The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Thirteen

The smooth orb sailed gracefully through the atmo, glowing a dull white in the fluorescent illumination, and making a gently curving arc until it landed – was captured – with the satisfying sound of leather meeting leather at significant velocity. “That’s it?” asked Jayne, dully. Johnny let the ball fall from his glove into his left hand and returned it across the length of the cargo hold and into the deft glove of the chief engineer, who looked positively enchanted with the activity. “Yep,” Johnny said, as the ball whizzed back. “It’s called ‘catch’.” “How you keep score?” the mercenary asked, suspiciously. “You don’t!” Kaylee said with a laugh. “So . . . you tryin’ t’hit the other player inna head?” “No,” said Johnny patiently. “The body? Good hard body blow?” “No, ya idjit!” Kaylee said, almost missing a catch when she laughed. “Then . . . one o’ you tryin’ to . . . tackle the other one?” “Nope,” Johnny said, with satisfaction. “You just throw . . . and catch.” “Repeat as necessary,” Kaylee added. “’Till when?” Jayne asked, mystified. “Until your mother calls you in for supper,” Kaylee supplied. “Or the kid who owns the ball’s mother calls her in for supper,” Johnny added, giggling. “Stupidist gorram game I ever heard tale of,” Jayne grumbled, and continued back towards the rear of the ship. “Only the Chinese coulda come up with somthin’ as dumb as that.” “I haven’t played catch in years!” Kaylee said, whipping a hard one towards Johnny, who caught it effortlessly. “We used to play right much back home. All homemade gloves an’ balls an’ such,” she added. “My daddy taught me how.” “You throw remarkably well,” Johnny complimented her as he returned the ball. “For a girl, you mean?” “No, for anyone. You ever play the actual game?” “Li’l bit. Third base, a little left field. You?” “Shortstop!” “Shoulda figured – you’re quick!” “It’s reflexes, mostly.” “Still, there ain’t much more relaxin’ than a game o’ catch.” “I have to agree. I’m glad I brought an extra glove. And since this cargo bay is woefully inadequate for batting practice, it’s likely the only way I’ll be able to play.” They continued chucking the ball back and forth, building up a soothing rhythm, while they exchanged life stories, personal philosophies and random observations about the ‘verse. They attracted the attention of Mal, who was wandering through the hold on the way to Shuttle Two. He stopped and lingered for a moment, then spoke. “Kaylee, how’s the reactor goin’?” he asked, a warning tone in his voice. He didn’t approve of playtime until worktime was done. “Shiny, Cap’n,” she said, lobbing another one. “Just checked out the primaries, and they’re runnin’ about sixty, sixty-five plus at half max pressure, with a thirty percent boost in the secondaries and a gracious plenty increase in lift at the compression end of the cycle.” “Uh . . . shiny,” Mal agreed, clearly not understanding a gorram thing she just said. His abilities as a spacer were purely bridge-side. He knew only the most basic theory of how the engines worked – which made Kaylee the most essential member of his crew. “Now, you wanna tell me what all that gobbledygook means?” “Like I said, shiny,” she replied, grinning. “What’s a matter, Cap? Ain’t you ever run a secondary check on the compression cycle?” “That’s what I pay you for, li’l mouse,” he said, grinning back. “Don’t you forget it,” she called after him, noting that he was headed towards Inara’s shuttle. When he left, Johnny looked at her quizzically. “How the hell you know all that, anyway?” “Oh, ain’t no big thing. It’s just what you’re raised on, I guess. Pa had a lotta odd jobs around the ‘port, back home, ‘specially durin’ the War, and I used to tag along. I went pure crazy for ships when I was eleven. Used to grab cast-off parts, take ‘em apart, see how they worked. After a while, a body just gets to knowin’.” “So you keep the ship running.” “We all have our parts,” she said, shyly. “Wash, he’s about the best pilot ever, Zoe is as good a first officer as you could ask for, and Jayne – well, he’s real good at killin’ folk and pissin’ folk off. Which is real useful when you want someone dead or pissed. Don’t mind him none at all. ‘Course, he’s fair treacherous, I’d venture, and would sell you out in his next breath, but Jayne got a weakness.” “What’s that?” “He’s too dumb to pour pee outa that ugly hat his mommy made him when it’s sittin’ on his head.” “That a fact?” “You can bet on it. He don’t think more’n five minutes ahead, and even then he’s like to guess wrong. So it’s lucky he got entangled with smart folk like Zoe and the Captain. Otherwise, he’d be hung by now.” “What about the doctor?” Kaylee blushed. “Simon? Best damn surgeon on the Rim. He’s stitched us all up, one time or another. ‘Cept ‘Nara, I think.” “And the Shepherd?” “He was a passenger, when he started, came in same time as Simon an’ River. Sometime back he quit payin’ fare and started bein’ a member o’ the crew. I don’t rightly know what his official job title is. ‘Chaplain’, I guess, though we ain’t cursed with an over-abundance o’ prayin’ on this boat.” She grimaced. “’Cept maybe when Zoe’s cookin’ or River’s had one o’ her . . . li’l episodes.” “Yes, about River . . . what does she do?” “She’s . . . just River. Simon’s sister. She’s a super-genius, and real nice, when she isn’t bein’ all psycho. She’s our . . . supercargo. Yeah. That’s about what she is.” “Interesting group you have here,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “Are all spacers like you folk?” “Well . . . there’s spacers, an’ then there’s spacers. The Corporate types, they’re ‘bout one step from the military how they run their boats. Then there are the pirates, the really evil Tongs – oh, no offense, I mean, they’re just some purely evil folk—” “None taken, Kaylee. I have no romantic illusions about my trade.” “Well, the pirate Tongs, they’re just two steps away from Reavers. I guess most o’ the spacers on the Rim, they’re a lot like us: too ornery or stupid to have the good sense to settle down somewheres like regular folk. But then again, we have our own little community – it’s just spread out a might.” “I find it all terribly fascinating,” Johnny acknowledged. “I’ve never been out of my home system before, never stepped on a new world. It’s exciting!” “It is first couple of times,” she agreed. “First time Serenity set down on a new world I was mystified at how wonderful it was – even though it was a misty, stinky little moon where Constance shot Mal that one time over a deal. But it was new to me, and I loved it. Since then, I set foot on near two dozen worlds. But a new one is always fun. I ain’t never been to Wuhan before. Only Core planet I been on is Ariel, and I spent most of my time there in a junkyard or in this here hold.” “Then it will be new for both of us. My ancestors came, indirectly, from Wuhan. It’s a cold, barren place, according to the cortex. Only some ranching and a little mining and farming – mountains, too. But it was part of our Empire, once.” Kaylee shivered as she threw. “I can’t imagine my granny ownin’ more than her cot, much less an . . . Empire.” “It’s fair foreign to me, as well,” Johnny said. “Remember, I was raised as a criminal thug. I always knew I was descended from royalty, but it’s still odd to consider it like that. I—” They were interrupted by Book’s voice over the intercom. “Supper is now being served in the kitchen!” Both players laughed, realizing that they had, indeed, been forced to abandon their game because they were being called for supper. Without another serious word, they headed to the kitchen to wash up, both realizing how powerfully illuminating it was on someone’s character simply by tossing around a baseball. *

*

*

Inara was brushing out her long hair when Mal came in, unannounced, as usual. “You got a minute, Ambassador?” he asked, slower than he would usually have spoken by half. It was because she was brushing her hair, she knew – hair was one of the primary attracting features of a woman, and Inara knew her mane was long, luxurious, and full-bodied. She also subtly changed her brushstrokes from simple expediency into a dance of seduction all their own – for practice, she told herself. It was a habit ingrained by the guild: when in the presence of a man, you reverted to seduction as the default, even with non-clients. It increased the sense of allure you projected, and put them off guard by bringing their sexuality to the fore of the brain. It was an ancient running joke in the guild that a man only had enough blood in his body for one of his two heads at any one time. “For an unannounced intruder into my quarters, how could I say no?” she sighed, exasperatedly – and only mostly for show. “I mean, really, how can I say no? Or ‘go away, I’m busy?’ Or ‘now isn’t convenient?’” “Door locks from the inside, I might’ve mentioned,” he said casually, doing his best, she could see, to take up as much space and be as imposing as he possibly could – typical Alpha-male behavior that told her his hormones were fully engaged. “I shouldn’t have to lock my door to inspire simple, common courtesy,” she remarked, slowing her brush strokes even further. Then she sighed. “What is it? Nothing to change my plans, I hope – I’ve got a quite lucrative appointment to keep.” “I don’t think so,” he said, not taking the obvious bait and trying to sting her about the job. “Leastways, I hope not. Got an Alliance checkpoint comin’ up, probably tomorrow or the next day, latest. Was hoping you could stay on ‘till then, help us slide on through.” “How do you expect me to help?” she asked, a little more defensively than she intended. “Just by bein’ your natural self,” Mal said, unhelpfully. “Lendin’ your air of respectability an’ considerable personal charisma to our presentation. Might get us a pass without too close an inspection.” “Well . . . my appointment isn’t for a few more days,” she admitted, laying her hairbrush in her lap – another suggestive move, albeit far more subtle than most men would have recognized. “I hadn’t planned on leaving until then. So I don’t see why I couldn’t help out. You might likewise help me out by respecting my privacy and not barging into my chambers unannounced and uninvited.” “I thought I was very respectful when I barged in,” Mal quipped. “Charming, even. Note how I didn’t call you a whore not once,” he pointed out. “Yes, very charming in a sloping brow, knuckle-dragging sort of way,” she said, snidely. “I thought it was progress,” he said, sighing exagerattedly. “Whose the lucky fella, this time, if I may be so bold?” “None of your business,” she said, matter-of-factly, “although you might be interested in knowing that it isn’t a ‘fella’, but a gentleman and his wife.” Mal raised his eyebrows. “Huh!” he said, after a pause. “You object?” she asked casually, well aware of Mal’s sexual conservatism. It was even endearing, in a way – but not so much that she would avoid a chance to dig. He shrugged. “I guess it ain’t cheatin’ if both parties know about it. Ain’t ‘zactly ‘forsakin’ all others’, but I guess rich folk get their jollies in all manner of odd ways.” “You’d be surprised,” she said, not rising to the bait. “No, Ambassador, I probably wouldn’t be. More’s the pity. A man gets too much coin in his purse, regular earthly pleasures of a pretty wife don’t seem as inspirin’ as they ought. Then you ain’t got much choice but to resort to . . .” Oh, go ahead, say it, I know you’re going to, she moaned to herself. “. . . somethin’ as naturally exotic as two women at once. Can’t blame a man for that,” he said, shaking his head. “Why, Mal, I’m shocked,” Inara said, only half kidding. “I never expected such an enlightened attitude from you.” “Yeah, well, I’m burstin’ my seam with progressive thought,” the captain said, smiling suggestively as he headed towards the door. “’Course, says somethin’ ‘bout a man who has to resort to commerce to get what he might could have by charm – even the slopin’ brow, knuckle-draggin’ sort,” he added. Inara stared at him for a moment, unsure how to proceed. “Don’t tell me you’ve . . .” “Oh, can’t kiss an’ tell, now, can I, Ambassador? Wouldn’t be proper. Not . . . gentlemanly. Not refined.” “Yes, well, as I’ve never mistaken you for a gentleman, I hope the ladies in question were not too traumatized. I can only assume that they were either drunk or well-compensated for their trouble.” “None was intoxicated save me, a little. I will give you this, on account o’ your professional interest in the subject: on my honor, no coin changed hands.” “I find that incredibly hard to believe,” she said, dryly. “No, it’s the truth as I swear it. They wanted to pay me – they surely did – but I didn’t feel right takin’ their money,” he said with a wide grin. “You . . . !” “I’m a man of principal, after all. Don’t rightly hold with whorin’,” he said, retreating just quickly enough to avoid the sharp impact of a well-thrown hairbrush. The long string of Chinese profanity, however, could be heard through the bulkhead.

*

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*

As expected, the Alliance patrol ship INS Cutlass, an older but still serviceable boat about three times the size of Serenity, hailed the ship and ordered her to heave to. Wash did so without resistance, as per Mal’s instructions, and it wasn’t very long before a squad of purplebellies in light battle fatigues was standing in the cargo bay, peering at the crew over rifle sights with complete and obvious disdain. At their center, and in command of the boarding party, was one Lt. Abel Hauser, who hadn’t even entered the Alliance OCS when Zoe and Mal were fighting for their lives on Hera. “Captain . . . Reynolds?” the self-important little man asked, sniffing between words as he studied the Alliance’s file on Serenity. “That’s me,” Mal said, raising his hand, at ease with himself. For a change he wasn’t carrying anything he was afraid of them finding. Not that he was happy having purplebellies on his ship at all – the last time he had been dangerously close to arrest, until the Shepherd’s ident card had somehow set them free. Book was hanging back in the rear of the cargo bay, watching intently, next to Jayne, who was fidgeting nervously. Zoe was nearby, holding his ship’s papers and trying very hard to keep her gun hand from her waist in the presence of so much purple-tinted firepower. The Alliance troopers may have been from an older boat, but there was nothing archaic about their weaponry. “You are inbound from . . . ?” “Epiphany, most recent. But we do a fair bit of shipping and hauling all around the Rim, mostly.” Mal did the talking, of course. No one else said a word unless asked. “And all of it is perfectly legitimate, correct?” he asked scornfully. “To my knowledge,” agreed Mal, smiling pleasantly. “Then why were you bound by law two years ago at . . . Beaumond, where you were charged with a tariff violation?” “That was a simple misunderstanding,” he assured. “I was cleared of all charges.” “And . . . your arrest on Persephone on similar charges?” “Another misunderstanding.” “The smuggling charge on Jingyin?” “Dropped.” “You seem to lead a charmed life, Captain.” Mal spread his arms, helplessly. “You Alliance folk are pretty anxious to find wrongdoin’. You ain’t always particular that there’s actual wrongdoin’ afoot. I’m just a businessman, tryin’ to make a livin’.” “So you say. But you are Alliance, just as much as I. We are all Alliance, now . . . sergeant,” the boy said, scornfully. “That’s Captain, aboard my boat,” Mal said simply. “Ah . . . so it is. I see you are wearing a brown coat.” “Goes well with my pretty eyes, don’t you think?” “You fought in the last war?” “I had that honor. I wasn’t the only one.” “But now you’re a loyal member of Alliance society, I take it.” “Y’all didn’t rightly leave anyone else to be loyal to, now, did you?” The young man pursed his lips. “One might construe that as a ‘no’.” Mal sighed. “Lieutenant Hoser, the war’s been over quite a while, now. I’m an honest merchant, doin’ an honest bit o’ business. I ain’t taken up arms against the Alliance since Hera, an’ I ain’t got no plans for that particular form o’ suicide, as pleasant as it might sound some days. Now, you can keep baitin’ me like you’re doin’, and you’ll realize I’m an unrepentant ol’ Browncoat; but we’re both busy men – at least I am, an’ if you ain’t, then I got some questions ‘bout how my taxes are bein’ spent. So either you get on with this ‘inspection’, or let me go my way.” “You have a passenger manifest?” Hauser asked with an exageratted sigh. “Only got one, at present, that’s the Shepherd. Everyone else is crew.” “How about . . . Inara Serra?” “She’s a free Companion, rents one o’ my shuttles. She likes wide open spaces.” “Funny passage for a ‘Companion.’ Out on the wild outer Rim with a band of deadly thugs on a trashy old boat. Sounds to me like a flimsy excuse for a traveling bordello.” He held up one hand to restrain Kaylee, who was looking to take offense at his slight on Serenity “It ain’t. But Inara’s business is her own. You’ll have to ask her ‘bout that. Long as she pays her rent on time, her business is her own.” . “So,” he said, leering snidely, “I’m guessing if this alleged ‘Companion’ gets behind in her rent, you just take it out in—” “You had best stop that sentence afore you find it runs you afoul, Lieutenant,” Zoe quietly murmured. He flared his nostrils. “And I’m supposed to fear the wrath of a couple of wild space trash thugs and a Rim world whore?” he asked, disdainfully. “Honestly, Captain, I’m sure I can find plenty amiss with this . . . vessel to keep it in impound until the auction to pay your legal fees.” “No, you don’t have to fear me,” Mal growled casually. “I’m just a mere transport captain.” “But you may have to fear the turn your career may take when I next speak to my good friend, Vice-Admiral Clemmons,” Inara said, arriving from her shuttle. Johnny was standing behind her, dressed in fine blue silks, head inclined deferentially. “I . . .” “What is your service number . . . Lieutenant?” she asked in a tone that indicated that the title might be a little more premature than Hauser would like. “I really want to know. For my records.” “That needn’t concern you. I am just here to conduct a routine transport inspection. I’m looking for illicit cargo, contraband, and wanted criminals,” Hauser said, putting on a brave show despite his sudden uncomfortable situation. “Including war criminals. By the looks of this man, he might just be one.” Inara didn’t even slow down. “I supported Unification, Lieutenant, because I felt the civilization of the Alliance was a boon to the Rim territories, not a burden. Your behavior in insulting Captain Reynolds is a poor reflection on that civilization, at the moment. Your manner regarding me and my private business would be considered rude in any quarters, civilized or not. I’m sure Admiral Clemmons would agree.” “Admiral –” “Clemmons, yes,” Inara said haughtily as she came down the stairs, her eyes flashing dangerously. “He’s well known to the guild – but you probably wouldn’t know that, considering how selective we are about our clients. “Let me make this brutally clear to you, Lieutenant Hauser, because I am going to be late for an appointment if we don’t get underway soon: Captain Reynolds is in my employ, and where I go is my business, not yours – or any other agency of the Alliance. “I was just—” the young man began. “You have insulted the man maliciously, and you have come dangerously close to doing the same for me. In the ‘wild outer Rim’ that you hold in such disdain, such a comment would be answered over pistols or swords, rather than in the more refined ways of the central planets. Ways that include influence, Lieutenant. And those who underestimate the influence of my guild can be found in the most uncomfortable of circumstances, let me assure you.” “I . . . I meant—” “You meant to pressure this poor man, Lieutenant, though to what end I cannot fathom. From your manner I would almost think that you were being rude on purpose – but I know full well that the . . . where did you go to OCS? Orlund? Brevard?” “Conover,” the young lieutenant said, quietly. Clearly, he hadn’t anticipated this turn of events. Few outside the service were familiar with the various military schools. “Conover, ma’am, you overgrown cadet!” Inara seethed, as she started to circle him. His men had faded back and lowered their weapons – they knew a dangerous situation when they saw one, and while doubtless they would have charged a carrier full of Reavers with outstanding valor, this situation was even more volatile – and more likely to have career repercussions. “Conover, ma’am,” Hauser almost whispered. “I know for a fact that Conover doesn’t teach an ‘officer and a gentleman of the Alliance’ to improperly berate a citizen of the Alliance, regardless of his past history! So I am mystified, Lieutenant, why an officer of your . . . stature would choose to do so? Perhaps you were angling for a bribe? Is your salary at your rank so insignificant that you resort to petty extortion under the color of authority?” “No, ma’am, of course not!” “Then how do you explain this yangwei and dishonorable behavior?” she asked, almost in his ear. “Gan ni lao shi!” “He’s . . . he was . . . a Browncoat, ma’am! A rutting Independent! He took up arms against the Alliance! He’s a gorram traitor!” he said rapidly, in a last-ditch hope to appeal to her patriotism. A more experienced officer would have known better. “I see,” Inara said, icily. “Perhaps you were too busy learning how to shave around your acne to read the news that day, Mister Hauser, but our glorious Parliament had something to say about that very subject. It was called the Reconciliation Act, and it formally pardoned all those who fought for the Independent Faction and lay down their arms. So if Parliament could see its way to extend its grace to the Browncoats, perhaps you would also condescend to do the same.” Every syllable she spoke was dripping vitriol. “But, ma’am!” Hauser said, nervously, eyes locked forward as if he were on a cadet drill. “Ma’am, he hasn’t laid down arms! He’s still armed!” The poor young officer pointed at Mal’s prominently displayed pistol, and then towards Zoë’s regular sidearm. “Sidearms are permitted civilian ships’ officers under Alliance law, are they not, Mister Hauser?” “Well, yes they are – ma’am. But a shotgun hardly qualifies as a—” “Not everyone is as fortunate to travel with a fully armed warship, Lieutenant,” Inara spat. “Not everyone can hide behind big guns. So little guns sometimes have to suffice. And I’ve seen this woman use that gun to kill in my defense – because the Alliance can’t bring itself to police its own!” “They’re . . . they’re just a bunch of gunslinging killers!” Hauser said, in desperation. Inara didn’t blink. “For which I am eternally grateful!” she said, as if it was the clearest thing in the ‘verse. “You’re right, Mister Hauser, Captain Reynolds did take up arms against the Alliance. During the war, I daresay he put an end to a dozen miserable yin yang ren young yearlings like yourself. Some in the heat of battle, some deep behind enemy lines in the dark of night – perhaps, even, some slowly, over the course of many days, until they told him what he wanted to know because they couldn’t endure the agony of their existence anymore and sought the sweet release of death.” Her eyes flashed again as she returned to the space in front of the cowering lieutenant. “He’s a very dangerous man. He’s a highly trained killer.” She turned to look at him briefly, only to discover Mal had a wide grin plastered on his face. “He might not be very bright, but he’s loyal. And he works for me. And I work on the Rim, these days. I am thankful to have such a capable and dangerous man, with his capable and dangerous crew, protecting me when pathetic young meiyou langun uniformed snots such as you can’t provide me with protection! Because the Rim is a wild, dangerous place, Mister Hauser, and if I choose to ply my trade without threat of harm to my person or my property, I have to have recourse to the likes of him!” Mal looked a might less pleased at her turn of phrase, but it did seem to have the desired effect. “I . . . I see, ma’am.” Hauser was sweating profusely. “I guess I don’t need to trouble you anymore, Captain, everything looks to be in order, here. Be about your business, then,” he said, putting a trifle too much force into the suggestion. He looked ever so briefly at Inara and ordered his men back to the airlock. “And Lieutenant,” Inara called after him, “let us hope you are not so misfortunate as to cross my path again. I shall not be as understanding next time you are rude to someone in my presence.” She looked daggers after him, as he slunk away. No one said a word until the airlock closed. “Ai ya, Inara!” Kaylee burst out, “that was shiny!” “Classy,” agreed Zoe, smiling broadly. “I love to see a purplebelly squirm!” “I like to see a lieutenant of any type squirm,” added Mal. “Hoser reminds me way too much of the trained ji bai jackasses they put in charge of our platoons back in the war: barely more pubes than brains, and never an overabundance of either.” “That one was easy,” Inara said, shaking her head. “He was young and sha gua. You were probably his first real Browncoat, Mal. A more experienced man would have required a more subtle manipulation.” “Very nicely done,” Book murmured approvingly. “But didn’t Admiral Clemmons die two years ago?” “Why, yes, actually,” admitted Inara. “He was killed in a shuttle accident on Isis. Very tragic. But that young pup probably doesn’t know that – and I could just as easily said Rear Admiral Sung. Bertie was just the highest ranking officer I’ve had as a client.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “Very passionate man – and he hated little twerps like that. How did you know?” “Oh, I’m sure I read it somewhere,” Book said with a smile. “I count myself relieved,” Mal admitted, watching her carefully. “Consider that worth a half-month rent.” “Only a half-month?” she asked eyebrows raised. “We still gotta come back this way. You get another half-month if you weasel us past again. Maybe more – we’ll be fresh from thievin’, no doubt, and it might be a tad harder to bluff our way out of.” “I’m just impressed how pissed you got like that – and how you defended us poor trashy spacers,” Kaylee said, beaming. “Yeah, milk and cookies all around,” Mal grumbled. “Now get back to your stations, we got plenty of sky to get through afore we hit Wuhan. Nice threads, Johnny – yours?” “Nah, Inara loaned them to me. I was going to be her valet.” “Just as well he didn’t notice you. Now that we’re past that obstacle, let’s start puttin’ together a plan how we’re gonna liberate that pretty little box o’ yours. Meet me in the kitchen in ten, and bring everythin’ you got on your ancestral summer palace.” As everyone scattered towards their regular duties, Mal took Inara gently by the elbow. “‘Not very bright?’” the Captain asked, skeptically. “Hey, it worked,” the Companion said, defiantly. “So, you were sayin’ that for his benefit.” “Well, Mal, I mean . . . let’s face it, you don’t look like a . . . I mean, you have more of a . . . well, you are very charming, when you want to be.” “But not very bright.” “No, you just don’t look very bright,” Inara said, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t?” he asked, his face confounded. “Well – let’s just say I played to your strengths. And you look very formidable.” “But not very bright.” “Exactly.” “I’m not certain how I should consider that.” “In the spirit in which it was said?” “Would that be better or worse?” “All depends on whether you value a compliment from me or not.” “I value everyone’s opinion. Maybe if I wore spectacles?” She studied him a moment, then shook her head. “No, no I don’t think so.” “Then what?” “Why can’t you just accept being ruggedly handsome and live with it, you ape?” she said, flustered, and stomped back up to her shuttle. He caught her giving him a glance over her shoulder, which only made her madder. “’Ruggedly handsome,’” he said to himself, amused, as he went to go plan a crime. “She thinks I’m ruggedly handsome.”