sail3695

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Captive Audience

“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.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

STORY NOTE

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.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Search IS On

“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.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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…

Qhick Hide Alarm

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!”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Long Arm…

Riding the lawnchair…considering that her job was to scare away business without appearing too obvious about it, Edina found her time out here fairly pleasant. The weather was mildly cool, so her preferred sweater and slacks filled the bill nicely. As the White Sun rode the sky, she watched the passersby, her cortex in one pocket, and her pistol tucked away in the other. Abby’s harrowing experiences on Greenleaf had proven a cautionary tale.

Up the ramp behind her, China Doll’s cargo bulkhead was closed, shielding her bay from prying eyes on the spaceport thoroughfare. Her actual task today was to serve as lookout, casually watching the port entry for any signs of Alliance or local law…a surprisingly frequent occurrence. In addition to the ‘quick hide’ drills organized by the Captain and Imani, she’d called in a few false alarms herself. “Not a worry,” Cal had brushed off her apology. “Keepin’ on our toes is just what the doctor ordered.”

In all truth, she wouldn’t mind being off her toes for a spell.

So far, the crew’s plan to rescue and hide the Anabaptists had been running like clockwork. Despite the suddenly high number of mouths to feed, not to mention the impact upon their hot water showers, both refugees and China Doll crew were, for the most part, in remarkably good spirits. There were exceptions. The tall refugee, Elias, seemed to have a temper on him, though she’d seen him working closely with Yuri this morning. Also, Abby’d gone quiet, putting in long hours at tasks that would keep her to herself. Edina had checked on her more than once. Whatever was eating the girl was something she’d chosen not to share.

“Afternoon, ma’am.” The stranger wore a crisp suit of the type she’d helped fit Yuri for the other day. “I heard you might be headed for Pelorum?”

Edina gave a courteous smile. “Yes, sir. Once our repairs are completed, we’ll begin booking passengers.”

“I see,” He glanced past her toward the sealed bulkhead with its’ personnel hatch. “And when might that be?”

“Our mechanic says three, maybe four days. Plus we’ve got deckhands scrubbing the stink out of our passenger berths. Had a backflow problem with our waste tank. Before we knew it, the three commodes in our lower deck lav became geysers, and…”

“Oh,” the gentleman’s lip curled in distaste. “Perhaps another time, then.”

Edina waved to his retreating back. “Come back in a couple days!” she called as he disappeared among the foot traffic of the port.

Yuri’s voice came from behind. “Scared another one away?” He smiled as he strode down the ramp.

“Another frightened customer,” she quipped. “Is that for me, or were you just going to drink it in front of me?”

Yuri handed the lemonade down. “All this lying is thirsty work,” he smiled. “Thought you might need a drink. Could you use a break?”

The lemonade was just the right combination of tart and sweet. One of the Anabaptists had been making pitchers of the stuff for their flock, but the drink had found a whole new popularity among a boat crew grown weary of Cap. Bob’s Cola and Boom Boom Lemon. “Ahhh,” she praised the refreshing beverage. “Actually, Yuri, I’m shiny,” she replied. I could put another couple hours into this.”

”Ku,” he nodded his appreciation. “You should begin seeing today’s round of student volunteers in about an hour. What’s today’s password?”

“Lassiter.”

“Lassiter,” he repeated, his eyes taking in the busy spaceport and the ultra modern city beyond its’ gates. “Just a few hours now, Eddie, and we’re on our way. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be ready for a few days with no greater worry than “where am I eating today?”

“You mean, ‘where am I taking Edina to eat today?” she grinned.

Yuri returned a fond smile of his own. “I do owe you a couple, don’t I?”

“Bunches. And I aim to collect.”

“Hmmph,” the first mate uttered. “Guess I’ll keep my Pelorum social calendar open.”

Edina’s eyes brightened, her mouth opening into a broad smile. “Another great idea, Yuri! Between this and the wheelbarrows, I think you’re just a gorram genius!”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” he replied mildly.

“Good idea…hey!” she laughed. “Oh, that’s right…just run away,” a smiling Edina waved at Yuri as he returned to his own chores. Over the past few days, she’d really come to enjoy his company…when they had time to just sit and talk. Like him, she was looking forward to their free time on Pelorum. He’d invited her to the Earth-That-Was museum. While it would be a pleasant diversion, Edina had learned enough of Yuri’s tastes to understand that music might afford them an evening out. Jazz wasn’t too popular in the ‘verse, but she’d found a bar that boasted a music style…bebop, they called it…

The authoritative wail of a siren pulled her from her musings. She saw what looked like a small military convoy, led by a pair of police cruisers. Their lights flickered hot blue as they moved slowly through the dispersing crowd, leading three troop trucks. Oh, this can’t be good, Edina thought as she removed the cortex from her pocket. She tapped the code sequence, lifted the little device to her ear. “Company,” Edina warned.

This time, it was for real. Edina rose from her chair as the two police cruisers swerved to block the cargo ramp from any motorized escape. The trucks ground to a halt, their brakes squealing as armed purple soldiers jumped down from the open backs. Two men approached her. One wore the uniform of an Alliance officer. The other was dressed in a business style suit of rumpled sport coat and slacks, from which he produced a badge. “I’m Detective Hekubah, Capital City PD,” the plainclothes said. “This is Captain Kondo, 45th Planetary Security Brigade. We have a warrant to search this vessel.”

Edina lifted her hands. “I’ve got a pistol in my right sweater pocket,” she told the two encroachers. “My cortex is in my left. Let me call my captain…” Before she could conjure just what was taking place, rough hands had whirled her about and shoved her to the ground. As those same hands proceeded to pat her down for other objects, she felt the harsh bite of cuffs upon her wrists.

Now bound, she was hauled to her feet as Hekubah and the Alliance Captain led their troops into China Doll. “CAPITAL CITY PD! GET ON THE GROUND!” the detective’s voice echoed through the personnel hatch.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Story Note

It is now Day 3, early afternoon.

By this point, Joe Hooker and Sister Lyen have successfully brought another band of Anabaptist refugees out of the Blackout Zone. With Alana Lysanger to remove their chips and see to their overall health, the rest of China Doll’s crew are attending to their passengers’ comfort and feeding.

Elias Riemen has demonstrated a talent for engineering and mechanics. Though he and Yuri Antonov are still communicating via some rudimentary sign language and his handheld chalkboard, they successfully set up a power distribution network and secured lockdowns for six climate controlled artifact shipping containers bound for Pelorum. The busy First Mate/Mechanic is coming to value and rely upon Elias’ proficiency.

Imani Ozuka has been charged with security. She, along with Cal Strand, are conducting a series of “quick hide” drills in the event of unwelcome visitors. S.A.M.A.N.T.H.A, the boat’s AI (and worst kept secret,) is assisting in these drills by playing a single song.

Nowhere To Run

The Anabaptists have become pretty good at hiding, shutting themselves away in the boat’s upper deck crannies in seconds. Those who find themselves on the lower deck leap into the belly hatch space, to be hidden by the bricks stacked on hydraulic deck panels.

Quill Cassidy has been called away from her counseling duties to an errand only known to the Captain and herself. Abby Travis is currently cleaning the lower deck lav. In the cockpit, Tommy Pearson is taking the current lull as a chance to get in some early preflight preparation. Edina Wyman has volunteered to “ride the lawnchair” outside, to greet curious passersby and generally act as lookout.

The last group of refugees is expected in just under four hours’ time. Once they’re aboard, China Doll will break atmo. So far, everything is going exactly to plan.

So far…

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Happy Sunday, all!

I hope that all of us who celebrated Thanksgiving had a wonderful time with family and friends. Thanksgiving in our house involved a brand new smoker, failing propane connections, and frantic recovery efforts that finally met with success on Thanksgiving morning.

The tale is long and harrowing, and I won't belabor you with it here. Suffice to say that we had a detonation free Thanksgiving. Though dinner was two hours later than planned, everyone agreed that it was well worth the wait (though I'd assume that Mrs. Sail's Bourbon Punch was responsible for enhanced good moods all around.)

And now, back to our regularly scheduled program:

The long awaited Part 6 was posted yesterday. We do have a Part 7, but as it's been largely undeveloped for the weeks of my forced march through work, my immediate thought is that the plot points to be made there can be more effectively handled in future posts...if at all. But I'll leave it up to you, dear crew. We can still shape Part 7 to suit any participants, or send what's already there to the cutting room floor and move the story on to the climax. What do you think?

Again, my apologies for being pulled away. Though I'm still spinning way too many plates on the job, I'll do my best to remain current and help things move along. Hope you're all enjoying this weekend!

sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”The Least Of These” - Part 6

Part 6 of a JP/Collab from @Xandrya, @PatientBean, @Bugman, @Gunther, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

Joe checked himself in the mirror in the head. He washed his face and hands and returned to his room. He put on dark trousers, his work boots and a dark button down shirt. He had on his black watch cap and black gloves, then returned to the cargo bay to help move the people back to the black out zone.

“We ‘bout ready to go, Sistah?” Joe asked Sister Lyen.

She nodded, regarding the ‘foreman’ as he emerged from the bowels of the China Doll. He had transformed into a figure clad in dark clothing, from head to toe. His change of clothes affected something deeper, it seemed to her, and he was something of a new man as he asked his question. “We’re almost there; just adding some last touches,” in her hand the nun held a smear of ash aloft as she spread it across the cheek of a female volunteer who smiled in return.

“And Peter,” Yuri called the last name from his list. A young volunteer stepped forward. It seemed to the first mate that Sister Lyen had put in some work to dirty the faces and hands of her volunteers to match the shabby clothes they’d adopted. “What’s your Anabaptist name?” he quizzed the young volunteer.

“Brother Raphael Hendricks,” the college student answered.

“Shiny. Roll up your left sleeve.” As the boy cooperated, Yuri pulled the final chip from a dish of disinfectant. He passed the scanner, and satisfied that he had the proper match, tore a piece of the same silver grey duct tape he’d seen the border guards use as ad hoc bandages when they implanted their victims. Once the chip was firmly taped to the young man’s bicep, he met The Sister’s eye with a nod. “They’re ready to go. Everybody? Everybody!” he raised his voice. “Grab a wheelbarrow and follow Mr. Hooker. Stay safe in there!”

Picking her way to Yuri, Lyen addressed him in a softer tone, “And you stay safe out here.” Her precious charges now lay with this crew and their ship. As she drew one last look of the cargo bay, Ly began shepherding volunteers toward their temporary burdens. There was hope, resounding here, even as she fought her ego in the name of dukkha. These people would know metta and karuna at last, and that was enough.

As Joe walked past to lead the way, Yuri offered the faux job foreman his hand. “Like clockwork, my friend,” he said as they shook. “We’ll see you same time tomorrow.”

In tha cargo bay, Abby jest stuck right ta her task, that bein’ stackin’ all them bricks onta a pair ‘o’ flattop pallets. She din’ say nothin’ when Hook an’ them volunteers trundled wheelbarrows past, just kep ‘er head down and ‘er hands busy. ‘Bout the time they’s all down tha cargo ramp, she wrapped both stacks with sheets ‘o’ cardboard, then banded everythin’ down tight.

Inside, she’s fit tah boil. How could he say a thing like that? she pondered Cap’n’s askin’ if she wanted Hook off tha boat. I ain’t lookin’ fer no tea an’ biscuits, but gittin’ mah feelin’s played fer sport? Kinda thing was that tah do? She conjured it’s good she’s down here by her lonesome, slappin’ bricks around an’ wangin’ ‘em down tight with tha bander. Least I can say y’all ain’t goin’ nowhere, Abby pondered.

Tha deckhand stood up straight, satisfied with what she done. She’s stretchin’ out, pressin’ a hand against small ‘o’ her back when Yuri come up alongside ‘er. “I set ‘em up, jest like yew said,” she offered.

Yuri admired the girl’s handiwork. “What do you think?” he asked.

“Ain’t no reason fer it not tah work.”

“How’s about a test run?”

“Shiny.” Abby stepped toward tha hatch controls. With Yuri watchin’ them pallets, she turnt a heavy switch, then slapped ‘er palm onta one ‘o’ tha big red buttons on tha little console. All sudden like, both them pallets ‘o’ bricks lifted right up afore one slid left an’ t’other slid right; both halves of tha deck movin’ aside tah show tha actual hull hatch about a meter unnerneath.

She took once more tah Yuri’s side. “Purty sharp idea,” she said. “Yah might get twenty…twenty-five full growed folk all hid down there.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Hopefully we won’t need to. You can close it back up.”

“Aiight.” She give tha kill switch another hard knock, sending’ them two pallets back tahgether as tha deck plates closed down.

Yuri watched her for a moment. Something in her movements…a decisive sort of jerk punctuating each action, reminded him of his mother…when she was mad. “Good work today, Abby,” he observed. “You should grab some food.”

She din’ bother lookin’ up at Yuri. “Later,” Abby said plain. “Got more stuff tah do first.”

“Something on your mind, Abby?”

“Just doin’ muh job, sir.”

Oh yeah, Yuri mused in silence. Something…or someone…had definitely put a burr in the girl’s saddle. She’d been fine this morning, in great spirits after Dr. Lysanger cleared her skin of all the bruises from her time spent with the bikers. Busy as he was, Yuri hadn’t set eyes on her in a few hours, but one thing was certain. If he could apply the scale of his own mother’s eruptions, Mount Abigail was definitely on a buildup. “Shiny,” he responded. “Well, if something ever does bother you, you know that you can come talk to me about it, dohn mah?

“Copy,” she answered. “I gotta git to it.”

The first mate nodded approval. “Me too. I’ll see you later.” And they both went their ways, intent on the necessary, aware of the damage, yet unwilling to address it. “I should talk to Alana about Abby,” Yuri conjured as he climbed to the upper deck. “Or Edina.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

If it's Sunday, this must be the Cargo Bay...

Happy Weekend, All! So sorry that I fell off the face of the Earth for a couple weeks. Work has been totally nuclear for the past month, with no free time to engage in this game I love.

The good news is that I see light at the end of the tunnel, and I'm fairly certain it's not an oncoming train.

I'll get the next installment posted tonight before I call it quits. Then, we can move along to the final piece and into the episode climax. Thanks for being patient with me!

sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”The Least Of These” - Part 4

Part 4 of a JP/Collab from @Xandrya, @PatientBean, @Bugman, @Gunther, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

Foodie duty...great.

Imani placed the trays of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade on the table as soon as she heard footsteps approaching a while later. Prior to then, she was leaned back on a chair with legs crossed atop the space that was now occupied.

New faces poured into the galley, and Imani glanced them over. Yes, they looked about to be starving...she might as well be their savior.

“Ah...you’ve made it. Welcome. Please, gon and help yoselves to these extraordinary snacks, not that they were prepared by me,” she shrugged her shoulders, “but they still delicious! And no, don’t be shy now..."

All the sisters on this ship are so pretty! Raphael felt a pang of shame over such a thought, yet he couldn’t help smiling brightly as the lovely woman set food…appetizing food!...before those of his sect who’d made it upstairs. Knowing full well that gluttony was a sin, he fought the urge to pile his plate high with the delicious looking food, opting instead for what he hoped would be regarded as a much more modest pair of sandwiches.

He prayed, both for forgiveness over his blushing admiration of Sister Imani, and also in thanksgiving of the good fortune she and her shipmates had bestowed upon he and his. Over time, he could sense the spirits rising. They took of the life giving meal, its’ invigorating effects raising smiles and outright laughter among the Anabaptists. It warmed Raphael’s heart to see the growing cheer and relief upon their faces. They had been blessed. There was joy in this room. “Sister Imani?” he asked as she strode confidently past, “would it be alright if I had one more?”

It seemed someone had taken a liking to her...it was beyond obvious and not just from blushing but Imani pretended not to notice. He then was apparently ready for seconds.

She stopped him in his tracks, one hand held out in front of her so he wouldn't have to get up to fulfill his own request. "It would be my pleasure, we're here to serve..."

After a cheeky smile, she grabbed a napkin and stretched out over the table to take another sandwich before placing it in front of him. It then dawned on her, after observing some of their faces, that such a small gesture as getting fed made these people rather content. "Fancy another drink?" she motioned towards his almost empty cup.

In his experience, kindness was a rarety, a treasure to be shared among his Anabaptist sisters and brothers. By virtue of his faith’s teachings Raphael had given it freely to those on the outside with no expectation of reward. A bit of wisdom, he’d realized, as precious little ever came his way from outsiders.

But today was a day of revelation. There was kindness in the outside world, and those who would give it with abandon, from Brother Joseph who led his people here to Sister Doctor Alana…to the attentive Sister Imani. “Yes, thank you,” Raphael smiled, then felt the flush rising to his cheeks once more. “Please forgive me,” he averted his eyes from the beautiful woman as she delivered another bottle of cola. “I don’t mean to…”

"Dear don't apologize, you gotten a thing to worry about..." She knew. Obviously she knew. Imani decided to sit down next to him and gauge his reaction as the others, well, they were consumed by the aliments they had been offered. She went on to place a hand on his left shoulder as if reassuring him. "Never feel bad for killing off your hunger...it is indeed a blessing."

He was young, chances were he wouldn't catch on to her playing clueless.

Now, he was flustered. If he weren’t already blushing, Raphael knew that the jolt of Sister Imani’s hand upon his shoulder was like to turn his face a deep crimson. “Uh…um…” he stammered. “Yes…yes it is.” The new cola offered a chance at concealing his befuddlement. With nervous hands, he scooped the bottle up, gulping swallow upon swallow of the fizzing drink to buy time. When at last Raphael thought he’d mastered both his nerves and just what to say to her, he set the bottle upon the table. With a smile no longer trembling, he turned to look her in the eye, opened his mouth to speak…and loosed a massive belch.

From down the table, young Sister Emily doubled over in laughter.

“Oh!” Raphael could barely face her now. “I am so sorry, Sister Imani!”

Her instinct was to chuckle, similarly like the reaction of one of his peers, though not as profound. She didn't do it to be cruel, but Rapael's bodily function was no doubt unexpected. Another apology and Imani might as well start countin' purely for her own amusement. Poor kid only seemed to be digging a deeper hole for himself...and he was quite aware of it.

"Watcha expect when you gulp down that cola, eh?" she added playfully as if castigating him. Raphael had drawn the attention of some of the others, and Imani then thought it best to throw him a lifeline. "For what it's worth, some of the girls here gotcha beat..." she feigned with a smirk, "you definitely gotta work on your delivery."

Sister Imani proved even more kind than he could’ve hoped. And pretty. Really pretty. When she smiled at him, it felt as if his chest was fit to swell up. For a minute he wondered if such fraternizing was not of their way. An upright young Anabaptist man socializing with a beautiful woman who wasn’t wife or blood. One quick glance down the table confirmed that if his elders thought anything amiss, they weren’t offering anything but chuckles and contented belches of their own from China Doll’s bounteous table. “I conjure I should,” Raphael’s grin was sheepish. “So,” he tried to change the subject, “what’s it like to live on a…”

...TO BE CONTINUED…