Inara adjusted her robe, tucked a stray lock of hair back into place and checked her makeup in the mirror across from her bedroom door before stepping into the door's sensor zone. It opened automatically, silently, and she stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked Jerrode's large gathering room. One of Jerrode's security men, dressed in his unobtrusive, unmarked livery, was coming up the stairs at the far end of the balcony with quick, light steps. She paused, watching him, and wondered why he seemed to be in such a rush. He covered the distance from the steps to where she stood in two heartbeats, and stopped. "Miss Serra, Mr. Eusabian has requested that you please remain in your room --" "Why?" Inara said, but said no more when the guard's head cocked intently in the direction of the balcony rail. He caught her gaze and raised a hand, imploring her wordlessly to return to her room.

Inara listened, too, hearing Jerrode's voice, and other male voices that she did not recognize. Before she could move, they came into view below: Jerrode, and two men in plain charcoal suits with close-cropped hair. "Certainly I will let you know if anything comes to my attention, gentlemen," Jerrode said smoothly. "I hope you will," said one of the other men. His arms swung slightly as he walked, and Inara caught a glimpse of blue. Her mouth fell open, but she did not gasp. Instead, she took a slow step backward. Behind her, the door opened soundlessly again. The guard stepped between her and the men below, who were still walking toward the door. They passed into the foyer, where she could not have seen them anyway, but she could still catch a word or two as she backed into her bedroom once again, the guard pacing her. She backed all the way into the room and sat down heavily on the bed. The guard took up station by the door. What are they doing here? she wondered. Why were Blue Sun's hellhounds on Nassau Point, in Jerrode's home? Well, maybe it had nothing to do with her, with Serenity. Jerrode certainly had ventures all his own that might interest Blue Sun. But Mal had been so nervous about that cargo . . . Inara suddenly had a very bad feeling. Jerrode walked into the room and began to pace, greatly agitated. "Do you know a young woman named River Tam?" he asked finally. Inara startled. "I -- yes," she said; her naked surprise would not permit a lie, she supposed. "I do. What about her?" "It seems she is of great interest to the Blue Sun conglomerate," he said. "They did not see you?" "No." Why would Blue Sun be after River? Even the Alliance had given that up. "Good. Then we should still be safe here," he said. "Is there any chance this Tam girl would contact you?" "I -- maybe," Inara said. "She's very unpredictable. And I'm not sure she knows where I am right now." Jerrode nodded sharply, and left. A flick of his fingers drew the guard out with him. Inara sat on the bed alone, and wondered what now? ** "Wash? You all right?" Kaylee's voice brought him back from wherever he had gone, and Wash startled to alertness. What had he been doing? Oh, right. Feeding the cat. His cat. The cat he'd picked up on Haven, when he'd been imprisoned there. The cat he had named, in a fit of homesick silliness, This Cat. "Shiny," he said, because Kaylee was expecting an answer. There was food in the bowl. He must have put it there, although he didn't remember doing so. In fact, he thought maybe he remembered the food already being there when he went to fill the bowl, which had made him feel vaguely concerned, which had started him thinking . . . "When was the last time you saw my cat?" Kaylee frowned. "I don't . . . Wash, I don't know." Her brain was probably as fuzzy and unreliable as his. As Mal's. And Wash didn't even want to think about what hypoxia might be doing to Jayne's IQ. Mal had promised that they would adjust, that it would only take time, and their bodies would catch up to the fact that the air was thinner, the partial pressure of oxygen far less than they were used to. Wash had asked, How long will that take? He couldn't remember now what Mal had answered. Whether Mal had answered. But he was beginning to think the answer was too long. "I know I saw her the day we docked at Nassau Point," Kaylee offered, but Wash himself remembered that much. What he couldn't reliably remember was whether he had seen This Cat since that time -- which meant he couldn't know whether she had left the ship, maybe following River through the open bay door, or whether she had perhaps been less able to deal with the decreased cabin pressure, and had simply passed out somewhere, maybe had a brain hemhorrage or something and died. Wash felt a sharp pain in his chest at the thought. This Cat had been his only friend in prison, and the thought that his carelessness might have hurt her was hard for him. When had he fed her last? The three days since they'd left Nassau Point were blurry and indistinct in his memory. "If you see her, let me know, okay?" Kaylee nodded. Wash knelt and picked up the water bowl that sat next to This Cat's food dish, and dumped it into the sink. He'd freshen up her water. Because she was here on the ship, and she was fine, and she'd want it soon. He believed it because he wanted to. As he was setting the bowl back down, Mal's voice came over the intercom. "Wash. We're approaching that planet you chose." Wash glanced around, hoping to see his ginger kitty poking her head out of some corner, but she wasn't there. He punched the intercom. "All right. On my way," he said, and headed for the bridge. ** The transition to atmo was rough; River's stomach threatened revolt. She quelled it. If she retched here in the narrow sleeping tube that was her shipboard accomodation, they would probably make her clean it up herself, and she didn't want to. The ship continued to shudder and creak as the air roared past her hull. Frightened, River wrapped her arms around herself and took refuge in scorn for the ship's pilot. I could do better than this. And Wash certainly would have done better. River had never been afraid during re-entry with Serenity's pilot at the helm. Well, only once -- only when they'd flown through the entire Alliance fleet with reavers on their heels -- and that wasn't really Wash flying anyway. That was the doppelganger -- the Alliance plant who'd been put aboard. They'd got Wash back, now. And things had been starting to seem right with the world, at least until Mal took on that latest cargo, and Simon ran out of her medicines. But the cargo would be sold, like all the cargoes eventually were, and Simon would get her drugs for her. Then it could all be normal again. Except that she was here, now. Something had gone terribly wrong. River wished fervently, as her stomach churned again, that she was aboard Serenity, and Wash was flying. Something moved at the end of her tube; a shadow in the corridor at her feet. River moaned as something touched her bare toes and brushed past her legs. What now? She didn't think she had the strength at the moment to fight off an attacker. But the shadow was a small one, padding softly up the bunk toward her head, and River reached up and turned on her reading light. A ginger cat stood staring at her, head cocked. "This Cat," River breathed. What was Wash's cat doing here, with her? Had she brought it here somehow when she invoked him? The cat, unlike her, seemed calm as it curled itself against her chest and began to purr. Its warmth settled her stomach, and its soft fur felt reassuring under her hand. River wrapped herself around the creature, pulling herself from panic back to stability as the ship stopped shaking, and came down softly to the ground. The old woman came for her, and River slipped out of the sleeping tube, covering This Cat protectively in her loose clothing. It wouldn't do for them to mistake the cat for their own, after all, and question her right to take it. This Cat was Wash's; River had to return her to her rightful home. But no one paid the cat any attention; they simply chivvied River off the ship and into the street, to stand in a seedy dockside area crowded with low-end commerce. Now what? she wondered, but apparently she wasn't to be left on her own. After a brief discussion inside the ship's airlock, one of the crew came out and grasped her by the elbow. When she glanced at him in alarm, he only smiled and said something, but like the old woman's speech, it was senseless babble. His mind was friendly, though, and worried for her. She understood, or thought she did, anyway, that he was sending her someplace specific. Someplace where there were people Henh Ly had known; people who would keep her safe. He bundled her into a rickshaw, speaking briefly -- unintelligibly -- with the driver, who sat cock-hipped on his bicycle seat. She wanted to ask: Where are you sending me? Where am I going? but just as she'd screwed up her courage to try, This Cat leaped from her arms and disappeared into the dockside crowd. River reached after the cat with an inarticulate cry, and started to her feet, only to be knocked back into her seat as the rickshaw jerked into motion. Stunned, saddened, she curled up in the seat, and each bump as she rolled along jolted hot tears from her eyes.