Joe Hooker woke up from a restless sleep. His recurring dream about the death of his brothers gripped him as it did every night. It was a horrific nightmare he relived night after night. But not every night did he awaken, screaming. Fatigue, a constant companion for the cook and deck hand aboard the class three Firefly ship named China Doll.

He showered and shaved. His reflection in the mirror reminded him he had cut his hair prior to their landing on Osiris as well as his beard. Undoubtedly the crew would say he looked different. Yes, he was now bald and clean-shaven. No more beard. He’d been growing and trimming that beard for three years now. It almost felt good to be clean-shaven again.

After his shower, he returned his toiletries to their rightful place and dressed in a white tank top, navy blue polyester and cotton blend trousers, his work boots, and his gun belt, which he always wore with his Ruger Redhawk in its holster. He looked himself over in the mirror one more time and almost had a hard time recognizing himself without hair on top of his head or his beard. ‘Joe, who you think you be?’ Joe shook his head and gave off a few mmpfhs. Then he headed to the galley.

The first step was to clean out the coffee pot, which was actually a stainless-steel urn holding almost four gallons of water, and used two and a half cups of ground coffee. He didn’t always fill the urn all the way, but the first mate told him to expect new crewmembers and more passengers. This next sortie would see the China Doll with more people aboard than previously he had seen.

While the coffee percolated, he gathered the ingredients for coffee cake. An hour and a half later, the fresh pastry was complete and cooling on the galley table. Joe had already finished three cups of coffee and was working on a fourth. His hand was shaking, but no one could say if it was the intake of caffeine or the deliberate denial of alcohol.

With the food and coffee set on the table, he turned his attention to cleaning the ship’s head and gathering up laundry from the crew members to begin cleaning clothes. With one load in the washing machine and one in the dryer, he brought out his H&K 770. Insuring it was clear of all ammunition and magazine, he grabbed that, the cleaning kit, and a rag and returned to the Galley. He cleaned the rifle while waiting on the laundry.

‘Miss Abbey is in rough shape. Ah saw what she lookt like after they brought her in. It was all mah fault. She must be so upset wit me.’ Joe had a lot of respect for the eighteen-year-old deck hand. ‘Miss Abby always appears hardened, independent, and spirited. Ah kin git behin’ a person like Miss Abby. She a good shot too. Abby Oakley.’ That thought put a smile on his face. ‘But ah don’ wanna see her yet. Ah’s so embarrassed by mah behavior…mah actshins on Greenleaf. That poor fella ah dun’ kilt. That was so wrong. Ah am shorely gonna go ta hell. I mus’ see a Shephard about this. Mebee I kin go seek one out on Pelorum?’ In the meantime, Joe made a plan to avoid Abby while aboard ship. He knew it would be difficult, but nonetheless necessary.

A few hours into the day, the First Mate showed up with his groceries. “Thank ya, Mister Yoo Ree! Ah knows you kin’t carry the heavy stuff, but mebee some of the lahter items? We’ll git them up to the galley fo’ storage.” Joe carried the heavier items, while the first mate carried some of the other stuff. “Mister Black ne’er helped me carry foodstuff. Might kin’ of you, mister Yoo Ree.”

When the stores had been put away, Joe completed an inventory of the cold storage, frozen and dry storage. He now had the following items on hand:



He added the Apple Pie, Blueberry Pie, Peach Cobbler, and assorted cookies to the coffee cake. They would be tossed at the end of the day. ‘Five days was long enough for these.’ He dumped the Beef Stew out and then planned meals for the day.

‘Looks like mashed potatoes would do fine along with some Pork Tenderloin and asparagus for dinner. Ah kin do a rub for the pork. For lunch, chicken wings, hot dogs, hamburgers, chips, and salsa or cheddar sauce.’ He started getting the meals ready. ‘Mister Yoo Ree named the new crew. Mister Yee Junk? That don’ soun raht…and a Mister Tommy would take Miss Penelope’s place on the bridge. Ah hope he kin fly this tub as well as her. She was good. Also a few passengers this trip. Miss Quill. She seemed nice, of what ah could see of her and Miss Ee-Mahn-ee. Not shore what the deal wit her is.’ Joe contemplated the new arrivals and what Yuri told him. Joe almost forgot about Sister Lyen. ‘Ah dun know if’n that Sister is comin aboard wit us. Mebee her too?’ lot’s ah mouths ta feed. That’s fo shore.’ Joe allowed a smile as he continued his work in the Galley.

'Ah think ah'll let the beard grow out agin.'

OOC: This takes place before Yuri delivers groceries to Hook. Apologies for my absence.

“C’mon,” Yuri gestured toward the ramp. “Follow me.”

After tucking the man’s documents into a pocket, the 1st mate led him through the empty cargo bay. “We’re on shore power right now,” he said over his shoulder as the sealing bulkhead lowered into place. The boat now secured from any prowling, Yuri led the pilot candidate as they took an aft stairway. “Just got in last night late, so we haven’t topped her off yet. This way.”

The pair arrived on the upper deck, Yuri’s narrative resuming as they entered the galley on their way forward. “Got a solid cook on this boat. Joe Hooker’s his name. Also appears to be a decent shot with a long rifle.” He glanced about. Failing to locate the man in question, Yuri shrugged. “He’s likely pulling double duty right now. We’ve got a deckhand who’s been given some extra bunk time to heal up. Here we go,” Yuri directed Tommy up the forward corridor to the open cockpit hatch. “Head on in.”

China Doll’s cockpit appeared none the worse for wear, even after the former first mate’s haphazard piloting. Everything still appeared clean and well ordered, a holdover from the spritely woman who’d last occupied the chair. “Have a seat,” Yuri offered. “She’s pretty close to yard spec. The captain…Cal Strand…hasn’t gone for any ‘hot rod’ mods over the years, so she should feel similar to your quals.”

As the pilot took to his console, the mate settled into the captain’s seat. “Feel free to run her through a preflight check. The radion core’s offline right now, and it goes without saying we can’t spin up the atmo engines with all that foot traffic, but short of that you should get a decent feel for her.”

The sound of switches flipping filled the air as Yuri removed Tommy’s documents from his pocket. His position afforded him the opportunity to gauge the man’s actions and body language, noting the thousand little tells which revealed experience, confidence, and the workings of his mind. I’ll have to compare notes with Sam, Yuri thought of the AI who must surely be observing the hands to which all their destinies might fall.

<Tag Tommy>

OOC: Working in “Yuri Time.”

Hook’s drastically increased provisions list had pretty far exceeded what the captain said they could afford, but in the end, Yuri tapped his own account for the overage. While it wasn’t a move he’d make on a regular basis, the newly minted first mate decided that a run of first class meals would pay real dividends in rewarding the crew for their tough stand last night. Especially Hook and Abby, he considered as a quick rev of the throttle sent the mule into China Doll’s cargo bay.

He knew that the young deckhand would receive more than her share of goodwill and nurturing from Dr. Lysanger and Edina. But Hook, he reasoned as he called the cook to join the offload, would be a tougher challenge. Without going to detail, Cap’n had made it clear that Joe had demons to wrestle. Yuri could see with his own eyes the pain written on Hook’s face, compounded by a sense of shame that drove him to isolation. He wasn’t a shrink, but the mechanic cum mate understood that it was the way of men such as Joe Hooker to salve their wounds through a self validating immersion in work.

And Yuri had plenty of that to dole out.

“Found everything,” he announced as Hook appeared in the cargo bay.

“Thank ya, Mister Yoo Ree! Ah knows you kin’t carry the heavy stuff, but mebee some of the lahter items? We’ll git them up to the galley fo’ storage.”

“Shiny,” the mate responded. The two men bundled their loads up the stairs, making several trips to empty the mule’s trailer. As Hook remained to store all the perishables, Yuri made the last couple runs with dry goods. “This is it,” he said as a number of fruit powder mixes tumbled onto the counter.

“Mister Black ne’er helped me carry foodstuff. Might kin’ of you, mister Yoo Ree.”

Yuri shrugged it off. “Wait til my broken wing’s all mended,” he chuckled. “Speaking of that,” he stopped, thoughts shifting gears to another pair of wings, “I've got to run. Let’s get together later this afternoon. We’ll divvy up the duty roster while Abby’s cooling her jets.”

As Hook busied himself in the galley, Yuri stepped into the forward corridor. “First hatch portside,” he whispered as his bearings settled on the compartment directly opposite the captain’s. With a slight grating noise, the ladder hatch swung down and open, releasing a cloud of noxious odors from the space within. “Ugh,” he grunted while climbing down into the locker room stink. This compartment, his future home, would take hours to clean before the first mate could even think of moving in. Not a task to which he was looking forward, but he wasn’t about to foist this off to one of the deckhands.

The parrot sat hunkered in his cage, a posture that even the uninitiated could read as being low in his spirits. “Hey Lucky,” he greeted the bird. “How’s your food and water holding up?”

Lucky shied to the back, clearly ill at ease with the stranger who now reached inside. His beak came open, a warning to those unfamiliar hands to keep their distance. Sure enough, his food bin held only the empty hulls of seeds. The water trough was disgusting; what water remained was clouded with excrement which was now forming a grey crust around the edges. “Oh, man,” Yuri frowned at the sorry state of affairs. “Your cage needs a good cleaning, doesn’t it?”

The bird didn’t move, save for the mistrustful eye which followed Yuri’s every move.

“Tell you what,” the human interloper spoked as he eased the bottom tray free. “I’ll have to come back after I find a liner, but for now, just the bare tray is better than this mess.” After carefully dumping the foul paper into an overflowing trash bin, Yuri set to scrubbing and resupplying Lucky’s food and water bins. The moment he withdrew his hands, the bird sidled along its’ perch to dip into a lengthy drink.

Yuri watched as Lucky drank to satisfaction. Think I heard that parrots are highly social, he considered as the bid moved on to crunch his way into the fresh seed. “This place doesn’t work for you,” he said out loud. “I conjure you’re gonna be with us for awhile, until we see your dad again.”

The parrot watched him, his look seemingly reflective as he chewed on a seed. “I’ve got a couple ideas,” Yuri said to his silent companion. “Let’s see what we can do for you. Back soon,” he offered the creature a simple goodbye as he took to the ladder. The first mate had promised himself to go visit China Doll’s youngest deckhand. Armed with a fresh purpose, Yuri headed for the lower deck, and Abby’s quarters.

---

And she certainly was watching. The artificial intelligence module dubbed S.A.M.N.T.H.A. whirred away in her little black box tucked away under the fore storage below the flight deck. From the moment he had set foot on deck and from every receiver, the AI cataloged the prospective pilot's movements, though from the capture scanner's poorly situated location in the console, visual data had been omitted.

She was practically leaning on the edge of her metaphorical seat as the communicator in the bulkhead listened for his response to the first mate's all-clear for him to make himself comfortable at the flight controls. Sam waited for him to check the China Doll's readings; to step squarely into the range of the capture sensor, so that she could get a full picture of this 'Tommy.' Her artificial brain already began erecting models which would become her understanding of the human before her.

Given name: Tommy (67% chance a shortened moniker for 'Thomas' || Thompson in some cases || An elongation of the name 'Tom' || An anachronism from Earth-That-Was denoting a soldier for the British army || A Japanese horror manga series featuring 'Tomi' Kawakami)
Surname: Unknown
Profession: Pilot (97% assumption due to Yuri's presence on the deck and conversation overheard on the coms after entry)
History: Unknown...

In the milliseconds before Tommy placed hands on the controls, SAM began running a search on the Cortex at large, using their location on Osiris, the man's first name, and profession as mile markers for narrowing the results. Until she discovered his surname, the search itself could possibly take an indeterminate amount of time with relative accuracy; and to an artificial intelligence, data was everything.

Rather than wait on her concurrent searches to yield results, the AI decided to engage the subject in a more direct manner.

"Greetings, Tommy, and welcome to the China Doll bridge."

The immutable logic of binary if and then statements riddled with if elses and try catches dictated from her study of the human condition that she ought to exchange pleasantries by way of introduction before moving on to vastly more pertinent information. The AI sighed internally, a secret circuit she'd forged to attempt a hands-on study of sarcasm vis a vis the limitations of thusly dubbed 'civil' conversation which precluded the transfer of data in a timely manner when conversing with humans.

<Tag Tommy>

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Tommy settled a hand reassuringly on his knife as he and Yuri walked through the closed in corridors of the China Doll. He had been surprised to be invited inside, but he supposed if this crew really needed a pilot as badly as they said, best to have him look at his new potential office before signing anything. Especially since based on the look of the crew, the China Doll was set to depart within a few days to make a profitable run through the black.

It wasn't long before they reached the cockpit, and Tommy eyed the pilot seat with mixed feelings of excitement and nervousness. He noted the lack of chaos typically found around a pilot's chair. Pilots, Tommy included, had a habit of viewing their seat as their personal throne through which they ruled the kingdom that was the ship even if it was at the orders of a Captain. He smiled a bit and slipped into the chair, taking a moment to relax at the increasingly familiar feel of the seat. Even if it was only his throne for a short time, he had a feeling he was going to like this ship.

“Feel free to run her through a preflight check. The radion core’s offline right now, and it goes without saying we can’t spin up the atmo engines with all that foot traffic, but short of that you should get a decent feel for her.”

Tommy's hands were already moving, dancing across controls and readouts in a series of basic flight checks. Everything appeared to be as Yuri said, fuel level was acceptable for a jump through the black, power readouts were within acceptable limits, and coolant and emergency measures appeared to be well in place and untampered with.

"Don't mind the unfamiliar hands darlin'," Tommy muttered to himself, or at least he thought it was to himself, "gotta learn a fine shape like yours to treat it right. I promise I'll be gentle exceptin those times when I can't."

He was halfway through running the checks a second time to look for irregularities when an unknown voice seemed to come out of the air itself.

"Greetings, Tommy, and welcome to the China Doll bridge."

"Gǎo shénme guǐ?(What the hell?)," Tommy hissed, his hand flying down to his sidearm and pulling it halfway out of the holster, already taking as much cover as could be found in the cockpit and putting the consoles between him and the door. His eyes scanned for a target and despite the rapid reaction, his breathing was calmed, nearly silent as he tried to find who, or what had spoken.

"Gorram haunted ship got ghosts of former pilots talkin to me now?," he muttered again when he could find no moving target to draw his attention. His body was tensed, ready to spring in any direction to save himself but his hand slowly slid the Firestar M-45 back into it's holster. Discharging a few rounds in the cockpit was a terrible way to introduce himself to the crew, he figured.

"Sorry, must not have heard ya coming up the corridor," Tommy called out, straightening to a standing position and continuing to peer into the entrance to the cockpit as his brain could only assume that is where the voice could have come from. "I'm uh... the pilot... potential pilot, I guess... H-Hello?"

---

As Tommy's hands sprung to work on the console, Sam cataloged his prominent facial features, any scarring, or birth marks. Though she had no real basis with which to compare, she accepted the human notion that the symmetry present in Tommy's visage would classify him as handsome. Herself? She was still dolled up in the myriad shells and beads courtesy of the last pilot to hold the post, tucked safely out of sight nestled in the communications bay.

The com behind Tommy crackled to life, "Hello, potential pilot Tommy, my name is Sam," her Bostonian accent lilted as her words emanated from the speaker fixed in the console. There was humor prevalent in her response, "And I don't think this ship is haunted, and I know every inch of her." Her crystalline voice somehow echoed through the com clearer than it should have, like she were sitting beside the pilot, leaning on the console with a smug look on her face--well, if she had one.

"Do you have a surname, Tommy?" The AI asked with an air of curiosity. Such data would vastly accelerate satisfaction of the historical and motivational unknowns present in the man's accumulating dossier. Already her initial analytic picked up on the nuances of his accent, his speech pattern, his timbre and 'yaw,' as it were.

<Tag Tommy>

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Tommy's brow furrowed in confusion as he eyed the com unit suspiciously, having traced the voice's origin point directly to it. Who was he talking to now? Another crew member somewhere in the ship? It had to be, right? Were they just too shy to come up and talk to him face to face? The whole conversation was setting him on edge, but he tried his best to keep it out of his voice.

"A Sir-name? Naw, I ain't much of a nob-," Tommy's face flushed slightly, "oh, you mean a family name. Sorry, my usual conversation partners can't even spell surname most of the time. It's Pearson. Tommy Pearson."

He moved back around to the front of the consoles, taking another look towards the entrance to the cockpit and reassuring himself that no one was in fact standing in the shadows messing with him. He took the pilot's seat again and after a few moments of eyeing the comm system again, began resuming his secondary checks of the China Doll's systems.

"Mind if I inquire who I'm talking to?," Tommy said as he stared at the readouts, satisfied that nothing was terribly out of the ordinary, at least, not that it appeared to his eyes. Of course, the last time he had been this close to a Firefly class had been back during the war.

"It's a little disconcertin' to be talkin to a squawk box, be easier to talk face to face yeah?" Tommy said, leaning back in the chair and relaxing slightly as one boot came up to rest on the edge of the console. "Are you a member of the crew or one of the passengers?"

OOC: Cal Strand appears courtesy of @wanderingwolf.

To say that Yuri was surprised at the revelation would be an understatement. It was now becoming clear that Sam was on track to becoming the worst kept secret on the boat. “I’m sorry,” he spoke up. “Tommy Pearson, meet S.A.M.A.N.T.H.A, our resident AI. Sam, Tommy,” the first mate concluded. “Very like to be our new pilot. Sam’s okay,” he offered a conspiratorial grin. “We’re slowly getting her wired into ships’ systems, but there’s about four generations of interfacing we’ve got to account for…so don’t fret. She’ll replace my job before she replaces yours,” he tossed a crooked smile toward Sam’s optical pickup.

Though hoping the jape would reap the fruits of the system’s developing penchant for wit, Yuri instead heard the Captain’s summons. “One arm…meet me in the cargo bay. We got business in town.”

The mate rose to his feet, a hand outstretched to clutch at the dangling intercom mic. “On my way,” he answered. Having made an artful sorting of Tommy’s paper records for easy capture by Sam, he addressed the pilot. “You passed my muster,” Yuri said to the newcomer. “Once you pass the ‘Sam’ test, you’re in. Now, SAMANTHA,” he said, “when you’re satisfied, kindly direct Mr. Pearson to his quarters…the cabin our former pilot used. I conjure she left it sparkling,”

<tag Sam>

The order given, he regarded the new aviator. “Welcome aboard the China Doll,” Yuri offered his hand. As the two men shook, he said, “I’ll look you up when I’m finished with the captain.”

<tag Tommy>

---

Before Sam had the opportunity to reply to Tommy's queries, Yuri spoke up.

"Will do, Mr. Antonov," it almost sounded like there ought to be a wink following the salute, but as she had neither eyes nor arms, the incorporeal feeling would suffice.

It was almost with delight that Sam's circuits accepted Yuri's offering of Tommy's particulars. Now, any existing searches into the identity of Tommy Pearson were augmented to fine tune for typical background biographical information. Soon, the AI had a spread of information unfurled in front of her like a deck of cards with which to build her model of the bonafide Mr. Pearson.

"To answer your question, Tommy, I'm neither crew nor passenger." There was a clicking static through the bridge com momentarily as if she were considering her reply. "And at the current juncture I have no interface with which to project an image for you to reference. Apologies." Her sterile tone tapered into one of disappointment.

"I see you fought in the war," Sam's tone was even as she gauged Tommy's facial expression. "But you signed on as an engineer." Her matter of fact tone continued, "What makes you qualified as a pilot?"

<Tag Tommy>

Fitzpatrick wasn’t having any of his man’s account. “Not sure you’ve been reading the tea leaves, detective.” The captain’s desk chair emitted a screech as he shifted an uncomfortable amount of girth to nearly envelope an armrest. “I sign off on investigating anyone, let alone a nun? Based on one visit to a boat and stories from a couple tweakers? Take a minute to think about those optics.”

“Sir,” Hekubah landed his elbows on the desk, before a fresh scowl from his captain signaled their hasty withdrawal. “They’ve supplied me with good info in the past…”

“Right,” Fitzpatrick cut him off. “You bring me something like kids getting drops from the BZ? That I can take to the Commissioner. But her?” A pudgy finger bent slightly backwards as he pressed it into the still capture. For the moment, Sister Lyen Giu’s face was obscured as the precinct commander brought the weight of his office crashing down on the detective. “That nun’s a royal pain the the pi gu, detective, but she’s…off…limits. No stakeouts, no tails. And no personal O.T. either. She’s got powerful friends up the chain. Long as they’re pumping coin into her soup kitchens and med clinic, everybody’s happy…including the Commissioner. You got me, Ernie?”

Hekubah closed the open file. “Yeah, yeah. I got you. But there’s something happening, and she’s neck deep in it. My DI’s tell me she walked right into a faceoff between a boat crew and the BZ Kings last night…in the brickyard. Today, I saw her come right off that same boat in the port. We know she’s been seen with both Zona Libre and suspected Browncoat radicals…”

Fitzpatrick lifted his hand for silence. “Been to the U of O campus lately? The Student Union building is wallpaperred in Zona Libre posters. Kids are all shouting slogans and trying to out ‘Che Guevara’ each other. Never seen so many freakin’ berets.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. The point is this. You can’t walk that campus or the blackout zone without tripping over a half dozen nose pickers playing at being a revolutionary. Until you can connect the dots on this, all we can prove is the Sister’s milking a cause celebre from both ends.”

“Just give me the time, Captain,” Hekubah pleaded.

A fresh protest squealed from the chair as the senior officer rocked back. He folded his hands atop his belly, his well worn signal of deep thought. Hekubah would’ve laughed at the sight, but for the fire in his own belly. “Tell you what,” Captain Fitzpatrick turned a profile to the detective. “You can either work this as unpaid O.T., or burn some vacay on it.” Now he turned again to lean forward. “You bring me something. Something solid I can take upstairs,” his brows lifted for emphasis, “then I’ll see you get recompense and full credit for the collar. Best I can do.”

Ernest Hekubah pondered the ball now resting in his court. “Vacay,” he finally said. “I’ve got a week, but Connie killed me in the divorce. Rather do this than watch a bunch of broadwave and eat ramen.”

“Fair enough,” the captain nodded in reply. “I’ll authorize it.” As the detective rose for the door, the precinct captain stopped him. “Ernie.”

“Yeah, Phil?”

“Bùyào gǎo zá zhège.” (trans - “Don’t fuck this up.”)

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Never thought I'd have the gorram ship questioning my ability, Tommy thought to himself as he stared at the consoles, a bit wide eyed at the revelation of an artificial intelligence on the China Doll. The ramifications of having an actual true AI... he started to wonder just who in the hell he had managed to sign himself up with. Were they black market dealers? Did they need the AI to bypass Alliance blocks?

He took off his hat and ran a hand through his closely cropped brown hair. "Right to the meat of the issue," he muttered, then held up a hand though he wasn't sure what direction to gesture in, "sorry, meant no offense about the meat thing."

He wasn't sure how much control the AI was permitted of the ship, but he didn't care to find out by pissing it off.

"If you're lookin' at my war records, you're right," he began, sighing heavily, "I didn't so much fight as run supplies as avoid getting shot. Sure I burned my share of gunpowder at the Alliance, but I was hardly what you might call the front line type."

"I spent a few years runnin a Komodo class. Different from the China Doll, I know, but beggars and choosers," Tommy continued, "got my pilot's wings the way half the men in the Independence Army did... previous owner was killed right in front of me and no one else was quicker to take the controls. My military record is a mess on the part of the piss poor job the administration did, but trust me, I've got more than a few years sailing the black."

"Can't say I've spoken with an AI before," Tommy said, "you my co-pilot on this bird? Or do you have some other role to play here Miss Samantha? It is Miss, right?"

OOC: Cal Strand appears courtesy of the traveling @wanderingwolf

“So there it is.” The mule idled, it’s two cycle engine softly sputtering as the captain and his first mate regarded the checkpoint. Yuri noticed two heavy, motorized gates, positioned on either side of an opening in what he judged to be an eight meter retaining wall. At this hour of the day, the guards left both gates open. As he watched, a ragged looking man in workman’s coveralls was stopped in the space between. While one guard stood ready with his autorifle, his mate checked the contents of a tool pouch in the man’s possession. Finding nothing of interest, they waved him on his way and beckoned a small group of scantily dressed women to enter the crossing zone. “Whattya think, One-Arm?”

Yuri eyed the women, apparently prostitutes returning to the blackout zone from a private party that had only just ended. As he watched, handbags were opened, but given only cursory examination as the guards appeared more interested in pawing at the women themselves. After a round of ‘slap-and-tickle’ that was clearly not enjoyed, the working girls were sent on their way into the crowded ghetto beyond. “That’s interesting,” he observed.

Cal revved the engine, kicking the ATV into gear. Yuri lurched inside the small utility trailer as they set off for the boat. “Couldn’t stick too long,” the captain said over his shoulder as they rolled away. “City’s got security captures on every block. Now,” he said as they rattled around a corner. “What’s interesting?”

“The guards, Captain. They dug through bags and got handsy with the women, but not a single ident card came out.”

“And what do you conjure that means?”

“Some other kind of tracking. I don’t know. Facial recognition, bioscan…some kind of tech at play here.” Yuri watched as the surrounding businesses and storefronts grew more rapidly upscale as they increased their distance from the blackout zone. “So how many do we have to get through?”

“Bout forty.”

“Forty.” Antonov forced his composure.

“Yup.”

Yuri’s mind worked furiously. Forty, in three days’ time. A challenge in and of itself, not the least of which was some form of legitimate excuse for them to just waltz right through the checkpoint. “Any idea how we’re doing it, sir?”

Cal shrugged as he steered them toward the spaceport. “Not ‘til you come up with one. Oh yeah, forgot to tell you. We’re meetin’ the Sister in a couple hours to tell her your plan.”

“Oh!” Yuri’s eyes widened. “Shiny!”

The rest of the trip passed in silence. Yuri pondered the problems…now his problems. Get ‘em out in small, unobtrusive groups, he added to his mental checklist. Get some read on how the BZ folk are tracked at the checkpoint…that’s the real issue. Other concerns began taking root in his thinking, but they were the problems related to secreting forty souls aboard a Class 3 Firefly. He’d have to ‘back burner’ those for the moment.

What reason would these folk have to come and go through the checkpoint? What legitimate purpose would keep the guards sufficiently bored? That was sticky. Men could be masqueraded as day laborers or tradesmen. Women…housekeepers and whores…but that was a stretch. And children? How to slip them past watchful eyes? He shook his head. This is madness. What could all these people be up to?

He’d seen damned little of the blackout zone himself. The empty space in which they’d faced off with the bikers offered no clues as to what industry might be a decent ruse. “Just piles of old bricks,” he muttered aloud.

“You say somethin’?” Cal asked as the spaceport gate drew near.

“No, Captain. Just thinking about last night in the blackout zone. Couldn’t see a thing in that open space but a bunch of old bricks…” Something tickled around the corners of his mind. Something old…a story? No…

“All I saw as well,” the Captain nodded. “Whole area was stripped clean. Looked like it’s been used for more’n one boat slippin’ in an’ out.”

Yuri’s brow furrowed. “I think so. Still tricky landing among those brick piles, sir. My compliments. They oughtta clear those out…”

“You tryin’ to suck up, One-Arm?”

Clear those out… Somewhere in Yuri’s mind, a bell rang, and a connection snapped in. “Clear those out…clear those out!” he said. “Not a story! A joke!”

“Do you need to see the doc?” Cal cocked an eyebrow as he guided the mule onto China Doll’s cargo ramp.

“That’s it,” Yuri chuckled to himself as the engine cranked to a halt. “No sir. Just thinking about a joke my father loved telling.”

Strand fixed his first mate with a droll gaze. “Well that’s all nice and such. Save it for story hour.”

“No!” Yuri exclaimed as he climbed out of the trailer. “My father just figured out how we get our people out!” He could tell by the captain’s deadpan expression that his epiphany wasn’t going to make it thirty seconds. “Please, Captain.” Yuri lifted a hand. “Give me just a minute.”

“Just,” Cal fixed the mate with a dubious eye.

“The joke comes from my family’s homeland on Earth-That-Was,” Yuri began. “A man worked at a tractor plant. Every day when work stopped, he’d come out of the plant, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with scraps and useless junk. Every day, the security guard would stop him and go through it to look for stolen tools or parts. But he found nothing.”

“Is this going somewhere?”

“Yes, sir, yes sir,” Yuri nodded vigorously. “This went on for forty years. Every day, the worker wheeled out junk. Every day, the guard searched and came up with nothing. Finally, both men were retired and living on their pensions. One day, they bumped into each other at a tavern, and decided to share a bottle of vodka and reminisce over old times.”

Cal tapped his watch, urging Yuri to wrap it up.

“The former guard said, ‘I never figured it out, Comrade Worker. I know you were stealing something, but I could never solve the mystery.” Now a smile rose to Yuri’s lips as he remembered his father’s laughter at the punchline. “And the worker says, ‘It’s easy, Comrade Security Guard. I was stealing wheelbarrows!” Yuri couldn’t help but laugh along with the memory, until the captain’s withering eye stopped his mirth dead in its’ tracks.

“I know you’re gonna get to the point,” Cal said.

“Yes, sorry, sir. Wheelbarrows! And bricks! We haul bricks!”

“Now I think I should get the doc.”

“No, no!” Yuri protested. “It’s easy! Our people roll wheelbarrows of old bricks out…and different folk roll empty wheelbarrows back in!”

“Different folk,” Cal repeated.

“Yes sir!”

“And where we gonna get these ‘different folk?”

Now the smile returned to Yuri’s face. “If what you told me about the Sister and her connections is true, she can provide some…volunteers?”

“Volunteers.”

“Yes, Captain. Sounds like she’s popular with the college crowd. My guess is there are enough idealistic kids whose rich parents can buy their way out of trouble if they get caught?” He could see the captain’s mind at work, chewing the details and weighing options as the harsh expression slowly faded. Presently, Cal’s furrowed brow gave way to a lift that might even be called ‘pleasant.’

“Shiny,” the Captain turned for the aft hatch. “That’s our play until the Sister shoots holes in it. I gotta send a long wave. Call a crew meeting in ten ticks,” he ordered. “Passengers, too. Not gonna leave them blind about this.”

Yuri’s smile widened. “Right away, Captain.”

“Your dad did good,” Cal said. “Now you’ve gotta suss out how those folk are bein’ tracked.”

“I’m on it,” the first mate answered. “I need to watch that entrance a bit more. Promised Edina I’d take her for a drink tonight. There’s a little cafe across the street from the checkpoint. That should give me a chance to put eyes on it.”

Captain Strand stopped before the open hatch. “Don’t I have a policy about crew datin’ passengers?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh,” Cal shrugged. “Remind me to make one sometime.”

Part 1 of a JP/collab from @Xandrya, @Herald, @PatientBean, @Gunther, @Theyra, and [@sail3695

“Listen up, everyone.” Yuri’s voice echoed throughout the ship. “This is the first mate. Captain’s called for a meeting of all passengers and crew. Be in the galley in ten minutes.”

Abby couldn’t wait. While they’s moments she didn’t mind jest layin’ around, never felt bein’ aboard a workin’ boat was time or place. She hustled up the steps, bare feet hardly makin’ a sound as she climbed. Weren’t til she set foot in tha galley that she conjured a few more stitches ‘o’ clothes mighta been called for. Weren’t nothin’ wrong with her sleepin’ togs…anyone’s been on China Doll seen her eatin’ breakfast in boxers an’ her BLAME THE DOG tank top.

Nah, she reckoned as she grabbed a bottle ‘o’ Cap’n Bob’s, guess I’m showin’ off a few bruises today. Abby took ‘er reg’lar chair an’ sat down, foldin’ ‘er legs tribal style beneath ‘er afore takin’ a deep swallow of cola.

Quill had been sitting on her bed, pouring over some of the previous files she had obtained when she heard Yuri’s voice over the comms. She set her documents down as she listened. A shipwide meeting? That could mean a plethora of things. It would be standard to have meetings for the crew, but to include the passengers of the ship also? She had to admit, she was intrigued.

She put her documents away safely before she checked herself. It wouldn’t do to meet up with the entire ship looking anything less than ideal. She opted for a black silk top with a scarlet red skirt that hit just above her knee. And, of course, black heels. Everyone needs a statement piece. Satisfied she looked presentable, she left her room and made her way to the galley, thankful for the previous tour she received from the Captain.

Yijun had been in his room, lying down on his bed with his hands behind his head thinking about things. Mainly his next move if Pelorum proves to be a problem for him. That was when he heard the shipwide call for a meeting. What could that mean, he thought. Well better see what the captain wants to talk about. Getting up quickly from the bed and making sure his pistol was firmly concealed on his person. .

He made his way to the galley. Made easier with the tour that Yuri gave him. Wearing a simple attire, a gray shirt with white pants. Nothing fancy as that was not his style and liked to keep things simple when he wanted to. Not like he has to impress anyone on this ship.

A sigh escaped her lips. Imani was sitting cross-legged on the deck, a small, square mirror propped up against the bulkhead. She had it angled so she could see the strands of hair she was cutting. It was indeed an impulsive move, but she figured a fringe cut would suit her. Half the time, her impulses did right by her; needless to say, she hoped this was one of those instances.

"...aaand done."

Putting the scissors down, Imani slowly moved her head side to side. She used her fingertips to mess around with her hair, failing to see any major concerns then. Satisfied, she uncrossed her legs and got herself to her feet, the red and gold print cheongsam dress flowing down to her ankles. Not feeling quite social yet, Imani wasn't all that thrilled to attend a meeting, especially since she was nothing but a passenger.

Alana was on her way to seeing Abby to make sure she was feeling better all over, but her plans changed. Once the announcement was made, Alana turned on her heel to retrace her steps, the datapad swinging along within her hand. She supposed she had the easy option of asking Abby those few pertinent questions after the meeting, keeping her back once everyone went about their business once more. Cal was also on her mind, but she was none too happy about that mess. She'd cleared him and aside from a generic warning to stay safe, she refrained from further nagging. Some things simply couldn't be helped.

Edina’s eyes lifted, finding the speaker from which Yuri’s disembodied voice came into her cabin. She’d only just returned from her errand, and empty handed, to boot. Capital City was…expensive…too much so for a woman who attempted to stretch her coin to travel so far that Andres would never find her. Just have to get Abby’s book when we reach Pelorum, she thought as she checked the time.

After a quick glance at one of the lave mirrors, her footsteps brought her to the stairway…and a woman she’d not met. “Hello,” Edina offered an easy smile to the attractive blonde. “New passenger?”

Quill was half paying attention when she heard a woman’s voice. Quill glanced up to see a rather attractive woman in front of her. If she had to guess, the other woman was a passenger. “Hello. Yes, I got on the ship recently. What about yourself? Passenger or crew?”

As she waited for the woman’s response, Quill gestured forward, allowing the woman to take the lead towards their destination.

Tommy rose out of the pilot’s seat, an old printed series of word puzzles and mathematical exercises left abandoned on the consoles as he brushed the last crumbs of a hastily eaten meal from his shirt. A smile darted across his face as Yuri finished his announcement. He had been looking forward to this for a bit now and was eager to have a sit down with the rest of the crew and their guests aboard the China Doll. As he caught his reflection in a monitor, he lamented the fact he had forgotten to shave again, but hoped the Captain wouldn’t mind overmuch.

After all, he was new here and still had much to learn about the China Doll, her rules, and her crew. Besides, it had been far too long since he had a decent cup of coffee and longer still since he had had partners to converse with. Patting the pilot’s seat as though bidding the ship to wish him luck, he started walking towards the galley.

“I guess I’m a passenger.” The smile translated to brown eyes that regarded Quill with unabashed admiration. “I’m Edina Wyman,” she thought of offering her hand, but decided such a greeting might be awkward while both were climbing the stairs. “I’ve been aboard for a few runs. Not quite sure where I’m bound,” she said as they reached the upper deck, “but China Doll’s been a pretty good place to stay while I figure it out.”

This new woman was a master of first impressions, from the subtly stunning choice of apparel to highlights in both her hair and cosmetics. She carried the package with a relaxed sense of grace that artfully did away with any self conscious doubt for those in her company. When her gaze fell upon Edina, the feeling conveyed was that the rather plainly dressed woman was bestowed the whole of her focus…a nonverbal affirmation that warmed the soul. She offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

...to be continued…

Part 2 of a JP/collab from @Xandrya, @Herald, @PatientBean, @Gunther, @Theyra, and [@sail3695

Joe Hooker had busied himself with work. He set a clean pot of coffee to brew that morning, ate breakfast, and prepared some food for those who wanted to eat – eggs, bacon, waffles, syrup and whatever coffee cake remained. He cleaned up the galley, leaving to take care of the head.

The commodes were scrubbed down, the sinks cleaned and mirrors polished. He swept the floors and scrubbed the shower stalls. The trash would be removed when he was finished. But before he could complete the task, the first officer called for a meeting in the galley. He looked himself over in the mirror, rubbing his bald head. It would take time to get used to that. He felt the slight stubble on his face mentally echoing his decision to let the beard grow back in.

As he walked to the galley, he watched the passengers and possibly new crew moving into his workplace. He didn’t know all of them yet. He saw Miss Edina. She remained aboard ship with them. He was fine with her. She took to his Redhawk pretty well. Good thing she didn’t have to use it. He spotted Abby seated cross legged and decided not to look at her. However, Joseph Hooker couldn’t avoid her forever. He was aware of that. The marks on her face made him feel terrible. Selecting a white mug from the cupboards, he poured himself a cup of black coffee. The China Doll’s cook and deckhand slid into the back of the room. Sipping the coffee, Joe remained silent waiting for the first officer and captain to enter the room and begin the meeting.

Quill followed the woman, Edina as she introduced herself, into the galley. Once they were off the stairwell she turned and offered her hand. Quill accepted the shake and got a good look at the woman. What would be called plain clothes still looked good on her frame. She radiated a warmth tha Quill couldn’t place. Whatever it was, Quill felt welcomed.

“Quill Cassidy, a pleasure.” Once inside the galley, Quill took a look around as others slowly came. One was already sitting down, doing her best to not look at anyone else. The other was a man. She felt a little at odds, not knowing everyone on the ship, but that never stopped her before. She made her way over to a seat close to the girl sitting down. “Hope you don’t mind me sitting here. Name’s Quill.” She didn’t offer a hand. Mainly because she didn’t know if the girl would accept it or not.

Observant and quiet, that’s how Alana arrived at the galley. She glanced over the new faces, delighted by the additional bodies. Amongst them was the current crew too, and she couldn't help but notice Hook's expression. The man looked tormented, though with his guilt came her own. She excused herself past one of the new girls with the bangs and stood by the cook, offering a quick "Hey" as a greeting as she settled by his side. "What do you make of this fresh crowd?"

“Ah dunno Doc. They’s all new ta me.” Joe spoke in hushed tones. He didn’t want to give off any bad vibes to the new people. “Ah prefer to give folks the benefit of the doubt. Ah’m shore they’s good people.”

The man himself hadn't arrived yet, though jus' about his whole crew and possible passengers were present, one of them excusing herself past Imani. A nod and sidestep later and her way was cleared as Imani placed herself away from anyone's personal space. Some were chatting among themselves, but given the all-call, the woman figured it best to standby and deal with introductions at a later time, if of course such preference was afforded and no one went up to her.

Hook moved about, lookin’ right past ‘er like she’s jest a hole in space. Abby’s mouth hung open, tha “hi” froze up on ‘er tongue’s she conjured he ain’t havin’ no truck with ‘er. Feelin’ that door slammed shut in ‘er face an’ not knowin’ tha ‘why’ of it, she fell silent an’ took tah hidin’ that confusion behind a big swallow of cola.

Mebbe I shouldn’t ‘a’ come. The girl ruminated on that a spell as China Doll’s galley filled with a host ‘o’ new faces. One come from up forward; seein’s only things up that corridor was crew berths an’ cockpit, two an’ two soon made four. Doc had tole her Pen found ‘er fam’ly back on Greenleaf…so this fella was like tah be their new pilot. As for Doc, she’s here too, conversatin’ with Hook, leastways tryin’ tah.

They’s a couple others, a woman an’ a man’ both got their guard up about ‘em’s they sized up tha room. That’s how it is, she considered. Folk come an’ go in tha ‘verse. Even crew. Even here. Uncle Bob used tah tell ‘er she’s best off playin’ a cool hand with folk. “You cain’t be sure ‘o’ nobody ‘til tha wolf’s at tha door, Chickpea.” She’d be wise tah remember his words.

A hand squeezed ‘er shoulder. Abby looked up from ‘er thinkin’ tah see Ms. Wyman smilin’ down on ‘er. “Hi.”

“Save me that seat,” Edina gestured toward the empty chair at Abby’s right hand. “Be right back.” With an unobtrusive smile for Hook and the Doc, she went about getting herself a mug of the aromatic coffee.

“Shiny,” Abby give ‘er a nod as tha chair tah her left scraped across tha deck. Pertiest woman she ever did see took a seat an’ made introductions. Quill she thought on tha name. She knew ‘bout quills. Pirate Cap’n in that book she read…’Skulls and Cutlasses’...used a quill all tha time fer markin’ his charts an’ writin’ some durn racy letters tah women. She never took it fer a name, but as she turned toward this powerful perty woman, that simple word put on a kinda glow.

“Hi. Chair’s all yourn’,” she answered. “I’m Abby, a deckhand.” One look at Quill an’ she’s of a mind tah run back tah quarters fer a change, ‘til she conjured ain’t nothin’ she ever wore would come close tah tha royalty now sittin’ at her left. Ain’t we a pair? Thought sorta struck ‘er funny. Beauty an’ tha beast.

Joe spotted Miss Edina and smiled back at her. She had given him the Ruger back after they retrieved Miss Abby. He noted, she appeared happy she didn’t have to use it. It has quite a kick, but he was certain Miss Edina could have handled it. He also noted the attractive blonde haired woman. If he was in a different mindset he would have other thoughts on that subject, but his head was not in the right place at the moment. An Asian woman and a couple of young men. He was aware Miss Penelope was gone. ‘One of ‘em must be replacin’ the pilot,’ Joe thought to himself. ‘The Asian woman was not bad looking either.’ He was actually happy to see the Doc. He’d considered running away again. It was his typical Modus Operandi, so to speak. But seeing a few friendly faces helped to keep him in place. He might just consider taking a leave of absence for a term and returning sometime in the future. He still wanted to seek out a shepherd.

...to be continued...

Part 3 of a JP/collab from @Xandrya, @Herald, @PatientBean, @Gunther, @Theyra, and [@sail3695

Quill sat down, letting her hand fall. She observed the young girl, Abby was her name. She was very young. Quill wondered how long she had been on this ship. She couldn’t be more than 20, possibly younger. That left a weird feeling in her gut. “Pleasure to meet you Abby. Been on this ship long?”

Quill acknowledged that her appearance was…different than most of the others she had come across. She mentally chastised herself for not dressing a different way. If she was going to be on this ship, she would have to look differently. It wasn’t like she was working on this vessel. “Any idea what the meeting is for?” Quill assumed meetings like this were standard and that the others would be more aware of what is to be expected.

“Bout a year, give or take,” the deckhand answered. “She’s a good boat. Hope yah like ‘er, ma’am.” Abby weren’t one tah go readin’ inta folk’s mannerisms, but she could tell sight ‘o’ her done set off somethin’ behind tha perty lady’s eyes. [i]Shoulda put muh robe on,[i] she looked over both arms an’ legs. I look like a gorram dalmatian…

Next question come, an’ she conjured it tah be a good place fer explainin’ ‘erself. “No ma’am,” she shook ‘her head. “I been in muh bunk. Our doc…that’s her, right there,” she pointed toward Alana’s blond hair, “done put me on a couple days’ bed rest. Nothin’ serious,” Abby waved a hand at ‘er bruises. “Jest got banged up a skosh.”

Conversation fell silent as Yuri Antonov entered the galley. “Thanks for coming,” his glance swept over those seated at the table and the outliers standing about. “Captain’s on a long wave. He’ll join us soon as he can. In the meantime, he wanted me to fill you all in on a few things.”

The first mate took a seat next to the captain’s chair in the hopes that the last few passengers might join the table. “Long story short,” he began, “we received a little help last night from a nun, Sister Lyen Giu. I think her sect is called the Order of the Interverse, but don’t quote me.” He glanced about the table, eyes pausing upon Edina and the teenager sitting next to her. “She did us a great favor,” he resumed, “and now, the captain is more than happy to pay her back in kind. So here’s how it is.”

He rested his elbows upon the table, leaning forward to get to the heart of the matter. “Not certain if you know anything about Capital City’s blackout zone. If you do, sing out if I make a mistake. It’s a rough place,” Yuri continued, “a dumping ground for the poor, the physically or mentally challenged, former convicts…and even folk who make their prayers differently. Conditions inside are very harsh. The place is a ghetto. Disease, hunger, drugs, human trafficking…it’s all running wild in the blackout zone. Short of manning checkpoints to control day laborers coming and going, the Alliance pays it no heed beyond tossing in anyone who doesn’t fit the mold.”

The first mate dug inside one end of his cast, combatting an itch as he spoke. “The prime export of the Capital City blackout zone is slaves. Sister Lyen,” he spoke to a silent room, “does all she can to combat the practice, but since the slave trade is legal in the Alliance, she doesn’t get much support. And that,” he nodded his head, eyes moving to meet each person as he spoke, “is where we come in.”

He cleared his throat. “Sister’s been shepherding a group of folk who all share the same religious sect...Anabaptists, I think they’re called, but I could be wrong. I’m not a religious man,” he said. “These Anabaptists take “turn the other cheek” to a whole new level. They will not raise a hand in anger, and I’m told they view any servitude as fair and just. Knowing that, it’s pretty easy to conjure how that would make them perfect slaves. We know,” he continued, “that slavers are looking to scoop up the whole lot of ‘em…which doesn’t sit right with the captain. So we’re gonna help Sister Lyen get ‘em out.”

Edina’s eyes hadn’t left Yuri since he entered the galley. “Do we know how?” she asked.

He offered her a half smile. “We’ve got an idea,” the first mate replied, “but still have one or two kinks to work out.”

Quill took her eyes off of Abby as the first mate started speaking. She would address the young girl later. As Yuri spoke up about their future plans Quill grew concerned. She didn’t expect that in joining a Firefly she would be tasked with taking down slave traders. She wasn’t against those types getting what they deserved, but Quill glanced around the room they were in. Did they really expect this ragtag group of people to be able to provide help? Granted, Quill knew very little about her fellow shipmates.

“I can only speak for myself, but you lot on this ship know very little about me and the other passengers on here, at least the new ones. There’s also going to be a lot of work involved. I guess my question is…do you believe in this whole team being able to do this job?” She wasn’t sure if the Captain shared with Yuri what Quill did for a living. She could handle herself, but did they really trust a ship full of friends and strangers to suddenly all work together?

Doing right by her...only fair after last night.

Alana knew the drill, as much as she wouldn't like to admit. Quill, she believed her name to be, was right. A shipful composed of old and new faces would have to look past any differences to successfully make this work. Thus far she knew that wouldn't be an issue for the current crew, and Alana was hoping the same could be said of these strangers.

"I take it as long as there's a plan, there's a way." Alana wanted to be optimistic, if for no other reason than to make herself believe her own words.

Joe pondered the words the first officer was saying. He gave it some thought, but had too many questions. It did strike him as a futile endeavor or at the very least an endeavor that would bring some unnecessary heat down upon the China Doll.

“Is there anythin’ we can do to these slavers, tah discourage them from pursuin’ this group of Anabaptists?” Joe Hooker asked aloud. “If not, what kin we do tah protect them if the slavers decide they want to pursue us?”

She scratched the side of her head, right above the ear, then leaned on the counter to rest her chin on her open palm. The first mate had brought up unfamiliar business, business that seemed to be quite troublesome. But who was Imani if not someone used to being in the face of danger.

"A whole lotta plannin'. We run some of the most likely scenarios and prepare accordingly." She wasn't addressing the bald man, but merely thinking out loud.

...to be continued…

Part 4 of a JP/collab from @Xandrya, @Herald, @PatientBean, @Gunther, @Theyra, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

“Best plan is for the slavers to have nothin’ to chase.” Cal strode into the galley, his bearing exuding confidence as he found the table’s head. “To tell it true, we got the start of a pretty solid plan, all thanks to Yuri’s pa.” In moments like these it almost seemed like he enjoyed playing cryptic. Judging by the furrowed brows and open confusion on several faces, Cal thought to pat himself on the back. ‘Cept for Abigail. Look on her face was like she caught wise but wasn’t about to rat him out.

“So our first mate here gave you the four-one-one on why we gotta get these folk out, “ the captain glanced about the table. “In a minute I’ll give you what we know about how. “First,” he brought the silver case to hand. With a skilful flip of the lid, Cal had a cigarette between two fingers and a match flaring without missing a beat. “I wanted all you passengers to conjure what’s about to happen. Now we mean to run this whole operation on the down low, but if somethin’ goes crawfishy, there could be a chance of some unpleasantness.”

He took a deep pull, filling his lungs with blessed smoke that soon expelled skyward. “Any passenger don’t want to be tied up with this, we totally get your meanin’. I’ll personally hand over your coin as you step off. But what the pretty lady said was true,” the captain tossed a smile toward Quill, “there’s work to be done, and good trouble to be faced. We’d be much obliged if any of you thought to pitch in for the good of these folk.”

“What do you need, Captain?” Edina’s voice broke in before any noticeable pause could settle over the room. Her serious countenance cracked just a bit at sight of Yuri’s smile.

“Got a few things to fetch,” Cal acknowledged the passenger. “Off the top of my head, I’m thinkin’ beddin’...pillows, blankets, an’ such…enough for forty souls.” Ignoring the quiet gasp, he continued, “when these people come, they're apt to have just the clothes on their backs, so we gotta have everything they need to handle a two day flight. Mayhaps soap, tooth brushes, towels an’ rags, things women need,” he looked past the females as he touched upon an uncomfortable topic. “Oh, almost forgot. Wheelbarrows. We need ten. The rougher they are, the better. Prefer to rent, but we’ll buy if we have to.” It was fairly obvious to all who sat at the table that Cal Strand was clearly enjoying playing with the building blocks of his latest caper. “Abigail,” his gaze fell upon the deckhand. “I conjure nobody knows better where to hide forty folk on a Firefly than a little bilge rat who grew up in one. That sound like a thing you can do?”

Abby grinned all wry back at Cal. “I’m yer rat, Cap’n.”

“Shiny,” he cast an affectionate eye toward the girl. “When I came in, Miss Imani was talkin’ about a plan and some practice. Good call, seein’s we’re about to have forty movin’ parts on this boat. Can I draft you for that?” he asked the woman.

"Happy to be of service..." she added with a reassuring nod. Imani then exchanged glances with the doctor who happened to be glancing 'er way. She stared right back, her expression neutral as if waiting for some sort of response, but none came.

Happy to be of service... Alana mocked the woman right back. Might as well grab his hand and skip on out the galley. She got they had new guests onboard, but if nothing else, they better hope they learn a thing or two in boundaries for their own sake, even if Imani helped him escape the bar with his life.

As it is with men, Cal was completely oblivious to the silent exchange. “Much obliged,” he gave Imani a grateful nod. “But here’s the thing. We can’t be drawin’ any interest in this. Somebody buyin’ forty pillows all at once is gonna raise eyebrows. Ones an’ twos, people,” he ordered. “Mr. Hooker,” the captain turned his eye upon the cook, “I know we just stocked you up pretty full for a short flight. Gonna have to stretch your pantry to feed all those extra mouths outta what we have, copy?”

“Roger that, Cap’n,” Joe responded. “Won’t be a problem.”

”Ku. You, me, and One Arm are headin’ into town in about an hour. No strappin’ this time,” he cautioned the cook, “as we’re like to step through detectors.” His gaze fell upon their new pilot. “Tommy Pearson? Cal Strand,” the captain introduced himself. “Heard you got two good votes to hire on as our new pilot, so welcome aboard. Way I see it, you an’ I need to have a sit down to talk about how we thread this needle on the way out. I’ll be up forward,” his head tilted toward the corridor and the cockpit at its’ end, “but give me a few ticks. I gotta speak with Miss Quill first.” After a brief glance toward the statuesque blonde, he concluded, “Now, Yuri here’s gonna tell you a joke. Give it a listen. Oh…one last thing,” China Doll’s captain said as he rose to his feet. Clapping a firm hand to Yuri’s shoulder, he asked, “would somebody make sure One-Arm here gets a good suit of clothes?”

Joe thought about what the captain said. He knew he never actually needed to carry the revolver, but he just felt so comfortable carrying it. It was like an additional appendage. But the captain is the Captain and he would do as he asked. In fact, since he was expecting to pass through a metal detector, he would insure he wasn’t carrying any of his knives either.

“Dibs.” Edina’s eyes sparkled with mirth as they met Yuri’s.

“This boat,” Cal found himself compelled to say, “runs a lotta stuff an’ folk about the ‘verse, some on the up an’ up, and some,” he shrugged, “a touch on the naughty side. There’s a whole world of grey out there, an’ we all have to navigate through it, walkin’ a tight rope between what’s right and and what it takes to get by. But this time,” he tapped an index finger on the table, “I see as clear as day what needs doin’, and I aim to get it done. I know its’ not your cause,” he met each person’s eyes in turn, “and I have no right to ask. Won’t be any big payoff,” Cal said, “and we won’t be makin’ history. All I can say is if we do right by these gentle folk, that’s forty lives to the good. May not move the needle for humankind, but we get to know that for once we had a hand in somethin’ right and true. I’m in your debt.” Cal turned, the cigarette pressed to his lips as he strode toward the cockpit.

As the captain’s bootheels echoed from the forward corridor, Yuri spoke up. “Here’s how we get them out. My father used to tell a joke from our homeland on Earth-That-Was. There was a worker at a tractor plant…”

Quill had to admit that everyone seemed on board with this plan. Even those who just joined. She wasn’t averse to helping, especially as it meant she would be able to stay on the ship until they reached their destination. As she eyed everyone moving around, speaking their mind on a matter of subjects, the Captain made it clear he wished to speak to her. She could only imagine what it was about. She gave him some time to speak to their new pilot before she stepped over to the side to allow the Captain to come talk to her. “You wanted to speak to me. Captain?”

“That I do,” Cal replied. “But in private. Let’s head for the cockpit.”

“...and that’s how it is,” Yuri finished summing up the plan. “Eddie and I are headed to watch that checkpoint for awhile this evening…”

“...and get you some decent clothes,” she smirked.

“...and get me some decent clothes. You’ve heard what we think we’re doing,” the first mate continued. “The best thing about having a plan is that you’ve got something to change. If you get an idea or see a problem, track me down, dohn mah? Captain or I may come around with a special job that needs doing. Meanwhile, if you’re headed out, try to pick up a couple things we talked about. Shiny?” After receiving answers from those disposed to speak, Yuri nodded. ”Ku. Let’s get to it.” As the crew all took to their feet, he held his place near the table’s head. They all seemed to take the plan pretty well, he thought, with some, Edina and Imani embracing their parts. He was certain the Doc would be called in, after more was learned.

And Hook. The role Cal had devised for the cook would make him essential. But as he viewed the man now, crudely shaven head and tormented eyes that darted away from contact, Yuri wondered if he was up to the strain. That call can wait, he decided. Let’s see how he handles our trip to the Underworld this afternoon.

After a couple hugs from Ms. Wyman, Abby come ‘round tha table. “Beg pardon…Yuri?”

The first mate regarded the woman child before him, her bruises and swelling on display for all to see. “I’m sorry, Abby,” he gave a weak smile. “I meant to pay you a visit before now.”

“Don’t matter none,” she shook ‘er head. “I got a couple ideas about hidin’ folk, but I need to do some crawlin’ about the boat…”

“Last I heard, Doc has you on two days’ bed rest.”

Abby fidgeted, her eyes droppin’. “I know…I know. But what I can tell, we’re gon’ start takin’ ‘em in tomorrah. Cap’n needs me…”

Yuri laid a hand on her shoulder. “Captain needs you to be healthy. I conjure over three days we’ll pull in between ten and fifteen a day. Cal knows his boat well enough to get the first day’s folk situated.”

The deckhand sighed, all discontented like. “I know…but I got a couple ideas…”

“Good ones, I’ll wager,” he replied. “Tell you what. Imani…that’s her right there…is working out plans for the boat…probably ways to get people hidden quickly if we get visitors. She’ll need to know the places you’ve got in mind. I’ll send her around to talk with you about your ideas. And you,” he gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, “get back in your bunk…pronto.”

“Yes, sir,” Abby said like a kid bein’ tole tah do somethin’ she din’ wanna. “Yah still bringin’ me Lucky?”

“Good reminder. This afternoon.”

“Shiny. Hey, I heard Doc’s takin’ yah to some kinda med center in tha mornin’? Tah gitcher arm mended?”

His smile returned. “Yes she is…and I’m ready now,” he said. “This cast is like dragging an anchor…”

“Think I could come?” Abby asked. “Mayhaps they could take away all muh bruisin’ an’ such? I’m powerful ugly right now…scarin’ grownups as it is. Would hate if any ‘o’ them’s we’re helpin’ is kids.”

In that moment, he wanted to comfort the girl, to let her know that bruised or unblemished, there was no finer sight for her shipmates than Abby’s presence at their table. His good arm looped over her shoulderblades, pulling her into the embrace he’d wanted to offer last night. “On a boat full of pretty women,” Yuri whispered, “none of them hold a candle to you.”

“Tell that to Ms. Wyman,” she grinned into the hug. “Y’all been smilin’ at each other alot.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Yuri chuckled.

“Don’t hafta.”

---

---

---

---

“Mind the hatch,” Cal pointed out the ankle high framing of the entryway. China Doll’s cockpit looked to be in order. I conjure our new flyboy knows how to leave it straight, he thought as his eyes took inn the gleaming skyscrapers of Capital City through the viewports. Tamping down the alienation such a sight landed in his gut, the captain dogged the hatch behind Quill, sealing the pair inside, free of earshot from the full galley table.

“Any other day,” he regarded the woman, “I’d tell you this was another one ‘o’ them places not to go, secrets or no,” Cal set his hat upon the pilot’s chair as he leaned against the console’s railing. “Hopin’ we might play another round of ‘Honest Answers,” he said as the silver case flipped open. As the flaming match set his cigarette to glow, the captain pulled a lungful. With care to avoid sending a cloud of smoke into the Companion’s face, he exhaled toward the ceiling. “I’ll go first. Whattya think of our plan to get them Ana…Anabaptists…offa this rock?”

Quill took the Captain’s warning about the hatch as she stepped over the frame. The Captain shut the door, leading Quill to think this was going to be an interesting conversation. As the Captain spoke to her, and asked her about their plan, her mind wandered back to when they first brought up this idea. At first, she questioned their sanity, but thought better against it. After all, there were far too many injustices in the universe. Wasn’t it up to people to put good back to counteract the bad?

“If you want my honest answer Captain, I would tell you that we are all in way over our head. Now I know I am new to this ship, but I am not new at reading people. You got figures from all walks of life on this ship. Some that you know well, some you don’t. Some they know well, some they don’t. And you are asking them to all work together to help out for a good cause. That’s wishful thinking.” As she spoke, she gave off a sense of empathy. Her words were not laced with barbs. “That’s not to say what we are going to do is bad and that we shouldn’t. What I would suggest is knowing exactly how each person could benefit and ensuring they are where they need to be. That might mean you have to play “Honest Answers” with more than just me. Heck, you might have to play it with people you flew on this ship with for a while now.”

He adopted a relaxed posture, one long leg crossed over the other as he leaned against the railing, lazy smoke curling up from his cigarette. “Can’t find fault in a thing you said,” he presently spoke. “It’s a mighty big ask, even for them’s been on this boat the past year…and there ain’t enough clock on this to peer into all the souls I gotta count on. Still,” Cal continued, speaking as if he were still mulling out the details to satisfy the disquiet in his gut, “there’s plenty to keep folk hoppin’ for the next three days. If this was Silverhold,” he cast a glance once more toward the hyper modern cityscape, “Triumph…hell, even Beaumonde, I’d call it a lead pipe cinch. But Osiris?” Cal’s eyes met Quill’s. “Let’s just say I don’t spend a lotta time on worlds like this. And that’s why I added the cockpit to your tour.”

Cal doused the smoldering butt in a decorated ash can, a backhanded gift from the Doll’s former pilot. “I mighta cracked wise earlier over how you earn your keep,” he offered, “but I conjure true that a woman such as yourself walks in circles I got no chance of settin’ eyes to. So it got me thinkin’...” he paused to straighten his posture. “If a fella like me was to ask about any pull you might have with some ‘o’ the high folk in that town, what’s the chances you could answer honest without breakin’ one of your rules?”

Quill considered the Captain’s words and was pleased he had given the matter some much needed thought. It was true she had walked in high circles. Her family was one, after all. But Quill knew the guild rules and she followed them routinely. She enjoyed her job, even if it might not have been what she would have chosen for herself.

“Rules dictate that there be privacy when work is conducted. What occurs is a sacred union between two consenting parties. However, not all follow that ideal and, more often than not, those who do not are left with a black mark, meaning we will no longer work with them. If there is one such individual on Osiris, I believe I can answer honestly about them. For the others though, that will require finesse. I have…..walked through higher class environments long before I became a Companion. So I can provide help there when possible. But I also value my job. I assure you I will do all I can, though.”

“Mmmmm.” The captain thought on that a moment. She’d given him far more to consider than he originally thought, and her offer of help rang genuine, despite polished behavior that the knocks in his life warned him to doubt. If eyes were the mirrors to the soul, what he read in hers had broken past their earlier games. “I still aim to back Yuri’s play,” he said, “but I’d feel powerful better with an Ace or two tucked up my sleeve. It’s pushin’ way too hard to get the Alliance or the cops to look the other way, or I’d just swoop in an’ pick ‘em all up at once.”

The cockpit went silent as the captain tried to work this problem from many sides. After a moment’s patient wait by the Companion, his face brightened with an idea. “Osiris is the home of all the law in the ‘verse,” Cal said. “I heard slavers get a writ before they take folk from the blackout zone. Thought about somethin’ forged, but I’ve heard price of that on Osiris could put my boat in hock.” His glance found Quill once again. “Any chance you might have a connection for the genuine article?”

Quill thought for a moment. She could possibly look through her contacts and find someone. It would require finesse and Osiris, for all its glitz and glamour, could be a dangerous place. “Possibly, I would have to see. And even then, there’s no guarantee. Osiris can be just as dangerous as any other planet despite the shine it has. But if it helps I can reach out to a friend of mine. She has connections.”

“Copy that,” Cal gave a solemn nod as he watched shuttles dart among the distant towers. “A danger I’m none too certain of sussin’ out ‘til it lands on my doorstep, so I’m much obliged for your expertise. Whole job came as a surprise. Any other day I’da pushed back for a deal less crabbed, but somethin’ about ‘em…these simple folk.” He shook his head. “This ‘un’s about as black-and-white as they come, dohn mah?”

Quill understood where the Captain was coming from. In her work, hell..even her life, she had run across many different types of people Those who shook hands and kissed babies while they slept around on their partners and shuffled money to people to buy silence or worse. These people, regardless of the choices they made, needed help. And it seemed like they were the only ones who could do something.

“Well I am happy to lend what help I could in dealing with these sorts of people. I don’t know if you are aware of the full extent of Companion training, but we are not just pretty flower to enjoy. We are also trained to handle situations if they become dangerous. Even the prettiest of roses still has thorns.”

Cal grunted; that much came obvious to the captain. A woman might carry herself with a degree of poise brought on by training, but he’d sized Quill Cassidy up for one who could handle herself just fine, whether it was denims or a cocktail dress. “Good to know,” he replied. “This crew just come out a scape to get one of ours back. I aim to do my best to keep everybody outta the crosshairs this time out, and for that,” he said, “I thank you for your kindness. Now, I’ll beg pardon. Got my hands full this afternoon.”

He unsealed the hatch, sliding it open with a mild screech of protesting metal. “Have to get my mechanic to see to that,” Strand quipped as he held it for her passage. “Yuri an’ I will be out for a couple hours, but I conjure we shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

Quill let the Captain leave as she stood there, thinking about how she would go about this. She would have to contact a few people before they even set foot on Osiris. It would take some time, but in order for this plan to go off with as few hitches as possible, it was worth it. Sometimes being a good person was exhausting.

Collaborative post with @wanderingwolf

---

"Indulge me with 'nother round if ya will." Imani held up the empty glass, shaking it slightly once the bartender turned his attention to her. He was happy to oblige as he nodded his approval; business was business after all. “Much appreciated.”

The young woman currently sat alone in one of the local bars near the Doll, the name unknown. After a much-needed slumber, Imani figured it’d do her good to get a drink or two in her system. Besides, the ship was slightly too quiet for her taste then, preferring the buzzing voices of the chatter heads in the vicinity. Though her outing wasn’t without risk, she kept a low profile covering 'erself up. And on her way out she’d seen Yuri and had specified she’d be just across the way. Nice fella, that one. If he was any indication as to the remaining crew, then her trip would be quite pleasant. The thought made her smile, also in time to get that second round placed in front of her.

Another first sip that went down smoothly made Imani look forward to this supposed great food onboard her new temporary home.

"I'll claim," Cal said. With his hat resting on the chair back, he eyed the Orange tall card, gauging the reaction of the other two players at the table.

"Strand claims the tall," said the dealer, a large, brutish woman at his right elbow, whose leather smock proclaimed her daytime duty as a butcher.

After a deadpan interrogation of her cards, she chewed on her words, "Dealer folds."

Reclining, Cal's eyes swung to the scrawny man at his left elbow. The man flipped his cards between his palms before slapping them face-down on the table.

"Now I knew you were a smart man!" the Captain said with a grin as he leaned forward to rake the pot.

"Three hands yew claimed, Strand. Three! Ain't nobody that lucky, yew heer?" The scrawny man leveled a finger at Cal's overturned cards: a five of a kind, all Orange suit. "Nobody butta cheeter!"

"And now I gotta eat crow." Cal said, straightening out the bills into a neat pile. "Brains plum weren't in your cards to begin with, was it?"

The resulting blow across the chin knocked the wind out of Cal for a moment, but that was enough for the large butcher woman to enclose his arms in a vice-grip while the scrawny man began his second assault on Cal's stomach.

Some commotion or the other drew her attention enough for Imani to glance over her shoulder, drink in hand simultaneously being placed down on the bartop. Seemed a couple of patrons had overpowered some poor chap who was being pummeled halfway to next week. Imani figured it best to leave as no attention was good attention. She waved over the bartender and paid her tab, unfortunately having to leave the still half full glass behind.

Making her way being more curious than she outta be, Imani glimpsed at the victim, her pace naturally slowing as she walked past towards the exit. No one she recognized, which was good.

"Mind ya business!" Skin and bones doing the beating spat at her, "Nosy gorram bitch!"

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Imani silently nodded. Her blood began to boil from being addressed as such to the extent where she then decided to make it her business too. She crept up behind him and quickly snaked an arm under his neck, pulling with all her might, practically lifting him off his seat. His arms thrashed at her instinctively, but Imani upped her efforts and squeezed tighter. His response came in the form of a sad attempt at verbal communication, though the end result was nothing but gibberish. Shrimp boy could've been turning all forms of blue, yet no one was coming to his aid, least not quick enough. His struggles intensified, and Imani lost her footing as a result. She fell on her side with shrimp boy being dragged down as well, the sudden slack giving him the chance to get a quick breath in. Seemed that was all he needed, though Imani recognized the small advantage he could gain. She ignored his neck and as he was coughing up a storm, she swung her leg to straddle him, using one arm to prop herself up followed by the free hand coming down on his jaw. Her fist made contact, and shrimp boy was out cold. Bit of bloody knuckles aside, Imani gripped his jaw to face him straight. He wasn't responding, his body not the least bit stiff.

To his sputtering surprise, Cal found the beatings had ceased, leaving his ribs aching. The large woman who held him tight from behind like a punching bag loosened her grip, granting the Captain the opportunity for a hail Mary stomp on her instep. Her howl was met with a timely elbow to the chin which landed Cal on his own two feet again.

"Mei Yong Ma Duh Tse Gu Yong!" she bellowed before rearing up and shoving Cal into his would-be savior, Imani. Cal did his best to break his fall against her, but the nail goes where the hammer tells it to…

Just about propping herself upright, Imani was knocked off balance by some weight greater than her own. She gasped, surprised by the sudden force sending her face first onto the floor. Imani managed to prevent some damage by using her hands, though her head still bounced off from the impact like a playground ball, the result being a gash just over her brow. Gathering herself, she turned to face what was keeping her pinned, and come to find out it was the man in need of rescuing. Trouble for him now meant trouble for her, though not if she could help it.

"Tryna make new friends? I believe they want us out..."

"You get that from their genteel tone?" Cal growled, rolling off of the woman. He hadn't taken a beating like this in donkey’s years; lucky the scrawny one didn't keep a tight enough lip, really. A moment later the enormous butcher laid hands on Imani, pulling her to her feet.

Cal noticed the man laid out like a limp fish beside him as he gathered his wits. Whoever Strand's savior was had done a number on his lineaments. As the large woman drew her to height, Cal spat blood on the barroom floor.

Her feet were effortlessly jerked off the ground. Imani had little to no time to react to the beefy woman, and so she instinctively threw a few kicks as she braced herself to be dropped like a bag of potatoes. The woman sure held her strength though, especially when she threw a fist flying towards Imani. The result was none too pretty as Imani's body temporarily went limp prior to her hitting the deck. Conscious nonetheless, and probably with the aid of whatever intervention, she had the time to get her wits about to reach for her top inconspicuous weapon of choice. A large hand was reaching down towards her and Imani put in all her might into stabbing the open palm, the scream that followed a result she had done right by herself.

The women fought viciously, even as his valiant rescuer's face hit wooden planks yet again. Strand saw his moment to intervene as the butcher closed in on Imani. He rose to his feet and picked up a chair to wield against the attacker, but it was all moot.

As Imani produced a lethal weapon, the barkeep racked his shotgun from behind the bar. Cal's weaponized chair paused in midair as he laid eyes on the business end of the weapon, along with the sole warning from the seedy bar's owner: "Leave on yer feet, or leave in a bag." The large butcher woman halted her assault in favor of licking her wounds, her free hand holding pressure on the gaping wound Imani had caused her palm.

"Don't know about you," Cal said to Imani, dropping the chair, his hands raised, "But I'll take option number one."

"It'd be suicide not to follow your lead," Imani shot a dirty look at the barkeep, her hand rubbing the pained jaw in an attempt to soothe the sore away.

"And leave yer cheatin' card money on the bar on yer way out. I'll call it damages," the bartender said, eyes sweeping over the mess their little brawl had wrought.

Cal shook his head, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve the bills, slapping them on the shined wood surface.

Following the man outside the bar, she hurried up to his side. "That was quite the dramatic encounter, wouldn't you say? Fortunately for you, my presence there saved your rear." Imani "Are you often the troublemaker?"

Cal's face said he was feeling the 'drama' all over his ribs, the shiner on his eye, and his solar-plexus. "Trouble has a--" he coughed, which wracked his chest in a particularly painful wave, "--way of findin' me."

"That surely it does..." her words slowed and so did she, a hand hovered over his back instinctively in a protective manner as he coughed up hell. The consequences from whatever money play he had himself all involved in was evident now, if it wasn't before.

"Ah," Strand said as his hand pressed to his rib, "Doc's not goin' to like this..." He looked up at Imani, stopping to lean on his knees. "Thanks for steppin' in. Reckon I owe you," He coughed again, before asking "You got a name?"

"I got a name, but I ain't too keen on sharing—though I'll make an exception since I reckon you oughta meet your savior... I go by Imani, part-time hero I suppose," she shrugged her shoulders, looking at him as his struggled on. "Hope this doctor of yours is good."

“She’s no slouch, but I don’t reckon she’ll like the story what led to this.” He paused to assess the damage on his counterpart, “Ain’t a scratch on you. Quick thinkin’ with the knife.” He nodded his head before straightening. “Tell you what, Imani, since I owe you, already, might I impose a ways further? My boat’s up ahead, and standin’ upright at this moment feels damn near Bu Kuh Nuhn. Get me there, and I’ll make it worth your while.” Cal’s ribs ached him back into a doubled over position, but he stuck out a hand to shake nonetheless. (trans. impossible)

"Ain't got a scratch yet, but mainly 'cause the damage done was internal."

Imani looked him over when he made his request. She studied the stranger, his looks on par with someone getting theyselves in a ruckus over some winnings. A little arrogant too, from what she gathered, but not particularly a bad thing since he seemed trusting enough.

"I can spare some time, long as you don't get us killed 'fore we get there."

Eventually the two reached their destination, or a destination. The China Doll herself. "I don't even have your name but you happen to know where I stay? Thought I was escorting you back, being all 'gentlemanly' for your sake and all."

Cal stood himself upright and took tender steps toward the Doll, attempting to keep stride with Imani. At her balking he replied, “Where you’re stayin’? Well, I’d be tempted to chalk it up to fate you’d be signed on my boat; Cal Strand, Captain,” he said,offering her a hand to shake. “And far as I can tell, you sure throw a punch like a gentleman, I’ll give you that. You a passenger to Pelorum?” The Captain said, stepping onto the ramp of his home.

"What do you know, quite the coincidence ain't it?" she shook his hand with a gentle touch. So he was a captain...suiting job for a man like him. Imani followed him up the ramp as she didn't see the need to stick around out in the open. "Looks like we're both fighters, though you heavily outrank me as I am indeed but a passenger." She looked behind her for a moment, then turned her attention to Strand once more. "The destination don't matter as much as my need to get outta here," Imani shrugged her shoulders.

“I can handle myself,” he said unconvincingly, working his jaw with the heel of his palm. “Anywhere but here, huh?” That started the cogs to turning in the Captain’s head as he paused toward his inevitable fate of limping past the infirmary. This woman could hold her own. The way she knocked out the scrawny man with a single blow, then ended things quick with the butcher told him she’d scrapped her way a plenty. “Next few hops past Pelorum could see me in a couple more brawls; you lookin’ for work?”

If he had any luck left in the Verse, Alana’d be out and about by now, but seeing how he just got the la shi kicked out of him for cheating at cards, something told him lady luck had passed him by.

"A job you say?" she smirked, her eyes focused forward as her day suddenly took a turn for the better despite the previous incident.. Looks like someone is indeed in need of some rescuin' in the future... Imani kept the last bit to herself, placing a hand on his back. "It never hurts to strike a deal, the legal and fair kind I mean... Let's talk details over some painkillers, shall we?"

OOC: S.A.M.A.N.T.H.A. appears courtesy of @wanderingwolf


So they’s helpin’ folk escape the slavers.

Abby could git behind such a notion, seein’s now she knew a thing or two ‘bout bein’ kidnapped an’ abused. Cap’n took off fer the cockpit, with that really perty lady…Quill…taggin’ along. Yuri collected Hook, an’ the pair of ‘em headed fer tha cargo bay to wait on the Cap’n. As tha cook walked past ‘er with ‘is cold shoulder up, the girl acted all indifferent…but she’s startin’ tah swap confusion fer jest bein’ straight up pissed off. I didn’t do nothin’ tah that sumbitch, she pondered as the rest, crew an’ passengers, all left the galley in ones an’ twos.

Soon enough, she’s all by herself. Order was fer her tah head fer her bunk, but the girl had tah wonder how layin’ around was gon’ heal bruises an’ cuts. She didn’t feel like sleepin’ none, anyway, what with Lido waitin’ in her dreams ever’ time she drifted off. ”Aaaabby,” she could hear that voice, feel ‘is hands touchin’ where nobody but she an’ Doc ever touched afore. Nah, sleep weren’t nothin’ she’s lookin’ tah do fer awhile, she considered.

‘Specially with such a job needs doin’. Fireflies like China Doll an’ Mariposa had lots ‘o’ little crawlspaces an’ hidey holes in ‘em. Most spacegoin’ boats was like that, double hulls what was like puttin’ a square peg in a round hole an’ then ignorin’ tha gaps. Mariposa had plenty. Even as a tiny girl, little Abigail Travis got right good at wedgin’ ‘erself inta all make ‘o’ nooks an’ crannies. Now, as she ticked off her fav’rite hidin’ places, she conjured that Abigail The Grownup best have a look-see, more tah make sure that “huge” places Abigail The Child played in was suitable fer hidin’ fully growed folk.

Bein’ up in tha galley as she was, Abby conjured ain’t nobody to fuss about bedrest if’n she took a look forward. Abby put ‘er empty bottle up fer tha recycle an’ padded on bare feet towards the cockpit an’ crew quarters. Best hidin’ places was in the ceilin’s. SInce crew all had hatches with down ladders, weren’t no problem tah pop a corridor panel ‘er two. She picked the starboard side, jest over what must be Yuri’s room. Panel catches come away easy enough, and in two shakes she’s crawlin’ on hands an’ knees inta the dark space. Mindful that any second Cap’n an’ Miss Quill could come down from the cockpit, she pulled tha panel shut behind her.

The place was black as pitch, a problem remedied by the glowin’ screen of ‘er cortex. She shone the light about, an’ found China Doll’s first space to be exactly what she ‘membered from her old boat. It was like an attic, structure beams, HVAC units, an’ power couplin’s leadin’ down inta tha various cabins. She couldn’t stand full height, but as she studied it she conjured five-six growed men could fit the space, easy peasy. “Shiny,” the girl muttered to herself.

She’s fixin’ tah leave when tha cortex buzzed in ‘er hand. Sure enough, it was Thomas.

Tjinks
I was worried sick about you! Sure you’re OK?

She took seat on the dusty decking, foldin’ legs underneath as she tapped out ‘er answer.

Abn8r
Everything’s shiny! Just sitting around.

Tjinks
Crabby? MY Crabby? Just sitting around? I don’t believe it.

That raised a smile, part cuz’ ‘o’ his joke, but also ‘cuz she found ‘erself mighty partial tah bein’ called “his Crabby.” Feelin’ made her glow a bit as ‘er thumbs tapped out a response.

Abn8r
Not by choice. Doc’s orders

Soon’s she hit ‘send’ on that she knowed she messed up.. Thomas didn’t miss a trick.

Tjinks
What? You get hurt again?

“Aw, la shi” she grumbled tah herself as she tried tah come up with tha right answer.

Abn8r
LOL, no bullet in my butt. Tripped on the stairs. Nothing broke, just a couple bruises.

Tjinks
Send me a pic. I miss your face.

“Gorrammit,” she cursed under her breath. This was gonna get tough.

Abn8r
I’m in a dark spot on the boat. Not good for pics.

Tjinks
That cortex has a flash.

Abn8r
I look like la shi right now.

Tjinks
Impossible. You’re too pretty on a bad day. Show me.

Abn8r
Thomas, I can’t.

She’d lied enough. Tah hang on an’ stonewall him just wasn’t in ‘er…but she really didn’t want tah go where this train was bound.

Tjinks
Abby, don’t hide from me. What’s going on?

Before she could talk ‘erself out of it, Abby snapped a capture of her face, bruises, swole up eye an’ all, which she sent to Thomas. She knew what’s gonna happen next.

Tjinks
WHO HIT YOU????

“Shit, shit, shit!” she muttered while tryna do damage control.

Abn8r
Nobody. Thomas, I’m fine. really.

Tjinks
I got brothers! I know a beatdown when I see one!

Tjinks
Was it that guy who talked la shi to you all the time? One you called Big’un?

Abn8r
No, grifters are long gone. Wasn’t anybody on the boat.

Abn8r
I’m safe Thomas. I promise I am.

She waited fer his reply, but screen just glowed back empty. After a couple years went by just sittin’ in that crawlspace, Abby’s cortex sounded an incoming message. “From Samantha?” she questioned as she tapped the line. “Hello?”

“Abigail,” the AI spoke in a crisp Boston accent. “You’ve got an inbound wave from Thomas Jinks on New Melbourne. I’ve routed it to the cockpit capture. Both Captain Strand and Quill Cassidy have left, so you should have ample privacy for your conversation with Mr. Jinks.”

“Oh,” Abby grunted. “Thanks.” She rose, wiped the dust off ‘er butt, an’ worked ‘er way back out tah the corridor. The cockpit was empty, but she could already see Thomas’ face on the screen as she stepped inside. He was furious. “Hello, Thomas,” Abby curled ‘erself inta the pilot’s chair, arms about ‘er knees as she let ‘im have ‘is say.

---

---

---

---

Once the Captain left, Quill stayed a moment, thinking about the next course of action. If she were to be of any help setting this up, she would have to grease some contacts. One of the perks of the job was that you met all sorts of interesting people. And interesting people led interesting lives, did interesting things, and, most importantly, had interesting secrets.

Quill left and made her way to her room, hyperfocused now. If anyone saw her it would be a blur of blonde and black. Once she was inside her room she shut the door and began to reach out to her first contact.

Camilla's voice, sounding like vanilla, came on "Quill? Darling, is everything okay? Did that ship you found pan out?"

Quill hid a smile, thankful to have a friend concerned about her safety. "Yes, it did. I am actually calling you from the ship."

"Wonderful! I am so glad it worked out for you! Are you almost at Pelorum?"

Quill paused a moment. She had come on this ship with every intention of leaving as soon as they docked at Pelorum. And now here she was, roped into a mission to save a bunch of people she did not know. No one would fault her for not even attempting to help. This was not what she signed up for. But she knew, deep down, she had to help. Any of those people could have been her. Could have been Camilla.

"Change of plans on that. I still plan on going there, but we are making a side trip to Osiris."

"Osiris? Whatever are you hoping to find there?"

"There's a group of people we are hoping to get off and prevent them from being forced into servitude. It's a long story and I will fill you in on the full details when we have tea again, but for now, I just need help. Can you use your contacts to get the ship I am on a writ to get off of Osiris?"

Camilla let out a low whistle. "Darling, you know I would do anything for you, but that's a tall ask. Not impossible, sure, but it would require a lot of work and, if you are caught, well I don't need to spell out the unfortunate consequences that would follow."

Quill knew, but it was a risk they would have to take. "I understand and I would also understand if you wanted to opt-out. I can see about finding someone else to get us the writ."

Camilla let out a hearty laugh. "Oh I didn't say no, love. It's a challenge, but you know I do so adore challenges. Gives me a bigger thrill than speed racing! I'll need time, of course, but I should be able to get you a writ soon. Do you want me to send it your way or to the man in charge?"

Quill thought a moment, "Send it to me. I'll pass it along to the Captain."

"Captain. Such a powerful word. Is he cute?"

"Camilla...."

"What? I am bored here and there are precious few yummy people to look at here. Let me live vicariously through you!"

"He's handsome, in a rough sort of way. There are a few others on here. All fairly attractive too. It's like something is in the water to make everyone here attractive."

Camilla laughed again. "Oh, delicious! I know you don't mix business with pleasure, but perhaps you can entertain some of them? Saints know that if you are doing something dangerous they could use someone to talk to and forget about the trouble."

"My first priority is the people. Get them safe and situated. The rest can come after."

"That's always been my experience," Camilla said, "innuendo fully meant. Anywho, you will have your writ shortly, but you owe me big time and I plan on collecting. Maybe I will see about coming on board your little ship, if only to see how the Captain fills out his uniform!"

Camilla clicked off after that and Quill could only shake her head in amusement. Camilla definitely made things lighter and, with her contacts, she expected the writ soon enough. One step of this last-minute plan was, at least, done.