River sat in the pilot’s seat of the shuttle, curtain closed tightly behind her, gazing idly at the activity beyond the window. She raised her cup to her lips without drinking and set it down again.

Behind her, she heard a deep male voice say, “Apologies for my late arrival, Lady. There were… formalities at the dock. We’ve had word of the arrival of criminals of the worst sort, and security between station and all vessels is rather tight right now.”

“Not at all,” Inara answered smoothly. “I’m pleased to see that you exempt no one from your rules. It shows you believe in what you’re doing.” A clink, probably from Inara’s visitor; the Companion, River was sure, would never be so graceless. “If it pleases you, our time together will begin at my door, rather than the appointed hour.”

“That would please me very much, Lady.”

The two chatted idly and graciously, their voices becoming quieter as they progressed into more intimate conversation. River split her attention between the room behind her and the bustle among the gantries and fabrication modules. As she gazed outside at the station and the stars, she felt faint impressions from the pair inside. She saw Sung through Inara’s eyes: a middle-aged aristocrat of military bearing, stern and alone and in desperate need of someone around whom he could relax without fear of indiscretion. She saw Inara through Sung's: a child-goddess of love and pleasure, beautiful and otherworldly, seeming to glow with an inner light as she led him to a couch. River noted that Inara had altered her respirations to fall in synch with her guest’s, and wondered if it was some arcane practice of Companion discipline meant to draw them closer. While these thoughts pressed at the back of her mind, she studied the various activities outside, matching what she saw with her academic knowledge of terraforming operations.

After a time, a spacesuited figure climbed hand-over-hand up a boom in the middle distance, legs free and bent in zero gee; with a human figure to give it perspective, she judged that the boom was perhaps ten meters away. The worker reached a large square box, opened it, and began doing something with the wiring inside. After a time, the movements of the figure’s hands slowed to a stop. The suit’s faceplate was half-silvered, so she couldn’t see the face of the person inside, but River was suddenly sure she was being stared at.

She smiled without looking at him (she assumed her admirer was a male) and raised her cup to her lips. Behind her, the only sound she now heard was Inara’s voice, murmuring. River kept her borrowed filters at their most restrictive, but still experienced the vague stirrings that she ofttimes felt around Kaylee or Zoë, and, rarely, Inara, when they were thinking of sex, a strange empty hunger that made her want to... surround something. But it was being overwritten by a growing sensation she sometimes got around Wash or the captain or even Simon when the appropriate females were nearby, but most emphatically from Jayne: a distinct male flavor that made her feel undressed and on display, with ghost fingers on her skin.

She lowered the cup and ran a tongue over her lips, and felt the strange sensation of reflected desire take a bump. She raised her eyes briefly to her voyeur out on the gantry, and watched him climb a few meters higher, the door of the junction box still hanging open below. She calculated that, from where he’d been working, his view of her through the shuttle’s window had ended above her waist, and decided he was trying to get a better look.

Her heightened sexual sensitivity and recent penchant for mischief combined into a sudden impulse. The robe she wore was a silky loose-sleeved affair held around her only by a slender cord. It was part of Inara’s after-sex wardrobe, worn as a parting caress of her client’s ego: she knew her male customers usually preferred to leave their women, Companions especially, somewhat disarranged by their attentions. Inara hadn’t instructed River to undress before putting it on, but she knew that the older girl never wore anything underneath, and thought it best to be appropriately attired for her impersonation. River fussed with the wrap a bit as if it had become hot or uncomfortable, loosening it slightly at the neck and exposing the tops of her shoulders. Then she crossed her legs, and the lower half of the garment parted, baring her left leg to just above the knee.

The suited man stopped as if he’d run into a wall. River was absolutely sure that most of the second-hand lust washing over her was now coming from her observer. Still ignoring him, she lifted her slippered left foot and planted it on the console, raising her knee almost to her chin, and felt the silken material slide down her thigh like a caressing hand, falling away and exposing her leg to the hip. The heat of his attention slapped at her like overpressure from an explosion and made her gasp. The voyeur lost his grip on the gantry and floated free, thrashing. Alarmed, she stood and pressed close to the glass, watching him drift by almost within arm’s length. He straightened, facing the window, and gave her a thumbs-up sign, and she knew somehow he was grinning. A new impression found its way into her mind, her own image as her voyeur saw her: an unreal creature of love and beauty not meant for partnership with mortal men save as brief gifts of grace – a Companion. She ducked her head and covered her face with one hand, both as a pretense of embarrassment and to hide her features, until he passed out of sight. She was surprised to feel excess heat under her fingers from her cheek.

The sounds behind the curtain were now rhythmic and nonverbal and rather less quiet. River sat down again and tried to concentrate on something besides the events in the next room, but the view out the window no longer held her attention. Unbidden, an image of Jayne in the shower came to her mind, and she felt warmth spread from her belly to her thighs as she imagined them pressed together naked in the streaming water. She suddenly realized that she was still awash in secondhand desire… but now it came from Inara. Not for the big mercenary; that was just how River translated the input into a familiar form. She realized that what Inara was sharing with this Commander Sung was more than a clever imitation of desire; she had reached into herself to somehow fashion love and lust for this near stranger twice her age, and now wanted nothing more than to give whatever was in her power to give to make him happy. And River was certain the Companion would feel the same way about the next client whose flatteries – and cash – she accepted. This, River decided, was what set Companions apart from mere prostitutes, more than the years of education in fine arts and training in seduction technique.

She’s right, she thought. Kaylee could never learn to do what she’s doing. Could I, with all my talent for mastering difficult subjects and physical disciplines? Could I learn to master myself so completely?

Would I want to? Even for her reasons, her reward?

*

WHOOMPH.

A huge jet of gray-brown slurry erupted from the cryo box, knocking down Serenity’s captain and hosing down the men who had stood behind him. The sudden stench that filled the bay left no doubt of its composition: half-recycled sewage, even more pungent than the raw material. One of the junior officers bent and retched; the other stood with his arms out from his sides, eyes wide in his excrement-coated face. The troopers in the rear stepped back, their faces masks of disgust, releasing their hold on their weapons to flick the smelly mess off their hands. The commander, whose hat had been knocked off, frantically squeegeed crap off his scalp and face and flung it to the deck. “What the HELL is this, Reynolds?”

Mal, still on his hands and knees, coughed and spat and blew hard through his nostrils. His hair fell into his eyes, dripping. “You think I got a rutting explanation for this?” He said shrilly. His hand slipped in a greasy brown puddle, and he nearly kissed the stinking deck.

The Shepherd rubbed a small spot off his cheek with his sleeve, wincing. “I think we should clean up and compose ourselves before we proceed. Unless the Commodore feels a need to collect all this for evidence.”

Kaylee jumped up, ignored by her astonished guard, and picked her way across the fouled and reeking deck to her captain. She pulled a rag from her back pocket and bent to wipe at his face while he continued to try to clear his mouth and nose. The rag was soaked in moments. She dropped it. “Captain, we’ll have to break lock and open the hold to space to get this luh suh cleaned out of her.”

Mal glared up at the commander. “That okay with you? Or would that break a rule of some sort?”

The man looked from Mal to the Shepherd, realization showing on his face under the coating of excrement. The Shepherd shrugged. “This isn’t what you were told to expect, obviously. If I were you, I’d be thinking of some very pointed questions to ask my informant right about now. Especially since it seems clear the Captain wasn’t the one meant to open that box.”

*

An hour later, Serenity was back at dock and mostly clean. The crew had scraped loose and swept up and shoveled away the freeze-dried residue that remained after pressure had been re-established in the cargo bay; what smell remained there was perhaps more a product of imagination than anything else.

The odor coming out of the shower room - mixed with an endless string of Chinese curses - was all too real.

Kaylee, a large plastic bottle in hand, stepped past the hatch and crossed the floor that Jayne, clearly in a bad mood, was mopping for the fifty-leventh time trying to get rid of the smell left behind by the captain’s passage from the cargo bay to the shower. “You okay?”

“Wish I’d a seen it comin, is all,” the big merc grumbled as he slapped the mop on the deck. “Could of enjoyed it more.”

She knocked on the shower door. “Cap’n? That officer fella sent over a bottle of stuff to take the smell off your skin. Says it works like a charm.”

The cursing shut off. The door opened a crack, and a dripping hand reached for the bottle, grasped it, and withdrew. The door closed.

Kaylee wrinkled her nose. “Sure hope it works. I don’t know what else we can do. Had to space his clothes.”

Jayne stared at the door. “Let’s keep our options open.”

*

Dressed in fresh clothes and feeling scrubbed raw, Serenity’s captain met its unofficial chaplain returning to the ship from his “confessional” with the boarding officer. Mal was fairly certain what had passed between the two men had more to do with the Shepherd’s old sins than the officer’s. “All went well, I assume, since you came back.”

“I'd say. They’ll want to question the rest of the crew, but I’m sure the investigation is aimed more towards your mysterious employer at this point. I’ve been asked to convey an offer of compensation.”

Mal raised his eyebrows. “Compensation.”

“Hush money, really. It’s obvious you were never meant to be paid what you were offered for the shipment. But the good Commodore has offered to assume the contract and take delivery.” The preacher’s eye gleamed. “For the price of the penalty for opening the box.”

“Pyen juh duh jiou cha wen.” Mal considered partly refilling the box from his private stock prior to delivery.

“Quite so. You know Alliance officials; have to have the last word on everything.”

“Reckon we’ll take it. It’ll still be enough to fit us out proper, with enough extra fuel cells to go after Ellsinore before their air gets stuffy or they get lost in the Black. So long as we don’t have to jump through too many hoops for the money.”

“Transferred to your station account already.” The old man passed over a palm-sized rectangle of plastic. “I accepted on your behalf. This station being Alliance territory, the only currency tendered is electronic, just like on the Central Worlds. On the plus side, you can order everything the station has to offer right over the Cortex.”

“That does have its attractions. Then again, so does the notion of doing my shopping tramping all over station as a guest of the good Commodore. In my duster.”

Jayne’s voice came from the catwalk above. “So we’re gettin paid after all.” He stepped along the upper works, headed for the galley. “You hear about people bein dipped in go se and comin out smellin like a rose, but I never met one till now.”

Card in hand, Mal wasted no time gathering up Kaylee and heading to the station’s commercial sections. They bought fuel cells, all the old girl could carry, and a few essential parts the little mechanic had been begging for for months. The smile they brought to her face rivaled the one she’d given him when he’d bought her that ridiculous dress on Persephone, and went a long way towards lightening his mood.

Then they visited a dry goods emporium for foodstuffs. Selection was scant; Halifax produced nothing yet, so all edibles were imported, and their money wouldn’t stretch to buy fresh food at the going prices. They were putting packages of protein powder on the counter when Kaylee looked over his shoulder, eyes wide.

“I see you didn’t waste any time spending the money,” said the Alliance captain behind him.

Mal turned to meet eyes. “Not much choice in that. Kaylee, take our haul to the ship. Get ready to pull out.”

When the girl left, the man went on, “Did you get everything you need?”

“Everything we need, but not everything we could use. If it wouldn’t cost me more than I’ve already paid, I wouldn’t mind hearin an explanation. What was this all about?”

The uniformed man looked across the counter at the shopkeeper, who took the hint and did a fast fade. Then he turned back to Mal. “Seven weeks ago, a cryo shipment of transplant organs was hijacked on its way to the Londinium Surgical Center. Two guards died in the heist, and several patients shortly after as a result.”

“Huh. And you thought…”

The man shrugged. “We picked up the criminals’ trail at Persephone. We were sure the goods had gone out on one of three tramp freighters. We apprehended two of them and searched without finding anything. The third never arrived at its stated destination, just disappeared off the grid. That slowed us down a bit, but we were searching every place it might have gone and sent word ahead, and it was just a matter of time before we had them in hand.

“Sure enough, we got word that the ship we were looking for was stranded on Creighton’s Moon. Authorities boarded the ship, but came up dry again. But an informant claimed that a cryo box matching our description had been offloaded two days before and put on a ship for Halifax.”

Mal felt his lips twitch. “And we made perfect suspects, I don’t doubt. Ex-Independent scum livin on the fringes of civilization and such.”

Another shrug. “There are a lot of stories about you and your ship, Captain. Some of them may still be true.”

“And now there’ll be a couple more, I reckon. Spose a few fellas’ll grin and pinch their noses as I walk by, till I give em a better reason to hold em.”

“Not on this station.” The officer looked darkly out the store’s front window at a few passersby who slowed to peer inside and hurry past. “The ones who did this, they think they’re smart. Sent us off on a wild goose chase, used you for a decoy, and set that little practical joke to make sure we knew they’d put one over on us.” His lips thinned. “But we’ll find the real goods, and whoever set this up, count on it.”

“Hope you’re right. Thanks for the cleaner, by the way.”

“Least I could do.” Eyes still on the window and the corridor beyond, he said, “I lost a brother in the War.”

“Didn’t lose any family, but I lost plenty of friends. And my country. That’s done now. Me and mine just try to make a livin and keep flyin. No big plans, no fancy ideas. Just folk gettin by.”

“Well, I do wish you well, Captain. Just so long as you stay on the right side of the law for your living.” The man headed for the door.

*

Mal stood on the cargo bay landing while the shuttle made its approach starboard. Inara had made reassuring sounds over the ship-to-ship without mentioning her passenger, but he couldn’t feel right until the shuttle was back in its bay and he saw them both with his own eyes.

“Shuttle’s secure,” Zoë called from the cargo bay floor, but he’d already heard the thump and whine of the little craft being drawn inside. He stood, arms folded, trying to look like he was loitering instead of waiting.

“The ambassador graces you with her presence.” River came through the shuttle access tarted up in one of Inara’s costumes, a thin shiny robe with a gold cord for a belt. She descended the stairs with an easy grace that looked familiar, but not on her.

He tried not to look disapproving as she glided up to him. “Well, don’t you look like a proper Companion. It’s a good thing your brother’s not-”

She stood on tiptoe, rested her forearms on his shoulders, twined her fingers at the back of his neck, and pulled their faces together. They nearly overbalanced, and his arms went around her by reflex. She kissed him fiercely, tongue flicking in, exploring briefly, and out again, then brushed her lips against his before letting go and stepping back.

The air disappeared, and his backside bumped against the rail. “Ai ya… what was that?”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Kissing lesson from Inara. Not the sort I expected. But instructive.” He flushed to see that the robe’s belt had come undone and the garment had parted a hand’s width; he studied his shoes as she wrapped up again.

He felt witless and confused. He’d have sworn his feelings for the doctor’s little sister had never been of a romantic nature, yet the feel of her lips and body pressed up against him had left him so unsteady it seemed like the grav was off-kilter. “How… Why did…”

“Because she can’t.” She retied the cord at her waist and descended the stairs towards the main cargo deck while he gripped the rail, reaching for his composure.

He glanced up at the hatch to Inara’s shuttle, and saw her looking down with an unreadable expression just before she turned back inside.

*

Serenity uncoupled from dock, proceeded under port control to a safe distance, and fired up the drive, leaving Halifax Station behind. Once out of scan range, the ship executed a radical course change and boosted out into the Black. A few hours after, Ellsinore passed within a few thousand kilometers of the station on approximately the same course, silent and unseen but at meteoric speed. It caught up with the freighter four hours later.

Mal and Zoë and Jayne suited up in the cargo bay, evacuated the compartment, and opened the belly hatch. Wash had maneuvered the ship so close that, when the doors drew aside, Ellsinore’s hull filled the view.

“Shame that little runabout doesn’t have a lock, doc,” Mal said over his suit com as they moved fuel cells from Serenity’s receivers to Ellsinore’s. “Here you are a spit from home, and you’re gonna to have to ride all the way back to Creighton’s Moon to get aboard.”

“I presume you got my message.”

“Mostly. Your wave faded out before we got the bit about the client, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. How’d it go with that Underground fella?”

“Well, I left in a hurry. But I suppose River and I will have more time with him on the trip to Boros.”

Mal secured the last spare cell. “Well and good. I just hope when he meets her she’s who he expects.”

*

Shepherd Book was in his room, seeking guidance and understanding in his Bible, when a soft tap came at his door, accompanied by the Captain’s voice. “Shepherd?”

Book took a deep breath and let it out, then put the book aside. The Captain had never visited Book in his room; the preacher imagined the coming conversation would be unique as well. He slid the partition aside. “Captain. Come in. To what do I owe this visit?”

Mal stepped in and slid the panel shut behind him. “I’d say you owe it to havin this wing of the passenger dorm to yourself, which makes this the most private place I can think of to talk to you without meetin behind a locked door.” He sat uninvited on Book’s only chair. “Shepherd, I got a mystery. What happened when I pushed back the lid of that box was one big damn surprise. Someone on this ship rigged it up out of the sludge from our first-stage recycling tank and homemade explosives. And a damn fine explosive charge it was, too, sent everything inside the box sprayin out in just one direction without doin any other damage. I seen combat engineers that good, but not with the kind of stuff we got in stores. Kaylee might be able, but she’s the least likely to pull a prank like that. That leaves me lookin at people aboard whose skill sets I’m not sure about.”

Book nodded. “And your conclusions?”

Mal looked suddenly uncomfortable. “That we’re still gonna have to keep a close eye on River. She’s done a number of downright unsettlin and pranksome things since that last dose a couple weeks ago. The next one might not be so harmless – not that I think she’d mean any harm. Truth to tell, that whole environmental disaster probly convinced the Fed a lot more than an empty box would have.”

“As well as assuring that no forensic evidence of the former contents would turn up inside.”

Mal stopped. “Huh. Spose so. Anyway...”

“Made him feel ashamed of himself for judging you so harshly on an informant’s whisper, too. For a war veteran, he’s been fair accommodating towards a former Browncoat, especially one with a reputation for starting barfights on Unification Day. Sorry for you, even.”

“Well, I was feeling damn sorry for myself at the time, got to-” the captain stilled and locked eyes with the preacher. “I’ll be damned.”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or anybody?”

“Because your… unrehearsed reactions were impossible to disbelieve. Don’t tell me you could have avoided flinching or moving out of the way a bit when you opened it if you’d known.” He turned slightly away. “My apologies, Captain. I’m prepared to leave the ship at our next destination if you feel it’s necessary.”

“No.” But he appeared to be mulling it over. “Does anyone else know?”

“I haven’t told, but I’m sure they’re speculating. Clearly I didn’t think that part of it through. I’m afraid they’ll come to the same conclusion you did, and lay the blame on River. I can’t allow-”

“Which she will gladly accept.” River slid the panel aside. She was back in Kaylee garb, the Shepherd noted. He also noted that the captain stood and backed away as she entered, as if she were hot and might burn him if she got too close. “Sorry, Cap’n. But you can never be sure a conversation’s private when I’m around.”

“Clearly I’m losin control of my ship,” he said. “Next we’ll be puttin my every decision to a vote.”

“As if Zoë’d put up with that.” She smiled. “Don’t you dare.”

“Don’t dare what?”

“Call me InKayRiv. Or I’ll tell everyone about that time on the ranch.”

“I’m leavin while I can still retreat in good order.” The captain slid the panel open and looked at him. “We may need to talk more about this later.”

“Or not.”

The door slid shut. River waited, facing the closed panel. “I don’t actually know about any time on the ranch, but it figures he’d have a boyhood story that embarrasses him.” She turned to him, giving his Bible a brief glance. “You’re only human, man of the cloth or not. Ain’t so bad to feel a little satisfaction that the captain opened the box instead of the Alliance officer.” She touched his hand. “He introduced her as a whore without even bothering to give you her name. Sometimes he’s such a boy around her.”

*

Albert Sessions was a worried man. When Ellsinore grounded at the landing field on Creighton’s Moon and Dickie wrestled the hatch open, he stood and felt a familiar deep ache in his injured leg. It seemed likely he’d be facing several angry men soon, each with his own grievance, and, for the life of him, Sessions couldn’t decide which man he wanted to face least.

Thompson, the Core World merchant prince who was also an Underground bigwig, would likely be the first. He and young Tam had exchanged waves once the ship had got close enough to do without the relay beacon. The messages were cryptic, but Sessions could draw some good conclusions just the same. The young doctor and Sessions’ influential client had a history of some sort, which meant the sister probably did too. And Sessions had flat refused to help them. Accounts of what the Alliance had expected to find had lifted the hair on his forearms, thinking of the consequences to all aboard. Sessions was sure that, were his and Thompson’s roles reversed, he wouldn’t be in a forgiving mood.

Serenity’s portside shuttle was already on its way down. Sessions felt sure of the mood of its passengers as well. The Cortex had carried stories of Serenity’s boarding and its conclusion. No one aboard Ellsinore had so much as cracked a smile at the description of Captain Malcolm Reynolds after the explosion. Sessions had lied to the man, taken advantage of his tender feelings towards the girl that had been so obvious when the captain had spoken of her in the cargo bay. He’d set him and his crew up for a life sentence in Alliance prison or a trip to the auction block. Sessions thought it likely that the presence of young Tam aboard Ellsinore was the only reason Serenity had come for them in the Black instead of letting them coast on into the endless dark.

Then there was Duvie, a brutish lout whose displeasure Sessions wouldn’t give a hoot about if his older brother Kersey wasn’t a ‘fixer’ for a branch of the Underground, a branch Sessions was careful not to cross. Kersey had retained Ellsinore’s services as a means of extricating Duvie from whatever mess his petty scheming or disregard for propriety was likely to get him into on this little world. It might not be essential to be on hand the instant the big ape showed up; then again, fast transport offworld might be the only thing keeping a noose from settling around the shagua’s neck. If Duvie had suffered capture or other harm because Sessions hadn’t been around to pick him up, even having been hijacked wouldn’t be excuse enough for Kersey.

The hatch dropped to form a short stair to the ground. Thompson stood at the bottom. Dickie moved forward towards the opening, but Sessions waved him back. “No,” he said in a low voice. “We don’t need to worry about a physical threat from this man. Likely we’ve seen our last bit of work from him, though.” He stepped past and descended the six steps to the hard-packed gravel.

A second later, his butt and shoulders impacted painfully with the stairs. He just managed to keep his head from banging them as well, which seemed a miracle of control, since it no longer felt securely attached to his neck.

Thompson stood over him, hands on hips. “Don’t get up just yet, Albert. I have some things to say to you, and I’m sure you’ll pay closer attention with my boot poised half a swing from your crotch.

“First. If you’re going to continue to work for me, this will be the last time you ever put another man’s interests ahead of mine. If you find yourself faced with another such conflict of interest, you come to me and we’ll resolve it. But you’re my man first, and anyone else’s a distant second. Dong ma?”

Sessions nodded. It hurt, but he didn’t trust his voice just now, and having his assent come out in a squeak was something he wouldn’t hazard.

“Second.” Thompson’s eyes flicked up towards the hatch. “If you run across this boy or his sister again and they ask for your help, give it. Don’t count the cost until you come to me for it. I guarantee you generous compensation. But you will not leave these two hanging ever again. Dong luh mah?”

He found his voice. “Shiia.” Since that sounded all right, he added, “If this is how you negotiate trade deals, it’s no wonder you finish up early.”

Thompson smiled at that. “It hardly ever comes to crotch kicking. Among that sort, I can produce the same effect by threatening to make them poor.” He reached down, offering a hand. He pulled Sessions to his feet with surprising strength and watched the agent brush the dust off his clothes. “By the way. Your other client came by the warehouse shortly after you left. Duvie, the name was?”

Sessions stopped brushing. “Where is he?”

“Gone, and quite satisfied. His arrival was opportune, actually. I’d just received word that my absence had been discovered. Not much of a surprise; I knew my competitors have spies in the firm.”

The young doctor stepped off the stairs and reached for Thompson’s right hand. The man ignored the boy’s manipulating of the fingers. “Tempery sort of fellow. He seemed quite miffed that you weren’t waiting, until I explained that you were making special arrangements for his transport. The next day, a passenger shuttle for the Star of Sihnon dropped into the field with a VIP ticket for him. He agreed not to let himself be identified boarding, and to keep to his rooms during the trip, which suited his purpose and mine. My aides left with him, and one of them was identified; he made sure of it. So now Universal Transport thinks I’m headed for Athens, and your man Duvie is living it up in the Chairman’s Suite on the Star and thinking very kindly of you. Ow.” He winced as Simon pressed a knuckle.

The boy let go of Thompson’s hand. “I’ll want a better look at that once we’re aboard Serenity.” A breathy whine from overhead began to fill the air.

Thompson nodded. “Never strike a man’s face with a closed hand, my boy. Unless you really need to. Sorry, Albert. But I needed your undivided attention.” He rubbed his knuckles. “And besides, the look on your face was hilarious. Made it impossible to stay angry at you.”

“Glad to be made to look ridiculous for a good cause.”

Serenity’s shuttle passed overhead and settled to the ground just fifty yards from Ellsinore, raising a thin pall of dust and briefly bathing them in heat. The landing was a lot closer than usual for two craft sharing a field, but, as Sessions had noted before, their pilot was good. And he supposed they were in a hurry to see him.

Dickie and Deke tromped down the stairs, armed and eyeing the shuttle. Again, Sessions waved them back.

Dickie drew his pistol out an inch and replaced it, checking the draw. “Not gonna try some reassuring words on me again, are you, Al?”

“Just stay here, g’rammit.” He started towards the shuttle, leg throbbing enough to make him limp. Dickie and Deke were good men, and fair handy with a gun, but he wasn’t about to let them stand between him and this bunch.

The shuttle’s hatch opened, and Reynolds stepped out, wearing his brown duster. Sessions caught a glimpse of gun belt underneath. The woman, Zoë, followed close behind with her hand cannon holstered at her hip. The big deckhand, Jayne, stood at the open hatch, surveying the field with a rifle in his hands that looked capable of taking down low-flying aircraft. Sessions quickened his step to close with them before his men got second thoughts and followed him.

Reynolds and Zoë walked out to meet him like people on a mission. At two paces’ distance, the captain stopped and offered a hand. “Well met, friend.”

Thoroughly surprised, Sessions stumbled to a stop and took it. The man’s grip was as firm as the time they’d clasped hands in Serenity’s cargo bay. “Got to say, Reynolds, I wasn’t sure how this meeting would go.”

“You’re somewhat of a scoundrel, Sessions, but that don’t make you a bad man. And I know what it’s like to take a job from Niska. What’s important is the choice you made when you found out the whole of it. That was a hell of a chance you took to warn us, but you saved us all by it. That’s not somethin I’ll forget.”

Sessions swallowed, but he wasn’t the least bit inclined to put his life at risk again by correcting Reynolds’ take on recent events. Still… “It was the boy. He figured it out. He didn’t explain till we were on our way to you. But he’s a hard man to say ‘no’ to.”

*

“It’s not something I say about most folk,” Kaylee said as she dipped her hands in a sinkful of dinner dishes and sudsy water, “but our passenger makes me nervous. He’s sure a different kind of revolutionary.”

The Shepherd took a clean wet plate from her fingers and wiped it with a towel. “Oh? How many revolutionaries have you met?”

She dived for another. “Put that way, I guess I don’t know, do I? ’Nara, you done with that?”

“Not yet.” Inara tarried alone at the cleared table, a mug of lukewarm tea corralled between her hands, seeming deep in thought. It was worrisome, Kaylee thought, that her friend had been so quiet and solitary and inward-looking lately, at least when she wasn’t with a client. Kaylee hoped she was having second thoughts about leaving the ship at Sihnon. “I’ll wash it when I’m done. You don’t have to pick up after me like a servant, mei mei. You should let me take a turn at the sink once in a while.”

Kaylee scoffed as she scrubbed a plate. “As if I’d ever let you stick those hands in hot water full of knives and such. Sides, I like doin dishes. A daily soakin in dishwater’s all that keeps mine halfway clean.” She handed the plate to the Shepherd with a smile. “Back to Mr. Thompson. We mighta had Underground folk aboard before and never knew it, but I’m fair sure we never hauled a Core World tycoon. You can tell he’s a fine gentleman just by the way he walks. But it seems like he fancies young girls. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“Really.” The Shepherd’s eyes picked up a flinty look that made Kaylee hesitate as she passed the plate. Book was a darling man, but sometimes he made her wonder if preaching was his second career, and what the first one had been. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, I guess it’s natural he spends so much time with River - I mean, he sticks close to Simon too. But he pays me so much attention when he’s around, it’s like he’s cockin his hat for me. He’s a perfect gentleman, but…”

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Inara murmured into her mug. “He married young, and he’s devoted to his wife. I doubt he’s ever experienced another woman, not even a Companion.”

“He told you that?”

“No. I just know.”

Kaylee passed over the last dish and opened the drain, sending the dirty liquid to the recycling tank to be turned into tomorrow’s drinking water. “Why is he always looking me over and chatting me up, then? It’s not all in my head.”

The Companion tipped her head slightly, her substitute for a shrug. “Perhaps you remind him of his daughter.”

*

River stood in the shower, rag in one hand and soap in the other, letting the hot water beat down on her, soaking her hair and sending some of her muzzy thinking down the drain. Her mental fog didn’t alarm her, because she knew it was the product of simple fatigue rather than returning schizophrenia.

No one in the passenger dorms had slept well last night, their first en route to Boros. The half-formed thoughts of her fellow passengers had prevented her from achieving more than a fitful doze for most of the night. Then, towards the end of the sleep period, a sharp thought from Simon had stabbed into her and brought her feet to the floor. Nightmare.

She’d opened his door. He’d been wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms, and the cover had lain crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed. He’d been asleep but dreaming badly, stirring and turning his head about. Some flavor of his dream had told her that he’d taken something to help him sleep, which he almost never did. A tear had glistened at his temple.

The images of his dream had broken through her barriers. She’d seen them caught at Halifax, seen her dragged away to be strapped to an examination table, screaming, as men with scalpels and syringes and drills pressed close. She’d seen Mal and Wash and the Shepherd and sweet Jayne led off in chains to hard labor in a barren landscape. She’d seen Kaylee and Zoë and Inara, differently bound and leashed like dogs, being led off the auction block to labor of a different sort.

Of his own fate, she’d seen nothing. In his mind, there was no life beyond their capture.

She’d gathered the coverlet and got in bed beside him, snuggling up to his back, pulling it over them both as she’d put her arms around his shoulders. “Shh,” she’d said softly, pulling closer, trying to still his shivering. “It’s all right, gei gei. Everyone’s safe now. Go to sleep.” She’d stroked his forehead, his hair. His shivers had quieted and his breathing eased.

She’d continued stroking him softly, her hands drifting down his shoulders to the smooth skin of his chest. Her breathing had slowed and deepened. She’d kissed the tear from his temple, savoring the taste, then again, back of his neck, and one hand had strayed to his abdomen, sampling the gentle ridges there. She’d felt the waistband of his pajamas, and one finger had slid under before awareness had frozen her and stopped her breath. Kaylee filters.

This won’t do, she’d thought. I came to give him comfort. He won’t be comforted by waking to find his crazy little sister trying to seduce him in his sleep.

She’d pulled away carefully, intending to slip back to her bed. But he’d stirred when she’d tried to slide her arm out from under him, and had placed a hand over hers, trapping her. “River?”

“You had a bad dream,” she’d said, trying to keep her voice even and steady while Kaylee-fantasies drifted through her mind.

“What an ironic reversal.” He’d turned to face her and taken her face in his hands. “Thank you, mei mei.” Then his expression had changed. “What’s wrong?”

She’d trembled with the effort to hold back the wave of lust rising up in her. She’d stilled her hands, avoided his eyes, and fought to control her breathing.

“River? What is it? A seizure?” He’d brought his face closer, trying to peer into her eyes. The smallest dart of her head would have brought their mouths together.

She’d closed her eyes. “Be all right. Wait. Give me a moment.” Thoughts and feelings raced through her. If Kaylee were here, she couldn’t resist. If I let go of her and become wholly River, the million voices will rush in and wash me away like a sand castle at the beach. If I jump up and leave, he’ll follow, demanding explanations. What can I do?

The answer came. Get to work, of course. Gather up your desire and set it aside. Call on your love and your wits to learn what he needs from you and give it to him.

They’d been both sitting up in bed then. His hands had gripped her upper arms. “River, let’s go to the infirmary.” She’d caught the fear in his voice, and heard the fleeting thought: she’s slipping back. Failed again. What will Father think when he sees her?

“No.” Her breathing had eased. She’d smiled at him and shaken her head gently. “Just a bad moment. All better now.” She’d slid up the bed to put her back against the wall and pulled him to her, pressing the side of his face to her bosom. “All better now.”

She’d run her fingertips through his hair, a new yet familiar gesture. “I think I’m finally on the mend,” she’d said, keeping her voice almost to a whisper so he wouldn’t notice the change in it. “The setbacks aren’t important. The drug regimen is working just as it should. Time and patience are all we need. You’ve saved me, baobei.”

“You sound so sure.” She hadn’t been able to see his face, but she’d known he was smiling.

“You make me feel sure.” She’d kissed the top of his head. “You are such a special man.”

They’re all special to her, she thought as she lathered up. I taught myself to borrow from others what was taken from me because I was terrified of the chaos, afraid of losing myself in the maelstrom of impressions that normal people block out with the same unconscious ease with which they send blood from their heart to their lungs. But am I losing myself in a different way? What difference does it make to keep the chaos at bay if I can’t be me?

She felt a puff of cool air. Jayne leaned into the partly open doorway, grinning, a live capture in hand. “Smile.”

So she did. She met his eyes, dropped her chin, and slowly turned to him, cocking a hip and putting her hands behind her. She watched his eyes widen and his mouth open, and a fleeting image of Kaylee’s face appeared in her mind. I remind him of her, even in this? Well, why not? He must have seen a thousand naked women. How different could I be? “Well, ape man? Are you just going to stand there letting the heat out, or are you coming in?”

He made an animal sound, withdrew, and yanked the door shut. She wondered if he’d destroy the capture to ease the frustration of his plan backfiring. She hoped not. If he didn’t have the nerve to keep it under his pillow, perhaps he’d hide it inside his guitar.

Ridiculous man. Did he really think I’d go hysterical? I’ve lay in his arms, wetting his chest with my tears and sharing my awfullest fears. What’s seeing me without clothes compared to that? She smiled and resumed her shower, feeling wholly River, at least for a little while.

*

“So that’s the lay of it,” Mal said to the crowded table. Everyone aboard was present, though not seated; there wasn’t enough space or seats. “Niska’s part in this started as a heist gone bad. He knew he’d never get those stolen organs to market, so instead of dumpin em he decided to drop em in our hands to get his revenge on us.”

“Well, that’s a relief two ways, I’d say.” Shepherd sipped his brew. “No one was murdered to fill that box, at least, and Niska didn’t spend a king’s ransom to put paid to us.”

“He spent enough,” Jayne growled as he refilled his mug at the stovetop. “I don’t like the idea of spendin the rest of my life lookin over my shoulder, waitin for the next time the little hwundan gets a clever notion. That time we went in there after you, I shoulda took a bandolier fulla grenades and let the air out of his skyplex.”

Mal folded his arms. “Don’t hold to that, but I do think it’s time we dealt with him. But I don’t think we need to risk our lives to do it. Niska’s a businessman. He’s also a rutting coward. He took a little shot at us from a blind, thinking he was safe. We shoot back quick and hard from a direction he doesn’t expect, we’ll see the last of him.” He looked at their passenger. “You can help us with that, Mr. Thompson, if you’re of a mind.”

“Anything,” said the man standing between Simon and River. Mal noted that the sibs were so close at hand, Thompson could have put his arms around them.

Mal shifted. “Well, then, I got a plan.”

*

Kaylee was installing new parts in the engine room and making up a mental to-do list of tasks elsewhere on the ship. Some were simple, like replacing those pesky screws in the shower latch and gooping them up so they wouldn’t work loose again. Another was some heavy and finicky work on the drive pod hydraulics. That one would require an extended stay dirtside or suiting up and spending some time outside.

She kind of looked forward to that. She’d never worn a suit before she came aboard, and she’d fallen in love with the view of the stars through a faceplate, almost like having nothing at all between her and the ’Verse. She only wished Simon shared her enthusiasm. The captain insisted nobody go out alone, and the handsome young doctor would have made a perfect EVA partner if he could only conquer his nerves and keep his eyes open: not only to share the beauty and romance of it, but because a surgeon would surely be a conscientious and careful workmate.

She heard a shoe sole scuff on the lip of the hatch, and turned to see Mr. Thompson, dressed in a fancy getup with a coat and vest and white lace poking out of the sleeves. On anybody else aboard, it would have looked silly; on him, it looked like some kind of uniform. Formal clothes, she thought. “May I come in?”

She swallowed and said, “Sure. Just don’t touch any switches or such.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He looked around the space. His eyes rested on her hammock, and she felt a sudden ramp-up in her unease. They’re friends, she thought, that’s for certain, but he wouldn’t tell him about that, would he? “You spend a lot of time in here.”

Unsure what to say or where he was headed, she nodded. “I do. Sometimes I finish a repair job, my bunk seems awful far away.” She reminded herself of Inara’s estimate of him. He wasn’t going to try to corner her in here. But what did he want?

“You’re very conscientious.” He smiled at her then, and something about it lessened her unease. “But I have a feeling you don’t have much of a maintenance budget.”

She shrugged. “Cap’n doesn’t ignore me when I say we need something, but sometimes there’s no money for it, or none to be had at any price. I do a lot of workarounds.”

“An innovator as well, then. I imagine you’re glad to be riding herd on a Trace Compression Block instead of a Gurtsler.”

“I’ll say,” she said, warming up to this strange man. “We’d have been stuck in the dirt a dozen times over. You know engines, Mr. Thompson?”

“Alas, no. But I do know maintenance costs, and that lets me tell quality from feioo. Do you ever get any help from the crew?”

“Oh, sure. Any of em’ll hand me tools, even Inara. And the Shepherd and Wash know enough to be right helpful sometimes.”

“What about Simon? Does he ever come to you and dirty his hands?”

Dirty his hands. She resolutely didn’t look at the hammock. But she was sure she flushed. “Mr. Thompson, I couldn’t answer that, less I know what you’re really askin, and why.”

The man’s eyebrows gathered. “I’ve said something to offend you. I’m sorry.”

She flushed again. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I mistook you.”

The eyebrows went up. “Oh. Please believe me, I would never...” His discomfort disappeared like a shadow. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other. He’s very taken with you, Kaywinnit.”

She leaned against the wall and studied her shoes. “He has a hard time showin it.”

“That’s because of who he is and where he came from.”

“I’ve heard.” She looked up to meet the fancy Core World gentleman’s eyes. “If he was a Rim boy, we’d be sharin a bunk already. That’s the way I am.”

“Our courtship rituals have more to do with politics than morality, my dear.” He smiled at her again. “I don’t doubt they seem stuffy and ridiculous. And they would be, out here, where he lives now. But he’s his father’s son.”

All the excess blood left her face, and a little more. “You know his pa?”

He shrugged. “As well as anyone, I suppose.”

“What’s he like?”

He considered. “Cultured. Aloof in public. Hardnosed in business dealings. Many acquaintances, few friends, but he cherishes those few. Stubborn and high-handed on occasion. But he loves his wife and children, and he’s no bigot. He values honesty. He’d like you.”

“But not for a daughter-in-law.”

“What makes you think you’d want Gabriel Tam for a father-in-law? Some Core World dandy like me, who’s never gotten his hands dirty from a day’s work?”

“Well… ” She felt completely flustered. “I don’t know how we started talking about this, I really don’t.”

He shrugged. “You wouldn’t see much of him in any event, as long as Simon and River are fugitives. But it could cause you to become unexpectedly wealthy, and that’s not always a good thing. Kaywinnit, have you ever been to a Core World?”

“Twice. But I wouldn’t say I saw the better parts. A junkyard on Ariel, and the bottom of a trash chute on Bellerophon.” He reached for her hand. She tugged back out of reflex, but he held it fast, and she stilled. “I’m getting your hand dirty.”

“Yes. And my fancy Core-made linen sleeve, too.” He examined her fingers. “Your nails are short, but carefully trimmed and well-cared-for, like your ship.” He turned her hand over. “They’re capable hands, like his.” He rubbed a thumb across her palm, feeling the faint calluses. “Even the same calluses, though his are from different tools. Yes, very capable hands. But entirely a woman’s.” He let go of her. “Kaywinnit, Simon’s father is a Core World aristocrat, but he’s a practical man and nobody’s fool. I’m going to have a talk with that boy, because, frankly, I think he’s been taking a foolish chance, risking losing you over his father’s permission.”

*

“You know, I’m truly startin to wonder if I got back on the right boat.” Mal stood at the lower entrance to the cargo bay, watching Simon strain for a final repetition on Jayne’s weight bench. The big merc stood over him, waiting to take the bar. He’d come to the infirmary looking for Simon, and the boy’s drawn-out grunt from the cargo bay had drawn him on.

The two exercising men looked his way. “Wouldn’t hurt for you and the flyboy to take a turn either,” Jayne said as the doctor dropped the bar into its rest. “Well, maybe not the flyboy. Zoë works him over enough as is. But a good workout makes a man easier to live with. Burns out all the restless mean in im.”

“I can see that.” Simon mopped his face with a towel. “Look what a choirboy it’s made of you.”

“If you wanna start crackin stupid jokes, you gotta learn to fly. It’s a rule. Don’t forget we’re squarin off on the mat for brawlin practice later.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. I’m going to become the most fearsome trauma surgeon ever. No patient will dare argue a bill with me.”

Mal stepped forward. “I’m afraid I’ve gotta interrupt the hilarity for a bit. Doc, can you come with me to sickbay?”

The boy’s manner changed instantly. “Is someone hurt?”

“Nothin like that. Jayne, wait here or go someplace else, but leave us be.” As if the big merc didn’t know exactly what was up, having come to Mal with the plan in the first place.

In the infirmary, Mal slid the doors shut behind them. “I’m not a man to dance around a subject, so I’m gonna speak plain. What are your intentions toward little Kaylee?”

Simon’s mouth opened wide. “My…”

“You heard me right. She hasn’t been her regular sunny self since you and her got drunk with Jayne, and I want that girl back. When I offered her a job on this ship, her pa came to see what manner of folk she’d be travelin with. You could tell it would have broke his heart to tell her ‘no,’ but that didn’t stop him from asking me some mighty pointy questions and squeezing a promise or two out of me. While she’s on my crew, I stand in loco parentis to her, and I aim to stand up to that job right now.” Mal savored the Latin phrase River had given him to memorize; somehow it gave the silly ceremony some weight. “So I’ll ask again. What do you want with her?”

“I love her,” he said simply.

Mal nodded. “And?”

“And I want her for a wife, if she decides she’ll have me for a husband.”

“After approaches by licensed middlemen, and a proper offer of gifts, and legal papers drawn up, and a parade with jugglers and trained bears, I expect. Well, as this ship’s captain and Kaylee’s stand-in father, you’ve got my permission. And your father’s, if my guess about ‘Mr. Thompson’ is on the mark.” He raised a finger. “But remember where you are now. I don’t spose a couple of words from two old men is gonna make you unbend overnight, but you’re gonna have to do things different if you want to get somewhere with this. Don’t worry so much about sayin the right thing, cause you won’t regardless. Don’t try to be clever. And most especially, don’t keep her waiting just cause you’re worried about what’s proper instead of what feels right. What’s proper on Osiris will likely get the climate control futzed up in your room.” He dropped what he hoped was a confident smile on the befuddled young man. “You got a good head and a good heart. That’s what she wants from you. Just offer her that, and you won’t need a merger contract to make each other happy.”

*

Landing at Boros went smoother than expected. The landing field was modern without being Core World automated: Wash brought Serenity down to their assigned berth on manual control using guidance beacons, and no ground lock took the engine and helm from him at touchdown. Since they were landing only to disembark a passenger, Customs didn’t even bother to meet them at berth, instead waiting for their rider to check in at the port building.

“I’ll help ya with the bags.” Jayne reached for the one containing the Lassiter.

‘Thompson’ stopped him with a gesture. “I’ll need to carry it through alone. Best not to draw attention to my luggage before I reach check-in.”

“Gonna have any trouble getting that through?” Mal nodded toward the bag holding their hopes for freedom.

‘Thompson’ – everyone knew or suspected his true identity by now, but made no mention - shook his head. “Not if I present my Ident card before anything happens to draw their suspicion. They won’t give my bags a second look. Probably dispatch a porter for me, actually.”

“Huh. What about delivery to our client?”

“Just as you specified, Captain. I have people for this sort of thing. We’ve done it before, just not with an item carrying an insured value of half a million credits.”

The entire ship’s complement had assembled in the cargo bay to see the man off. He shook hands with the men first, Simon last of all, lingering with hands and eyes locked. Mal figured the two had shared a more tender moment of parting in private earlier, away from the eyes of others.

Then he tried to farewell the womenfolk, and things took somewhat of a turn. Zoë shocked every male aboard, Mal included, by stepping up to the man and pressing lips to his forehead with a hand at the back of his neck. Inara kissed three fingers and touched them to his lips. A dewy-eyed Kaylee put arms around him and kissed his cheek, whispering something in his ear that brought a smile. River wrapped arms around his neck and covered him with little-girl kisses, then clung to him a moment more before letting go and stepping back.

“Mister,” said Wash, “you have got to give me the name of your aftershave.”