abn8r:
You still mad at me?

tjinks:
Pretty much

“Sounds ‘bout right,” Abby whispered t’herself. They’s a tick there where she conjured apologizin’. But a couple days gone past with naught on the fence mendin’ comin’ her way from them’s she felt put out by had her more’n a might ornery. Smartest thing she done since was backin’ off, putin’ her nose right tah her work. And with all them Anabaptist folk bein’ hid aboard, they’s plenty ‘o’ that tah keep her at it til the cows come home.

Mouth shut, hands busy. Plan seemed tolerable. She done brushed off a couple “you shiny?” questions from Yuri an’ Edina, but seein’s folk was all so busy an’ Abby’s reputation fer findin’ work needed doin’ purty much left ‘er to her own machinations, she done been granted all tha space she needed without a body lookin’ over her shoulder. Mouth shut, hands busy. Shoulda kep it that way, but today, with upthrust in about six hours, that little ornery kindling inside ‘er done built to a flame.

So, even though they’s alarm bells in ‘er head beggin’ tah just type “I’m sorry” to Thomas, the deckhand’s thumbs banged out somethin’ altogether diff’rent.

abn8r:
Get in line

She knowed, the very minute she pushed ‘Send’ on that, it weren’t helpin’ nothin’ ‘tween ‘em. She knowed she lied tah Thomas, but more she ruminated on it the more she weren’t certain if she’s tryna save him from worry or jest her way ‘o’ savin’ face. She’d conjured sendin’ ‘him a fresh pitcher, her face all healed an’ clear ‘o’ what them Headhunters done, might take tha edge off, but that didn’t work. And now, a fresh ping from a new message tole her that Thomas was ‘bout to let ‘er know tha price of her orneriness.

tjinks:
I’ll pass

That’n sent a chill, but all pissed off an’ puffed up as she felt, the girl didn’t allow fer no rethinks, though she did consider herself right smart for sayiin’ “well fuck yew,” out loud, ‘stead ‘o’ typin’ it. Still, this lengthening road ‘o’ faux pas didn’t do nothin’ fer her outlook. “Hey!” Abby shouted as she pounded on tha lav door. “Time tah clean! Anybody about?”

“I’m here!” A woman’s voice come back muffled through the door. “I’ll be just a tick.”

“Take yer time.” The girl pulled ‘er janitor cart tah one side. She slipped ‘er cortex inta her denims an’ leaned back on tha bulkhead, arms folded, eyes down. Word was Cap’n was plannin’ a few extra days on Pelorum. She’an Alana already made plans tah buy bikinis an’ git some beach time in…probly ‘bout all she could afford. Pelorum’s touristy stuff was powerful costly, but she had enough Uncle Bob in ‘er tah not be fazed by all them coin traps anyway. Packin’ a PB&J an’ sittin’ on a beach might jest help ‘er kill that bug done crawled up her pi…



Another gorram drill, she cursed inwardly, even as she sprang into action. “C’mon!” Abby flung tha door open as tha woman inside’s gettin’ ‘erself situated. “It’s an alarm! GO!” She hustled tha woman out, the pair of’em joggin’ fer tha cargo bay hatch. She seen Alana, doin’ her part, makin’ sure ain’t no Anabaptists lingerin’ about passenger berths. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, her brain’s countin’ down tha time as she’n her charge burst inta the cargo bay.

Anabaptists been usin’ tha space fer exercisin’ an’ group prayers. Right now they’s ‘bout nine -ten, tah her sight, all cleanin’ up bibles an’ signs ‘o’ their presence afore jumpin’ inta tha belly hatch bay. “GO GO GO!!!” Abby shouted over tha musical alarm. “GIT IN THA HOLE! GIT IN THA HOLE!” Five Mississippi, six Mississippi…

Tha deck hand run full out, crossin’ tha cargo bay tah the little control face next tha forward cargo door. “NOW, NOW, NOW!!!” she roared. Abby whirled, takin’ sight ‘o’ the final refugees as they jumped through tha opening in tha deck. The nonstop drills was all payin’ off. All them Anabaptists crouched low, droppin’ down tah be clear of the deck plates she’s bout tah close on top 'em.

Eight Mississippi… She slapped tha big red button…heard tha sound ‘o’ whinin’ hydraulics an’ a motor crankin’. Nine Mississippi, ten Mississippi, Abby counted as the opening sealed itself shut. As she ran clear, Abby cast a gander at the hidey hole an’ it’s coverin’ ‘o’ bricks on pallets. She whipped ‘er cortex out; as part ‘o’ SAM’s runnin’ them drills, tha AI done sent her a tap screen with a big icon …CLEAR.

She laid ‘er thumb on tha icon. Now, Cap’n an’ Imani’d do a walk through tah make sure ever’body’s all hid without a sign. She’s a tad bit prideful that last five drills showed tha cargo bay…her responsibility..all squared away an’ right.

But that ain’t what happened this time.

Tha personnel hatch flew open, swingin’ wide so’s it struck tha bulkhead with a loud clang. They’s men…one in civvies an’ thaa rest all purple bellies, come hustlin’ in, guns wavin’ all about an’ heavy boots trompin’ tha deck. “CAPITAL CITY PD!” The plain dressed man pointed his gun straight at her. “GET ON THE GROUND!”

She done as she’s told, hands up as she took tah her knees. Plain Dressed Man rushed right at ‘er, gun trackin’ her all tha way down on tha deck. “NAME!” he shouted.

“Travis. Abigail Travis…deckhand.”

“WHERE’S THE CAPTAIN?”

She flinched; them handcuffs stung as they slapped on ‘er wrists. “Got no idea. I’s jest ‘bout tah git moppin’...” She felt ‘is hands all over her, pattin’ her down afore takin’ ‘er cortex an’ ‘er ident. From where she’s layin’, all Abby could see was black boots stompin’ about. Plain Dressed Man was gone. She didn’t know where, til she heard tha squeal ‘o’ tha boat’s com.

”Attention! Attention! This is Detective Hekubah, Capital City Police. We have a warrant to search this vessel for illegal cargo or human trafficking. All crew and passengers are ORDERED to report to the cargo deck…IMMEDIATELY. Failure to comply will result in criminal charges. DROP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND COME TO THE CARGO BAY…NOW!”

“Nowhere to run to, baby,
Nowhere to hide…”

He’d heard the song so many times by now that he could almost recite every lyric. Turning the “quick hide” drills over to SAMANTHA had been a stroke of the captain’s genius. The AI was relentless in choosing times with no apparent rhyme or reason to suddenly upend all activities aboard China Doll and send her refugee passengers racing to their hiding spots in increasingly record time.

But this time, it wasn’t a drill. “Company,” the single word message from Edina, suddenly played from his cortex. Yuri looked about. Imani was already engaged, rushing Anabaptists to their secret places and watching as they secured bulkhead panels behind them. His eye turned toward the galley, careful to note any telltale signs of their guests’ presence, and finding none. The tidy Anabaptists had a habit of cleaning up after themselves, with dishes and utensils even now drying in a rack above the sink. Satisfied with what he saw, the first mate pressed the “Clear” icon.

He’d gone to the cockpit, stepping inside just as the com system crackled out a message.

”Attention! Attention! This is Detective Hekubah, Capital City Police. We have a warrant to search this vessel for illegal cargo or human trafficking. All crew and passengers are ORDERED to report to the cargo deck…IMMEDIATELY. Failure to comply will result in criminal charges. DROP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND COME TO THE CARGO BAY…NOW!”

“Better do as they say, Tommy,” Yuri inclined his head toward the hatchway. “I’ll be along in two shakes.” With the pilot now on his way toward their captors, the first mate sat down at the copilot’s position. His hands were steady, composure battened down tight as he activated the boat’s log tablet. A quick scroll to the “China Doll Crew” page later, he added a fresh name to the roster.

Riemen, Elias - Mechanic

He was taking an awful risk, but if Sister Lyen’s perception was true, Yuri conjured that the uniforms currently invading the boat had little to no idea about the masked mute who’d put his back into the boat’s technical dealings. Once the position was recorded, he closed the tablet and carried it, along with Abby’s clipboard, through the cockpit hatch…straight into the muzzles of a half dozen autorifles.

“FREEZE!” A young corporal roared.

Yuri froze. “I’m the first mate,” he volunteered. “I’ve got our logs and the current manifest. I’m unarmed.” None of that seemed to matter as he quickly found himself face down, cheek pressed into the corridor grating. Once frisked and cuffed, he heard the same corporal issuing further orders.

“Get him up. Take him to Captain Kondo..along with these.” As he was rudely hoisted to his feet and hustled away, Yuri could hear the Corporal directing his troops. “You’ve got your search diagrams. Toss this deck.”

With the help of a few of the refugees, Joe had put all the dishes away. Maybe a few remained in the drying rack when the announcement for all crew and passengers to report to the cargo bay. “Crap! Ah sure hope none of us s’in trouble,” Joe muttered to himself. He untied his apron, dropped it over the back of one of the galley chairs and headed down to the cargo bay.

He had been thinking about what he would prepare for dinner. He felt soups and sandwiches were the easiest. He had a few frozen turkeys but would need time to thaw them out before serving. Then there was mashed potatoes. He’d need help peeling those potatoes. ‘This could be tomorrow’s dinner, but not something for today,’ he thought to himself. ‘Maybe I could make another pot of chili?’ He made that some weeks ago, early on in their voyages.

He ran into the first officer on the way to the cargo bay, “Mister Yoo Ree, kin I git some hep in the galley? Ah’s thinkin of cookin turkey fer tomorrow’s meal. I need hep peelin potatoes. Ah could use hep from someone good with a knife. Gots anyone in mind?”

“And what’s this nonsense all about?”

Alana caught herself staring, diverting her gaze elsewhere once her self-awareness pulled her back to reality. There was something about that Imani girl that simply irked her... The woman had never wronged her, yet her playful nature with Cal felt a smidge like a slap in the face. She didn't take him to be the type to move on from one woman to the next like a frog hopping across lily pads, but people oftentimes could surprise ya.

Just as she stood straight and away from the bulkhead she was leaning on, Alana noticed Imani's eyes on her. Busted.

Seemingly, Imani had piqued her interest once more. A spunky one she was, whatever her deal. With her arms crossed in front of her, Imani imagined she may in the future feign illness to have a sit down with the doc, but until then...

A smile and a wink later, and she walked in the opposite direction away from Alana. That is, until they both heard the announcement. Their eyes briefly met once more before both women realized what was going on. Imani's first reaction was to run back towards Alana, yanking on her arm and barking orders as she went.

"Quick, you need to put me under! Do something to look busy!”

"Hey, what—"

"In the sickbay! You can't let them take me!”

Reaching the infirmary, Alana watched as Imani frantically searched for something in the cabinets. However, before she could be stopped, the young woman downed quite a handful of tablets. She turned to face the doctor and Alana sprung to action. If she was lucky, Imani wouldn't have to spend a lifetime in a coma.

Eventually, and quite honestly to his surprise, the resident Mechanic had found use for Elias. While he wouldn't say this out loud... even if he could that is, he would keep his mouth shut to the opinion that some much needed professionalism was provided by his hand. It wasn't that the crew was incompetent, but he damn well knew that there weren't enough clipboards with checkboxes about the place to warrant a reasonable insurance fee.

Of course, he hadn't exactly told them where he got his knowledge from either. Rag-tags of this sort probably wouldn't take well to a veteran that hadn't fought for the rebels. Not to say that he was a patriot or anything of the sort, truth be told he harboured a great deal of resentment for the government and the military for having left him behind to suffer the Reavers. But he could hardly expect strangers to tell the difference, could he? He was even more glad that they hadn't picked up on the name Riemen, but it was probably just because these folk were from a different part of the 'verse. He respected the Anabaptists and he considered himself forever in their debt. But he wasn't one of them, the stars were for him. After all, what the hell could possible even await him if he settled down?

As he was sawing through a piece of wood for a little personal project, he was very abruptly disturbed be the sound of people in the distance panicking. Soon he heard the reason for their fear, quite understandably. Carefully setting his tools aside and brushing dust off of himself, he went out to meet the officers of the law head on.

Nothin fancy, no hiding, he was simply going to go out and meet them. That's that, right? Well no, most likely things would not be all that easy. But it wasn't as if he could hide and make himself scarce like the Anabaptists had gone and done. At best he'd be a liability getting somebody else caught because they were stuck with his ass.

Thus, he simply strolled over to where the greatest commotion was, writing down "I AM UNARMED AND COMPLIANT - I AM MUTE" on his little piece of blackboard as he did so. One hand would be raised to show surrender and that he was unarmed, whilst the other was simply displaying what was written down. He looked over to any crew present hoping they could confirm the text.

Hook, Elias, Abby, Edina, and Tommy have been cuffed and placed on their knees on the cargo bay deck.

Yuri is also cuffed, but standing in the cargo bay, answering questions from Detective Hekubah and Captain Kondo as they oversee the search for stowaways.

Alana and Imani are in the medbay.

Quill is currently off the boat.

Cal has not yet been seen.

So far, the Anabaptists have not been discovered.

As the crew are all cuffed and under guard, There’s not much to do but react to what’s going on, so we’ll hurry through this bit to get everyone back to full potential. While the guards probably won't permit conversation between crewmembers, feel free to write whispered conversation or character thoughts and observations until we figure out if we're all being hauled to the klink or not.

“Well,” Yuri observed as he was brought face to face with Detective Hekubah, “I guess this is why we couldn’t find your clothing store.” That quip earned him a baton to the legs, sending Antonov down to his knees.

Detective Hekubah looked positively smug as he leered down upon the first mate. “Where is your captain?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” the first mate answered. “Your soldiers took me straight from the cockpit. Didn’t have much chance to call the roll.” He glanced over his shoulder, taking stock of the crew. They all appeared to be in handcuffs as well, down on their knees…and there among them was Joe Hooker. What’s he doing back so early? Yuri asked himself. If all was going as planned, Hook wasn’t expected for another two hours, escorting the final dozen Anabaptist refugees. Yet, there he was, among the crew. Something changed, Yuri thought as he studied the faces and didn’t find Sister Lyen among them. Something major.

A burst of radio chatter interrupted his thoughts.

”Got two in the medical bay. Ship’s doctor is refusing to leave. Says she’s doing surgery on her patient.”

“Break the door in, Captain,” the detective ordered.

The Alliance officer reacted with quiet annoyance. “Have you seen a Firefly medical bay, detective?” he asked. “I can assure you that the forty illegals you’re searching for couldn’t possibly be hidden inside, let alone even be crammed into the place.” He lifted his comm. “Stand by. I’m on my way.”

”Roger that.”

“Illegals?” Yuri asked as the Alliance captain strode away. “Forty of them? How do you think we’ve got forty illegals?”

“Shut up!” This time, the baton landed across Yuri’s shoulder blades. “The only thing I want to hear is where you’ve got ‘em hid.”

From the open hatchways came the crashing of a full search being roughly conducted. The Alliance soldiers were being quite thorough, but as the minutes dragged on and their comms didn’t come alive with reports of discovered refugees, Yuri could only assume that Abby’s childhood hiding places weren’t on the list of known smugglers’ ratholes. He glanced toward the girl to find her stone faced, as were all the rest, except for Edina, whose concerned eyes asked ”are you alright?”

He nodded silently, before turning his gaze once more upon the detective. “I forgot to ask. Where’s your search warrant?” The answering blow sent him tumbling face down onto the deck.

JP/Collab from @Xandrya and @sail3695

Imani had propped herself up on the stretcher, eyeing Alana as she quickly moved back and forth gathering the necessary items. As much of a hardworking doc as she'd ever seen...

...and soon enough, Alana was instructing her to lie back down. She hovered over Imani with a syringe in hand when a male voice just outside was announcing himself and barking orders to be let in. The girls looked at each other quietly before Alana put the syringe down, mouthing to Imani to pretend to be unconscious. She'd already prepped for the "surgery", looking the part.

"Yes, may I help you?" she stared up at the official, an annoyed and inconvenienced expression on display.

Two Alliance soldiers stood outside the medbay door, their autorifles gripped and ready. “You heard the announcement,” the gruff sergeant regarded the woman who barred his way. “All passengers and crew go to the cargo bay…now.”

Of course they were armed. "I do apologize in advance, but I'm afraid I can't leave my anesthetized patient alone." She stepped off to the side, allowing them a view of a still Imani feigning paralyzation. "While not an emergency surgery, this was a previously agreed-upon procedure. If I wake her this soon after putting her out, the consequences could be fatal."

Alana was aware of the fact that Imani wasn't hooked up to the monitor, but surely it wouldn't even be a thought for these couple of goons.

"I'm afraid I can't give out any further details. Patient confidentiality is something I take very seriously, no exceptions..."

The sergeant glanced over the doctor’s shoulder. The woman on the table was pretty…pretty unconscious. Didn’t look like she’d started the slice-and-dice yet, but he had no clue about anesthetic. He hoisted his comm. “Captain Kondo,” he keyed the mic. “We got a situation.”

”Report,” his superior answered.

”Got two in the medical bay. Ship’s doctor is refusing to leave. Says she’s doing surgery on her patient.”

”On my way. Nobody in or out til I get there.”

“Roger that,” the sergeant nodded. To the doctor he said “Captain’s on his way. We’ll wait outside…” before the door closed in his face.

As soon as the door closed, Alana circled over to Imani. "We gotta be quick," she whispered, showing her the syringe. "It'll take a few moments but you'll be under in no time."

With no time to get a word in, Imani simply laid there, wincing when the needle broke skin. Soon enough, she would start to feel lightheaded.

It was then Alana hooked her up to the monitor, the steady beeping eventually filling the room. Once that was in place, she grabbed a tray and laid out some surgical equipment. If they wanted genuinity, they were going to get it. She was quick, but she was also careful to avoid raising suspicion.

Captain Hideki Kondo stepped through the after hatch, heaved a quiet sigh, and made his way down the steps to the medical bay deck. More scut work, he thought of yet another questionable police raid in which the military paraded its presence as partners in justice. Nothing just about this, he mused as he found Sgt. Kilpatrick and a private awaiting him. “Anything new to report, Sergeant?” he asked casually.

The sergeant was a towering figure, a man who spent his life in the field of far away postings and the occasional skirmishes they wrought. But, with age and gravity slowly causing his physique to sag a bit, James Kilpatririck had chosen what he thought a plum assignment to ride out his career and draw his pension. Now, looking into the quiet disgust in his captain’s eyes, the old noncom felt a certain kinship of the disaffected. “Been watching ‘em sir,” he reported. “Doctor’s prepping for surgery. He patient’s out. All the cabinets are window faced, so they couldn’t hide a stowaway in there if they tried.”

“Thank you, sergeant,” Kondo nodded. “I’ll handle this personally. Carry on.” As the two soldiers moved to rejoin their comrades on the upper deck, the Infantry Captain knocked at the medbay hatch. “Doctor?” he called. “Doctor. I need a moment.”

Her breathing had slowed, now what may come was beyond her. Alana left Imani's side and went to answer the door. She imagined what was to follow would be a quick glance into the med bay without much scrutiny. If they were indeed scoping out a certain somebody, they would not find evidence of their presence there.

Alana opened the door. "And a moment is all I have." She deliberately blocked his path into the med bay, yet he was none the wiser as to her motives. "Please, I've explained to your men how I'm unable to leave my patient. Surely you understand?"

His response was accompanied by a formal nod. “I do. I have no intention of separating you from your patient. I am, however, compelled to follow my orders…something I believe just as surely that you understand.” He pulled a pair of uniform gloves from his belt as he spoke. “With apologies, I must conduct a search of this compartment. You have my word that I’ll be brief, and that I shall not accost your patient. Once completed, I’ll post a man at the door to prevent further interruption.” One by one, the gloves went on, pulled with exacting effort over each finger to achieve the perfect fit. “Now, Doctor,” Captain Kondo’s gloved hands fell to his side, “if you’ll kindly make way, we shall be finished in a moment or two.”

"I mean not to impede your investigation, please..." She gestured him inside, closing the door behind him and casually walking over to her patient's side. Since an anesthetic had been administered, Imani had fallen under her care and thus had become her patient. Play pretend was no more.

Alana stood between her and their visitor. Imani's concern with being kept from sight was intriguing. What that entailed, who knew, but it was none of her business.

The compartment was well kept, uncommon for the rudimentary treatment rooms found on most Fireflies and their ilk. Kondo moved with an air of respect, his hands touching nothing. A casual observer might get the impression that he was giving the medbay only the most cursory of examinations. Finding the cabinets as described by Sgt. Kilpatrick, he bothered little with them. Indeed, his eyes seemed largely fixated upon the deck and the bulkheads which comprised the walls. While he did notice scrapes which indicated the cabinets had been moved, those that caught his eye told of no frequent, or for that matter recent, activity that might’ve belied a hiding space.

Likewise the heavy base of the treatment table. If they’re squirreling people away, Hideki thought, it’s not happening here. He rose to his feet, gloved hands tugging the bottom of his tunic to straighten it. The doctor had followed him about, always positioning herself between the female patient on her table and the Alliance captain. A logical reaction to having one’s surgical suite invaded, yet at times she seemed a bit too intent upon obstructing his sight of the woman. “Well, I think that covers it,” he said with a courteous smile. “I’ve inconvenienced you quite enough. Thank you for your cooperation,” Kondo offered an appreciative nod, then turned for the exit. “Oh,” he said almost sheepishly as he stopped in the hatchway, “there’s one more formality I’ve forgotten. I need both your ident cards, please.”

She tensed, though without the risk of him noticing. "Uh, sure, let me get that for you." Alana reached into her front coat pocket, grasping what he'd asked for and handing it over. She had nothing to hide but a complicated personal past. Imani on the other hand... She may be in for a rude awakening.

"Not sure if I'm gonna be much help getting you hers though," she shrugged. Stalling him wouldn't work, and they were an arm's reach from one another. "I don't do this as I would need a patient's consent to go through their belongings, but this is no regular circumstance..."

It was then a thought formed in her mind.

"May I see the order allowing you aboard the ship? I can always show her later in order to do good by her."

“Of course.” After pocketing the ident of one Lysanger, Alana, MD, Captain Kondo produced his cortex reader. A quick tap soon had the screen glowing with the warrant and its’ clause ordering the military to conduct the search for “improperly documented persons or evidence of unlicensed human trafficking.” The officer held the device for her perusal, his eyes inscrutable as they studied the features of the sedated woman.

She held his cortex. "Kindly appreciate that." Alana took a few moments to verify the information and she be damned, they were very well within their rights to conduct this search.

A brief smile formed on Alana's face as she handed it back to him. "Let me see whether she has it on her persons then." Alana turned her back towards the captain, tapping Imani's pockets and right away feeling the rectangular shape. No way out then.

Reaching inside, Alana grabbed a hold of Imani's ident card and pulled it out. She glanced it over and was surprised to see her picture, a smile as bright as the sun, but not her name. Deborah Yo it read. Interesting.

"Here you go," she turned to face him, no reluctance in handing him what he'd asked for. "When do we get these back?"

Yo, Deborah, Kondo regarded the card before slipping that and his reader into the pocket of his tunic. “All personal effects will be returned when we’ve satisfied the warrant.” He looked upon the sleeping Deborah Yo. “She’s pretty,” Hideki offered a smile. “One last question, Dr. Lysanger, if I might? Am I safe to assume that Deborah Yo is a crewmember?”

Him and his questions. "I'm afraid not, not yet anyway," Alana lead on, recalling her experience and deciding to use it for authenticity purposes. "Usually I'm not for elective surgery on passengers, but with a few stops to go, and our need for additional crew in the future, she's on track."

The captain’s brow furrowed. “An unusual response,” he commented, pausing as if lost in thought. A heavy silence descended upon the medbay, until a moment later, when the officer’s brows lifted. “Very well, then,” he offered a courteous smile for the doctor. “I’ll leave you to it. Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Lysanger,” Kondo said, turning once again for the hatch. “Please give Ms. Yo my wishes for a speedy recovery.” With a polite nod, the Alliance commander stepped through the hatchway, sliding it shut behind him.

Once outside, he keyed his com. “Sergeant Kilpatrick. Report.”

“Sir,” crackled the response. “We’re nearly finished on the upper deck. No stowaways found.”
Interesting, Hideki mused. “I want two men with arms stationed outside the medical bay door at once. Nobody in or out without my permission.”

“Roger that, sir. They’re on their way.”

“Once you’ve cleared the upper deck, post guards on the stairwells and catwalk. Send the rest of your men to search the lower deck. Kondo out.” He tucked the com away, as the clatter of boots on the nearby stairs announced the approach of the medbay guards. The doctor had piqued his curiosity. Her physical tells hadn’t indicated falsehood, but the final answer concerning Deborah Yo’s status raised a number of questions. As he left his men to watch the medical bay, Hideki Kondo returned to the cargo deck.

Getting away with it by the skin of her teeth, Alana breathed a sigh of relief when she was alone with Imani once more. She heard the chatter outside, which indicated they wouldn't be completely alone, but any further prying had ceased as far as she knew.

Now, to deal with Imani…

Edina, still disheveled from being face down in the dirt outside, was propped on her knees, the cuffs biting into her wrists. Alongside her was Tommy, the pilot, his composure intact as he watched the goings-on in the cargo bay. Elias, the tall, shrouded man with perpetually angry eyes, was knelt to her left. Just ahead were Hook and Abby, both silent as the grave, though Edina could spot the symptoms of the girl’s mounting anger with each baton blow landed upon their first mate.

Yuri had retaken his feet, standing before the detective…Hekubah. She couldn’t hear the man’s words, but the cheshire cat grin and smug lift of an eyebrow told the woman that he clearly believed he was holding all the cards. He was scrolling through the boat’s log in a lackadaisical style, not pausing long enough to ingest information, but more in the sense of conveying his overall importance to this operation.

She could hear bits of radio chatter, mainly from the com of the soldier tasked with guarding the crew. They haven’t found anyone, Edina suspected, the notion growing with each passing minute that the purple troops marauded through the upper deck. After a while, she noticed the smugness had left the detective’s face, replaced by a darkening shade of impatience.

When the commanding officer returned from his errand, Hekubah lost what little composure remained. “Impossible!” he raged. “Your men are incompetent! Did they follow my plans?”

“To the letter.” Edina could see the man’s eyes. This Alliance officer was clearly disgusted with the detective who called the shots, his contempt for the man barely concealed beneath the veneer of a professional soldier. “My senior sergeant personally double checked each hiding space. The upper deck is clear.”

“Alright then…start down here!” Hekubah blustered aloud. “What about the medical bay?”

“Checked it myself,” the officer removed two ident cards from his pocket. “It’s clear. Their doctor is conducting a surgery on a crewmember.” He handed the cards to a nearby soldier for scanning. “I’ve stationed men on the door.”

Edina watched as Hekubah whirled upon Yuri. “Were you that stupid?” he demanded. “You actually hid them all down here?”

“I guess I was that stupid,” Yuri chuckled before another baton blow sent him reeling.

“WHERE IS YOUR CAPTAIN?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri stammered as he regained his footing. “He might…”

“Aw, Kàn zài tā mā de fèn shàng” Abby raised ‘er voice afore glarin’ at tha guard what tried tah shut ‘er up. “Yah know gorram well where Cap’n is, Yuri. Stop coverin’!”

“Shut your mouth, deckhand,” Yuri’s tone went cold, until the detective signaled for another baton strike.

“I want to hear this,” Hekubah ordered. “Get her on her feet.” Yuri stared daggers as the guard hauled Abby up, nudging her forward with the barrel of his autorifle. “Now then, Miss…Travis,” the detective looked up from the crew roster. “Where is Captain Strand right now?”

Abby pushed ‘er shoulder blade back, stormclouds on ‘er brow fer tha guard what nuzzled her with ‘is gun. “Same place he is on ever’ day we break atmo.” She seen Yuri glarin’, an’ turned towards tha rest ‘em. “Come on! Y’all gon’ take a beat down ‘cuz Cap’n done gone fer a drink an’ a piece ‘o’ tail?”

“You’re saying he’s at a brothel?”

“It’s ‘is way,” tha deckhand said. “Even got a joke fer it. ‘It’s upthrust day! Gotta go thrust up!’ Never struck me funny.”

Hekubah traded glances with Captain Kondo. “Which brothel is he at, Miss Travis?”

“Got no idee,” she shook ‘er head. “Someplace cheap. He likes ‘em old. Says old whores laugh easy.”

The plainclothes hefted his cortex. “This is Hekubah, delta two-seven,” he said. “I need a BOLO for Calvin Strand, ship’s captain, CV China Doll, VR number 08-22946-L. Suspected whereabouts may be a local brothel. Remand for questioning.” He slipped the little device into his pocket. “Uncuff that one,” he gestured toward Abby. “Now we’re going to search all the usual smugglers’ pockets here on the cargo deck…beginning with that one,” Hekubah pointed toward a small bulkhead panel.

“Plates’er heavy,” the girl said as she’s cut loose. “Need a helper.”

“Very well,” the detective shrugged. “Him too.”

As the soldier removed his handcuffs, Yuri glowered at Abby. “You conjure,” he said bitterly, “soon as Cal hears how you ratted him out that you’re off his boat?”

“Yeah,” the girl bent tah her task. “I conjure.”

“That one.” Detective Hekubah’s dander was up as he pointed toward another bulkhead plate. He knew those Anabaptists had to be stuck away somewhere on this old bucket. Every smuggler’s nook known to Law was being pried open, but for their trouble, they’d found a filthy rag, a few wore out air filters, and a dusty box full of nekkid pictures. Seemed even the great and powerful Alliance could be outfoxed by a little girl playing Hide and Seek.

The lower deck wasn’t panning out, either. All of the guest quarters had been tossed, with deck and wall plates pulled to reveal any hint of recent occupants, if not the occupants themselves. Likewise the lav, though most soldiers weren’t too fired up when it came to sniffing around toilets for stowaways. Nothing…zero.

Now, ‘cept for Doc Lysanger, Imani…beg pardon, “Deborah,” and two guards on the medbay hatch, China Doll and her resident shuttles were a ghost town. That is, except for the cargo bay, the current scene of Detective Hekubah’s mounting temper. The purple soldiers were getting bored, rustling all about the crew, who were still on their knees and cuffed. Naught to do but watch as First Mate Yuri and Deckhand Abby set to work on yet another panel. Using coffin wrenches, the pair rotated the catches, before lifting the heavy metal plate clear. Then two soldiers would kneel down, hand torches flicking over the inner hull beams. They’d look around a spell, then with faces almost betrayed them making sport of the detective, they’d shake their heads. “All clear, sir.”

“Nothing?” Hekubah demanded. “Nothing at all?”

“No, sir. Found some dust tracks, but they led to a fresh structural weld.”

Yuri spoke up. “That was me. Repaired a stress crack. It’s recorded in the engineering log…”

“Shut up!” the detective spat. “Do that one next!”

And so it went, panel for panel. On and on. Even the reserved Captain Kondo was beginning to display patience sorely tried. “Detective,” he finally said, “this is pointless. Unless they’ve found some ingenious method, there simply aren’t enough crannies aboard this boat to hide forty people.”

Hekubah whirled. “I know they’re here! I’ve got sources!”

“Perhaps your sources are mistaken?”

“No!” he cried. “You two!” Hekubah pointed toward a much smaller panel, right under the gaze of China Doll’s crew and the Alliance captain. “That one!”

“That one?” Abby’s face done gone all pale.

“Detective,” a tired Hideki Kondo consulted the diagrams on his pad. “This schematic says that recess is not a meter deep and barely half that measurement high. It’d hardly hold a child, let alone an adult…”

“Roger that,” Abby give an enthusiastic nod, ‘er eyes’ dartin’ away from ever’body. “Waste ‘o’ time…”

“Why don’t you want us to open that?” Hekubah seized upon her apparent guilt. “What’s in there that you don’t want us to see?”

Now her eyes was wide. “Nothin’...nothin’! Jest don’t wanna yank another panel…”

“Open it.”

“Aww, c’mon…” the girl balked.

“Abby…” Yuri cautioned.

“OPEN IT!!”

“Abby! Let’s go!” Yuri laid a hand upon her shoulder. “The last one..let’s do it.”

“I got it,” she done give up. “This’un’s hinged.” Now ever’body’s givin’ her tha eye. Abby dropped tah one knee, and pried beneath tha bottom with ‘er fingertips. Weren’t more’n a tick afore tha panel give way, swingin’ ap an’ clear on its’ hinges as a colorful glow come out tha openin’. Now tha jig’s up, Abby stood up an’ stepped back, her eyes closed as them purple bellies got a right good look.

The two soldiers squatted before the open space, but neither went for their torches. “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch.” The hidey hole was all done up pretty, filled with lace bedding and pillows. A string of Noel lights swagged about the ceiling, their little multicolored lamps casting a cheerful glow upon the dozen or so doll babies that lounged on the bedding. Conjuring the culprit behind this caper was easy peasy, seeing as she’d written her name on the back wall in colorful chalk and glitter.

Abigail

Hekubah stood before the opening, a dumbfounded expression upon his face. One or two of the bored soldiers laughed, while others just smirked. Captain Kondo stifled a smile as he turned away. “Um…Abigail?” Yuri could barely keep his own mirth in check. “Care to explain?”

“I like doll babies.”

“Come again?” He placed a hand to his ear. Even some of the crew had smiles and loosed chuckles at the sight.

“I LIKE DOLLS!” the deckhand shouted. “WHAT?” She glared at Yuri, then seen all them smirks on ‘er shipmates’ faces. “SHUT UP!!!”

Things were right on track. Hook and the Sister would soon be bound for the China Doll with the last dozen Anabaptists, and the volunteers were scheduled to arrive to take their places. The Captain, seated in his chair with his foot up on the console, armed with a toothpick, was engaged in a duel with what remained of his lunch between his teeth.

"Hurry-" The wave had come through while he engrossed thusly, but it didn't prompt on the deck--it came through his personal 'tex. After a moment, he rose, donned his duster and hat, and quit the bridge without a word. His mind furiously ran over the message while his legs carried him through the cargo bay.

"Hurry, they're here-" it had started, Lyen's calm voice straining toward discomposure. Her eyes were wide, like she'd seen a ghost. 'They' weren't supposed to be here for 'nother day. 'They' were the inbound slavers the China Doll and crew had been working double time to ferry the Anabaptists from, at the nun's behest.

The mule roared to life as he kicked it down the ramp toward the dusty spaceport's exit. Saddled, the Captain made a b-line for the city proper.

"-and they're going to take all of us."

That set the Captain flying down the boulevards of Osiris at break-neck speeds. The students who had signed up to risk their hides to help smuggle out the wretched souls tucked inside every cranny of his ship were about to get snatched in their stead. And the Sister, too.

Rolling to a stop, Cal ditched the mule outside the checkpoint. The wary looks from the guards told him they were curious as to his presence; after all, to them, he was the man who'd ordered all those wheelbarrows of bricks they'd stopped searching out of boredom. Little did he know Detective Hekubah had yet to set the local constabulary's sights on his back. Strand did know, however, exactly where he'd find the volunteers and their ring leader: Club Banebdjedet. As he approached the open doors, the neon signs depicting men spread over poles were lit only by the light of the setting suns. And the door hung ajar...

---

There hadn't been much time to get the S.O.S. out to Cal and the China Doll. A contact from the Underworld had alerted her, Isaac the bartender, with a sly message scrawled from beneath the bar. By the time she'd received it, however, it served only as grim confirmation.

She was in the club Banebdjedet when she saw them. The nun had revisited to her regular haunt to tie up loose ends when she caught a glimpse of a shadow cast over the papered glass of the club's front doors. Nearing the entry, she held her breath as she listened to their exchange.

"It's all gorram fucked."

Sunlight from between the gaps in the newspaper fell across her face as she moved a tendril of hair from almond her eyes. The pair of men looked hardened, one with a scar across his cheek, the other with a shaved head burnt in the Osiris suns. One glanced at a Cortex in his hand, while the other cleaned his nails with a hand-and-a-half blade.

"Boss said H. screwed the pooch on this one. Blamed a nun for the whole operation goin' south." The man's shadow leaned against the door, cupping his hands for a better view inside past the plastered paper. Lyen flattened herself against the wall, trying to stay out of sight.

"The nun fucked us?"

"...We got nothin' to show for this run. So he said to nab anyone what looks like who we're 'sposed to be here for."

As one man turned to the other, she slowly backed away from her hiding place toward the center brass pole on which, over the years, dozens of men had undoubtedly danced lithely around. Now, it stood alone in solemnity. It rarely drew the nun's eyes any longer after a year here, but now she walked up to it with a resolute expression on those high cheek bones. She lay hold of it with both hands and, as quietly as she could, gave the rod one violent tug, aiming to uproot it. Her plan to brace the door with the rod came to an abrupt end as she emitted a muffled yelp.

"You hear something?" Said the large one to the bald one.

"-Like a fuckin' nun."

"Will you shut up with the nun? I don't wanna hear who touched you as a kid. Now, get this open," he said, rattling the lock.

Lyen was already carefully closing the back exit when the pair stormed through the double doors of the club, and into the darkness of the shuttered strip club. From the alley, the nun raised the hood of her kasaya and melted into the workers and philanderers of the Blackout Zone. Hook, he has to get out now, she thought as she circled around the back of her destination.

She entered through the service entrance of the Underworld as was her custom. Isaac, recognizing her, sent his message on a cocktail napkin via bus boy, continuing to polish the glasses behind the bar of the steadily filling club.

With a nod, Ly acknowledged his warning before burying herself in a booth. Extracting her cortex, the Sister recorded two one-way messages in the dim light of the Underworld.

"Joe, take the last dozen now. Don't wait for me."

Quickly followed by:

"Hurry..."

”It’s not the cockroach you see…it’s the hundred you don’t.”

If one were to make the inquiry, Captain Hideki Kondo would acknowledge that he did indeed spy a cockroach…two, in fact. The first was the matter of a discrepancy in the ident card of Dr. Lysanger’s patient. Deborah, if that was in fact her name, had raised a low level flag, not by particular incidents on her record, but rather the near absence of information it presented. However, seeing as the woman was clearly not a match for the members of the Anabaptist sect in the Detective’s warrant, the army captain chose to withhold this finding. Whether it was the fact that he found her quite attractive or his building distaste for Detective Hekubah would be a matter of little consequence. He studied the face on the woman’s ident card once again. Deborah Yo would warrant further investigation.

The second ‘cockroach’ was the detective himself. Though duty bound to follow his orders and honor the court issued search warrant to Hekubah’s satisfaction, certain mannerisms in the man’s behavior had begun to raise the hairs on the back of Kondo’s neck. The warrant did list these Anabaptists as unauthorized departures from Capital City’s Blackout Zone. There’s been some mutterings that while the slavers’ trade was a flourishing, permit driven business, certain members of the local P.D. had discovered profit in playing middle man, greasing the official wheels and offering their signatures as legal witness to those seeking the appropriate documents to swoop in and scoop up hordes of the teaming humanity for lives of servitude. There was money in it…good money, he’d been told.

And now, this cockroach was wailing, screeching his protests as all eyes were upon the red faced teenager and her personal stash of toys. “I’ve seen quite enough,” Kondo spoke authoritatively. “Sergeant, release the crew. Then assemble the unit for departure.” As Hekubah railed in the background, the captain handed the captured ident cards to China Doll’s first mate. “My sergeant will hand over other personal effects. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Thank you.” The man, Yuri Antonov by name, accepted the cards.

Kondo turned away as the mocha skinned woman they’d apprehended outside now rushed to comfort the fuming teenager. His eye fell upon Corporal Dunn. The woman was down upon one knee, head tilted curiously before the pallets of bricks they’d previously inspected. The look in her eyes was enough to draw him near. “Corporal?” he asked. “Did you find something?”

“I swear, sir,” she shook her head, “that I heard someone coughing.”

“Interesting,” the captain replied absently as he swung the tablet up once more. On his screen still glowed the schematic diagrams of a Firefly Class III vessel, complete with all known smugglers’ spaces denoted. He scrolled away from Abigail’s doll cache, his thumb moving the view across the open cargo deck space toward the center. There, according to the schematic, lay a belly hatch, a resealable hull opening hidden just under a meter below the cargo deck on which he stood. “There’s a void here,” Kondo said to his corporal. “Two meters by two meters by one meter. Not enough room for forty, he thought, still…

“First platoon!” Kondo shouted. “Corral the crew. Second platoon! On me!” As the orders reverberated through the cargo bay, a host of autorifles now trained upon China Doll’s crew. The clatter of boots echoed as Second platoon hastened to their captain’s side. “Surround these pallets,” Kondo barked.

Detective Hekubah scuttled over. “Did you find something?”

“Possibly. Sergeant!” Captain Kondo shouted. “Bring me the first mate.”

“Sir, yes sir!” the huge man replied as he clapped a hand upon Antonov’s shoulder. “You heard the captain…move. MOVE!”

With the sergeant’s sidearm emphasizing the point between his shoulder blades, Yuri wasted no time in hurrying before the captain and a now gloating detective. “What?” he asked. “I thought we were…”

“Open the belly hatch access,” Kondo ordered.

“But it’s got bricks stacked all over it…”

“OPEN THE GORRAM HATCH!” Hekubah tried to roar, but the timbre of his voice was that of an annoyed bleat.

“With all that weight,” Yuri’s voice was measured, “the hydraulics will blow right out. Let us take the bricks off…” The response came in the form of the sergeant’s pistol, clapping the side of his head as he tumbled to his knees.

“Open it,” Kondo’s tone was crisp. “Now.”

“Okay…shiny.” Antonov was sluggish as he rose to his feet. Then, with the glowering sergeant right on his heels, he made his reluctant way toward the little hatch control surface. After turning a large switch and slapping one of the two red buttons, the search party watched as the brick cargo rose a few inches above the deck. Suddenly, it divided right down the center, the halves now trundling left and right as hydraulics and metal whined under the load.

A dozen Anabaptist refugees, gaunt, pitiful scarecrows still in their traditional garb, blinked upward, into the muzzles of Alliance autorifles.

“Get them out of there,” Captain Kondo ordered. “Corporal, scan them for chips.”

Detective Hekubah had transformed. Where once was a desperate insecurity was now a vindicated ebullience. “I KNEW IT!” he rejoiced. “I KNEW IT!” In this triumph, the only taste that might’ve sweetened the moment would’ve been to find the boat’s captain, and especially so, that irritating nun. “Yuri Antonov,” Hekubah proclaimed, “you and your entire crew are bound by law for illegal human trafficking and unpermitted slave acquisition. You,” he couldn’t help grinning as the cuffs bit again into the first mate’s wrists, “are going away for a long, long time.”

---

---

---

---

"You want a what?"

Veronica St. Bartholemew sat across from Quill. Every inch of her was tailored for a specific purpose. How else does one become a big shot on Osiris without looking the part. Veronica was a contact from back before Quill became a Companion. Their families often dealt with each other, leaving the girls to their devices. Veronica was always the one that got them in the most trouble. Now she sat there in a business suit, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, as Quill asked for a favor.

"I need a legal document detailing how the ship I am on is legally obligated and well within its rights to transport a bunch of refugees to safety."

Verona blinked. And then blinked again. "Quill, did you hit your head on the way over here? Do I need to contact medical?"

Quill could understand the hesitancy, but time was a factor. "I have never been more serious. There's a slew of men, women, and children on that vessel and if we have no paperwork to show them, they are going to be taken back."

"Quill, I am not without sympathy, but rules are rules. What did you say these people were?"

"Anabaptists."

"That's a sticky subject on an average day Quill. You want me to stick my neck out to pull roughly 10 favors I have to get you some documentation for a bunch of Anabaptists? You realize if this gets back to me my head will roll. Literally. I've fended off three assassination attempts this month alone."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Not only that, but the crew on the ship will be in danger. And they are good people."

"This is a Firefly vessel, right?"

"I know what it sounds like, but I've seen them work. They look out for each other and, as you can see, other people as well. Especially those who need it."

Verona clicked her long fingernails on the table. "A favor like this requires a substantial one in return. A job. Get it done and I will do as you ask."

"What's the job?"

Veronica laced her fingers together. "I want you to kill a man."

---

Moises Arryan sat back on the couch as the club's lights pulsed and thrashed to the music. Every so often the colors would highlight the woman dancing in front of him, but he was paying her little mind. This was for show, as it always has been. The media outlets thrived on stories of him out and about, getting into light mischief, drinking and partying. That was the surface image he gave off. One that was curated by a team he paid top money for. Can't have the hounds sniffing out what he got to behind closed doors.

He stood up and finished off the glass of some top-shelf alcohol he forgot the name of as he patted the woman's hip as a signal for her to move on. He walked forward, shimmying his hips to the beat, in search of the next opportunity. As his eyes traversed the club, they landed on a figure dancing on a table. Her hair was stylishly done to accentuate her face and her dress left very little to the imagination. She moved around like she had one too many drinks and would not remember where she was when she woke up.

She was perfect.

He sidled over to her. She caught his eye and gave a drunken smile. "Hey, handsome. Like my dance moves?"

Truth be told, it made him sick thinking of being intimate with her, but he gave her his killer smile, "You bet. What's your name gorgeous?"

"Chastity!"

Ironic.

"A pretty name for a pretty woman," he said as he helped her off the table. "Do you come here often? I don't think I've seen you before."

"First time here! I came with some girlfriends on an extended trip during our break from school. Seems they ditched me to go back to the hotel. What losers! I don't want to stop dancing!" She accentuated this point by moving around him, letting her hands travel across his chest. He pushed back a shudder. "Their loss is my gain."

The woman gave a bubbly laugh, "So who are you?"

"Name's Moises. I own this club."

"Oh my god! No way! You must be like, a bajillionaire!"

"Not quite that, but I do well enough."

He noted her eyes grew more interested. Typical. That's all women like her cared about. A big bank account or a big.....well either way, he knew what he had to do.

"Listen, I know a place we can get to for a private after-party. You can keep dancing all night."

She nodded enthusiastically as he grabbed her hand to lead her to his car. Along the way he plotted what he would do.

---

They had pulled up to a building that, from the outside, looked like your typical housing unit. The girl would be none the wiser as to what was done inside. He led her up some steps, noting she was swaying. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

He unlocked the door and pushed the button to call the lift. She was fumbling around in her purse. He figured for some lip gloss or a condom. Both of which would serve her very little. The lift pulled up and he maneuvered her inside. He reached into his pocket, fingers grasping the injection he had stashed away. "Oh poop, you know what I forgot?" the girl said. He fought off an eye roll. "What's that sweethea-" he began to say before 50,000 volts entered his body as he slumped to the ground. "Never mind. Found it!" Quill said, as Moises' vision faded.

---

---

---

---

Moises came to later, though he was unsure how much time had passed. The last thing he remembered was the attractive woman in the elevator and nearly getting to his place before everything went dark. He tried to recollect. Did something happen? Were they attacked? NO, he remembered. He remembered the volts that were sent through his body.

The bitch did this.

He tried to move his arm and found he couldn't. Blinking a few times to clear his vision, he checked himself out and saw that he was strung up, chained to the ceiling. He couldn't move from this spot. He attempted to rip the chains off in a vain attempt to get free.

"I wouldn't tire yourself out so quickly. We are only getting started."

Quill came out of the darkness now. She took graceful steps forward, the heels of her shoes clicking on the tiled floor beneath them. She sat down on the chair that Moises hadn't noticed before. Quill glanced up and caught his eye, giving him a smile.

"What the hell did you do to me?"

"I sent a message. See Moises, I know all about you. I know exactly who you are. That playboy on the cover of magazines and billboards and ads. That's not who you are, is it?"

Moises felt tense. Who the hell was this woman?

"No, Moises. I know what you do behind locked doors. I know about all of the women who you take home and are never seen again. I know how much is sent to news outlets to keep it all quiet. I know about paying to ensure the families are silent or disposed of. I know everything. Granted, a lot of it was kept under lock and key. To your credit, it took some effort. But you have quite the log. I'd call it genius keeping tabs on all of your dirty work if it wasn't so fucking stupid."

Moises lashed out, reaching for Quill's throat. The gorram bitch! How dare she think she had something over him. Women needed to learn their place.

"I imagine you are thinking that I am just some woman who needs to be put in her place. What you don't seem to get, Moises is that I am not here on my own. Granted, it was a pleasure to take you down a peg. No, I am here purely on business. It seems you ruffled some feathers and needed to be....taken care of."

Moises felt the sweat pool on the back of his neck. He needed to get out of this somehow. Get her to unlock him so he could take her out and move on from this nightmare. "What do you want? Money? I have money! Name a figure and it's yours."

Quill chuckled. "Oh sweetie. I am not doing this for money. And nothing you have will satisfy me, though I bet that's not the first time you heard that from a woman."

Moises, again, lunged at her. "I would keep that anger in check. You see, Moises. I needed something and to get that something I had to do this. I was tasked with killing you." Quill could see Moises' eyes widen, though he did his best to hide it. "Oh don't get it wrong, I have no intention of ending your life physically. That would be the easy way out. A bullet through the temple and that's it. You go to wherever dirtbags like you go. I don't believe in heaven or hell so." She shrugged.

"Then what are you going to do?" Moises uttered.

"Good question. I still intend to kill you, of course. But not so much your physical existence. Instead, I want the accumulation of all of the women you killed to be weighed down on you. I want people to look at you like the trash you are. Every time your name is brought up I want people to vomit due to how disgusting you are. I want your name synonymous with filth."

Moises started laughing now. "I am invincible bitch! There is no system out there that will listen. I pay them off well."

Quill nodded. "Oh, I know. And I looked. You covered your tracks well. However, what you did not account for was those that deal with...let's say 'underhanded methods'. Those that can't be so easily bought. It pays to have friends in low places. In fact, I would say right now all of the information in your little black book is being leaked far and wide." Sure enough, Quill heard a ring and looked at her communicator. "Ah yes, the deed is done. Soon word of your little hobby here will get out. And while law enforcement might be slow to respond, I guarantee there is an army of women from all walks of life who will not sit idly by knowing you like to target them. Then the authorities will have to respond. And don't get it twisted, thinking a high-price lawyer will get you out of it or the judge will toss the case. I made sure that they all knew that their families and friends were targets. How else would they listen to you? Blackmail can be real dirty."

Quill stood up. "I'll call to have someone let you go. Maybe they'll give you a head start. I would take this opportunity to pray to whatever god you believe in, because where you are going, you are going to need a miracle to survive."

WIth that, she turned to leave, hearing the cries and curses of Moises as he ultimately came to his fate.

---

“Yuri Antonov,” Hekubah proclaimed, “you and your entire crew are bound by law for illegal human trafficking and unpermitted slave acquisition. You,” he couldn’t help grinning as the cuffs bit again into the first mate’s wrists, “are going away for a long, long time.”

Before the good detective could make good on his word, one of his subordinates could be heard. "Miss, you can't go through here. It is a crime scene! Miss! MISS!"

Kehubah turned to see an attractive blonde woman stride forward. "Who are you? How'd you get in here?"

Quill cast an eye on Yuri and the others, seeing them worse for wear. She clenched her fist before she unclenched and brought her syrupy smile. "Quill Cassidy. The pleasure is yours. I am here to see that my friends here are released and not bothered."

Hekubah started laughing. "And what makes you think I will do such a thing."

"Well detective, I imagine you like following the letter of the law. So here." Quill handed the man a lengthy file. Hekubah took it and opened it, glancing over the papers. Once his eyes fell to the wording, he appeared surprised. "I'll sum it up for you. We have a license signed by Veronica St. Bartholemew herself allowing the transportation of the anabaptists on this Firefly vessel. We also have legal documentation to traverse through your jurisdiction without harm. And, if my eyes don't deceive me, I believe my friends here have come to some harm. Do I need to inspect the anabaptists for injuries too?"

Before the good detective could muster anything else, Quill continued. "Here's what I suggest happens next. I suggest you let my friends go with sincere apologies for how you treated them. I then suggest you go to the anabaptists and apologize for their treatment and see about getting them some resources for their trouble. Then, I would take your badge and kiss it goodbye because, when I am done with you, you will be lucky if you get to clean the toilets of your law enforcement agency, much less work the streets again. Are we clear?"

Cal stood in the open doorway of the club Banebdjedet, his hat in his hand. The setting suns cast rays of light around his shoulders onto the floor inside, but beyond that, the darkness swallowed his vision. A few steps in and his eyes began to adjust to the sight of overturned tables, chairs, and supplies from which he surmised he was too late. His jaw tightened as his hand tapped his hat against his thigh.

Turning to leave, his face met the business end of broken-off, brass railing. Cal, reeling into a flipped table, steadied himself in time to see his attacker was just one of two assailants, the larger of which wore some sort of a machete in a sheathe strapped to his leg. That man lazily closed in on Strand, swinging his improvized club at the air in preparation. Cal unhinged his jaw, a finger feeling for the loose tooth that made his mouth well up with blood. Rising, he expectorated and raised his guard.

The railing fell at an downward angle--Cal caught it with his left and jabbed with his right, hitting the man in the nose. As the first one reeled from Cal's blow, his counterpart filled the gap, swinging a table leg. Strand dodged, the leg grazing his shoulder, and turned, jamming his elbow into the man's back, sending the smaller one sprawling. His back was turned to the big one, who caught him around the shoulders in a vice grip.

Thus disarmed, the small one clicked his tongue before closing the distance with a swift fist to Strand's jaw.

Cal, never having learned when to leave well enough alone, spat a stream of blood into the man's eyes, and stomped with all his might on the big one's instep. In a deft movement, Cal ripped the machete from its scabbard on the man's leg and it sung through the air in a semi-circle. On the ground beside him fell a man's right hand, clutched in anger.

The small one reeled toward Strand, table leg raised, only to stop short as a shot rang out--his body slumping to the floor. Behind him, the man without a hand writhed to the ground, whimpering. Cal, who thought himself mighty merciful, shot the second without looking down.

Rubbing his bloody lip on his sleeve, Cal holstered his pistol. As he stooped to pick up his hat, the Captain raised the China Doll with his com, "Yuri, come in."

A smooth voice modulated back to the Captain's brusque one, "It's just me Cal-"

"Change of plan. I need the Doll in the BZ, pronto."

"I'll relay the message, but everyone's tied up right now," the AI replied cooly.

"Well, tell them to get their pi gui's in gear and get over here!"

"The Alliance officers currently on board the ship have discovered the Anabaptists in the hold," her matter-of-fact tone rubbed him all wrong.

"That's not good."

"Don't fret," he could almost hear the smile in her voice, "it looks like you may owe Quill a favor, Captain."

"Darlin', right now? I'll take any and all favors, with bells on."

"With bells, hmm? I'll be sure to let her know," her tone cusped on teasing.

"You do that. Now bring me my ship."

The cuffs done bit ‘er again. Soldier give ‘er a smirk as he snapped ‘em on tight. “No more dolls for you, missy,” he whispered in ‘er ear. Well, leastways that little prank worked, fer what it’s worth.

She seen them new Anabaptists git hauled up out tha belly hatch bay. All like the rest, raggedy scarecrows gone gaunt in filthy togs what used tah be their Sunday finest. One by one, they’s scanned by a couple soldiers, each man jack of ‘em pingin’ positive by the chip still stuck in their shoulder. ”Dead to rights,” Abby conjured as that detective fella went on an’ on about how Yuri an’ tha crew was all gon’ be in orange jumpsuits afore sundown.

She read a couple books about life in a grey bar hotel. Weren’t none too kindly, she recollected, ‘specially if you’s a young woman. “Do yourself a favor,” the old convict, Bergitta, done told Maggie, the heroine in Behind The Iron Door. “Find a way to earn solitary. Make ‘em think you’re crazy. Young bits of pretty get raped by everyone…guards, inmates, even folk like shepherds and wardens. Make’em scared.”

She pondered that, jest how she’d go ‘bout scarin’ them as held guns, when deliverance come on tha wings of an angel. Tha angel herself could claim tha title without no fuss. Abby already knowed Quill Cassidy’s ‘bout tha pertiest woman she ever did see. But now, watchin’ her take on guards an’ wavin ‘ papers tah make that detective fella’s face go red, Abby seen somethin’ altogether diff’rent in how she handled ‘em. ”Like she’s a queen,” the girl conjured as she searched the four corners of ‘er brainpan for the word. ”Regal. That’s it. Regal.”

“Lies!” a visibly furious Detective Hekubah waved the pages in the woman’s face. Who was this…this...harpy, thinking she could tread upon his payday? “These are obvious forgeries!” the detective pitched them at the woman’s face. “I’m charging you with falsification of official documents and obstruction of a lawful police investigation! You there!” he bellowed toward the nearby soldiers. “Cuff her!”

“BELAY THAT!” Captain Kondo’s command echoed through the cargo bay. “Corporal Dunn,” the Alliance officer spoke in his customary tone, “With me.” The two made their way toward the confrontation. “I’d like to see those,” Kondo said of the papers scattered about the deck.

“Yes sir.” As the corporal hurried about collecting the pages, Hideki Kondo regarded the statuesque newcomer. ”Unfazed by the detective,” he observed. ”Aristocratic bearing, flawless diction. Confident of her position.”

His appraisal halted as the corporal provided the documents. Kondo read, quickly discerning the intent of each page. “Corporal Dunn,” he said as his eyes took in the final legalese. “Authenticate these, please.”

The corporal produced a hand scanner. As she referenced the hidden code watermarks, Kondo remained still, poised as Detective Hekubah persisted in ranting of a vile future for the woman. “Or perhaps I’ll send you into the Blackout Zone!” he blathered the threat. “Let you live in there until somebody gains permit for you!”

“Captain,” the corporal pocketed her device, “the documents are authentic.”

“No!” Hekubah bleated. “Your equipment is faulty!”

“I checked them twice, sir,” Corporal Dunn glanced toward her captain. “The doc codes are verified by Cap City Legal database, and Veronica St. Bartholemew’s office corroborates both her order and signature.”

The Captain’s gaze landed upon the hostage crew. “Release them,” he ordered. “The smuggled ones as well.” As both platoons set to work undoing handcuffs, their commander looked past the frothing detective to study their sanguine, graceful liberator. “Ms…Cassidy,” he recalled her offered name. “If you’ll permit an observation, your timing was impeccable.”

He’d failed them. Failed them all.

Yuri thought he’d considered everything, covered all the angles of this caper. The wheelbarrows and bricks. The privileged student volunteers. Removal of the tracking chips. But at the end, something as simple as a coughing fit up ended the entire scheme, and would now destroy the lives of his shipmates and their smuggled passengers. Hekubah’s triumphal rant barely touched upon his conscious mind, burdened as it was under suffocating guilt. One by one, he met the eyes of his shipmates. One by one, he silently mouthed the words. I’m sorry…

Edina held his gaze. The eyes that met his were softened, yet quietly defiant of her captors. “It’s shiny,” she whispered, her hushed response drowned by the din of the detective and soldiers. “We’re shiny.”

He still had most of his money. Maybe he could contact Lenny Booth, his slippery lawyer from Greenleaf. Mayhaps he could get Edina, Abby, and some of the crew cut loose on bail. A full confession on his part as bargain for slaps on the wrist for as many others as he could finagle…

And then came the miracle.

He could only gape at the sight of Quill Cassidy as she waded right in, flipping the Alliance raid on its’ collective ear with an unflappable air of self assurance. After a moment’s shouted denial, Detective Hekubah had been reduced to sputtering bile as a stoic Captain Kondo ordered their release. As his own cuffs snapped loose, Yuri caught the welcome sight of Edina, rubbing at her now liberated wrists, along with their shipmates.

Corporal Dunn hurried about, returning ident cards and other personal effects, as the first mate looked past the furious detective. “I take it,” he said, eyeing the folder in the captain’s hand, “that we’re free to go?”

“With our apologies for the inconvenience.” Hideki Kondo promptly offered the documents. “Sergeant,” he turned his head, “form them up. We’re returning to our garrison.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A word, Mr. Antonov,” Kondo whispered. He tucked hands behind his back, strolling slowly across the cargo deck as Yuri fell in at his side. “The documents your Ms. Cassidy so fortuitously secured do provide adequate legal protection for you and your crew. You’re free from any liabilities concerning those you’re carrying off planet.”

A relieved Yuri offered a nod. “That’s good news.”

“They do not, however, absolve Sister Lyen Giu of her alleged activities in the Blackout Zone. A warrant has been issued for her arrest.” Kondo halted, turning to meet the younger man with a steady gaze. “There are further complications. As we scanned your idents, certain individuals…Deborah Yo and Edina Wyman…were flagged.”

The surprise was evident on Yuri’s face. He’d never heard of Deborah Yo…but Edina? What official alert could she possibly trigger? “Oh?” he asked. “Why?”

“I’m not at liberty to divulge that,” the captain replied. “What I am able to tell you is that I’ve got a fairly busy schedule for the rest of today. Chances are that I won’t be able to file my operational report until later this evening.” From beneath the bill of his cap, Kondo’s eyes exuded meaning. “I hope you understand.”

“Yes,” the mate issued a solemn nod. “I do.”

“Bon voyage.”

………………………………………………..

Yuri watched them go. The cadre of soldiers moved in practiced order, climbing into their lorries as their captain took to the open topped staff shuttle. He gestured for Detective Hekubah to follow. The cop sullenly obeyed, stepping from China Doll’s cargo ramp onto the dusty asphalt of the docking berth. Antonov followed, more from a need to bar this man from ever coming back aboard than any logical reason he could suss. As he reached the foot, he saw the detective whirl before him, an infuriated scowl upon his face.

Yuri soon realized the police detective’s ire was directed beyond him. Quill stood at the top, her contented little smirk every bit of the cat that ate the canary. Yuri waited until the raiding party’s engines carried them away before heading up to join her, affectionate hands landing upon the woman’s shoulders as a broad grin blossomed on his face. “I don’t know how you pulled that off,” he laughed, “but as long as you’re aboard this boat I’m buying your drinks!”

<Tag Quill, crew>

Thanks to the mysterious, elegant passenger in their midsts, China Doll had dodged the bullet and could now get their precious human cargo away to safety. As he greeted a happily relieved crew, Yuri found himself thankful for Quill’s unforeseen providence. For the first time in a few days, Abby smiled as he congratulated her on her part. He delivered a back slapping hug to Hook, before Edina appeared. Her eyes shone gladdened welcome as he moved toward her. Though disheveled from her arrest, in this moment she had never been more beautiful. Yuri’s arms opened. He would kiss her right now. By god, if this wasn’t the right time, he didn’t know when…

His cortex chirped, the persistent S-O-S cadence S.A.M.A.N.T.H.A. would use for appropriately dire circumstances. The first mate abruptly stopped, annoyance flickering over his features as he pulled the little reader to his ear. “Sam?” He lifted a hand to still the happy voices around him. “Yes, they’re gone. What’s happening?” He turned, his profile toward the others as he listened to the AI’s response. “Where are they?...................................shiny,” he said. “Tell him we’re there in ten ticks.”

China Doll’s First Mate turned, pocketing the little device as he spoke. “Listen up!” he ordered. “Captain’s in a scrape. We’re skids up in five ticks. Hook, Quill, Edina, kindly get these new folks topside and make sure all our passengers are set for upthrust. Abby,” he faced the deckhand, “Rig this deck for flight. Tommy,” he gestured toward the pilot, “Spin ‘er up.” As the crew all made haste, Yuri stepped toward the tall newcomer. “Elias,” he looked up into piercing eyes wreathed by the man’s face covering, “we need a mechanic. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

<Tag Elias, crew>

For a moment, she’d seen something in Yuri’s eyes. A message unspoken, yet no less understood. Edina felt the pull of her own reaction, the urge to move toward him, toward something of which she didn’t quite grasp…but found herself wanting all the same. To understand a thing without actually thinking was strange and frightening territory for her, but instinct seemed to rule the day. As his arms opened, a part of her thinking mind dimly conjured what was about to happen, while the rest had already decided for her.

Then his cortex signaled.

She watched Yuri’s face as he listened, noted the serious nature of his eyes, the furrow to his brow as he turned away. In an instant, the here and now came crashing all around them as he announced Cal’s imminent danger. China Doll’s celebrations would have to wait; their rescue mission now faced a new and alarming chapter.

Now it was Yuri the First Mate before her, cooly decisive as he issued his orders. Abby was first to react, her response a characteristic “On it” before she dashed toward the cargo ramp.

Sight of the girl fired Edina into action. “Twenty-eight hidden up top,” she said to Quill and Hook. “If you’ll check on them, I’ll handle these twelve.”

<Tag Quill, Hook>

The cargo bay was alive with the clattering of bootheels on the catwalk steps and the slamming of hatches. The tortured screech of hydraulic driven metal forced her to shout her greeting to the final contingent of Anabaptists. “Hi, my name is Edina. We’re about to lift off. Kindly follow me and I’ll get you situated.”

These people were half starved and filthy, their faces painted with the bone weariness and perpetual stress of their suffering. Yet despite their trials, they proved unfailingly gracious. “Thank you, Sister Edina. Thank you,” they all managed but for one, a frail man who coughed into his sleeve as she hustled them through the aft hatch. She settled him first, strapping him into a chair of the medbay lounge. The blood on his lips, and the bright red stain upon his sleeve from his fits of coughing told their own dark tale. The wet lung, the woman realized. She’d get him to the doc as soon as they were in the black. Until then, her job was to make certain all of her charges were buttoned down tight before the boat spread its’ wings.

“The rest of you, come with me,” Edina said as the little procession made its’ way aft to the passenger rooms. As the precious seconds ticked down, she saw each of the remaining Anabaptists into the rooms where they’d find secure accommodation in either a bed or a harnessed side chair. “I’ll be around to check on you, once we’re away,” she promised each before making her way to the nearest intercom. “Lower deck passengers are secured.”

“Copy,” Yuri’s voice echoed in response.

After collecting a towel from the lav, she took her own seat, strapping in next to the pale, sickly little man. “I brought you this,” Edina offered the towel as China Doll began to shudder from the force of her atmo engines. “You see that hatch?” she pointed across the way. “That’s our medbay. We’ve got the best doctor in the ’verse,” Edina offered a reassuring smile. “Soon as the captain gives us the ‘all clear,’ I’ll take you to get fixed up.”

Five ticks til upthrust. Far’s she could see, the cargo bay deck was strewn with junk from them soldiers rangin’ about. She had tah shake a leg.

Abby checked the ramp. She spotted the lawn chair Edina’s usin’, pitched onta its’ side when them purple bellies pushed ‘er nose in the dirt. The deckhand fetched it right quick, afore closin’ up tha ramp an’ sealin’ the bulkhead. Next come tha belly hatch deck panels, their drives whinin’ an’ grindin’ under weight of all them bricks as she ran ‘em back. Once they’s settled inta place, the girl run all about tha deck, pickin’ up loose trash an’ puttin’ deck tools an’ load securin’ kit in its’ place..

She could hear tha engines spinnin’ up. Yuri weren’t joshin’. They’s gon’ git in a hurry. Last thing was double checkin’ all them bulkhead panels she’n Yuri pulled open. Abby grabbed a coffin key an’ hurried, jam an’ twist, jam an’ twist, jam an’ twist, up one side an’ down t’other, til she’s right sure none of ‘em come shakin’ off when China Doll’s in tha air.

Last one was tha ruse, the doll baby hidey hole she built tah take their noses off tha scent. Abby couldn’t help the little smile come on her face as she swung it down an’ dogged it shut. She seen little girls among them Anabaptists. Mayhaps Cap’n or Yuri’d let ‘em inta tha cargo bay while they’s in the black. Let ‘em play a spell.

She conjured she’s inside a minute. Abby give the cargo bay one last look, then grabbed the intercom mic. “Cargo bay’s buttoned down,” she reported.

“Copy,” Yuri’s voice come back. “Stay close, Abby. We’ll need to open her up on the quick.”

“You got it.” As she wriggled inta tha straps of a jump seat, Abby could feel tha atmo engines rotatin’. She had no ken fer what’s ‘bout tah happen, but the girl conjured it weren’t tea an’ biscuits.