A Defiant 'Verse - In Character

POSTED BY: Defiant2thelast
UPDATED: Thursday, July 23, 2009 08:49
VIEWED: 32864
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The Thebarton Sky Plex is built like a city within a box. Each building is separate from one another, and fall short of the exceedingly high ceiling. If it wasn’t for the lack of sky, one would think this was something planet side.

In recent times, the Sky Plex has become a trading hub, and many ships flock here for one of the few neutral ports in the middle of the war, which has lead to a large number of refugees aboard stations, and an increasing crime rate.

The many streets are lined with apartment blocks, bars and merchant stalls. All things common or popular during war abound. Booze, accommodation and desperation, a lovely mix. This doesn’t change the fact that if you want crew, or goods, you can’t do much better then a free port.

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Nathan sat only a few hundred meters from the Defiant, in one of the many bars the city had. The air was putrid, a thin haze covering the vast station, with neon lights advertising everything from brothels to places of worship in a variety of languages. Places like this are the reason he didn’t believe in a higher power. You could taste the poverty.

That didn’t mean the Ambrosia wasn’t good, another glass downed for the night. The entertainment for the night was starting to hurt his ears, and he was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t try his luck at another. Instead, he slouched back in his chair and scanned the Cortex Wave again.

He’d been eating noodles across the street with Lincoln when he came up with the idea. That was yesterday, and he was still wondering where to hit for the goods. There were enough sites, but he couldn’t help shake the fear. What if troops were still there?

Nathan stared at the street, for the millionth time this night, from behind the plastic window. Hundreds, if not thousands of people bustled to and from, not one of them seemed like they had a credit to their name. He circled one of the various battle fields at random. That was the one they’d hit. He then put the Cortex News head lines back down on the table, and looked across the street again.

He wondered how many hundreds would have tried to apply to rent the shuttle now, or responded to the Port Master listing saying they had space for passengers. Nathan shuddered at the thought of sorting through all the crew applications if he’d openly put that up too. No, just like he’d done previously he’d go searching for them himself.

He lit a cigarette, and took guesses at how long it would take for his crew to find him, and bitch about not having work. They’d been here a week now, and he still hadn’t heard a thing. Nathan stared at the place he’d circled absently.

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Lincoln shouldered his way through a throng of arguing vegetable salesmen, the generally smaller men scurrying to get out of the way of the larger, bear-like man. The smell from a nearby grill made his eyes water, the smoke of the roasting chili peppers almost unbearably caustic. He quickened his pace and continued on past the restaurant and towards the bar where he knew Nathan would still be. Carefully avoiding a puddle of suspicious looking substance.

He entered the crowded pub, spotting Nathan in a booth near the corner by the large windows. He stepped up to the long bar and ordered coffee, black, then walked over and sat down opposite Nathan in the booth.

"Evening Nate"

He glanced at the cortex feed in his Captains hands. A rotund waitress approached with a mug and a carafe.

"Anything interesting?"


Zhù na ya tian guò de yú kuài!

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Dale was getting restless. They'd been parked on this floating piece of fei-oo a week now. It was starting to grind a little on him.
Sure, he loved the chance to get off the ship, stretch his legs and get to know the place. But without purpose to their stay, the skyplex soon felt even smaller than the ship...
At least when they were in the air they'd be going someplace to do something.
Sitting in the Defiant with nothing to do but remember his old home didnt really appeal.
So, he wandered about, trying his best to avoid the refugees standing about everywhere. When they'd docked Dale had been eager to see what other ships, what other opportunities were out there. Maybe he could find a better deal. Or maybe he'd find a decent independent he could truly follow. Truly believe in. He doubted it.
A better captain though, that he'd thought possible. Maybe even a prosperous venture that didnt have a side in this Niou-se conflict.

When they touched down though, he wasnt ready for the poverty, the listless families with no prospects. The press-gangs from both sides that'd stalk the able-looking men and disappear as the station guards walked by.
Seemed everyone here was waiting for a ride outta here, or preying on those who were waiting. He didnt want to dock here anymore, with job or no.
This hwai dong felt like the moment you stopped long enough, you'd be ensnared, enveloped by it.
So, as a result, Dale rarely stopped walking..

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Nathan scowled at the larger man, his annoyance clearly shown through the process. Whether he was simply winding him up or not, Nathan was not in the mood.

"I thought I had already made it clear I don't like being called 'Nate', Bargara."

He took one more look at the Cortex Wave before handing it over to Lincoln and turned back to the window. No sooner had he looked out the window, he found himself staring. She was out of place, about 5’10, and some what attractive. His gaze wasn't broken as he continued talking.

“So? What do you think?”

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Lincoln grins openly as the captain passed him the cortex wave. He scans the news report, scowling at the number of casualties. Thirty thousand, taking into account both sides.

"So this is what you want to hit? I seriously don't know how I feel about looting the dead. What's more, what if they aren't all dead? What then? We aren't exactly armed or crewed for a battle."

He sets the cortex wave down and pours himself a mug of coffee and asks the waitress to leave the carafe. He raises his eyebrow and takes a sip as he lets Nathan consider his reply.


Zhù na ya tian guò de yú kuài!

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Turned out wandering about came with mixed blessings,
He now had a decent knoweledge of the skyplex, better than many of its residents he'd wager.
Of course, he was going to have to use it now, as he was being trailed by some shifty lookin goons. Likely either a local gang, or worse, a press gang.
Dale increased pace imperceptibly, considered his position in the 'plex and looked about for a friendly face..
Where the hell was Bucket anyway?

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The woman slipped out of sight, walking on to another street. However, Nathan found himself still staring out the window. Despite the desperation of the scene, he liked it. It was life, noisy, busy, dirty and disturbed, but it was life. The lack of this was why he didn’t like the core. It was his home for many years, but he never liked it.

“I never said it wasn’t risky, but think of the profits. One hundred wa tsao percent. We’ll be able to buy our own floating islands on Bellerophon if we escape with our ass still at our rear.”

Nathan turned to face the obviously not assured Lincoln. It didn't surprise Nathan, as he himself had his doubts about the job.

“Look, we’re taking on more crew while we’re here. I know we can do this.”

With that lie, Nathan got up and headed back to his ship, chucking the but of his cigarette on the way. He hoped Lincoln forgot about the moral side of the case. He didn’t have an answer for that, and he probably never would.

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Lincoln watched him leave, but didn't follow. He sat and sipped the rest of his coffee. When the waitress came around again he got up to pay his bill and leave.

Outside he stopped by the noodle joint across the way and bought a cup to go and then swung by the tobacco kiosk on his way back to the ship, grabbing three different cigars and a small butane lighter. As he passed a group of performing mimes, he stopped to watch.

As the trio attempted to construct some imaginary structure, he considered the Captain's idea. It would certainly pay off if there wasn't anything major along the lines of trouble. He honestly had very little qualms with taking supplies, weapons and ammunition from a battlefield. His emotional side didn't like the prospect of robbing the dead but his practical side countered that if they didn't someone else would anyway. However, this did little to ease his mind, in the end he decided to sleep on it and figure out how he felt about it after a night on his relatively comfortable bunk. He turned and headed off in the direction of the docked ship.


Zhù na ya tian guò de yú kuài!

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Alexander softly pushed open the lid of the crate. Light seeped in the cracks, but he still couldn't see anything. He sat with his ear to the gap for a good few minutes, and after hearing nothing, carefully removed the lid and climbed out of the box. He couldn't see very well, but made out the vague shapes of cargo boxes lining the walls of what seemed like a warehouse. Alexander looked around to make sure he was alone, and slowly began to creep toward the sliver of light coming from one end of the room. As he neared the door, he heard voices.

"Sooo...you like...uhh...The Alliance huh?"
"..Yeah...that'd be why I joined..."
"...guess so...yep...........mmmmm"

Alexander waited patiently, sneaking a look through the crack in the door. The two Alliance guards were slumped in boredom in the office to the right. Both were looking out into the crowd, watching for trespassers in all the wrong places. Alexander quietly opened the door a fraction more and snuck out of the building and around the side. Picking up a rock, he threw it to the other side of the guards, and, while they were distracted, Alexander disappeared into the crowd.

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Ainsley scanned the port master’s listings, looking for passage. It was only her second day in this feifei de piyan city, but she was eager to see it behind her. She’d already been mugged once, and she had no need to experience worse, even if it meant lowering her standards for suitable transportation.

Her eyes caught on a description of a shuttle for rent. The name and type of the ship made it pretty obviously not Alliance, and renting suggested a long-term deal, which was all she really needed. After filling out the application, she double-checked the listing information and hurried off for the docking area where the Defiant was located, as going to the ship directly would increase her chances of securing the deal. It was a skill she’d learned from working in business – taking initiative beyond the minimum requirements impressed people. She just hoped there wasn’t a line.

Ainsley forced her way through the crowds, resolutely avoiding the beggars. Normally she was soft on those sorts of people, but there were just too many and they’d dry out her accounts if she let them. She felt their eyes on her, knowing that she stood out like a sore thumb with her purple satin tunic, black pants, and decorated sandals.

She slowed her pace as the crowd thickened around a group of mimes. The dock was just ahead, food smells cutting through the stench of humanity and enticing her. She hadn’t eaten much since she’d landed, wary of bad food quality. But, there was always time to eat later, so she continued on. There was a Firefly up ahead that could be the Defiant.

“Excuse me,” she said with authority in her voice, stepping around next to a large man who looked like he was headed that way. “Is that the Defiant, there?” She pointed.

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Lincoln, distracted still by his own thoughts and the mass of humanity surrounding him, was somewhat taken aback by the tall, dark haired woman who quickly stepped in his path. He glanced her over once, her bearing was strong and her clothing mostly casual, but definitely hinting at wealth. Most likely not a local, he decided she wasn't a threat. Nodding once, he replied in a friendly manner.

"Yes, that'd be Defiant. Wouldn't mind telling me who you are then?"


Zhù na ya tian guò de yú kuài!

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Ainsley kept the authority in her voice when she answered, despite the man's friendliness. For all she knew, he was the captain, and she would need to negotiate with him. "My name's Ainsley. I'm here to rent that ship's shuttle. And you are?"

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"Name's Lincoln Bargara. I'm Defiant's first mate. Headed there now. Interested in the shuttle, eh? The captain is going to want to talk to you, right this way."

Lincoln walked past her and continued towards the docked vessel.


Zhù na ya tian guò de yú kuài!

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Ainsley followed Bargara to the ship. Running into the first mate was lucky, and it opened up a possibility she hadn’t considered. If all else failed, she could appeal to him, which gave her another shot to get this deal.

Not that she thought she'd have too much of a problem with the captain. Even after being mugged, she wasn't in danger of running out of money for the foreseeable future. So, as long as he wasn’t ge zhen de hundan, she could pay his asking price if he refused to negotiate it down.

She almost felt like the shuttle was hers already, but tamped down on that before she got too far ahead of herself. She needed to concentrate on the present or she'd set herself up for failure.

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Alexander wandered carefully through the crowd, making sure to blend in as much as possible. His first stop was to a small, crowded food vendor. Starving from his long journey in a box, he ordered a large bowl of noodles and sat with his back to the wall, looking out into the mess of people. He needed to get out of this port fairly quickly. Scoffing down his noodles, he stood up and merged into the nearest lane of traffic. He followed the line of people, not really knowing where he was going, until he saw a group of ships.

Inspecting each one carefully, Alexander's decision was made easily when his eyes fell upon a Firefly. Not the shiniest boat he'd ever seen, but he'd heard of these by reputation; lots of little spaces for hiding things in. He walked around the vessel and inspected it closer, it would do, at least for now.

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Bucket.
Damn it.
He'd hoped to see him with lincoln, or argueing cheerily with a guard about the virtues or faults of types of coffee (as had happened on previous occasions).
He'd hoped at least to find him someplace public, and likely, not bobbing up and down with an orange in his hand and a strong smell of java coming off him.
Dale altered his course and swept past Bucket, swinging his arm round his should in what he hoped was a matey fashion. Why exactly he was worried that the arm swing would be seen as camp by the thugs wasnt exactly logical, but both that, the analysis of the reflex and the meta-analysis werent suitable for the moment.
Bucket was already keeping with Dale's brisk pace and looked right about to speak when Dale cut across him speaking rapidly with a trace of giddy fear.

"Listen, uh, Bucket, I am, now we, are being followed by folks who likely want us to be chargin across a flamin field o' fire sometime in the near future. Whos side I dont care, but WE" Dale breathed in
"need to lose them, ooor find some guard-types who dont take kindly to 'em. Soo, two things-
one- How should we do that, and,
two- why are those mimes at the end of this street lookin veeery angry at you?"

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...Two. Three. Nathan turned full circle on his heel again. With a flick of his wrists, the ball hit the floor and bounced back up into his open hands. Nathan’s eyes calculated the shot subconsciously. The ball flew momentarily on what seemed to be on course, before hitting the side of the ring, which in turn span on its chain.

It had been going this way for about twenty odd minutes when Lincoln came aboard again, followed by a woman who was blatantly upper class. Business. The last time someone boarded his ship for business with out his prior knowledge, certain bullets were exchanged.

Nathan pulled his rolled up sleeves back down and wiped his hands on his trousers, before approaching the pair. He looked at Lincoln so it was obvious to whom the comment was directed, his gaze as if Ainsley wasn't even there.

“So you ain’t of the ton shing lian sort after all, Lincoln?”

EDIT: Gorram' account missposts. By the way, you can roll over the chinese.

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Lincoln crosses his thick, hairy arms over his chest and smirks at the jest. He shakes his head and retorts.

"You know very well. You were with me that time on.."

He clears his throat as he remembers his tag along and turns to introduce her. Realizing he'll probably get an earful for bringing someone onboard without first talking with Nathan about it. Even if she is a possible source of income.

"This is a miss.. uh.. Ainsley was it? She's interested in the shuttle."

He glances at Ainsley and nods towards the captain adding.

"This is Captain Rey."


Zhù na ya tian guò de yú kuài!

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Dr. Jaclyn Holliday made her way purposely through the masses of humanity crowding the Thebarton Sky Plex, trying to avoid being coughed on or sneezed at. This boxed-in sky port was a breeding ground of all the known diseases in the 'verse and a birthing ground for nasty potential new strains to develop.

Tonight she'd boil her clothes and scrub extra long in the shower once she got back to her little cottage on Beylix. She tried to block out the faces of the sick ones in the crowds, knowing if she stopped and opened her medical bag she'd be surrounded by more of them, all asking, begging, some even demanding her help.

But they were too many. She'd have been overwhelmed, all her medicines depleted with nothing in return except knowing she might have helped a few of them to last just a little longer than they would have anyway.

She'd learned that hard lesson in her first week in Beylix. Mayor Bayne, a kindly old gentleman, had resupplied her stores and given her a mild lecture on wastefulness. Now, barely a year into her contract as the town's only medic, she'd come under the thumb of the new mayor -- a mean and controlling type.

Q'bart Flinders, was making an already bad situation intolerable. Arrogant and self-absorbed, the new mayor had made his intentions clear. He expected more from the two-year contract she'd signed to be the town's physician. He wanted her body as well. In fact, the man seemed to think the conquest of women was a game, one he refused to lose.

As she passed along the port she eyed the docked ships longingly. How wonderful it would be to jump on board, heading out for parts unknown as long as it was far from Beylix. And especially from Flinders.

Her head began to throb and she realized she was scowling deeply, wondering what condition her clinic office would be in when she returned so late. The last time she'd been gone this long, it had been searched, drugs stolen, and a general wreck had been made of the place.

She'd come to the Sky Plex to reexamine a young woman who had given birth only days ago and was being herded off to a new colony on Pyranny 3. Jaclyn insisted on examining her and the newborn once more before they left.

Her poor husband couldn't be blamed for the risk he was taking with his wife and child's health. The family had no choice after Flinders foreclosed on their little scrub farm and the shack they'd turned into a home. Mother and baby's chances were better somewhere off planet than they were in this jung chi duh go-se dway.

And what would her patients do if she left them? The idea of breaking her contract was hard enough on her moral ideals, even before considering the legal ramifications and possible damage to her medical reputation.

But doctors were hard to find on the border planets, good doctors harder still. They needed her, these kind, hard-working folk. If not for them, she'd have worked harder to find a way out. And find a way to get out of her debt to Flinders.

Her eyes drifted over the ships as she walked past the docks. When she caught sight of the battered Firefly model, she smiled. It was an old Aught '3, one of Danny's favorites of the old classic models. He'd loved those old boats and had made a hobby of studying them. Seeing this one brought back bittersweet memories which she crammed down to keep unwanted tears from clouding her vision.

It was late. She should hurry home to a hot shower and early bedtime, but the thought of a sweet, cold Ambrosia made her mouth feel suddenly dry. She stopped, looking up at the flashing neon sign. Maybe she could make time for just one; she'd heard they served the best ones in this particular noisy bar. She looked through the filmy haze of the large window, considering.

A man sitting in a corner booth wearing a worn black jacket was looking back. For one long second she stared, thinking she knew him from somewhere else. He was unkempt but somehow didn't seem as lost and directionless as most of those here. And he wasn't alone as she noticed the

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Nathan extended a hand to Ainsley. Fatigue was starting to set in, and he decided to cut to the chase so he could head to his rack, despite his first instinct of delaying it for a more intricate approach at a later date. No, that’d probably ruin his chances at a deal.

“Please to meet’ya. I’ll take it you’ll want to see the bird before giving numbers, so shuttle’s the starboard one.” Nathan took a brief pause to think about what he was doing. “Lincoln can show you around. I’ll be down here once you are ready to talk figures.”

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Dale and Bucket finally reached the Defiant. He was quite tired now, having been walking and then running most of the day, and finally having to support Bucket much of the way back after he almost good on his prediction about passing out. As they trudged up the cargo bay ramp Dale idly noted Bucket had been wiping his sticky orange flecks off his face onto Dales shirt.
He didnt really whether he was more annoyed, exasperated or endeared by it. Such is life.
Towards the back of the cargo bay he saw Nathan, looking as weary as Dale felt, learning against a the stairway.
Dale couldnt be bothered yet enquiring about any jobs, passengers or such, and simply dropped Bucket at the stairs before stumbling down the stairs towards his bunk.

What a day

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He led Ainsley up the stairs and onto the catwalk. Standing aside as he does, Lincoln opens the airlock to the dim lit shuttle.

"Right this way, ma'am. It's a little dusty."

He follows her inside the starboard shuttle and moves toward the cockpit at the bow of the small ovoid craft.

"We don't use her much but she flies. A few of the bulkheads have been refurbished and the pilots seat is custom, someone must have put a lot of spins on her once upon a time. But whoever it was certainly kept her jiǒng."

He shows her the shuttles various hatches and controls and points out the cramped yet decent facilities in the back of the craft. He then heads back to the hatchway and lets her take her time with her own inspection.


"Guys, I know Kung Fu."

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Bold blue letters on the side of the ship read DEFIANT.

A corner of Jackie’s mouth quirked up, amused. Well that kinda fits, don't it? she thought. Defying my contract, defying the Mayor, defying my oath as a physician to do no harm.

She shifted the grip on her suitcase handle, her hand starting to sweat. I might shoulda defied Flinders a little harder and put that bastard out of everybody’s misery.

But then, she wasn't a murderer. She thought of Flinders again, lying motionless on her floor. She'd defended herself, that's all.

She might as well have struck an Alliance official, for all the trouble she'd be in once he woke up.

Looking up at the Firefly, she wondered if it might be her means to a new life. Was it coincidental that this particular model, Danny's favorite, happened to show up at the Thebarton Sky Plex docks on the day that she’d desperately need a quick getaway?

Nope. She didn’t believe in coincidence.

Jackie whispered, "Thanks for the tip, Danny," and she prayed they were taking on passengers or at least in need of a medic. If not, she’d just have to convince them.

She took a long breath for courage, glancing around one more time to make sure she hadn't been followed, relieved that none of the mayor's men were anywhere in sight.

She walked to the bottom of the loading ramp, her back straight, chin held high, medical bag in one hand, suitcase in the other, trying to look cool, confident, and not like the fugitive from justice she felt she was tonight.

Someone was standing at the far end of the cargo bay but the light was dim.

"Hello," she called loudly. "I'm Dr. Holliday. Anybody home?"

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It seemed like he was a pretty popular man today. In a week here at this station not a soul worth a second glance had been interested in his Firefly. Now he had two in as many minutes.

“Yeah, we’re still here.”

Nathan walked the length of the cargo bay towards the doctor.

“I’m Captain Rey. So you be looking for a wage or a passage on my boat?”

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Jackie set down her bag and suitcase, safeguarding them between her scuffed boots. It was a necessary precaution against Sky Plex thieves. She extended her hand to him.

Captain Rey's grip was strong, not slack and patronizing nor rough and intimidating. She took that as a good sign.

"Nǐhǎo, Captain. Jaclyn Holliday, M.D. Uh, would it be all right if we go inside to talk?" She tried to keep her tone light and nerves to a minimum, but couldn't help wondering if the mayor's men were hot on her trail.

"Wage or passage? Answer me that first."

It was a fair question, she supposed, deciding to tell him as little as possible. No need to set herself up for any more trouble.

"Well, I guess that's up to you," she replied. "What's your next port of call?"

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“With the work.” Nathan took a pause for breath. “Plans current are to Aberdeen through Three Hills, but it’s all subject to change Doc’. With the work.”

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Back in the passenger dorms, Dale found himself inexplicably awake oncemore. Tired, exhausted and weary, yes, but not sleepy.
He'd have to occupy himself with something till he did. Usually he'd read one of Bucket's numerous books, but he couldnt be bothered walking.
Besides, they looked to be taking on passengers, so he'd might as well tidy up, move all his things from their nooks that were dispersed throughout the rear area, into just one of the rooms.
He'd found that each room had a certain, well, suitability for doing things. A reading room, a sleeping room, a thinking and drawing room. It was kinda disappointing to loose the right to the areas he'd designated.
Sure would be good to have someone down here with him though. The ship could be awful lonely down here.
He'd almost moved to one of the crew bunks earlier on, but then he and the captain'd fought about delivering landmines to the independents.
He'd held off the move to the crew bunks.
He'd held off the move to becoming crew.

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Ainsley examined the shuttle carefully, but there wasn’t much to see. Besides the pilot’s chair, the only furnishing was a simple cot; and to her eyes, it seemed more comfortable to fall asleep in the chair.

She went over to sit down in the seat, swiveling around to the front and examining the controls. Almost all the buttons, switches, and displays were in the standard place, so flying would be easy. Then, turning to examine the rest of the shuttle again, she thought of the price she’d be willing to pay for a monthly rent. She’d start at a much lower number, of course, because that’s how bargaining worked, but it was good to set limits.

Now all that was left was to speak to the captain. Ainsley rose from the chair and headed out of the shuttle to the cargo bay. Back out on the catwalk, she paused for a moment, her eyes idly wandering around until her glance rested on Captain Rey. He was speaking with someone at the entrance. Not wanting to disturb him, she waited a few moments, watching them, before beginning to descend the stairway.

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Lincoln left his spot next to the shuttle's hatchway as Ainsley descended the stairs to the cargo hold's lower level. He took note of the captain below, speaking with yet another woman. He considered heading down to see what was up but thought better of it and left Nathan to deal with it. There didn't seem to be any tension in the air and he felt comfortable that there wouldn't be trouble this evening. He took a last glance at Nathan and turned, catching sight of Bucket slumped on the metal stairs. He rolled his eyes and decided to brew some coffee later, certain the pilot would need a cup or ten before his shift. He rubbed his bristly chin and left, heading toward the stairway leading to the main deck's forward corridor.

Moments later he entered the galley, currently quiet and with lights dimmed. In the center a long, ovoid table of wood and steel stood, surrounded by a motley collection of chairs and stools. He headed to the kitchen nook and took out a large canister of coffee, the white can emblazoned with a vivid Blue Sun logo.



"Guys, I know Kung Fu."

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Lincoln had just poured himself a cup when Bucket entered the galley, bounding down the gangway into the room with his usual childlike energy.

"Well I figured you'd want a cup, seeing you on the stairs there, like a battered sack of rice dropped from some immeasurable height. Here ya go bub."

He grinned and passed his mug to the younger man, pulling down another for himself. He filled it and added a drop of some artificial cream substance they'd found a few months back. Tasted like overused fryer oil but with a sweet thickness he sorta liked in his coffee.

"Besides, Captain likes the one flying to be.. well conscious. So do I for that matter. You look like you could sleep for a week. You alright?"

He takes a sip of his coffee, as he heads to an overstuffed, patch-worked chair in the tiny lounge.


"Guys, I know Kung Fu."

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"Three Hills, eh?" Jackie's mind raced, trying to put together any facts she could remember regarding that area. "And Aberdeen."

She wanted to answer him quickly in hopes the Captain wouldn't notice that she hadn't a care where they were going as long as it was away from here -- and fast.

"Yep, that's the direction I'm bound for, Captain Rey. I do have coinage for passage, but if you're in need of a medic, I'd just as soon work my way across the skies."

She could tell by the unrevealing look on his face the Captain was a fair hand at poker.

Behind Rey, she noticed a few other folk going about their business on board, one a richly dressed woman -- a passenger, she wondered?

The Captain opened his mouth to reply but before he could utter a sound Jackie asked, "What kind of work is it you do?"

Silently, she bit her tongue for asking. It didn't matter to her if they were a band of professional assassins or a traveling whore house as long as they were shipping out soon with her aboard.

And as long as they weren't Alliance.

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The dreaded question. At least once, every passenger makes it. As criminals, a believable lie must always be at hand with appropriate documents to prove it. That’s why the business isn’t as populated as other industries.

That’s also why Rey has made the cut.

“We’re a small time salvage boat. While a Firefly doesn’t seem ideal for the work, we give our peers a fair run for the pay check."

Rey pointed at the undeniably official papers sealed in plastic to the metal wall. Despite the drop dead obvious placing, the years have proven that customs officials are dumb enough to believe them, and even prefer the placement.

With the question deflected, Nathan considered his options. If he happened to spurt it out like a complete fool, the guise which the Defiant acted under may be blown, but he couldn't shake the idea of someone who could patch his crew up as anything but a good one. He prayed she wasn't a fed.

"While I sincerely hope we never will need your services Doc, you're crew as long as the same stays in one piece. The rate is a standard five percent cut and your own rack is available."

Nathan extended a hand to seal the deal.



Lincolnz: I'll have an explosion in my pants pocket when I get a text message now

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Jackie looked down at the Captain’s extended hand, his words echoing in her head: You're crew as long as the same stays in one piece. The rate is a standard five percent cut and your own rack is available.

Wow, just like that she was part of the crew of a salvage ship about to blast away, far away, from this pee-goo planet.

It all seemed so easy, too easy. On the other hand, maybe this meant she was in exactly the right place, exactly the right time to be in it.

She felt the wide grin slowly split her face. She grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically.

“Sheh-shey, Cap’n. You won’t regret it. I’ll do whatever I can to keep you and yours shiny. I guarantee it, or my name’s not Jackie Holliday.”

A corner of his mouth curved upward and suddenly she felt a little foolish. So much for playing it cool. Country doc meets slick salvage captain.

She lowered her hand and stooped to pick up her suitcase. As she straightened, her eyes brightened. “Do I smell coffee?” she asked hopefully.

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“I’m guessin’ you do Doc, the galley is that way.” Nathan pointed “Get acquainted with the crew some, I’ll go see to other matters.”

With that, Nathan left for the shuttle Ainsley was currently inspecting. You couldn’t leave business sitting idle too long; it tends to sour the deal some bit…




Lincolnz: I'll have an explosion in my pants pocket when I get a text message now

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Standing on the desk in the corner of his room, Dale's head had disappeared into his new frontier.

The roof cavity.

Sure, it was cramped, filled with electrics and composite supports, but luckily, it stuck true to the most stubborn of cliches that survived the vid-culture from earth-that-was.
The ship had a ventilation system.

It was smaller than the "comfortable" sized ones in most adventure scenes, in fact it would probably allow only forward movement, even for Dale. Also, it was undoubtedly linked the the main atmo-pump, which would make it frigidly cold when it worked to counterract the soaring temperatures of the ship- as happened when entering atmo, and likely, a little on the warm-side when out in the cold black.
It'd require conservative planning, cautious scouting and wary exploration- But it was undoubtably awesome.

As he replaced the grill and screwed the restraints back in-place, he resolved to keep the discovery to himself for now. It was his room, his secret, and his adventure for the moment.
Life in the black was too boring without a project, and Dale had just found one.

He pocketed his multitool and turned his senses to the rest of the ship. He could hear several footsteps on the metal stairways of the cargo hold, and just the faintest touch of coffee tainting the air with an irresitible pull. A slight grin formed on his face
His discovery had left him awake, and eager to see what was what, who was who, and where in the verse they were off to now.

It was good to be doing things

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Whatever conversation had happened at the ship's entrance was over, and the captain was headed Ainsley's way.

"Captain Rey," she said, stepping down the last few stairs onto the cargo bay floor. Her gaze flicked over to the woman he'd been talking to, curious, and then focused on Rey again. "The shuttle seems decent enough. What's your asking price?"

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"Oranges, Mimes? Yeah... I'm not sure what you mean, bud."

He recalled the street performers he'd seen, they seemed mostly harmless at the time. Lincoln leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. He considered Bucket's comment about not being cut out for random acts of violence and wondered honestly if he was himself. He glanced at his friend. His eyes had a pinch to the corners which suggested stress or fatigue, probably both considering his awkward nap in the hold and his sigh as he collapsed into his chair. This place was beginning to get to everyone.

"Work, yeah. Captain has a job in mind." Lincoln confirmed. "Details are a bit undecided yet but it looks profitable." He didn't give said details, that would wait until later.

He set his coffee on a small table next to his chair, he preferred his coffee cooled a bit. Never was much of a fan of extreme temperatures, especially in his food or beverage.

"I think we'll be leaving soon, Nathan is keen on getting out of here."


"Guys, I know Kung Fu."

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The Captain had turned his attention to someone else, the dark-haired woman she'd seen earlier. Their conversation seemed serious enough that Jackie decided it wasn't the time for introductions. Plenty of time for that later, if the woman was to stay on board for the Defiant's upcoming trip.

Therefore, the doctor decided to follow her strongest inclination at the moment, which meant following the tempting scent of coffee. Could it possibly be the real thing? It certainly smelled like it.

She turned a corner and found two men looking up from comfortable-looking chairs, each with a steaming mug at hand.

Jackie set down her bag and suitcase and came forward with an extended hand to the nearest one, a large and dark-skinned fellow with friendly eyes.

"Hi, there, gentlemen. I'm Doctor Holliday. I sure hope you have enough of that delicious-smelling brew for one more."

She moved to the second man, much smaller and younger than the other, his blond mullet looking like it hadn't seen a comb for a few days. He seemed a bit shy, meeting her eyes for only an instant before shaking her hand quickly and then glancing away.

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Lincoln had just taken another sip as the woman entered. He glanced from her bag to her hand and then stood, shaking it briskly as she introduced herself. As she moved on to Bucket he spoke.

"Lincoln Bargara, First Mate. This is Mic.."

"Bucket, call me Bucket." The younger man interrupted, Lincoln not even glancing and seeming to have anticipated the correction.

"Coffee, yes. Here let me pour you a mug."

Setting his mug down he moved back towards the galley kitchen and dug out another from a cabinet. He blew in it quickly to dislodge any stray dust and rinsed it out.

"Make yourself comfortable." He called over to her. He continued to talk as he poured the dark coffee.

"So the captain hired a Doc after all? Cream?" He asked the last part quickly and held up a questionable canister with a picture of a poorly imagined cow.


"Big.. big mug."

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"No thanks Linc, I'll have sugar though"

Dale cheekily intercepted, as he dropped down the kitchen stairway, before sitting next to Bucket.
Dale glanced quickly between Lincoln and the new lady, making his decision of whom to enquire to first.. Done
"Lincoln, can you tell us how soon we're making way, and what to?
Or will we be hearing that from our gallant leader?"

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Jackie chose a chair next to the one Bargara had just vacated as he went to get her some coffee. Good to know her companions on the Defiant were mannerly, civil folk.

Like the rest of the lounge furniture, the chair was worn and nearly threadbare, and that was okay with her. It was clean enough.

She sat stiffly on the edge of the seat cushion, not quite at ease enough yet to completely let down her guard. Until liftoff, there was a chance the Defiant might be detained at the last minute by Mayor Flinders' brother-in-law, Sheriff Brock Rilen. He and his henchman might be right now searching for her, ship by ship.

The doc discretely flexed her left calf just enough to reassure herself that her little taser pistol was still strapped inside the leg of her baggy black pants, just above a scruffy boot top.

It's a rough 'verse out there, and a girl's gotta be prepared.

Bucket twitched in his seat, seemingly distracted, ignoring her for the most part. Jackie was just about to ask him what his job was, by way of making conversation, when Bargara called out from the galley kitchen.

"So the captain hired a Doc after all? Cream?"

She was just about to decline when another crewman appeared suddenly, startling her.

He answered Bargara's question instead, shooting Jackie an ironic grin as he planted himself in the chair next the blond fellow. "No thanks Linc, I'll have sugar though." He glanced at Bucket, then at her, then back to Bargara. "Lincoln, can you tell us how soon we're making way, and what to? Or will we be hearing that from our gallant leader?"

Jackie opened her mouth in order to share with them what the Captain had told her, but Bucket made a face at Dale and started in on him about sugar and Nuttella and cheese. His comments confused her some.

From the looks of the coating on the tongue Bucket stuck out at the new guy, he might be suffering from an acid imbalance. And from his dark-circled eyes and drooping mouth, she figured he desperately needed some rest.

She thought it best to bring it up confidentially to Bargara, him being first mate, and see what was the usual protocol on the Defiant regarding diagnosing the crewmen. She didn't want to step on any toes when she'd only just got on board.

Deciding to make an appearance of getting her own coffee, Jackie moved toward the galley kitchen, where Bargara was looking a bit annoyed with the new crewman. The one who'd suddenly appeared in the lounge requesting sugar in his brew.

Suddenly, Bucket leaped up, nearly bowling her over as he ran past her and jumped up on the counter next to where Bargara was pouring coffee. Obviously, the fellow wasn't as worn out as she'd first assumed. Hmm, she'd need to do some blood work to be sure how to treat his condition.

"Yeah," Bucket said to the darker man, "Where we going, Uncy Abe? Or does Fred over here know?" He waved toward Jackie.

Fred? Jackie turned around and glanced behind her, expecting to see someone new, but no one was there. As she turned back around, Bucket had a mangled sandwich in his hand. He tore into it with abandon and smashed a corner of it into his mouth, then chewed with his eyes closed as if in a state of bliss.

Jackie's eyes widened. She stole a glance at Bargara to see if his face indicated anything was out of the ordinary here. The first mate looked slightly amused.

Jackie cleared her throat loudly, half expecting to be interrupted again. "Actually, the Captain told me we're going to Aberdeen through Three Hills, but he didn't sound too firm about it." She sent Bargara a questioning glance to see if he'd confirm it or not.

As an afterthought, she added, "Who's Fred?"

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Dale was suddenly less jovial.
He was still happy. ish
But this was business. And business was hazardous.
"Three Hills eh Lincoln?"
He spoke with one raised brow.
He knew what business they were in, and he'd been following the war as close as possible through cortex waves, indep casts and good ole word o' mouth.
He knew well enough about Three Hills

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"Yes, Three Hills." Lincoln passed the Doc her coffee with a smile and leaned against the door frame between the galley kitchen and the small seating nook, a small flake of green paint falling to the scuffed steel-blue floor below. He made no move to pour a cup for Dale and glanced from him to the doctor and then down at his mug.

"We'll all go over details later with the captain,"

He paused and considered the new Doc. Should he speak openly of their criminal activities in front of a newcomer? He decided to dance around the true nature of the job.

"but yeah. We've got some work to do and I know the Cap will want to get out of this place as soon as we can clear it."

Lincoln sipped his coffee and glanced back at Bucket, still slumped against the cupboards. He stared at his coffee and swung his feet idly.

"Bucket, I'll talk to the captain. I'm sure he wouldn't mind handling the take-off and flying for a bit. You get some sleep."

He looked back to the doc and grinned slightly, giving an almost subtle shake of the head. She squinted at him curiously and he shrugged, as if to tell her this was about par for the course. He was worried about his friend but knew he'd sleep it off and be back to his typical, only slightly less bouncy self. He cradled his coffee in both hands between sips and cleared his throat.

"So Doc, what brings you to book passage on this old hunk-o-junk?"


"Big.. big mug."

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As relieved as she was to be leaving this planet behind, Jackie was starting to wonder just what exactly she'd gotten herself into.

On top of that, she hadn't prepared an answer for the perfectly reasonable question Bargara posed.

"So Doc, what brings you to book passage on this old hunk-o-junk?"

Jackie took a long sip of coffee -- it was pretty good stuff -- as she tried to think up a perfectly reasonable answer.

"I always wanted to take a ride on a Firefly."

The First Mate gave her a look that she interpreted as 'Sure, lady, whatever you say, but what's the real story?'

So quickly she added a lie. "My contract was up and I'm a free agent, so to speak. After two years in a backwater, I'm feelin' a mite restless. Need to find myself a bigger pond."

She slanted an uneasy look toward Bucket. "He really a pilot?"

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He glanced at the jittery Bucket. Then back to Holliday and replied in all seriousness.

"The best."

He grinned and then finished his now lukewarm coffee in one large gulp. While setting the mug in the sink, he glanced at her bag and suitcase sitting on the deck.

"Did the captain assign you a room yet?"

Knowing Nathan he figured not but decided he'd ask anyway.


"Big.. big mug."

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"No, he didn't. I wouldn't mind settling in if you're inclined to show me where I'll be bunking, Mr. Bargara."

Jackie followed the First Mate's example but slugging down what was left of her coffee and likewise putting her mug in the sink.

"That was some tasty java," she added politely. "Better'n what I've been used to."

The surge of caffeine had served to settle her nerves a little, and she wondered if they had anything stronger on board. Glancing down at the twitching pilot lumped near the galley floor -- dear gods, he was gonna fly the ship? -- she had a feeling she was going to need it.

"Bye, Fred," she heard him mumble.

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"Alrighty, right this way then."

Lincoln reached for her luggage but she picked up her bag before he could lift it as well. Nodding to Dale and glancing once more at Bucket, he carried her suitcase and led her out the doorway to the main-deck aft hallway. Walking down the stairs to the passenger dorms and the mess that was the auxiliary storage, he apologized for the disheveled state. On many baseline '03s this section was used as a passenger lounge, but Nathan had taken to storing extra equipment and supplies, so as to save room in the cargo hold. There was however a faded rug, lending a hint of comfort to the utilitarian ship. He gestured towards the open door of one of the central berths.

"This one is about the cleanest, and not as cramped as most the others. As our new doctor you of course get the best."

He chuckled and set her case down inside the door, continuing to talk.

"Lavatory's just down there," He nodded towards the front of the hall. "We don't have much for passengers so shower schedule shouldn't be hard to work out. Captain doesn't like folks poking around the cargo hold or the engine room, or bridge. Not unescorted anyway, we aren't as strict as some boats as far as protocol goes but still, should be pretty straightforward. You need anything else let me know and I'll try my best. Dinner is at.. well, whatever time we eat, galley is of course at your full disposal at all hours."

He waited for a moment as she looked around the slightly musty smelling room.

"Infirmary is right out here, it's not much but we have the basics. Care to take a look now or leave that until later? You probably want to settle in."

He stood by the sliding door and waited for her response as she dubiously ran a finger over a dusty shelf recess.
================================================


"Big.. big mug."

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*Due to the time it's taken for me to get my act together here, I'm quoting to show that it is still this time. Sorry!*

Quote:

---

Originally posted by yinyang:
Whatever conversation had happened at the ship's entrance was over, and the captain was headed Ainsley's way.

"Captain Rey," she said, stepping down the last few stairs onto the cargo bay floor. Her gaze flicked over to the woman he'd been talking to, curious, and then focused on Rey again. "The shuttle seems decent enough. What's your asking price?"

---

"Fourty platnium, we'll take credits, but it's less used on the rim. Fifty C' a week in that case."

Nathan measured Ainsley up as the Alliance type, which means credits. Seeing as the Alliance looked like it was winning the war, the idea was credits would be worth more afterwards. As a profiteer, Nathan hoped Ainsley didn't realise this.




Lincolnz: I'll have an explosion in my pants pocket when I get a text message now

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This was all Little Lara’s fault. Shade stared into the slightly dirty glass of.. whatever it was, narrowing her eyes dangerously. Across the surface of the vaguely brownish liquid, she could see the image of herself, the skinny neck of a pretty and curvaceous woman gripped in her hands. The woman’s eyes bulging as she tried to beathe, with Shade’s rough hands tightening. She blinked, and smiling wryly to herself. Ok, so she wasn’t actually going to kill Lara. The woman was... useless, back-stabbing, and completely devoted to her own self-interest, but Shade had known that from the start. Shade had been the one to make the real mistake – trusting that little hu li jing in the first place.

She lifted the glass, swallowed the last of the liquid a little messily, and put it back down, pushing it away. It wasn’t strong enough, she realized with a frown. She wasn’t even warm, much less ‘feeling it’. That just...

Pissed her off.

Her warm brown eyes flickered around the dim room, nearly bare of targ-... other patrons. She frowned more, disappointed. No point in a fight... not with the few here. There was another option, one she’d been putting off. Work. Part of her felt immeasurably weary at the thought. Maybe she should head dirtside... find some place far away from anyone... but she knew better. She liked being around people, if not for the happy camaraderie when things were going well, then for the thrill of a good fight when they weren’t. As much as part of her wanted to avoid the whole rollercoaster of getting to know a new crew, she knew she’d never really be happy all alone. It just sounded... boring. When things went south, as they always did eventually, she’d find herself here again, somewhere else, and she’d make the same decision all over again. Things never changed.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself up away from the table, her lean form draped in the slightly too-big coat. The green tank top underneath was a little dingy, overworn and under washed, like most of her clothes. The pants were patched, and one leg needed to be hemmed, the edge ragged and frayed above her heel. Something was smudged along her right knee, something dark and sort of reddish brown. She snagged the flat brimmed hat off the table, jamming it down on her hair. She’d broken her last elastic, so her hair hung loose, brown over her shoulders and only a few shades cooler than the brown of her eyes. Eyes that promised trouble to anyone that offered her the merest excuse for a distracting brawl.

Heck, if she got in a real good fight, she could start looking for work tomorrow, right? She knew better as she strode through the place and out the door. No more excuses.

The streets of the skyplex got considerably more crowded as she made her way to the dockyard. She hated the jostle of the crowd. Her valuables – what there was of them – were safely stashed out of pickpocket reach, although she was always alert to the attempts. Kickin’ some no good pickpocket’s ass would work, and wouldn’t really even count as a delay... she couldn’t help but smile a nasty little smile to herself at that thought. She was as bad as a drug addict sometimes.

She knew there was still a little yellow around her left eye, the last fadings of a heck of a nice black eye. Her lip was almost completely healed. It was a good time to go job hunting, really. Other than the twinge from the old cracked rib, she barely even hurt. SO boring... she paused as she reached the ships, removing herself briefly from the flow of humanity to glance at those assembled. She didn’t read cortex job listings. She’d learned few people actually advertised for her sort of special function. More often you’d present yourself, inquire as to bunks, berths and possible employment, and things went from there. That is, if you didn’t already have a contact or a reference. Shade had found jobs every different way, and some ways she’d never thought of. She was just lucky she always seemed to be able to find one when she really needed it.

Time to s

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Moe made his way through the skyplex's insides, clinging to the sides of the thronged hallways to avoid being swept in with the streaming crowds, snaking his way around merchant stalls and flocks of haggle-ready commoners. He was saddled like a mule, with a tallback pack towering above his head and a large suitcase gripped in each fist. He winced at the burn of lactic acid building up in his upper arms and shoulders, beads of sweat swelling at his hairline, and took a left up the sloping passageway leading out of the marketplace and onto the docking ring.

He stopped at a viewport looking over the station's docks, letting the suitcases drop to the floor. "Docking bay Ninety-four," he recited, his eyes narrowed to a keen squint as he cast them over the berthed ships. Funny, should be right here... Unless I got the digits mixed up, then I'm a long way off. He second-looked at the dozing ships, annoyance tugging at his lip.

"Dammit."

He croaked a curse or three and gathered up the suitcases. Better make haste, don't want 'em casting off without me. He felt his pack brush against something as he set out—a fellow pedestrian, perhaps—but didn't care enough to give it a look-see and hurried off as fast as his load would permit.

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Ships lined up along the sky-plex’s odd dockyard, with viewports allowing enough view to see what kind each was. Activity at their various airlocks told stories to anyone paying attention. Shade eyed one loading cargo, the two men arguing over each crate giving her pause. Not in the mood for that... The next ship was closed up tight, a man in a long coat doing... something... nearby. Shade skipped over him, seeing the small device in his hand. Something about hand held games that kind of ruin the bad-ass look....

The next ship was a firefly. Shade really only knew that because she’d flown on one before, but they were pretty easy to spot anyway. Defiant. Nice name. Shade smiled, maybe they’d forgive her own defiant tendencies, with a name like that. Wouldn’t that be nice? Maybe not – could spell boring too. The ramp was down, the inner airlock door closed. Didn’t look like they were leaving yet, but no sign of cargo or passengers out front could mean they would be soon.

The next ship was open, a large, fat man standing near the ramp, lounging against the airlock door. She didn’t know what kind of ship it was, but it was certainly ugly. She sniffed a little, eyes flickering back to the firefly. Sweet little ride, that one. Plus, Oreck had been on the last one. Shade had liked Oreck, a LOT. Back to the ugly ship, eyes narrowing at the fat man, now currently scratching his stomach under his shirt. Her lips tightened, pulling slightly down to the left in a pout, following her thoughts as they bounced around from ship to ship.

Well... he was just standing there, waiting for... whatever. There were other ships, but she had to start somewhere. He certainly looked like the type to need a little brute force once in a while – and fat enough to look like he’d rather have someone else to provide it for him. Question was, would he pay for it?

She slipped back into the crowd, dodging a woman with four bickering children, and a man with a monkey on his shoulder. That one turned her head... where do you get a monkey in a place like this? Turning back with slightly raised eyebrows, she almost automatically snagged the kid that was darting through the crowd. Both hands were fisted, and he wore that look between terrified and too jaded to care that marked a not yet accomplished pickpocket. She frowned down at him, looked at the back of a tall backpack, disappearing through the crowd. She looked down again, sighing deeply.

Kid couldn’t have been more than twelve. Skinny. Underfed. Terrified now that she was slanting those dangerous, fiery brown eyes down at him in a speculative manner. She finally made a disgusted face, and casually pried his hands open, taking the small items he was clutching. Talk about a crime of opportunity. She looked at him again, and she couldn’t help the little inner giggle. He’s gonna wet his drawers at this rate.... “Lesson learned?” she finally asked, in a low, dangerous voice.

He nodded rapidly, and she let him go, he gave her a respectful, split second smirk, “Don’t get caught!” and the crowd swallowed him. Shade grinned a little, one edge of her mouth in the shadow of her hat rising. Looking back over the crowd, she returned to her former scowl. Backpack was gone. Swearing under her breath, she stashed it. If she found him, she’d give him his things – if not, luck of the ‘Verse, man: You Got Robbed. Moving on, she found herself drifting along the edge of the docks, overhearing the men arguing over the crate.

“...Lao Chen said if we make it in three, we get first pick – all of us!”

His partner growled back, “Lao Chen’s a yangwei yanse lang! He can’t make any promises...”

She moved beyond them, slowing in front of the firefly, thinking of Oreck with a faint smirk. Man could throw a punch, and was no slouch in a bunk. Best of all, not the faintest idea of romance – no silly sentiment to ruin a good time.. Memories of wild times clouded with alcohol made her downright nostalgic. She shook her head at her own fancies, and moved to pause outsid

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Jackie looked at the thick lump of dust on her finger, then hastily wiped it on her thigh as she met Bargara's gaze. "I guess it's been awhile since anybody bunked here. T'sall right, germs helps us make antibodies."

He smiled.

She looked around the small quarters, the thin mattress on the single bed. It wasn't cozy as her cottage, but it was freedom, and that carried a helluva lot more weight.

She was anxious to leave but didn't want to appear too anxious and arouse suspicion.

"I believe I will settle in, like you said, before I see how the infirmary's set for medical supplies and such, but I did want to ask you a couple things."

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

"That other fellow in the kitchen, Dale, I think Bucket called him? He seemed disturbed when I mentioned Three Hills. Is there a problem?"

"And secondly," she continued, looking down at his left leg, "I can likely help you with that limp. Bother you much?"

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Maurie pushed hard to keep up the pace. Staying out on an all-night bender and precious little eating the morning thereafter had sapped his stamina. His breathing had grown loud and husky, and tart bile bubbled up his oesophagus, lapping at the back of his throat. Hmph. What I'd give for a quick nip.

He busied his mind looking back on his prior encounter with Nathan Rey, capitaine du nom. The man had moxie in spades, and an ego to match. His approach had been concise and plain-spoken: he was rounding up a salvage crew, and short a mechanic. Maurie's name had gotten around in a good way; his reference were unanimous in their praise, and the fact that he brought a strong baggage of practical experience to the table to go along with his steady gun hand had him high on Rey's draft board. Moe had taken a liking to the man's spunky drive... And the rest's history. Right.

He craned his neck above the coursing crowd, eyes casting about for a paint-flaked metal sign that read "Docking Bay 49", but his gaze stopped as it beheld a well-acquainted sight through one of the viewports. A strange chimera of a ship, with a vaguely birdlike forepart blurring into a blocky midsection affixed to a bulbous rear end. A firefly. An aught three, complete with its set of extenders, all in all in proud condition. Now ain't that a regal old girl. A smile whisped across his features as he made a line for the ship's airlock. Just as much as Rey's plucky leadership, the prospect of shipping out on one of these grizzled birds was what had drawn him to the job.

He started up the loading ramp, and was surprised to find someone idling around the sealed airlock. An askance eyebrow shot up, as he could tell from her shuffling eyes and tentative demeanor that she had no right place there. "Can I help you?" he grunted, treading up the ramp with stomping footfalls.

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Shade glared at her thumbnail, the ragged edge prompting her to gnaw on it while her eyes flickered back up to the airlock. It hadn’t been more than a minute or two since she pressed the button. Had it even worked? Was she wasting her time? It was frustrating to not even know if it was the right button, and that frustration made her more uneasy than she liked. Made her feel a bit foolish standing out here. Not three minutes from pressing the button, and she was ready to bolt, already. Nuo Fu, she sneered at herself.

Maurie started up the loading ramp, and was surprised to find someone idling around the sealed airlock. An askance eyebrow shot up, as he could tell from her shuffling eyes and tentative demeanor that she had no right place there. "Can I help you?" he grunted, treading up the ramp with stomping footfalls.

Heavy footfalls on the ramp behind her made her turn, eyes narrowed – for a split second – dangerously. That shifted to a faintly speculative look as she nearly growled out a response, only barely shifting from the reflexive troublemaking words to the more appropriate, “Depends. This your ship?” One eyebrow rose a little, slightly challenging. She really didn’t believe a man carrying suitcases and wearing a backpack was the... backpack? Her look shifted even more to the appraising. Did that pack look familiar?

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Lincoln's hand went to his left leg instinctively, he glanced down and then patted his thigh.

"Yeah, been a trouble for awhile now. No one's really been able to do anything for it. I had a good doc in the Core look at it once when I had a chance. Said there wasn't much to do without an operation."

He changed the subject quickly before she could ask any more questions. He didn't like talking about how it happened and sensed she would ask that next.

"Three Hills. It's all over the news nets on the cortex. Huge battle, quite a few wounded and dead on both sides. Captain has a job in mind. I really shouldn't say much more."

He bit his lip, wondering if the woman would realize they intended to loot the battle site of whatever they could carry off. He himself felt a bit of hesitance over such an activity, however he realized that the Alliance would be just as likely to do it. He hated what the Alliance was forcing here, a war. He'd supported the Alliance most of his life, always disliking the politics and bureaucracy of it, but admiring the freedom and protection it provided. They nearly abolished the slave business in the core systems and the border. Something that had prospered for as long as anyone had remembered. They kept crime in check, or at least claimed to. But he'd seen enough atrocities committed in the name of the Alliance and justice to turn his favor towards the Independents. Who in all honesty seemed little better, a mix of everything good and bad humanity could offer. Chaotic and rebellious, many of the worlds were anarchical and crime ridden. Slavery flourished as did trade in drugs and other unsavory merchandise. Yet small pockets of peace and prosperity stood out like oases amidst a desert of chaos. These places were the drive and money behind the Independent movement. A handful of planets were as wealthy as the poorest of the core planets.

"Bargara?" The doctor asked and he realized he was still standing in her doorway.

"I apologize, I was drifting. Should be underway in about an hour or two. Probably serve a meal shortly after that. You are welcome to join us." He nodded politely and excused himself.

Walking towards the stairs he considered cornering the Captain before he briefed the crew to inquire about who he'd lined up as a buyer. If he had anyone yet, at all.


"Big.. big mug."

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Dale had watched sharply, with a jumble of reactions to the varied discourse that occurred in the kitchen mess.
Firstly, annoyance as Lincoln didn’t pour him coffee.
It didn’t look like much, but on a boat with only a few humans in meaningful existence, small actions (and inactions) meant things.
Usually the large man was a source of warmth and famility in this cold metal bird, and well, now the rest of the ver-
Dale stopped and restarted his thoughtline.
It was unusual for Linc to rebuff a happy greeting. He was about to shrug it off (after all- he was probably demonstrating dominance for the new passenger) when he nonchalantly shrugged off the fact of the next destination and implied job!
He'd felt momentarily guilty for raising the name to Bucket's attention as he almost broke down at the kitchen table.
Lincoln then seemingly ignored Bucket's state, even grinning a little, magically turning all of Dale’s pity for Bucket and self-guilt into pure anger- directed at Lincoln.
No assistance, reassurance, pity? NOTHING?
Shortly after, Lincoln’s customary kindness surfaced once again, offering to get the captain to do the take off and suggesting some to Bucket he get some sleep, mollifying Dale.
He wondered whether anyone had even noticed any previous irritation.
Bucket didn’t seem to notice even as Dale righted the chair he’d knocked over, nor him wiping up the splashed coffee and the return of his mug to Buck’s rather weak hands.

And of course Lincoln was distracted listening to the newcomer tell her backstory.

Quote:

---

"I always wanted to take a ride on a Firefly."

---

An interestingly bad backstory.

Quote:

---

"My contract was up and I'm a free agent, so to speak. After two years in a backwater, I'm feelin' a mite restless. Need to find myself a bigger pond."

---

Ok, a reasonably innocuous backstory. Buuut, then again, possibly too innocuous.
She’d tacked off the original line, as if wary it had failed.
A truly innocent idiot-girl would insist that
“they’re so rustic and cute! They look like a brrrd”
And someone who was hiding something minor or just embarrassing would likely admit to it at this ideal early probe and move on.
She was suspicious.
Or...
maybe he was just being crazy. He could always be inventing problems for the “joys” of analysing.
He could be analysing them out of boredom.
He could be analysing the analysis out of the sense of intellectual superiority it elicited, the thought that he casually thought at a third tier level. He could be admitting to this out of a sense of modesty, or because any happiness or superiority was as hollow and deluded as the smugness that accompanied previous thought.
At that point in the continuum there were really endless options
One thing was certain-
Any more thought along this line was purely self indulgent and purposeless.
It didn’t even help, or gratify anyone.
It was self-absorbed, pointless and antisocial.
And it actually hurt his head little.

Time to return to reality and, what was he doing again? Kitchen, of course.
Where had everyone gone?
Hmm.
“Well, I’d best see the cargo bay and the captain”
Dale said to no-one in particular as he headed out of the mess, round and down the stairs to the cat-walk.
Wherever they were headed- he still wanted off this sky-shack.
ASAP.

Ideally with a few extra voices to distract from his internal one.

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Moe overlooked the wary edge in her voice, letting the pack slide off his back and propping it against the ship's carbon-streaked hull. His legs, leaden with effort a moment ago, felt numb and springy under him. "In a manner of speaking," he said, cocking his hands on his hips, his chest heaving with every breath. He glanced up and down the length of her, eyes screened behind opaque shades. He knew the hard eyes, harder words and belligerent shoulder chip. She looked the the type to start a fight in a empty room should the mood strike her.

Not many reasons a gal like that shows up here looking all jittery, he thought. Either she's running, or she's looking for work. A frown jerked between his brows. In his experience, people's motives were seldom so clear cut. Or both. He kneeled by his backpack and set about rummaging through the pockets, fingers feeling for the cool touch of his liquor flask. "You sign up with Captain Rey too? That why you're here?" He had a confident notion of what the answer to that would be, however he saw no reason not to inquire a little further, if only for comity's sake.

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Shade watched him, the tension easing a little at the simple chance to confront someone and get this over with. She wasn’t exactly famous for her patience. In a manner of speaking... wasn’t the same as yes. Wasn’t no either. His appraisal only gave her a faintly defiant look to her eyes, but she kept her attitude in check for the moment. Her nose twitched, and she’d’ve sworn her spine was itchy. Her shoulders shifted reflexively as his question clarified things a bit. He’s not the captain then... ‘kay... Shade’s mind stood at the depot distracted, while that train of thought left without her. Impatience was making her want to act, not think.

“Might say that’s why I’m here,” she said unhelpfully. “You know where I might find him?” She was almost proud of herself for that answer. Give nothing away, right? She felt downright subterfugical. She jerked a thumb at the airlock, “Ain’t answering the hail thing.” With some creativity, one could almost tell she was indicating the button she’d pressed nearly six minutes ago. Her dark eyes dropped to the pack his hand was buried in, distracted again by the nagging of... something. It made her spine itch again, and she shoved her hands into her pockets to ignore it.

What the guai... She pulled out a small, faded violet velvet pouch. The kid! She unconsciously patted her other pocket, and pulled out a small metal flask. The same pocket the pouch had come from yielded up another small bag, and Shade shook her head. Her eyes darted back to the pack. Can’t be! It’s too... coincidental or whatever! She leaned slightly, looking at the back of the pack – it looked the same....

“You... uh... missing anything outta there, Mister?”

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Dale leant against the catwalk railing, realising with a large yawn he hadnt yet had coffee.
He sure could use some. At least to keep him running till after take-off and the welcoming brief for whatever new people they'd picked up.
And then for the second brief minus civilians regarding the Three Hills job.
Yup,
He'd be requirin caffeine before then.
A lack of sugar on board was certainly a disappointment.. but then, he had bought something that'd do nicely as a replacement. Hell, it'd do better. Just he'd hoped to save opening it till they were further away from civilisation.
He dropped down the metal stairs, noing the captain and a lady by the left shuttle bay and two strangers by the entrance.
Looked as though they were fillin up quick.
Odd that, after a week or so of no interest shown.
As he passed down out of the hold past the medic bay he wondered if there was any event in the city that was necessitating exodus. Other than the endemic obvious ones.

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The negotiation was like any other business transaction Nathan had been apart of. Numbers were changed, points were argued and everything remained basically the same as he had laid it out. The customer then usually walked out, presumably to wrap up any business in the port, and would probably be seen in a few hours before they took off.

Ainslie didn’t.

Whatever, she’d paid up for the month anyway, what she did with the shuttle now was her problem. Nathan walked out of the shuttle and made his way into the mess.

Nathan hadn’t realized how long the bartering had actually taken. Yes, he’d expected it, but it always seemed rather off afterwards. Most of the crew had dispersed recently, Nathan observed from the mugs in the sink. He continued making his way to his rack.

Nathan’s room actually spanned two of the forward rooms on the starboard side, and served as his office. Entrance was only possible through the hatch closest to the cockpit, as the other had been welded shut.

Several filing cabinets adorned the wall to his right as Nathan entered. In the middle of the room was his wooden desk, with the usual muddle of papers askew in every direction upon it. Beyond that a curtain obscured view of the rest of his quarters.

Nathan brushed aside the cloth divider that separated his office from his bunk, and reached for the message on the night stand that he’d got from his contact the other day, before slumping into the char behind his desk. The cloth gracefully drifted back into its original position. Nathan read through the message again, and again. He expected Lincoln would come soon.




Lincolnz: I'll have an explosion in my pants pocket when I get a text message now

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"Pleasure doing business with you, ma'am," the scrap dealer said.

After all Mei had been through, it was nice to run into someone like that.

She wandered throughout the spaceport. She didn't want to return to the Brownfleet just yet. Maybe she could get a position on a ship here...

Her eyes settled on a Firefly called "DEFIANT". Surely they would have room for someone with her skills. She sauntered over.

But... FOR THE LOVE OF EXPLOSIVES!

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Moe huffed out his irritation, his hands rifling—fruitlessly—through masses of sunburned outfits, old, scruffy hardback anthologies and assorted sundries, impatience bulging within like an abscess. Bull! Some thirsty bastard must've nabbed it when I'sn't payin' attention. God this place is FOUL!

Quote:

---

"You... uh... missing anything outta there, Mister?"

---

He tilted his head up at her, dull eyes saying 'D'uh, good eye, genius!', until they locked on the decidedly familiar tin flask she held in her hand, at which point his dense brows arched, then snapped together. He pulled his hands away from the disemboweled backpack and stood up, his face a stony and inscrutable mask. "Say, how'd this here item come to be in your possession?" he wordily inquired, a touch of tart amusement in his tone. She hadn't struck him the type to dip her fingers into strangers' pockets.

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Shade figured out which item he meant fairly easily, and, pocketing the rest, she held the flask out to him. “Seems some smart pickpocket thought it must be valuable – saw him hit your down near – 94?” She referred to the nearest docking slip to the intersection she’d seen him at. “Think that was it. Was gonna break his pigu, but wasn’t worth the trouble. No fun beating up the defenseless.” She stated it matter of factly, with the faintest note of disappointment. Pickpockets were all too often not worth the trouble – Shade had had to change her standards from size-based to age-based just to reconcile with her own un-acknowledged code of honor. “Was hoping to catch up with ya, but I only saw the pack.” She gestured with the end of the flask, still offering it to him.

She noticed the approach of a young woman, but only in the sense of noticing someone no longer moving with the crowd, but through it, and in this direction. Shade didn’t really pay much attention to it at the moment, her eyes on his face instead.

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This wouldn't be easy. Mei had never worked on a ship apart from the Cavanaugh. She had gone through a partial change in crew before. After the Cavanaugh had joined the Independents, a third of the adults and all of the children had left. They - the adults, at least - were replaced by new personnel assigned by command. It had taken a while for everyone to adjust.

But there, Mei was part of the old crew. Now she would be in the position of one of the new crewmembers, having to learn her way around a new ship, meet all her new crewmates, and fit in to an existing crew structure.

There was one other thing to consider. Aboard the Cavanaugh, whether as a civilian salvage boat or a military minelayer, Mei could trust everyone. This would not necessarily be true aboard a Firefly.

She approached the crew outside her ship. By now, her scars were quite visible.

"You hiring?" she asked.

But... FOR THE LOVE OF EXPLOSIVES!

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Back in the shuttle again, Ainsley examined her new home for a while. Sleeping on that cot was hardly a pleasant option, and neither was resting in the piloting chair; she’d have to do something about that, sooner rather than later. Which brought about the problem of how to transport it. She’d managed to get her bags to her hotel without fuss when she’d arrived, but the furnishing of the shuttle would take a great deal more hands. Perhaps she could convince someone on this ship to help her.

A desk would be nice, too – sturdy, with a good lock, for all her important items, like her hand-held computer. It would fit well near the screen embedded in one of the shuttle’s walls. She already had a small rug, but at least one large rug was probably needed to pad the floor and keep away the cold. And something for the walls, although she wasn’t sure what...

She prioritized her list of items, bedding at the top of said list, then left the shuttle. Moving on the catwalk, she realized that she didn’t know much about the layout of Fireflies. If she found Bargara, he could show her around.

Not seeing him - or anyone else - Ainsley sighed. "O, zhe zhen shi ge kuaile de jinzhan," she muttered sarcastically. "Hello? Anyone around?"

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Lincoln passed the stairs he'd come down and headed in a forward direction, intending to see if the Captain was still negotiating with the renter. He also needed to run a diagnostic of the ships undocking mechanisms well in advance of departure. That damned left fuel coupling gave them trouble sometimes, on most ships it was a quick and simple replacement, on a Firefly it was a surprisingly annoying and complex job. He'd never been able to fix it and neither had Bucket. The captain wouldn't pay for the inconvenient but non-vital work, so it like many other issues, set awaiting a more skilled mechanic's hand.

The cargo bay was silent except for his faintly echoing footfalls as he crossed the expanse to the far stairs. Numerous crates and various containers, both marked and unmarked, set about in roughly organized fashion. The aft starboard corner was set up with lockers, benches and a weight set for crew usage. As he passed under the lower walk bridging the rear stairs of the hold, he heard someone above.

"Hello? Anyone around?" the voice said, not very loudly.

"Yeah." He said and looked up to see Ainsley leaning over the catwalk railing. "What's the need?"

As he looked up he'd noticed movement through the small window of the cargo bay doors.

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->
"Progress doesn't come from early risers — progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things." Robert A. Heinlein

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“Was hoping to catch up with ya, but I only saw the pack.” She gestured with the end of the flask, still offering it to him.

Mei approached the crew outside her ship. By now, her scars were quite visible.

"You hiring?" she asked.

Shade looked up, the flask still proffered in her hand. She arched an eyebrow at the woman, and looked back at Pack Man. “Guess that’s the 50 million credit question, now, ain’t it?”

With her back currently to the airlock door, she didn’t notice the movement inside. She’d noticed the scars on the girl – impressive, but it had the look of victim scars, not battle wounds. She could be wrong – what with the war, scars were getting harder to define. Might be something exploded other than an engine, nowadays. Shade didn’t approve of war, necessarily. Was way more fun to fight with people one on one for personal reasons. War just took all the fun out of violence.

She gave Pack Man a bit of a wry smile, “Look, I rescued it from a skinny kid, figured I’d return it if I ever got the chance.” Civility – that’s what she’d forgotten. “My name’s Shade.” She tipped her head toward Scarred Girl, “Not sure if yer ship’d got room, but looks like ya got no shortage of applicants.”

Shade wanted to go; NOW. She didn’t like competition just walkin’ up and interrupting her game, but she knew they woman had no idea what they’d been discussing. Just bad timing. Add to that no idea what sort of position she might be applying for, she still felt it was better moving on.

A nasty impulse spurred her, and without really intending to say anything, she heard herself say, “Actually, I know fer a fact guy next slip over is looking for some service – the Wednesday. Might be offering what yer lookin’ for.” She almost felt bad turning the girl in fat man’s direction, but the scars brought up another point. Fat man might not hit on her that way. Almost enough to make Shade jealous.

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"Yeah." Bargara appeared, seemingly from nowhere. "What's the need?"

"I want a tour of the ship," Ainsley replied. "Also, if there are any other crew members about, I was interested in having them help me with some errands I need to run. They'd be well-compensated."

She waited for Bargara's response before moving again. It occurred to her, looking around the cargo bay, that she was probably going to be going up and down a lot of stairs during her time here. In that case, she added a pair of sturdier shoes to her shopping list - she hadn't really thought ahead when she had packed her things.

Hell, she hadn't really thought ahead at all. She'd certainly never expected to be on be on board a Firefly, with a crew of people she hardly knew, in search of Alliance secrets.

-----------------------------------------------------------

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"Three Hills… huge battle." The first mate's words bounced around inside Jackie's head, and she felt that old familiar sick migraine threatening to return. She reached down for her suitcase, lifting it with a grunt, and flopped it down onto her undressed cot.

She hated the war, hated the waste and the misery, but understood the need to fight for independence. Understood it enough to have joined the battle not so long ago.

Having opened the battered case, she rummaged through piles of clothing hastily packed in her rush to outrun Flinders' men. Then she found what she was searching for.

The smooth hard metal frame eased her tension like a sedative. Gently, she lifted out the 8 x 10 hologram and gazed down at the image of her slightly younger self in a stiff nurse's cap, Sgt. Danny Holliday beside her in his plain brown coat, rifle at his side.

This wasn't a picture of smiling newlyweds. They'd already tasted the bitter dregs of death and destruction by the time this holo was made. Instead, they gazed into the camera with hope in their eyes, mouths set in grim determination, her arm around his waist, his around her shoulders.

She placed it on a self beside her cot where she could look at it before turning in. He'd be happy she was leaving Beylix.

She sighed and stooped to pick up her medical bag, then headed for the infirmary.

Conveniently, it wasn't far from her bunk. She turned on the lights as she entered the space, about half the size of her own clinic and well lit. She set her bag on a counter, relieved to find it relatively clean, and proceeded to open drawers and make inspections.

None of the equipment was state of the art, but it was solid classic stuff. The heart monitor had been well maintained, as had the diagnostic ultra-sonar, and the plasmatic defibrillators. She found an old model molecuscope and plenty of antibiotics that weren't too long past expiration to still be useful.

She was pleased. The Defiant appeared to have all the standard equipment and supplies necessary for basic exams, routine care, and typical emergency operations.

Behind her came the sound of someone clearing their throat.

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"Do you need anything?"
Dale asked, propped against the doorway.
He knew that, whilst polite, his tone of voice had a hint of ire to it.

Wouldnt hurt to let her know she'd intruded.

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"Well, we could do with some flak packets," Jackie began, interiorly visualizing a list of medications that might be needed if they were heading into a war zone, "and another dozen boxes of gauze strips wouldn't come amiss, along with…."

She stopped suddenly, realizing that there was more being communicated here than his words had conveyed.

"Uh… Dale, isn't it?" Jackie noted his stance, the young man's casual alertness, and something about his expression that seemed almost proprietary regarding the infirmary.

"Oh!" She cried, the truth dawning, "You take good care of the place. I figured … I wonder why… you're a doctor?"

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"Well, we could do with a couple of flak jackets"
Dale blinked.

Did he hear that right? She didnt say band-aids??

"and another dozen boxes of gauze strips wouldnt come amiss, along with..."
Dales jaw dropped
She wasn't joking. She was serious. Taking inventory.. but, who the hell was she?
The lady dropped her gaze from the imaginary- whatever she was thinking about, turning her light brown eyes on him.
"uh, Dale, isnt it?"
Something was wrong here. Forboding.
She knew this space to well. Her oddly meticulous and prolonged search for object X suddenly seemed more like an inspection. She was familiar with these spaces.
"Oh!"
The lady's (why hadnt he asked her name yet?) expression jumped from brow furrowed puzzle-ing to a kinda cute shock.
light brown eyes
soft pink lips
a stupid hopefull voice in his head said-
"Maybe shes a nurse?"

"You take good care of the place. I figured. I wonder why?"
oh oh. Kindness. Not a good sign. Only superiors are allowed objective kindness. She wasnt a nurse.

Which left one possible identity

Dale gulped

"...your a doctor?"

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He figured it was just sight seers. Some folks just liked to look at the ships, could be a bit annoying at times. He looked back up to Ainsley.

"Sure, depending on what the tasks are I am sure I could find you some volunteers. As for a tour I could arrange that. There's not much to see, on a small boat." He straightened a crate he noticed had slid partially out of it's binding. "You'll be seeing an awful lot of it. Unless you're the type to keep to your shuttle."

He didn't think he'd find many volunteers, not unless Dale wanted to give a hand. Bucket was probably passed out in the middle of his room, Captain was most likely in his office, the Doc just got here. It depended on what sort of errands she was talking about. He'd probably volunteer, just to have something better to do than talk to the captain for awhile.

He spoke his mind. "What sort of errands are we talking about here?"

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->
"Progress doesn't come from early risers — progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things." Robert A. Heinlein

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Dales head went temporarily numb.
It felt like all the blood was leaving his head, precisely at the moment his brain needed to use it up there.
Hundreds of half formed questions, panics and ideas shot through his head instantaneously as he felt his legs go slightly weak at the thoughts themselves.

ShesADoctor!ThatMakesMeUseless!CAO!
NoWorkNoWayToPayFare!WillTheCapLetMeStay!?NoHomeNoBucketNoLincolnNoNothing
DA-SHIANG BAO-TZA SHR DUH LAH DOO-TZE!


Dale shut his eyes,
breathing in...

breathing out.

Eyes open, feeling at least calm, if not well- Dale walked to a clear stretch of bench lined wall, sitting on it.

Eyes back on the new doctor, he found his head blissfully blank. Better that way,
that meant he'd be able to speak.

"Well, that depends, how good are you?"

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Jackie watched Dale go suddenly pale.

Concerned, she stepped forward to offer her help, but he moved away from the door on slightly unstable legs. She was relieved when he sat down because she was beginning to worry she'd have to pick him up off the floor.

He closed his eyes as if gathering himself, looked at her and said, "Well, that depends, how good are you?"

She ignored his question for the moment, concerned more about Dale's condition. As the ship's medic -- or maybe the ship's second medic, she wasn't quite sure at this point -- the health of crew and passengers on board was her responsibility.

"Do you have these spells often?" She frowned, moving toward Dale with an outstretched arm, intending to check his forehead for a fever.

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Everyday at four fifteen Dale thought dryly, but keeping his words to himself as she leant over to take his temperature.
Fair enough too, he did feel faint, and his blood-less head was probably clammy too..
But the Doc's hand was warm. Whoa, when was the last time someone had touched him outside of awkward handshakes?
Suddenly Dale felt very hot as he noticed the Doc's proximity, and for the first time noticed her slim, fit figure leant over him.
Intensly studying the molecuscope across the far side of the infirmary suddenly seemed THE most appropriate thing to do.
But even that didnt help entirely, as, deprived of innapropriate vision, Dale was overwhelmed by the indefinable allure that is unique to the well cared for hair of beautiful ladies.
Ok, so passive ignoring isnt working, time to actively ignore. Work against it Dale!
Think. Unsexy thoughts. Niagara falls. NO! That makes you piss. Think unpleasant thoughts! Yes! Like that-...
Dale felt a swooping sensation in his stomach, and a definite cooling off of, well, areas unmentioned.
She was a doctor. A great doctor as far as first impressions went. Great bedside manner, professional,confident, diligent (...still leaning over me taking temperature!?)
"Well, I guess that answers my first question"
Dale thought, then realised he'd done so aloud.
Best to follow up
"As for your first question..Me.." Dale shrugged "I, I was the lesser of two evils. Bigger evil being- no medic"

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"You mean the pile of go-se sitting over there?" Mei shrugged. "Well, I'll give it a shot."

Mei walked up to the fat man sitting outside the ship. He didn't exactly look trustworthy, but looks could be deceiving.

"You hiring?" she asked.

The man looked her down, appraising her in a way that made Mei feel somewhat uncomfortable. His look of interest was soon replaced by one of disgust.

"Forget it, ugly. You ain't worth my time."

Mei shrugged, and returned to the Defiant.

"No luck there," she said to the woman who had pointed her to the Wednesday. "What's your name, by the way?"

But... FOR THE LOVE OF EXPLOSIVES!

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"Well, I guess that answers my first question," Dale muttered, barely audible.

The doctor lowered her hand from the patient's forehead, satisfied there was no fever. The fellow seemed awfully nervous, twitching about on the bench, eyes darting from one place to another and rarely meeting her own.

Odd, he'd seemed rather cocky when she'd first seen him in the lounge. Apparently, her presence in the infirmary had made him very uncomfortable.

Or he was suffering from space dementia. Not enough information to make a diagnosis yet.

"As for your first question... me...," he continued, with a shrug, "I, I was the lesser of two evils. Bigger evil being no medic."

"I'm Doc Holliday, by the way, in case you didn't catch the name." She shook his hand and then moved to his wrist to take his pulse.

"A little rapid," Jackie said, carefully hiding her concern. She released his wrist and stepped over to her medical bag, drawing out a stethoscope.

"So you've been the ship's medic," she stated, thinking about the strange behavior of the pilot, Bargara's limp, and wondered why the captain hadn't mentioned they already had a medic. She'd ask Dale about his training after he calmed down a bit.

"Looks like us two have some common ground to stand on," she smiled benignly, and moved beside the examining table. "How long's it been since you yourself had a proper exam, hmm?"

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Hmm. Good question. When had he last had a proper exams?
Had he ever? Nothing serious, just child-hood check ups, nothin like a full body exam..
Oh god.

Does she mean that!? Now? Me? Her?
Sheesh- Dale blew out. Medical exams werent ever really sexy, but he didnt trust his anatomy to behave with her around, touching, feeling. DAMN!
Dale crossed his legs he what he hoped was a casual way. There was no way he could trust his anatomy.
Or mind, for that matter.
Ok- bluff and blah power- ENGAGE!

"Nothing lately Doctor Holliday, been a fair few years since I had anything serious enough to visit one on my own health's sake."
The doctor looked like she might start to talk so he continued, faster- so she wouldnt interrupt.
"Oh, and in med school when learning tests we'd usually practise some on each other and ourselves. All my vitals, bp and cholestrol levels are on the healthy side of normal"
He said this last part as he unfolded his legs and dropped off the bench, starting to head for the door-a cheery great-to-meet-greet-and-cya-later line all lined up to disguise his retreat.
All he had to do was get through the door without her saying anything...

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"I wonder if anyone is home?" Mei wondered aloud.

Curious, she walked up to the main hatch, and knocked twice.

But... FOR THE LOVE OF EXPLOSIVES!

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Lincoln noticed movement outside the ship, again. This time he realized he'd better go and see to it. Ainsley began to reply but he held up a hand and waved it subtly as he turned away, heading towards the cargo doors.

"What?" Ainsley asked curiously.

"Just a second, there's someone outside. I have to see what this is about." He reached the smaller door set within the outer doors and put his hand on the opening mechanism. The scratched and tarnished metal cold to the touch.

"Probably just some lookie-lous..."

Thunk thud... a soft knocking from the outside. It echoed dully in the cargo hold.

He opened the door with little effort. Hearing a soft hiss as the slightly different air pressures equalized suddenly.

Standing on the extended access ramp were three individuals, a rugged looking man with dark hair, a woman with disfiguring facial scarring and another woman with brown hair and a travel worn knee-length coat. They had been speaking when he opened the hatch, he noted the taller woman was leaning next to the broken button for the rear access light. He glanced to each of them, the woman with the scars was probably the one who'd knocked. No one spoke immediately so he took a breath..

"Uh.. hello? This is a private vessel, can I help you?

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->
"Progress doesn't come from early risers — progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things." Robert A. Heinlein

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Mission success! Victory is mine! All crew members accounted for, privacy shield reading at 100%!
"Great to meet ya Mrs Holliday, I'll cya later" Dale called over his shoulder as he strode out, up towards the cargo bay- masterfully avoiding skipping, he still couldn't help but feel jaunty at his survival.

Looked to be a crowd by the door though..
Two of them were ladies.
AND a lady up top on the walkway
Geez where did all these X-chromosomes come from?
Hmm.. I'd better re-learn indifference again. It'd be a necessity, considering recent events. Always handy for off ship socialising too.
Soo.. where was I going?
Where was I? Kitchen, med bay, bunk! Thats it. Damn. Med bay is between here and there..

Hmm. Well, maybe I can talk to Lincoln.
I wonder if he'd consider buying some sugar as a provision for the ship..

Sugar- "it makes coffee bearable"

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Jackie opened her mouth to ask Dale about his medical training, but wasn't able to get a word in. He quickly skirted the exam chair, chattering as he backed toward the door.

"Great to meet ya, Mrs. Holliday. I'll see ya later!" Then he was gone.

Either the crewman had something to hide or he had an illogical fear of physical exams. She was betting on the latter.

"It's Doctor Holliday," she said, though no one else heard.

With the infirmary quiet again, her own fears came creeping back. Why hadn't the ship left the dock yet?

She slipped off her stethoscope and placed it in her bag, closing it with a snap. Another minute in Beylix made it all the more likely that Flinders would find her, have her arrested for assault, and haul her back to the village where he would meet out his own corrupt brand of justice.

If things hadn't been bad enough before she'd clobbered him.... She shuddered at the thought of what he might do to her now.

And from the look of Captain Rey, he'd give her over for a profit without a second thought, if such an opportunity arose.

Checking the windows with a quick glance to be sure no one was near, Jackie pulled out her tazer from it's hidden sheath beneath her loose pant leg. She clicked the safety lock off and powered it up. Just in case. The high pitched whine wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear outside the infirmary and she relaxed a little, reassured by the sound.

She slipped it back into its sheath and picked up her bag. She remembered something Danny had told her about the Firefly ships. Good for smuggling due to all the little hidey holes built into the design. Time to find herself one and hole up until takeoff.

She stepped out of the infirmary, but instantly froze at the sound of a distant grating, scraping of metal on metal. She quickly got her bearings, heart quickening as she realized it was coming from the direction of the cargo bay.

She hurried toward the sound, stopping just before reaching the cargo bay. Slowly, she peaked around the corner. The first mate stood, looming large in silhouette against the bright light of day shining through an open door.

"This is a private vessel, can I help you?" she heard him ask.

Jackie held her breath. Gods, don't let it be them!

Bargara moved aside and she saw three figures outside.

Not waiting to find out if it was Flinders' gang, instead jumping to the worst possible conclusion that they were here to take her, Jackie pulled her medical bag up under her arm, and turned to flee.

Pivoting on the balls of her feet, she ran smack into ….

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Mei looked up at the man in the doorway. He was bigger than Mei had expected.

On the other hand, he looked friendly enough.

Well, here goes nothing.

"Hi, I'm Mei Lara. We were all kinda wondering if you were hiring at all."

But... FOR THE LOVE OF EXPLOSIVES!

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Shade was saved from having to deal with the flask by Mei's question - but before she could answer her; something she wasn't sure she was ready to anyway; the girl didn't even let her answer. She moved right past Shade, before she could even open her mouth, and knocked on the door. Shade raised her eyebrows, a little worried about the possibility of having to work alongside someone like this. She moved aside, surprised - and a little annoyed - when the door actually opened. Fine - ignore the doorbell, answer wacky-pants' knock.. be that way...

"Uh.. hello? This is a private vessel, can I help you?"

Wacky-pants didn't give anyone else a chance to respond, and Shade was fine letting her jump forward and be the guinea pig.

"Hi, I'm Mei Lara. We were all kinda wondering if you were hiring at all."

Shade just smirked a little, the flask forgotten in her hand, and she just gave the man inside the airlock a raised eyebrow, as if to echo Mei's question, Well.. ARE you?

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He looked from the scarred woman to the other and nearly matched her expression. He glanced to the man in the back but he seemed a bit taken aback at the abrupt greeting as well. After what felt like ten minutes of staring at each other, but was in fact more likely twenty seconds, Lincoln cleared his throat and replied.

"That would depend on what sort of services you're offering. One moment." He turned and left them outside the ship and pressed his palm to a large button on a communications access terminal next to the stairs.

"Captain? Please get down to the cargo hold, we've got.. uh.. solicitors" He said the last more quietly and glanced back as he did so.

The captain's voice followed after a beat. "Just tell them to fu..."

"Nathan." Bargara interrupted quickly, glancing up to Ainsley and noticing Dale as he moved across the deck. "Seriously Captain, get down here."

He turned and approached the smaller cargo door again. Once there he gave the trio a quick once over. They didn't seem like Radicals, or even beggars or freeloaders. Besides, they could just as easily cause them trouble standing outside the ship as inside.

"Ok I called for the captain, if you all are seriously seeking work, come on in."

He stepped back, leaving them room to enter the mostly clear forward space of the cargo deck.

"So, again, what sort of work are you three looking for, exactly?"

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->
"Progress doesn't come from early risers — progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things." Robert A. Heinlein

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Shade eyed the man speculatively, easily moving forward at his invitation. Jian ta de guai, she wasn't timid, she was going to get this over with. Stepping into the airlock, she offered the man a firm, almost masculine handshake.

"My name's Shade Whitmore, sir," she nodded once, in greeting, "Got experience in moving freight, mostly, whatnot work as needed. Not much skilled in repairs and the like, but I'm stronger than I look." She made a sort of half smile, adding "Done a little security, too, when was needed." The phrase was near universally understood, when it applied, as one who could generally provide a little violence, at a captain's request. Shade didn't elucidate on the subject. If he wanted to know more, he'd ask.

She stepped back, "Just lookin' for a berth, for the time being - permanent, or temporary, if the job's not a fit." Such was the usual in the business. If you fit, you'd keep your bunk, if not, you'd find a new berth at the next stop. Shade had mostly followed the latter pattern, but there was always hope. Or in her case, maybe that was just how she liked things. "If you want 'em, I got some references." Not that they count for much anymore... The war made a lot of things unreliable and unsure. Whether any of her previous bosses were reachable, and whether they'd have something pleasant to say, she wouldn't have wanted to put money on it, either way.

Still, there was one thing they couldn't argue - she was good. She might not be polite, or sweet, or cuddly, but she was good.

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Lincoln listened to her spiel, knowing full well what she meant by security. He'd only been First Mate for a short time but he knew the typical mercenary language from his years spent hopping from one roughneck crew to the next. He'd already determined this one meant business, about the same time he discovered her strong grip. She looked a bit rough around the edges, but didn't seem outwardly violent or brash, which is more than he could say for a few others he'd met of this profession.

"Great. Captain should be down in.. well hopefully soon." he glanced past her to the catwalk, listening for footsteps on the deck above.

He heard none yet.


<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->
"Progress doesn't come from early risers — progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things." Robert A. Heinlein

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Nathan fumbled around his room for his pistol. He’d put it down here somewhere. His search had the end result of several bundles of paper lining the floor and a pistol that hadn’t been anywhere near them. Confident if the shit hit the fan he wouldn’t be a sitting duck, he made his way to the galley, then through the medical bay and passenger dorms to the cargo deck.

This route had meant he had come out on the complete other side of the room than the entrance. Nathan strode across the grated utilitarian deck in a fashion that he hoped would make the ‘solicitors’ aware he was the sad-little-king of this sad-little-hill.

“I’m pretty sure Lincoln has told you a damned lot more about me then he has about you guys to me.” Nathan said when he had reached the group awaiting his attention “So, to whom and why do I owe the pleasure?”





Lincolnz: Buttle... to duel with ones buttocks

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"I'm Mei Lara," she introduced herself. "I've got thousands of EVA hours. I have experience in mining, salvage, and demolitions operations." She recalled the countless times she was bribed/cajoled/drafted into helping Terrence fix something. "I spent most of my life on board a spaceship, so I can help with a lot of repairs... and I've served with the Independent Navy since the start of the war." She needed to get that out - it would come out soon anyway, and if this captain was backing the Alliance, she didn't want to fly on his ship.

"My ship was destroyed near Athens a month ago. I made it here on a damaged shuttle. I'm mostly done with fighting, but I'd really like to get back out in the black." Part of her did want to get back into the fight, to avenge her homeship and family. But a greater part of her was tired. At minimum, she needed a few months doing (relatively) peaceful work.

"Oh, and I have my own spacesuit," she gestured to what she was wearing. It was a little obvious, but she thought it bore saying.

But... FOR THE LOVE OF EXPLOSIVES!

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“Great story” Nathan put in; if she went on anymore he’d find his way to the nearest air lock and vent himself. “I’m sure there are plenty of crews in need of people of your obvious talent, but we’re not one of them.”

Nathan didn’t believe her. It wouldn’t have been the first to come up with fanciful stories that told the subject that he or she was the best in the business.

*Make sure you check the OOC thread later Meshakhad, I'll have a post up soon.*



Lincolnz: Buttle... to duel with ones buttocks

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Moe gathered up his effects and shoved them into his backpack at random, abstracting the packing process with his destination within a mere dozen steps walking. He tuned out the women's inquiries and brazen self-promotion, but pricked up his ears at captain Rey's appearance, spying on the ensuing exchange from his knelt position by the edge the loading ramp.

Quote:

---

“Great story” Nathan put in; if she went on anymore he’d find his way to the nearest air lock and vent himself. “I’m sure there are plenty of crews in need of people of your obvious talent, but we’re not one of them.”

---

He shook with quiet amusement, his brows furrowed and his lips in a loose sneer. Takes more than a shiny dress to land yourself a room in this castle, princess. He commended the girl for her doggedness, questing after offworld work fresh out of the throes of war as she was, but wandering the docks, stopping at random airlocks asking for work was a crapshoot, no matter your qualifications. He pulled the zipper up as high as it would go, then got up off his knees, a suitcase in each hand and his haphazard bundle of belongings slung over his shoulder, a denim pant leg dangling slapdash from the yawning backpack.

He walked up the ramp and raised a luggage-laden hand as means of greeting. "Mornin' captain," he called, his voice loud so as to assert his presence. "Permission to come aboard?"

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When Lincoln had said ‘Solicitors’, Nathan had assumed he meant ‘People he really didn’t need to care about, and it was probably time to practice those reject lines on the party’. It was this; Nathan told himself, that was the cause of the oversight.

“Permission granted. It’s nice to finally have a proper mechanic aboard.” Nathan glanced over at the last of the trio. “We’ll arrange quarters for you in a second.”

Nathan had guessed that there was about a decade between the woman and himself, but it was quite obvious she’d been through a lot more scrapes then he had. Either she was looking for a fight, or she was looking to be paid to fight.




Lincolnz: Buttle... to duel with ones buttocks

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Shade stood back, somewhere between annoyed and fed up. She had thought she had just gave her spiel and was awaiting the Captain's yea or nay on her hiring. It was completely normal for a First Mate to pre-interview new crew, she'd gone through it more than a few times. Instead, the man had shown up with every sign of telling everyone to get their pigus off his boat. Mei had sort of jumped in to toss out a full resume and life summary, earning her a irritated and impatient blow-off. Shade's instincts told her to wait. They told her the ball was in the other court - she'd served it when she'd introduced herself to him, not it was his turn to pass to the Captain, and the Captain would pass it back. Or so she assumed.. that was how it usually worked.

Until Mei finished, either by stepping up and giving the captain a real reason to hire her, Shade was content to wait until it was her turn. She stepped out of the way of Pack Man, as he moved towards entering the ship. He asked for permission to board - he knew the courtesies. He'd said it was sort of his boat, and she wondered while she waited if he was a part owner, resident, crew... but the Captain referred to him as a mechanic, and Shade understood. He was crew. Not in charge of hiring, so just as well she hadn't gotten around to actually asking him for work.

That restless little voice that sometimes yelled a little too loud was speaking up now. It wanted her to move on, just leave this mess and try another ship. Unconsciously, she looked up at the nose of the ship, above them, and thought again how she rather liked these fireflies. How they sort of just drew you in, maybe something about the vaguely animal shape, the head and body, the suggestion of something.. living.

Or not. Maybe they were just cute. She dropped her eyes to the conversations in front of her, not wanting to miss her cue when the First Mate passed on her introduction. Or until someone seemed ready to hear her. She wasn't a puppy, she was a finely tuned (if often abused) tool, and for all she knew, this crew might not know what to do with her. Not that she wouldn't be happy hauling cargo to their next destination. She just had to get off this tin can, get moving again. Her hands had returned to her pockets, and with them, the flask. She hooked her thumbs on her pockets, hands hanging outside, her stance deceptively tense. She seemed relaxed, even bored. She was neither. Tense and irritated, impatient and a little nervous, maybe.

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"Oh, and I have my own spacesuit," she said, gesturing to her gear.

Lincoln's eyebrow shot up, having already noticed the get-up she was wearing but thinking it wise not to point it out. It wasn't everyday you saw someone walking around suited up for a cold jaunt, at least someone who wasn't maintenance staff. For being raving bugnuts crazy she certainly seemed confident, he gave her that much.

"I’m sure there are plenty of crews in need of people of your obvious talent, but we’re not one of them.” Nathan replied, deadpan.

He wasn't surprised at the captain's reaction. It typically wasn't the best idea to walk up and just show your cards. Nathan typically didn't care for that sort of pitch, he'd seen him physically kick someone off the ship for less. She was getting off lucky but he still felt a bit of sympathy for her, if half of what she said was true she might be useful in certain situations.

"Uh this is.." He started to introduce the second woman but was interrupted by the rough looking man with the big pack. He'd finally decided to speak up.

"Mornin' captain, permission to come aboard?"

The Captain granted him permission and mentioned arranging quarters. So this was the mechanic Nathan mentioned hiring, Lincoln had skimmed the man's credentials the day before. He glanced from the man back to the captain, who now seemed to be sizing up the young woman in the long coat. She was glancing up and out of the cargo hold, toward the underside of the hull above the large docking access view-way.

"Like I was saying Captain. This is.. uh.. Shade Whitmore." He hesitated a moment, hoping he got the name correct, then continued. "She's also looking for work, experience in the usual cargo hauling, security."

He added the last word firmly, with a subtle twist to the inflection, indicating the obvious meaning behind the commonly used term. He realized it was probably unneeded, Nate had a keen eye for that sort of folk.

"This would, of course, be Captain Rey." Lincoln introduced his captain, feeling like it was pointless by now but trying to stick to protocol. He wasn't used to so many people around at once, they'd been a small crew for some time now.

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->

<----<<{-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-}>>---->
"Progress doesn't come from early risers — progress is made by lazy men looking for easier ways to do things." Robert A. Heinlein

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Nathan sized up the positives and negatives of hiring Whitmore. On one hand, the extra gun hand would help on the planed job, especially if thinks went to what he expected. He couldn’t shake however, that it would add to the cost of a job that was supposed to make a substantial amount of platinum, when most of his crew knew how to train a gun on someone.

“Preferably I wouldn’t need you, Whitmore.” Nathan took a dramatic pause, hoping his wording was ambiguous enough to cast doubt on what his ruling would be. “I’ll give you a steady cut of three percent of earnings. Assuming things aren’t preferable, you’ll have twelve percent combat earning.”

While the idea was she would rush in and accept it without thinking, giving Nathan peace in the profit dilemma, he was concerned on the ominous figure of twelve percent. When people weren’t shooting, it was considered strange. Christ, it was the middle of a fucking war. Twelve percent? Nathan suppressed a groan. What the hell was I thinking?





Lincolnz: Buttle... to duel with ones buttocks

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It's time for a new thread. It can be found here:
http://www.fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=17&t=39233



Lincolnz: Buttle... to duel with ones buttocks

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