting still with her gaze still on him. “You’ve made a deal but you figure maybe your buyer’s integrity might be tested when it comes to making payment when the goods arrive.” “Maybe.” Jing Mei’s expression did not change. “Who’s the buyer?” “Local fixer called Vaughan. Supplies some of the local industries with imported necessaries. Engineering parts, quarrying tools, that kind of thing. He buys them in off-world then adds on his mark-up, sells them on for big profit.” She let out a faintly disparaging snort. “Small-time operation, but makes him a big man on Athens. He thinks.” “You traded with him before?” asked Mal. “Uh-uh. But I got this big load of engineering fei-oo, took it part exchange in a deal, now it’s taking up space in my warehouse I want for other things. So I’m offloading it on Vaughan. He agreed my price; I deliver, he pays up.” “Or maybe he doesn’t.” Mal narrowed his eyes. “Which is when you want me to do what, exactly?” “He’ll pay.” Jing Mei looked at Mal, then at Zoë, and smiled. “When he sees you and your crew, he’ll pay. You look like you can handle a small-town tian sheng shagua. Unless you’re telling me that this job is too much for you…” “Didn’t say that,” Mal answered firmly. “Just trying to get an idea of the bigger picture.” “Nothing complicated.” Jing Mei shrugged. “You want the job, my men will transport my merchandise over to your ship so your crew can load it aboard. I’ll send a wave to Vaughan that the goods are on their way; you deliver them to him on Athens and he gives you my money. You bring the money back to me and you get paid. No problems.” “Except for one thing.” Mal fixed his gaze on Jing Mei. “We take this job, I want an advance.” “An advance?” Jing Mei’s face cracked into an incredulous grin. “What for?” “For the initial outlay of shifting your cargo across space. So: an advance. I was thinking, ten percent up front. Rest to be settled when we bring back your payment from Vaughan.” “Tsai boo shr…” Jing Mei shook her head. “Why the hell should I pay you before the job’s done, captain?” “Why the hell should I risk a confrontation with Vaughan before I see any coin from you?” Mal countered. “Hell, I’m the one carting a hold of machine parts halfway across the Rim, which I don’t doubt will add to my fuel requirements; then you want me and mine to talk tough to this racketeer and twist his arm up his back to make sure he parts with everything he owes you. That sounds like a whole mess of aggravation to me: and if I’m going to get aggravated, a little good-faith payment up front would surely focus my mind a good deal more on the job in hand.” He held Jing Mei’s gaze. “Think of it as a deposit on my good will and speedy return with your profits.” There was a long silence at the table. Jing Mei regarded Mal with her unblinking stare. As the seconds crawled past, Mal felt the tension twisting his stomach. That may just have been a mistake. If I’ve pushed her too far we can kiss this job goodbye. He kept his own face still, not revealing the doubts just below the surface. Suddenly a tight-lipped, wicked grin spread across Jing Mei’s withered features. “Ai ya, why not. Ten percent in advance, rest when the job’s done.” She leaned back in her chair. “Job is yours, Captain Reynolds.” “Shiny.” Mal let a smile come on his own face, feeling relief surge through him. “But you bring me back the full price I agreed with Vaughan.” Jing Mei raised a warning finger. “Full price, or ten percent is all I pay you.” “Shr ah.” Mal nodded. “We’ll get your money.” “You better.” Jing Mei wagged the finger at him. “Otherwise you answer to Qiang Rong.” “Who’s Qiang Rong?” “The man you kick in the balls.” Jing Mei grinned even more wickedly. Mal tried hard to look unconcerned, whilst beside him Zoë let a smile of amusement appear on her face. The job agreed, Mal and Zoë headed swiftly back to Serenity. Mal had Jing Mei’s cash advance tucked into his inside jacket pocket, and the encouraging weight gave him a nice warm feeling of satisfaction that was only slightly tempered by the prospect of the job ahead. Okay, we’re back in business. Got a job, got some coin; soon as we’re loaded we can head out and be back in the running. Zoë’s voice broke through his upbeat thoughts. “Figure we can handle this Vaughan?” “We’ll handle him.” Mal wasn’t about to let his mood be soured. “I’ll handle the talking and you can handle the security; we’ll get Jayne to stand close by so they get the picture. I don’t figure they’ll want any trouble.” “That’s assuming he’s a reasonable man.” Zoë sounded less than convinced. “Well, he’ll be getting what he ordered so there won’t be any reason for him to get ruffled up over the deal. We’ll make it clear we’re just couriers. From what I can figure Jing Mei ain’t asking over the market price on this merchandise, so Vaughan shouldn’t have anything to grouse about.” “Right.” Zoë’s reply was not the resounding agreement Mal had hoped for. “And we got some cash up front, which is going to make life a whole lot easier.” “Yeah. And that bothers me.” Zoë frowned. “If this is going to be such a straightforward deal, why’d she go to the trouble of fronting us an advance to encourage us to take the job?” “Because I asked for it!” Mal stated. “Figured it was worth a shot, and it worked. She backed down in the face of my superior bargaining skills.” “Uh huh.” One of Zoë’s eyebrows rose slightly. “C’mon, Zoë, we got the job. We got some money. Soon as we get Serenity fuelled and loaded we’re on our way. What part of this bothers you?” “None of it, sir. It’s nothing we haven’t done before.” Zoë shook her head. “If it doesn’t bother you, I’m okay with it.” “Good. Because there ain’t nothing about this job I’m worried about.” “Right, sir.” “Except maybe the part where Qiang Rong might get involved.” “Uh huh.” “And that ain’t gonna happen, because everything’s going to go according to plan.”