Many thanks to cbsteve for his constructive criticism. Comments from other Browncoats are always appreciated as well.

The verse and all its inhabitants belong to Joss Whedon; I’m just borrowing them.

---

Simon knew he shouldn’t be out and about like this. A mere week after being shot in the leg by Jubal Early, here he was limping around Persephone, out in the open for any other bounty hunter to see, with the noontime sun beating down on him, buying medical supplies for Serenity while Jayne kept an eye out for any trouble. He hadn’t wanted to go, had said his leg wasn’t fully healed, which was true. But Mal had reminded him that he was the only one on the ship who knew precisely what medicines were needed on board, and that this could be the last chance that they had for a long while to pick up some very necessary items. Plus, he told the doctor, the exercise would be good for him, and Jayne would be there guarding him in case anything went wrong.

The mercenary hadn’t wanted to go, either. At least, that was what he had told Mal. He had complained to the captain that he “ain’t no gorram babysitter,” and that he had better things to do than look after a prissy little doctor. The truth was, though, that Jayne had developed a new level of respect for Simon recently. After the doc had taken a bullet while trying to save his sister from Early, he, Zoe and Mal had begun to look on him as not just their medic, but one of them, willing to put himself in danger just like the rest of them. That, plus the doc’s promise never to harm Jayne even after finding out the truth about Ariel, had made the gunhand think more highly of the young surgeon. He would never admit it publicly, but he was actually starting to like Dr. Simon Tam.

After Simon had acquired the last supplies he needed, the two of them headed over to the Gridiron, Mal’s favorite bar on the planet, to join their captain and first mate in wetting their whistles. There was a jolly atmosphere in the place, but the mood at their table was decidedly pessimistic, each of them bemoaning their trouble finding jobs, no matter how hard they looked. Jayne had just gotten back from fetching another round for the four despairing rogues when, out of the corner of his eye, Simon thought he saw someone familiar standing at the bar. Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to himself, he slowly turned his head to get a better look. No, he thought, it couldn’t be. But it was. It was Anthony Sayer, one of his closest friends from his university days.

A stream of memories came rushing back to Simon; memories of late nights spent studying, drinking, discussing culture and politics, worrying about their futures. Then, just as quickly, he was overtaken by a sudden fear that his old friend, who had repeatedly voiced pro-Unification sympathies in his younger days, was working for the Alliance and had come to arrest him and bring River back to the Academy. For a few seconds these conflicting emotions battled for control of Simon’s attention, a struggle so fierce it forced him to stare straight ahead, his mind paralyzed by the combat going on inside it. That paralysis blinded him to the fact that Sayer had left the bar and was approaching him and his shipmates.

“Doc? Hellooo, Doc? You still with us?” Doc?” said Mal, sensing that all was not right with his medic.

“What, what is it?”

“Nothing, just looked like you were gazing into space or some such. Everything alright?”

“I’m, I’m okay,” Simon replied, his voice trembling with nervousness. “It’s just…I thought I saw something. Someone, actually.”

“Who was it?” asked Zoe.

“A very good friend of his,” came the quick, confident response of a six-foot-one-inch young man with neatly combed brown hair, blue eyes, and two days’ worth of beard growth. He wore a pair of dirty black boots, tattered blue jeans, and a black leather jacket. He had approached so stealthily that no one other than Simon had seen him, and even the doctor did not notice him approach their table.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Anthony Sayer. Simon and I knew each other when we both attended Osiris University some years ago. How have you been, Simon?”

The doctor, delighted to see his old friend but worried about giving away anything that might be incriminating, answered “uh, fine, but…how did you…?”

“You’re wondering how I knew where to find you,” was Sayer’s reply, delivered in a tone intended to reassure the nervous surgeon. “Don’t worry; I’m not here to do you or your friends any harm.” Turning first to Jayne, then to Mal, he inquired, “May I ask which one of you is Captain Reynolds?”

“That’d be me,” replied a suspicious Mal, with a hint of anger in his voice. He didn’t take kindly to strangers approaching him in this manner. “And before you say anything else, I’d appreciate knowing just how the hell you knew who I am. And how exactly did you know how to find us?” As he spoke this last sentence, the captain subtly moved his right hand, hidden from Sayer’s view, toward his holstered pistol. Independently, Jayne, ready for trouble, had already moved one of his hands under the table and onto the huge knife he was carrying on his belt.

Sayer pulled up an empty chair from the table next to theirs and sat down as he explained. “Captain, I understand perfectly if you’re suspicious of me and my intentions. But if you’re willing to listen to what I have to say, I can make it very much worth your while.”

Mal did not become any more calm by hearing these words. Without turning away from Sayer he asked his medic, “So you two were friends in school, huh? What’s he like, Doc?”

“He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. We took a lot of the same classes; we usually got roughly equal grades. His family on Osiris is very prominent. I remember one time…

Mal cut him off, not wanting to be drawn into another one of Simon’s roundabout speeches. “Thank you, doc. Now then, Mr. Sayer, you were saying something about making it ‘worth our while.’ Do continue.”

“Gladly; I belong to a certain organization that has numerous members throughout the verse. One of our members happens to be an acquaintance of yours from the war; it was through him that I came to find out about you, your ship, and the kinds of jobs you do. Monty, I believe his name is.”

“You know Monty?” Zoe asked, her demeanor not betraying the tiniest bit of her shock at the mention of her old comrade. “And just what is this organization you both belong to?”

“The Free and Accepted Masons, more commonly called Freemasons, Miss…?”

“Washburne. Mrs. Zoe Washburne.”

“Mrs. Washburne. We are a fraternity of men, of all races and religions, dedicated to enlightening and improving our fellow man. And we are in need of some assistance on a most urgent matter.”

Mal’s mood visibly darkened as he heard this. “Enlightening? Improving? Sounds like Alliance talk to me. I’ve heard of the Freemasons; never had a high opinion of them myself. Too elitist, too high-brow. You brought up the war; that stuff’s just what we Independents fought against—trying to improve people against their will. Won’t be assisting you in any of that.”

Sayer was ready for a reply of this nature. “I can assure you, Captain, that we Freemasons are of a completely different ideology than the Alliance. We do not force enlightenment upon anyone who does not wish it. In fact, many of us wore brown not long ago because we couldn’t stand what the central planets were trying to do to everyone else. I just mentioned to you that your friend Monty is one of us; I know he was and is fiercely loyal to the Independent cause. If you don’t believe that he’s a Freemason, ask him yourself.”

“Might hafta do that. So, what’re you Freemasons trying to get me and my crew caught up in?”

Sayer took a quick look around the bar, trying to discern whether anyone was following their conversation. “Is there somewhere else we could talk, Captain?”

Mal quickly assessed the situation mentally as he got up from his chair. Here’s a guy, he thought, comes at us out of the blue, friends with Simon, says he knows Monty, says he can make his appearance worth our while. I just don’t like the sound of this.

“My ship’s parked not far from here,” the captain stated without any hint of emotion, looking Sayer directly in the eye. “We can talk on the way.” Trying not to let his potential adversary see what he was doing, but also trying to catch the attention of Zoe and Jayne, he again put his hand on his gun, a signal for them to do the same, which they quietly did. He wanted both of his fighters to maintain the highest level of alertness as they brought Sayer back to their ship. Friend of the doc or not, there was something about this guy that just didn’t seem on the level.

---

As the five of them walked back to Serenity, the still-limping Simon being helped by his old friend, Sayer explained to them the predicament he and his brother Freemasons were in.

“For the longest time the Alliance looked at our brotherhood as a mere inconvenience, a tiny flaw in their plan for total control. They never liked us, but they were willing to live with us. Ever since the war, though, when they found out that most of us had Independent sympathies, they’ve been gradually cracking down on us. We’re not exactly at the top of their hit list, but they mean to wipe us out. They’ve already captured about half of our members on the inner planets, including some of our most prominent ones.”

As intrigued as Mal was by this story, and as much as he sympathized with anyone who harbored a grudge against the Alliance, he still didn’t quite trust this man; and if there was business to be had, he really wanted to get down to it.

“Right, so where do we come in?”

“Our Grand Master, Brother John Montagu, recently purchased a large amount of land on Whitefall. We’re calling it Albion, and we intend to turn it into a refuge for Freemasons from across the verse, and their families. We need a ship that can transport some cargo to Whitefall for us. Brother Monty, who plans to join us there first chance he gets, suggested that your Firefly might be willing to take the job.”

Mal and Zoe were both trying desperately to keep from laughing at the words “Brother Monty.” He had never struck them as the kind of guy who would join the Freemasons, who had a reputation throughout the verse for being reclusive, secretive and somewhat snobbish, everything Monty wasn’t. Once he had regained his composure Mal asked “Whitefall? You do realize most of that moon’s controlled by a mighty nasty matriarch with a tendency to be not-so-nice to outsiders, right?”

“If you mean Patience, then you need not worry. She gladly sold the property to us. Said she wanted to leave that place and retire in luxury somewhere else. I take it you’ve met her before.”

“Certain words were exchanged on a few occasions.”

“Not to mention certain bullets,” said Zoe in her usual deadpan tone.

“All in the past now, Zoe.”

Jayne, who had been silent until now, abruptly changed the subject to one more to his liking. “How much you boys gonna pay us if we do this job?”

The others half-expected their prospective client to be offended by this remark, but Sayer didn’t flinch one bit.

“Two thousand. Half up front, half when we get to Whitefall. Sound good enough to you?”

Mal nearly stopped dead in his tracks, so great was his surprise at so generous a price. These Freemasons may have had some strange philosophical beliefs, but if they were willing to pay this well he might be willing to ignore that. “What kinda cargo you got? And how much of it?”

“Thirty-three crates, mostly containing food, clothes, building materials, things like that, things we need to make ourselves at home there. But a few of them are considerably more important to us. I won’t divulge their contents; let’s just say they’re very valuable, which is why we’re willing to pay so high a price to ensure that they get to Whitefall safely. So what do you say, Captain? Ready to take the job?”

As the five of them reached Serenity, Mal considered the offer. On the one hand, two thousand credits was something he would desperately like to get his hands on. His attempts to fence the Lassiter had come to naught, and no other money-making opportunities seemed to be coming their way. On the other hand, the thought of Alliance cruisers bearing down on Serenity as she made her way from Persephone to Whitefall did not appeal to him in the least. Most of the crew were still a little spooked after their encounter with Early, and more danger was the last thing they needed right now. Then again, being on Serenity in the first place was dangerous almost by definition, and none of them had shown any inclination that they were ready to leave. That is, except for one of them, one who was far more important to Mal than he let on.

“Hafta think on this awhile. You’re asking me to put my ship and my crew in a lot of danger. We’d prefer to keep our encounters with the Alliance to a minimum.”

“We’ll give you the rest of the afternoon to think about it, Captain Reynolds,” replied Sayer as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out four small pieces of paper. “If you decide to help us, come to the Persephone Opera House at eight this evening. There’s a performance that I and two of my brother Masons will be attending; during the intermission we’ll slip out, I’ll take you to where the crates are, and your crew can assist us in bringing our cargo to Serenity. Here are your tickets,” he said, handing them to Mal. “It’s on the more ‘respectable’ side of the planet, so be sure to dress for the occasion. Hope to see you there.”

“Why do there need to be four of us there?” Too many suspicious parts to this job already, Mal thought.

Sayer bit the inside of his mouth in order to disguise his considerable exasperation at Mal’s constant questioning. If the man was such going to be so annoyingly inquisitive, perhaps the brothers should start looking for another captain to do business with. “Captain, I had hoped that you would appreciate our generosity. I had hoped that you would allow us to provide you and your crew with an evening of refined entertainment in addition to our business proposition. There are four tickets there because anyone who’s ever sailed in a Firefly can tell you that it normally has at least four people on board. But, if you’re really that distrusting of us, perhaps you’d prefer not to become two thousand credits richer. Our offer still stands, but not for very long. Good day.” And with that he turned briskly and walked back the way they had come.

---

As they reached Serenity, Simon took a look at the tickets and instantly recognized the performance to which they had been invited. “'The Magic Flute.' I always wanted to see this one. I’ve heard it’s got lots of Masonic symbolism in it. I imagine that’s why they chose it.”

Mal was in no mood for a cultural conversation. “That’s all very interesting, Doc, but we’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.”

“We taking the job, sir?” asked Zoe.

“I’ll put it to the others. They’re willing to accept the risk, we’ll take it. Imagine they will; haven’t had a job this profitable in a long time.”

Jayne spoke up again. “Well I vote we take it. Ain’t had me a woman since we left the Heart of Gold, and I’m itching to get me another.”

The others just rolled their eyes at this. “Not a voting matter, Jayne,” replied a slightly irritated Mal. “Just gonna ask everybody for their input.”

---

For the first time since being assigned to Persephone six months earlier, Captain Richard Willis was starting to enjoy his job as base commander. When he’d first been given his orders to report there, he had protested to his superiors, arguing that a soldier with twenty-seven years experience, one of the few enlisted men talented to rise through the ranks and become an officer, who had lost his right hand during the Unification War, was worthy of something more prominent than a job whose main duties seemed to be keeping an eye out for suspicious cargo and making sure local traders paid their tariffs. Yes, making contact with potential spies was somewhat enjoyable, but they were usually unpleasant to meet with, and none of them any real desire to help the Alliance, just themselves. Surely, he had said, there is something be conducive to the talents of a decorated combat veteran. The command of a cruiser, perhaps?

In the end, though, the protestations proved fruitless, and so the forty-nine-year-old warrior resigned himself to what he expected would be a long, boring end to a once-promising career. At one point Willis even considered resigning from the service. But now, having endured week after week of tedious sitting behind a desk, overseeing the work of his peons, he had finally struck gold. The captain could almost see his reward now, visions of cold, hard cash dancing in his head as he walked from his office to the adjacent chamber.

The planning room in the Alliance outpost on Persephone was dimly lit. The table was covered with all sorts of maps, charts, and various other documents. The pages that stood out most, though, were a set of Wanted posters. Most of them were of Freemasons, among them one for Anthony Sayer, but they were small potatoes compared to the two Captain Willis picked up with his mechanical hand and looked at. Dr. Simon Tam and his sister, River, were worth two hundred thousand credits, and the latter was classified as Highly Dangerous, but also Highly Important. And the ship carrying them, an old Firefly called Serenity, had been spotted at the Eavesdown Docks by one of Willis’s spies. Despite the Captain’s initial hesitation at adding an underhanded man like Badger to the Alliance payroll, the little slime ball was proving to be a very valuable asset indeed.

Well, well, Willis thought to himself. Fortune has finally smiled upon me.

(Author’s note: It was suggested to me that I explain more about Freemasonry, because the organization’s history and beliefs are unknown to or misunderstood by many people outside the brotherhood. Don’t worry; there will be plenty more discussion of Masonic lore, practices, etc. in future installments of this series.)