sail3695

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”What’s a Fella Like You…”

OOC: JP collaboration from @wanderingwolf and @sail3695

Urvasi was pretty enough, floating there with its vast oceans and green pastures, lit from the nearby star. Clusters of life dotted the planet, with vast spaces between them. Urvasi, if his memory served, had suffered some of the heaviest casualties during the war. He heard some one in fifty volunteers didn't make it home. Most like, that left mining operations without an owner or altogether failed settlements void of folk, Cal conjured, as he scanned the planet's sparse surface.

His hand guided the yoke of the China Doll through open space as he prepared to break atmo. From his seat in the pilot's chair, the Captain flipped the switch to engage the orbital maneuvering engines and opened comms to the engineering bay.

"Elias, we're ready to break atmo; power up the OMS." Cal waited for the telltale code for 'O-K' tapped out in comm starts and stops--a shorthand they had adopted over the last leg. Sure as the mail, Elias faithfully tapped out three longs, followed by a long-short-long, to which Cal replied, "Heard."

Cal picked up the comm again, flipping the dial to general, "Passengers and crew, this is your Captain speaking. I'm bringing us into Urvasi. Won't be time for dawdlin', we’re just pickin’ somethin’ up 'fore we high-tail it to the nearby skyplex. Strap in, and a member of crew'll be by to make sure you’re situated."

Slowly at first, indicative of the seasoned mechanic in his bay, the power eased up his gauges in the console. He dialed the knob to route the energy to the positioning engines and begin to break orbit. Leaning on the yoke, Cal stuck the China Doll in a backwards spin away from Urvasi as the OMS eased them into its gravitational pull.

Stuck with its nose to the black, Cal recalled the first time he'd watched a pilot by the name of Caesar maneuver the Doll into this awkward position, ass to land and nose to sky. As the younger Cal had quirked an eyebrow, Caesar, who loved his quips, replied, "Just givin' the planet another moon," before sniggering like a fool. In the present, the planet's gravity began to take hold, and the pilot's console jumped to life with calculations of G-force and pressure changes.

With a jerk on the yoke, Strand brought Urvasi into view, nudging their descent to forty degrees--so the Firefly's belly and heat-shielding took the brunt of the burn-in. The pilot's dash view screen flashed green as the text 'angle of attack' displayed, and Cal clapped the 'Hold' button beside the console to engage the automated flight guard.

Before long, the China Doll's burn-in was complete, and Cal called down to engineering for atmo engine power. Fighting gravity, Cal strained with the yoke as he leveled them out, and they began their on-planet flight to the coordinates he'd been given in the slim dossier belonging to their next pilot.

Yuri clambered up the steps, his footfalls announcing his arrival in the cockpit. “Ready for our little touch-off,” he reported, his voice betraying the dubious sentiments currently weighing upon him. Of course, the incessant rounds of ‘Twenty Questions’ he’d played with the crew had done little to set his own mind right about the mysterious hire. “Looks nice,” he observed of the green landscape, dotted by numerous wind powered mills passing beneath their viewpanes. “Doesn’t look at all like the captures from that battle. You’d conjure,” the first mate said, “that the war never touched this place.”

Cal turned to his mate who had a good point, “Lots of good folk on Urvasi. Reckon most were stuck here from their lot after the war. Could be our next pilot flies for one of these mills, plenty of them around.” Indeed, the beautiful landscape was dotted with large mills turning gigantic paddles in the Urvasi breeze.

Antonov leaned against the copilot’s handrail, his posture intentionally casual, eyes forward as he offered, “Can’t wait to learn what’s what about this fella.”

He nodded, “Contract didn’t exactly paint me a picture. I got flight hour history and contract cost. ‘Nough to prick my ears.”

The Mate considered that. Cal wasn’t the first captain who’d made calls based upon his gut. Even a mechanic had to rely upon a certain level of intuition. But as the mills and their rolling landscape gave way to a barren, hardscrabble swath of ground, Yuri had to wonder if this gift horse needed a dentist.

“Huh, scanners say to go further–straight out to the prison.” The hulking gray structure looked like a marriage of Alliance utility and some strange citadel with satellite disks and gigantic radar arrays circling on the outcroppings across the buildings that made up the anterior wall.

Cal wasn’t lying; a quick glance at the NAV display on his console told it plain enough. China Doll was riding the beam, her course and angle of descent placing her on final approach toward a broad, dusty square of ground splayed out before the main gate. Yuri thought to speak up, voice his concerns. He knew his words might veer toward prejudice, but thought of introducing a convict from an Alliance supermax prison to a boat full of passengers felt all kinds of wrong…not to mention the women among the crew.

But he also knew Cap’n’s mind was made up. Yuri recognized the set of Cal’s jaw, a tell that he’d brook no second guessing of his calls. In for a penny, in for a pound, he relented with a mild shrug.

Standing just outside the entrance, a bear of a man stood looking up at the sky holding a bundle in his arms. “I got a sinkin’ feeling that’s our guy, right there…” Cal said, pulling up on the yoke.

China Doll came in low, her nose lifting as the atmo engines brought her to hover. “Abby,” Yuri keyed the comm mic, “stand by to lower the ramp.” When the girl’s voice crackled her affirmative, the First Mate’s eye fell upon the Captain. “Want me to bring him up?” he asked, “or do you wanna meet him at the ramp?”

“Come ‘ere and take over; I’m going to give our new pilot a warm welcome,” with that same look in his eye, he locked the control column and traded places with Yuri. The ex-con on the ground was a gambit no matter which way he sliced it, but the Doll needed a pilot and desperate times called for… well, he probably wasn’t that bad. Chances are he hated the Alliance, right? That was something, at least. Arching his brow at any quip Yuri might have on deck, Cal grabbed his duster before taking the stairs two at a time to the cargo bay.

“Uh…okay.” Yuri slipped into the pilot’s seat with a raised brow. He needn’t worry; Cal had set the boat down onto her skids, and the man they were taking on board had at least passed the flight hours portion of the smell test. As to the rest? That, the first mate conjured, would all depend upon how he sized up in the eyes of the man who’d come across the ‘verse to secure his freedom.

For now, his task was simple. Keep her on the ground, engines idling, til Cap’n and his new pilot came to claim the cockpit. A wise move, considering all the flight training that Yuri possessed was conducted by Abby…

Down at her station, Abigail was ready and waiting to lower the ramp. With a nod, Cal gave the order, and while the hydraulics whined, he looped an arm through his coat and asked, “How do you feel about ex-cons? They did their bit; shined up for what they done, right?”

The deckhand give a shrug. “Kinda hard tah say, sir. ‘Lliance throws folk inta stir fer a hangnail, I hear. Uncle Bob always said “ever’body’s got crime. Take a man fer hisself…’cept kiddie rapers,” Abby said flatly. “I’ma straight up kill a kiddie raper afore he can say ‘howdy.”

Her mouth hung at sight of tha man stood afore ‘em. Cap’n was a tall man; Elias was a tall man. But this fella was a gorram mountain, all muscled up an’ tattooed over like a warnin’ sign fer twenty mile ‘o’ bad road.

Back ‘o’ her mind said somethin’ bout it bein’ impolite tah stare, but she reckoned if a body come face tah face with a tiger broke free from tha zoo, manners din’ always stand. Fer now, she gaped at this man, eyes wide an’ mouth open. “Howdy,” was tha only word come tah mind as tha barest whisper.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Leaving

”Don't yah cry, Chick Pea…”

She ‘membered how things looked that day, an’ how they felt. Santo was cold, enough tah make tha ground hard, was what them diggers said. She recalled seein’ em, blowin’ warm breath inta their hands afore lowerin’ the pine box with ropes. Her hands was warm, one all wrapped in calluses of Uncle Bob’s palm. T’other she kep in a pocket, fingers workin’ the casin’ of Aunt Lupe’s locket.

She ‘membered a grey sky, an’ a grey world spread out beneath. Seemed like when Lupe passed, she took all tha color in tha ‘verse with her. Uncle Bob tole his niece that this here was Aunt Lupe’s fam’ly, all laid out in neat rows of a plot they claimed nigh on a hunnerd years hence. She ‘membered ponderin’ that…countin’ headstones an’ wonderin’ how such a sizeable number ‘o’ folk din’ yield up none tah stand alongside them, tha shepherd, an’ them gravediggers.

”Don’t yah cry, Chick Pea,” Uncle Bob whispered. “Folk come an’ go in tha ‘verse. An’ sometimes,’[/i] she’d never fergit hearin’ tha hitch an’ crack in ‘is voice, ”tha leavin’s fer good.”

Abby felt tha wet try’na come upon ‘er eyes as Cal said ‘is piece. Ann-you-rizzum...she weren’t altogether sure jest what it was, but knowed enough tah conjure such a thing tah be mighty serious. Tumor was a word carried plenty ominous meanin’ fer her. From her readin’, she knowed tumors tah be tied up with cancer, a cold hand she seen take many a soul in tha black. And Alana had both..her life cut short by a ‘snake eyes’ roll of the dice.

She din’ move…just stared a hole inta the buttons on Cal’s chest as he give ‘em words. He owned up, but as she sat thinkin’ ‘bout what tumors did inside a person’s head, Abby couldn’t rightly agree that Cap’n was the sorta heel he made hisself out tah be. That thing was inside ‘er, she reflected. Colorin’ her thinkin’. Buddha only knows what tortuous thoughts it give ‘er afore it took ‘er away.

”Don’t yah cry, Chick Pea…”

Then it was Yuri, gettin’ ‘em all on their feet, handin’ over tha clipboard an’ her orders. “Copy,” Abby said as she scooched ‘er chair back Time to work. Think later.

****************************************************************

“Mmm, I smell the ocean on you. And in your hair.”

Somethin’ ‘bout tha helpless nature Rev. McDermott put on tah git her strappin’ him inta his seat had Abby wishin’ she’d changed outta her shorts an’ tank top. Fer a man ‘o’ tha cloth, he sure studied what lay under hers with all kindsa interest. “Bless you, child,” the Shepherd’s hand grazed ‘er thigh as she sidled off tah Mrs. Hewitt.

“I’m all set,” the woman announced, her adjusted shoulder straps and neatly buckled safety belt on display. “Tell me…Abby, is it? How soon will a girl be able to get a cup of joe on this boat?”

“Prob’ly fifteen ticks after we break atmo,” the deckhand replied. “Most like there’ll be a plate ‘o’ cookies ‘r’ somethin’ out tah go with.”

The third passenger, Mr. Eleanor, was in no mood for such trifling. “I thought we were leaving in the morning,” he glowered at the teenager with the annoying twang in her voice. “Why the sudden launch?”

Abby give a shake of ‘er head. “Plans change,” she offered as she set ‘is straps just so. “Cap’n says ‘go,’ we go.”

“I’ll be sure to ask him,” the bitter little man growled.

The young girl shrugged. “Cap’n’s never short fer an answer,” she replied. “Now y’all jest stay strapped in. I got a couple more things tah do afore we giddyup, but I’ll be here tah take tha ride out with yah.” After two nods an’ one set ‘o’ eyes walkin’ ‘er hips, Abby made for an escape through tha cargo bay hatch.

It’s like ever’ other launch; button up them passengers, take a jog outside tah dog tha umbilical hatch, and then raise tha ramp. “Muscle memory” she’d heard it called, like ‘er body had a whole list ‘o’ cues it just knowed tah do afore they put spurs to the boat. She passed Medbay, an’ seen movement within…Alana’s doin’ ‘er preflights that part ‘o’ her checked off a box.

Then she stopped. Alana weren’t here no more.

Fresh eyes peered through tha window, and she recognized Imani goin’ about her tasks. Time would come when this sight would be as normal as ever’ other part ‘o’ prelaunch. Time would come when she might not feel tha pang ‘o’ hurt when she looked at Medbay.

Folk come and go in the ‘verse. Sometimes, the leavin’s fer good.

Abby reckoned she might outta talk tah Sister. But now, they’s work.

*****************************************************

“Damn, Cornflakes. You look downright sexy turning that big wrench.”

Lorraine done come up behind ‘er as she bolted tha umbilical hatch shut. “Yah oughtta see me pump a shotgun,” Abby quipped as she heaved one last turn.

“So,” the waitress cum partner in crime huffed, “you were just gonna run out on me, huh?”

The deckhand lowered the big wrench to her side as she turned. “Had a ‘mergency call. I git that, I’m s’posed tah skedaddle,” she shrugged. “Did look for yah, though. Didn’t see yah.”

The woman nodded, spiky black hair dancing in the stark pole lighting of the docking berths. “I mighta been…busy,” she grinned, “but not too busy to track you down. Emergency, huh?” she asked. “What’s brewing?”

“Our doc,” Abby managed.

“The one you were looking for?”

“Yeah,” the deckhand said. “She died tonight.”

Lorraine’s jaw dropped. “How?”

“Had herself a ann-you-rizzum.”

“Man. but I’m sorry. That sucks.” Lorraine closed the distance, her hands settling upon Abby’s shoulders. “What about you?” she asked, her gaze fixed upon Abby’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

Weren’t time fer no words tah form. Abby didn’t reckon she had a good answer fer that nohow. All she conjured was when Lorraine pulled ‘er in close she let it happen. Next minute her face was buried in ‘er friend’s shoulder, an’ she’s sobbin’ all get out as she’s held like a babe in arms.

Don’t yah cry, Chick Pea…

“Sorry,” Abby pulled ‘erself back, wipin’ ‘er eyes. “Should’na done that..”

“Fuck that,” Lorraine caressed an errant streak of red hair from the girl’s face. “You don’t bottle that la shi up inside, or it’ll poison you.” She hadn’t entirely released Abby. Now, with hands on her shoulders, the criminal said, “to tell you the truth, I came here to ask you to join our little crew.” She dipped her gaze briefly, then with a crooked smile continued. “We could have a helluva time. I’m scoping out a sweet job on Silverhold. If I bring the right folk, it robs itself…”

Abby found ‘erself laughin’ as she wiped ‘er last tears. “Might need more slutty clothes,” she chuckled.

“Gotcha covered!”

“Ah cain’t.” She lifted eyes toward China Doll. “This boat’s been home over two years. Cap’n took me on when I jest lost it all.” She seen the disappointment in Lorraine’s eyes. “He lost a powerful lot tonight, Lorraine,” Abby finished. “Ain’t no way I’m backin’ out on ‘im now.”

Lorraine took the bad news with her characteristic smirk. “You’re predictable, Cornflakes,” she offered a smile gone wry. “Gimme a goodbye hug, okay? Only don’t club me with that wrench.”

“No promises.” The two friends laughed as a moment froze around them in a firmly shared embrace. “Folk come an’ go in tha ‘verse,” Abby offered. “I reckon our paths ‘ll hafta cross some fine day.”

After a vigorous rub of the girl’s back, Lorraine pulled free. “And that,” she winked, “will be one helluva time. Til then, I’m in your cortex.” She was smiling that wicked smile of hers as she said “See ya ‘round, Cornflakes.”

“See yah, Bugsy.” Weren’t no time fer long farewells. Abby had a job tah do. An’ China Doll had tah fly. Two ticks passed as she sealed ‘er up tah break atmo. “Yuri,” she tapped tha com. “We’re buttoned up below. I’m strappin’ in.”

“Copy that, thanks,” the first mate’s voice squelched over the tinny speaker.

Home, she pondered as she made ‘er way aft. Without Alana. That’d make for tough feelin’s all around, Abby considered as she found ‘er seat with tha passengers, [i]but home ain’t always gon’ be white picket fences. She hurt tonight; they all hurt. An’ somehow, just knowin’ that grief was shared made it feel a skosh better.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Cold Comfort

For a crew whose minds had given over to their respective dalliances these past three days, the people of China Doll took the harsh lift of the veil with practiced silence. One of theirs was gone, and with her, the common fantasy that everything would end up shiny. Cap’n would put it right, Alana would return, and they’d all fly away with big smiles and tales to swap.

Instead, they had an urn, and an account of a time bomb to the brainpan. Tumor and aneurysm, words whose meanings were frequently clouded in medical hopespeak…until one was faced with the cold shen of the burial urn before them. Alana Lysanger, their doctor, shipmate, friend…was truly gone. Cap’n didn’t waste words on the topic or the ensuing tale. Instead, he stood up, shouldered what burden was his to claim, and reminded this crew of their own stations. The first mate found himself struck by the hidden kindness of the man’s no nonsense approach.

Yuri let three beats pass before speaking. “Alright, people,” his voice attacked the heavy pall of silence, “the man didn’t stutter. Elias,” his eye found the mechanic, “spin ‘er up. SAM and I will start preflights in five ticks. Abby,” he proffered the clipboard. “See to our passengers. Get ‘em all strapped and wrapped for upthrust. Then make sure we’re buttoned up and cut loose from shore power. Copy?”

As the girl and her towering counterpart rose to their tasks, Yuri’s gaze touched on the rest of China Doll’s current crew. “Imani…make sure Medbay’s all squared. Sister,” his tone softened as he addressed the nun, “I’d be most obliged if you could give Edina here a hand with locking down the galley and the topside lounge. As for Edina herself, he felt he could barely meet her eye. What she’d become to him, and what they’d shared during a few days in this paradise bore no weight in face of the stark world now crashing down around their ears. To look into her eyes and see such glimmer felt as alien a notion as the cold light glistening upon Alana’s gorramed urn.

Instead, he covered with bluster. “Skids up in fifteen!” Yuri called after the dispersing boat crew. He turned to make for his quarters and a change of clothes when his eyes fell once more upon the porcelain urn. Angel, Yuri mused of the first time he’d seen her, a dazzling figure who snatched him from a violent sea. He wasn’t sure that such creatures existed; they belonged to the dogmas his mother had forced upon her husband and sons with no evidence of truth to be found in this ‘verse.

But as Yuri hastened to get into his working clothes, he found a bit of comfort in the thought of Alana’s ascension.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Happy Sunday from the cargo bay!

Been a minute since I dropped a Sunday OOC. My personal 'verse got a little active there, but I'm seeing clear skies ahead and will try to keep up with my end of the bargain.

The little pirate robbery thingy is posted. Rumor has it that we'll be seeing the episode climax any time now. In the meantime, if you've got misadventures to write for the final night of shore leave, have at it! I'm think of one-two little notions for characters myself...unless, of course, you need any of my folk to play supporting roles for your ideas.

So, in about a week I'm being hacked on by surgeons. Rumor has it that I might feel sort of sluggish for a few days afterward, but we'll see about that. I'm not planning any big absences, though I'm betting I'll be conked out for one day at least. But have no fear. Wolf can steer! He's put together a plan and everything.

Finally Happy Birthday to our youngest crew! Xandrya's little boy Alex celebrates this coming week with a single candle on his cake.

WWIF,

sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

STORY NOTE:

The Zodiac made its' way back to the cover of a boathouse on an inland waterway. Once the boat was safely concealed, Lorraine paid its' owner a hefty fee for the use, and then divided all the coin into equal shares for each of the faux pirate crew. The jewelry she kept; there were fences on a dozen worlds who'd pay up for such finery...enough to finance her little operation.

The silent little Brinker disappeared into the night, his mission accomplished. Good news for Lorraine and her crew, as the Browncoat underground had tossed them some lucrative work in the past. She just had one final chore to see this round of business to its' completion.

WRITERS' NOTE:

With the job complete, writers are free to move their characters at will...whether that's back to the boat, or to go carousing with their newfound coin. Careful, though. Spending like a drunken sailor on the same night as a robbery sometimes doesn't work out...

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Slow Boat To Larceny, Part 4 - (Day 3, Evening)

Joint post by @Xandrya, @Bugman, and @sail3695

After seein’ tha stuffed shirt got hisself back aboard, Abby took ‘im below decks fer a towel an’ such, then locked 'im in while he's droppin' 'is drawers. When she come back up, she seen tha party was full throttle, rum an’ music was flowin’ while Lorraine an' her crew led tha way. From ‘er vantage by tha wheelhouse, she could see Imani jest breakin’ hearts ever'where she went. Tha whole crew was beginnin’ tah work their way starboard, kinda followin’ Lorraine’s lead. Wouldn’t be long now til they jumped tha rail an’ hightailed it. Time fer her last job. “Hi, Cap’n!” she said all cheerful like as she stepped inside. “What’s yer name?”

“Jim. Jim Gilliam,” the Antonia’s captain for the night answered.

“Call me Lily. Tiger Lily,” Abby grinned as ‘er sword come up. “Time fer me tah take yah prisoner,” she said. “Tell me somethin, Cap’n Jim. If I hit that flashin’ green button what says ‘AutoHelm Engage,’, will that git yer boat runnin’ back on ‘er course?”

“Yup,” he agreed. “But my notes said we were supposed to sword fight you guys off the ship.”

Abby nodded ‘er head. “Yeah, that’s what we’s told, too, but Mr. Howard changed it up tah walk tha plank. He’s down below gettin’ dried up. He’ll come git y’all an’ make a big show ‘bout rescuin’ tha crew afore we do that fight. Got it?” she grinned.

“Yeah, sounds good,” the college aged captain gave her an amiable nod as he turned for the stairway. “But can you do me a favor?” he asked. “Can I wait in the same cabin as one of our deckhands…Cassie?” he added sheepishly.

“Uh huh,” she laughed an’ followed him below.

Lorraine now stood on the starboard rail, one hand gripping a mast stay as the other merrily waved her plastic cutlass to the tune. The well heeled crowd had taken nicely to the pirate raid, laughing as they passed flagons of rum about the crowded deck. As she danced provocatively in her “Crimson Flo” persona, she took stock of her crew’s departures. One by one, they scampered over the rail onto their waiting escape. The pretty little seductress Abby had brought along was last to leave, and, she had to admit, the star of this party, though her own eyes had been fixed upon the rugged contours of the scarred giant. “Abby’s got quite a crew,” she muttered to herself. “Speaking of…”

She cast an eye toward the Antonia’s wheelhouse in time to see a head of wild red hair emerge. A sharp whistle and a wave of her sword later, Lorraine turned her gaze back toward the liquor fueled mirth down on deck. “LOVELY SOIRET YE’ HAVE HERE,” her voice boomed over the crowd, “BUT ALAS, IT’S TIME WE BID THEE FAREWELL. THANKEE FOR ALL YOUR HOSPITALITY!” With a flourish, she leapt over the rail and onto the old trawler’s deck. “Cast off,” she ordered, before two axes cleaved their mooring lines. “Iggy!” she tapped the wheelhouse window, “Full speed ahead!”

“What about Abby?” Reginald asked.

Lorraine answered with a sweep of her toy weapon. “Here she comes.”

After settin’ tha yacht’s autohelm back tah work, Abby hustled down on tha main deck. She felt tha Antonia startin’ tah move, an’ heard that old trawler’s motor rattlin’. Seein’s how she’s tha last pirate aboard, folk was all kindsa eager tah whirl ‘er in a dance, or jam more of their pretties an’ coin inta her hands. Must be carryin’ twenty extra pounds, she mused as she weaved an’ bobbed ‘er way tah tha starboard rail.

‘Cept, when she got there, spread ‘o’ water twixt both boats had ta be a good ten foot. An’ there’s Lorraine, all Cheshire Cat grin as she watched from t’other deck. Abby gestured, open hands askin’ jest what she’s playin’ at. “THINK YA MIGHTA WAITED JEST A SKOSH, CAP'N ASSHOLE?” she demanded.

“WHAT?” the pirate captain laughed, “AND DENY YOU THE COOLEST EXIT EVER?” Lorraine threw the knotted end of a rope that dangled from the old trawler’s mast. “DO IT LIKE A PIRATE!,” she grinned.

Abby clapped on with both hands. “ARRGH!” she shouted as nothin’ but black ocean swung underneath of ‘er, “YEW BITCH!” She’s laughin’ as Lorraine reached out an’ pulled her aboard, right inta her arms.

“That’s ‘Captain’ bitch to you,” the ringleader answered Abby with a peck to the tip of her nose. "Now go ready the skiff." Those aboard the Antonia who bothered to pay attention watched as the pirate trawler faded into the black or a moonless night, her crew serenading their victims with a funny little tune from Earth-That-Was:

“Always look on the bright side of life,
Always look on the right side of life…”

Forty-five minutes later, when the actual 'Captain Kidd' came alongside, her crew were astonished to find the party on Antonia’s main deck descended into rum soaked debauchery. After tales of “hot women pirates” and a man walking the plank, they made their way below decks. There, they found Candidate Nathan ‘Nate’ Howard, fuming inside a locked cabin, as well as one of the deckhands. The other was soon located in her bunk, wrapped in throes of passion with the vessel's captain.

“WHO WERE THEY?” Howard roared as young Jim Gilliam struggled into his pants.

“Said they were the Captain Kidd,” the Antonia's captain stammered as he bolted for the bridge.

“WE are the crew of the Captain Kidd!” an overtly costumed pirate groused as he followed the boy.

“The money!” Howard raged as he burst onto the main deck. “They took ALL THE MONEY! ALL THE DONATIONS!” His eyes flashed, searching the drunken horde on deck for a lackey to strangle.

Miles away, Lorraine’s crew huddled in their Zodiac as the old fishing trawler slipped beneath the waves. “Iggy,” she said to the legless man at the center console, “take us in.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” he grinned as the throttles pushed forward.

Abby watched tha old boat sink til it’s gone. She done scrubbed off tha wild makeup an donned 'er street clothes again, she an' all tha crew leavin' ever' bit 'o' pirate gear tah lie on tha bottom two hunnerd feet below. “Wish I coulda kep that coat,” she mourned tha loss. “An’ that boost-ee-yay.”

Lorraine chuckled. “For the haul each of you made tonight, I conjure you can go buy one that won’t be used as evidence.” She glanced toward Brinker. The little man was fidgeting with excitement, sure sign he’d successfully taken the real treasure from tonight’s adventure. As the small boat powered toward the lights of the New Iberia coastline, the former pirate captain nestled up against the silent giant, Elias. “Hi, sailor,” she smiled up into those piercing eyes. “Wanna have some fun?”

Fin.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Slow Boat To Larceny, Part 3 - (Day 3, Evening)

Joint post by @Xandrya, @Bugman, and @sail3695

Elias had been staring blankly into the distance as ‘Captain Flo’ had her ‘parley’ with the man of the hour. “Mhmm?” came the noise from Elias as the show came to one of its climaxes. He sighed the slightest bit. The Nathan fellow was larger than Elias had anticipated, and he suspected based on his expression and whisperings there’d be far too much effort in squirming for Elias to reliably just pick him up by the collar and toss him overboard. He raised an eyebrow, briefly sizing up his counterpart. For the first time in a very long time, Elias wasn’t wearing his mask making the facial gesture visible; the way he thought of it, everyone would assume his scars and missing bits were just a very elaborate assortment of makeup. By the lack of old ladies feinting and clutching pearls, it seemed people did fall for the ruse that he was just wearing some bit of a horror costume. Now that he thought about it, it was probably the first time any of the crew had seen any of his normal visage. It was bound to happen eventually, he figured why not make the reveal productively.

Realizing that he was holding things up, the man lowered his barrel that he had brought along to siphon any unattended bottles into, sticking it against a wall to ensure it wouldn’t bounce as much in the event a rough wave was hit. He drew a toy flintlock pistol that looked more like a pen in his hands, and pressed it to the back of the Candidate while another ham-fist clasped the shoulder of the host. “He’h moohih.” Elias managed tonguelessly, prodding the man onwards to the gangplank. This was shenanigans Elias didn’t like through and through, but if he imagined this rich man as his father, Elias thought he just might get some tiny inkling of enjoyment from the event. Then get really tipsy off of borrowed refreshments.

Finished with ‘er first order, Abby come back up on deck, jest in time tah see Elias an’ Reg puttin’ some stuffed shirt up on tha plank fer walkin’. Meant ‘er second job needed tah happen in one all fired hurry. Good news was Jake an’ Cassie, them deckhands, was all happy tah fill ‘er in on tha whereabouts ‘o’ things…like tha rope ladder they kep fer boardin’ little boats or swimmin’ parties. With the folk all watchin’ tha show Lorraine’s Cap’n Crimson Flo was puttin’ on, Abby’s able ta slip over tah tha aft railin’ an’ drop tha ladder down.

Once it done been tied to, she hustled forward agin. Stuffed shirt was still on tha Antonia’s divin’ board/walkin’ plank. She grabbed ‘erself a big orange life ring an’ a coil ‘o’ rope. Sure enough, long winded sumbitch weren’t nowheres near finished speechifyin’ afore she had ‘er rig all set fer throwin’.

Fine diamonds and pearls adorned her wrists as well as her neck. Multiple offers had clearly been made, but despite being showered in gifts from the wealthy and privileged, the necktie also being loosely worn around her neck claimed her as his own for the night. It seemed as if blue eyes wasn't keen on taking second place, too bad he was too much of a pretty face and not enough of the rugged type for her. But he didn't have to know that...

A gentle tug on her waist prompted her to look up, and that was just in time to witness the man himself being made to walk the plank. Imani could've partaken in such performance, but she'd rather not steal the show.

“Look at them!” Nate was in fine voice, his stump speech booming across the crowd who were filling the faux pirates’ sacks with heaps of coin, jewelry, and other valuable trinkets. The thought of his growing war chest would’ve ordinarily brought a smile, but not now. He stood on the tip of the diving board, the black sea beneath as he bellowed his talking points. “These pirates! These…BROWNCOATS!! FILTHY COCKROACHES WHO AIM TO UNDO ALL YOUR GOOD WORK! TO TAKE WHAT’S YOURS!” His eye caught the sultry little minx who’d been teasing him before. She worked the crowd, the men in particular, all succumbing to her flirtatious larceny by literally upending their coin purses into her sack. He’d be sure to learn her name…perhaps have Hicks line her up for a special ‘meet and greet’ at his private bungalow…”THE WAR DIDN’T TEACH THEM!” he roared. “THE LAW MEANS NOTHING TO THEM!”

Lorraine, known tonight as Crimson Flo, stifled a very public yawn. She cast a glance toward the silent one, Elias, as he held his place. The man was a tower, alright. She took in the scars on his face, her gaze tracing each jagged cruelty. But if she were honest, it was the eyes that really captivated her. This man kept himself in check, but those dark eyes burned with an intensity that she found dangerous. And Lorraine had a real thing for dangerous…

She nudged an elbow into his ribs. Whe Elias’ eyes met hers, Lorraine smiled, then tilted her head toward the bloviating mouthpiece. “Do the honors?” she mouthed the words.

Elias looked at the woman, giving the slightest bit of a disapproving grunt as the woman gave a Captain’s order, so to speak. Of course, she wasn’t really his Captain, but he wasn’t going to disobey his ride out of here. But, with each passing moment it more and more seemed that they were making an enemy ever so slightly more grudge-prone and simultaneously powerful than was good for one’s health.

With a deep sigh, he stuck out his leg like a prod and pushed man off; it wasn’t really a kick that was aimed with his toe like one for fighting would be. Rather, with his sole the man was simply given the most optimized shoving a human limb could delivery.

“Arrr.” Elias said, unenthusiastically grumbling the pirate’s catchphrase. He looked to his ‘Captain’ waiting for approval. He stepped a little further, just to make sure the man was overboard and not clinging onto some part of the boat. He wasn’t happy about what he was doing, but a job had to be done well and he wasn’t above stepping on fingers.

Abby traded smirks with Imani. Damn if she weren’t haulin’ up tha coin. An’ Elias…doin’ his part like he was. First time she seen the mechanic out tah carouse, an’ even though he’s still all dead serious as was his way, she kinda liked it. First time he showed his face, too. Man wore some serious scars, weren’t no two ways about that. She ain’t heard tha whole story, but what she knowed was them as did that tah him took tha tongue out his head, tah boot. Edina told ‘er that much.

From ‘er place on tha rail, she seen Lorraine give ‘im a nudge. Abby hooked ‘er feet twixt tha balustrades and made ready with tha life ring.

As Imani dragged Blue Eyes through the crowd, she felt his hand linger on places not many were welcome. More specifically, her behind. Now, she hadn't necessarily barred him from doing that, but even so, least he could do was make sure her near empty drink was already replaced, which he had failed to do.

There was a splash, but in that moment something else pulled her attention. Blue Eyes was walking away, and from what she made out, it was something in part serious. Imani decided to follow him purely out of curiosity, and soon enough she learned why.

"Emerson, you cheat!"

The girl whose voice was loud enough to pierce her ears evidently wasn't too pleased with him. With the cortex in hand, Blue Eyes pleaded with her as he continued to walk away, distancing away from Imani.

Thing is, she could have soured whatever type of relationship he had with that woman. "Captain, we got ourselves another volunteer for the plank!" That's all it would've took. But she didn't do it. However, what she would do is find another participant to partake in the day's festivities.

Helped along his way by the stone faced giant, the Honorable Candidate Nathan “Nate” Howard plunged into the inky deep, the resulting splash met with a roar of approval from the crowded deck. As Abby threw her life ring to the politician, Lorraine went into full pirate mode. “ANYONE ELSE?!” she roared above the merry audience. “ANYBODY WANT TO PALLAVER WITH DAVEY JONES?! NO? THEN OUT WITH IT! ALL YER BOOTY TO THE HANDS OF ME CREW! YOU THERE!” She waved the toy weapon toward the string quartet. “LET’S HAVE A TUNE! SOMETHIN’ FOLK CAN DANCE TO! BARKEEP!” The comical blade swept toward the nearest drink station. RUM FER ALL!!”

Wild As The Wind

A cheer swept the deck as flagons of rum appeared. Soon, patrons were forking over their cash for the honor of hoisting one of the jugs. Evening jackets and shawls were soon littering the Antonia’s railings as the stuffy political fundraiser transformed itself to a sailors’ delight. Lorraine grinned as her faux pirate crew danced and drank their way through the celebration, Jolly Roger pillow cases held out like costumed kids on All Hallow’s Eve to receive the coin and jewels meant for campaign contributions. She cast a sidelong glance toward the silent man from Abby’s crew, before her arms snaked around his neck. “You’re a natural, Elias,” she cooed into his ear, followed by a kiss landed upon the scarred stubble of his jaw. “You can shiver my timbers anytime!” With that, she leapt into the crowd, cutlass whirling above her head as she danced her way across the deck with a dozen partners. Brinker should be finished by now, she thought as a fat man twirled her into the arms of a grandly dressed woman.

A grumble that was nonetheless appreciated came from the man as she left him for her own endeavours. The touch of her skin certainly awakened thoughts he hadn’t felt in perhaps years now, the mechanic clicking his mouth wistfully as he saw her moving. Maybe some other time. he thought to himself, touching the scarring of his visage, and thus deciding it was something he had to fix. But for now, he had neurons to fry. Rolling his barrel about, he was about to take his own booty snatched neatly off of passing waiter’s plate and disgorged into an ever more sloshing cask.

She’d soon discover her hunch to be correct. Hidden among the gaudy pirate decorations aboard the old fishing trawler were a pair of directional antennae. They moved, slowly sweeping the main deck of the Antonia. Tucked away below decks in the Captain Kidd’s portside crew cabin was a timid looking little man. He sat on a stool, hunched over a pair of source boxes, watching intently as one by one, the cortex readers of so many rich and powerful Alliance types were paired and accessed. His bespectacled face, illuminated in the ghostly glow of his screens, was a mask of sheer delight. It was working. After tonight they’d have a constant stream of information from hundreds of the Alliance’s most well placed citizens. He couldn’t wait to report to Adler.

...to be continued…

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Slow Boat To Larceny, Part 2 - (Day 3, Evening)

Joint post by @Xandrya, @Bugman, and @sail3695

Abby come over tha rail, heavy buckled sea boots clompin’ down on deck an’ a plasticky sword in ‘er hand. She wore tha same ‘boost-ee-yay’ as she had last night and a pair ‘o’ stripey tights. Din’ pick no hat nor doo rag. Instead, she let ‘er red hair fly all wild an’ went buck crazy on some face paint. After a good laugh, ‘twas Lorraine give ‘er her pirate name, ‘Tiger Lily.’ It was fun dressin’ like this, but far an’ away her fav’rite part was tha brown coat, jest like them as her ma an’ pa was wearin’ in tha captures on her wall. She had a mind tah keep it after tahnight.

Her first job was butt simple. Once she conjured tha boats was tied tahgether proper, she had tah look tah them as was Antonia’s crew. “Y’all two!” she barked at deckhands what had name badges Cassie an’ Jake, “we’s goin’ below. No fussin’ now!” Fer effect, she nudged Jake’s back with tha tip ‘o’ her toy cutlass. “Y’ALL MAKE WAY!” Abby/Tiger Lily shouted at them rich folk. Figgered they weren’t no good at listenin’...

“Miss,” one swell caught ‘er by tha arm, “are we supposed to give you our coin?”

“Uh….sure,” she swung tha toy blade tah threaten tha stuffed shirt an’ his wife. “Hand it over,” she made tah sound all menacin’ as folk commenced tah passin’ ‘er heaps ‘o’ cashy money. “And them earrings!” she commanded. “I’ll have them pears, too!”

This sorta struck her crazy, but it’s just like Lorraine said. She’s stuffin’ ‘er pockets when a nervous little fella come sidlin’ up, coin purse clutched in ‘is hand. “Ma’am,” he stammered from behind a smudged pair of glasses, “here’s all my coin.”

Abby clapped onta tha money pouch. As she did, her eye caught a flash ‘o’ gold across the lil’ man’s belly. “That too!” she barked, tip of ‘er cutlas nudgin’ tha chain. “Fork it over.”

His face went completely pale. “Please,” he stammered. “Please…” he hefted the pocketwatch into the light, before timidly placing it in the pirate girl’s outstretched palm. “This was my father’s…the last thing I have to remember him by.”

“What in hell yah tink’s gon’ happen here tahnight?” Abby/Tiger Lilly growled, sound ‘o’ her voice seemin’ tah shrink the little man inta a ball of fear. She give ‘im a shove, pressin’ tha heirloom inta his chest. “Tuck that down inside yah drawers,” she whispered, “so’s none of my shipmates get ideas. Dohn mah? She din’ wait fer no answer. They’s work needed doin’. But first…”Aiight y’all two,” Abby ordered them deckhands, “Git tah steppin’!”

Imani, aka Joli Rouge, planned to woon some men (and ladies) and she dressed for the role. Wearing a white crop top blouse, black corset mini-dress, knee-length boots, and a red bandana, Imani effortlessly climbed over the railing and into view of the esteemed guests.

"I'm here for yer booty...and yer rum!" she announced, raising her toy cutlass in the air and walking towards the cheering crowd with the intention of having a drink in hand. Some hotshot with piercing blue eyes placed one arm around her, walking side by side and matching her step. He guided her towards a suited fellow moving about the crowd with one arm resting on his lower back and the other hand holding a silver tray with a few remaining beverages.

“WE BE TAKIN’ YER SHIP!” Lorraine roared as she lept atop the capstan. As with her counterparts, she wore the brown coat, its’ folds hanging loosely to reveal a black “Jolly Roger” emblazoned bikini and ankle boots. She swung her head, the tricorner hat and eye patch nodding toward each guest as her gaze swept the deck. The pirate captain slipped the coat over her right hip to reveal the scabbard from which she unsheathed her sword. “LADS AND LASSES!” she shouted, “YER GRACED TONIGHT BY THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN KIDD, THE MOST FEARSOME PIRATE SHIP IN THESE WATERS! FEAST YER EYES, MATIES!” Her cutlass pointed out the decrepit wreck of a fishing trawler now tied alongside. As a low chuckle wafted through the crowd, she swept the blade in a threatening arc. “I’M YER NEW CAP’N!” Lorraine’s voice carried across the deck. “FLO’S THE NAME. CRIMSON FLO!”

She grinned at the ripple of laughter. It was all working so far. Abby had returned from securing the two deckhands. Her shipmate from CHina Doll, Imani something, was vamping it up, the ring of men she’d drawn now in some competition of wallet size. The parrot’s a great touch, she couldn’t help but snicker to herself. The other, Elias, didn’t even have to work at it. She decided the man could be fierce just reading a dictionary….though there was some intrigue in the eyes of the ladies who removed their jewelry as he passed by, a skull and crossbones festooned pillow case held out for their booty.

“NOW SOME ‘O’ YE,” the captain shouted, “GOT THE RIGHT MIND, AND WE THANK YE FER YER GENEROSITY. BUT THERE’S ALWAYS ONE AMONG YE…ONE BE THINKIN’ HE HAS THE NERVE TO FACE ME AND MINE.” She waved the plastic weapon. “WHO BE THAT? WHO BE THE WOLF AMONG THIS FLOCK?”

“HERE!” Reg shouted as he nudged Candidate Nate Howard through the crowd. “GOT HIM RIGHT HERE, CAP’N!”

She could see the sour expression as the guest of honor was presented before the capstan that had become her stage. “I’LL HAVE YER NAME!” she demanded.

“NATHAN HOWARD, SENATE CANDIDATE!” he replied, playing along for the crowd while a very real sense of murder danced in his eyes. “YOU BROWNCOAT SCUM HAVEE NO RIGHT!!” Lorraine dropped to one knee before him, the toy blad pressing his throat. “You’re early!” Howard whispered harshly. “I’m supposed to make a speech!”

Captain Flo’s answering grin was rueful. “A SPEECH, YE SAY?” With a quick nod toward the towering Elias and Reg, she rose to her feet again. “A FINE NIGHT FOR A SPEECH IT IS! LONG’S YOU CAN DO YER SPEAKIN’...” she paused, her sword swinging toward the portside rail, “FROM THE PLANK!”

...to be continued…

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Slow Boat To Larceny, Part 1 - (Day 3, Evening)

Joint post by @Xandrya, @Bugman, and @sail3695

For anyone who knew her history, the current state of the SV Antonia would most certainly seem a shadow of her former self. She’d been built seventy-three years ago to traditional specifications. In those days, she was a proud four masted schooner, a floating home to billionaire J.T. Slocum and a series of disposable wives. The graceful yacht was the first private vessel to roam the seas of Pelorum, a floating refuge for her owner and his guests beneath the mild tropical heavens.

After Slocum’s death and the inevitable family squabbling over his fortune, the Antonia was left to decay in her berth for nearly two decades. By the time Ocean Amusements Co. won her at auction, the venerable schooner was in a decrepit state. Her new owners wasted no time in effecting the necessary repairs and refits to convert the once proud vessel to daily service as a seagoing party palace. Of the four proud masts, only two remained, her main and mizzen having been excised to clear the deck for paying customers and cash bars.

She no longer used sail power; the fabric stretched between her few remaining spars served only to reflect the colored lights now anchored to her masts. Below deck hummed two electric motors to push the boat quietly through the gentle waves. Where once she required a crew of twelve to handle sails and helm, the Antonia now plied her trade with three, plus a small army of caterers, waitstaff, and bartenders.

From his place in the wheelhouse, Captain Jim Gilliam surveyed the night’s gathering, a crowd of upper crust types who were dressed to the nines for some politician’s private fund raiser. “Those penguins gotta be suffocating,” the lanky twenty-three year old snickered into his comm.

Cassie Lopez, the starboard rail watch, offered a thumb’s up. “That’s a rog. Not a puff of breeze on deck,” she whispered. “Only the two knots we’re making. Bars are going through ice like crazy.”

He checked his helm. Antonia was right on her course, the autohelm computer running the programmed route without a hitch. In fact, so much of the vessel’s operation was handled by AI that it really didn’t take more to avoid a code violation than an underpaid college kid to stand her bridge. But while the job didn’t pay la shi, it had it’s perks. Pretty easy work, his own cabin, and maybe a chance with Cassie…

The radar caught Jim’s eye. He had a contact, closing from astern. His brow furrowed as he checked his watch. “Hey guys,” he keyed the comm mic again, “our party crashers are early. Drop the starboard fenders. We’re about to stop.”

“Sounds good.” Jake Mitchell’s voice crackled as he detached himself from the port rail. “On my way, Cassie.”

As the crew of SS Antonia set about preparing for the evening’s entertainment, their captain fulfilled his own responsibilities with two keystrokes. COURSE INTERRUPT ceased her forward motion altogether. STATION KEEPING placed all her engines, including bow and stern thrusters, under the computer’s satellite directed positioning control. Regardless of wind or waves, the Antonia would now doggedly hold her place. Seeing that she’d obeyed his commands, Jim checked his notes, then switched radio channels. “Captain Kidd, this is Antonia. I see you a half kilometer to my stern, copy?”

After a few seconds’ pause, a slightly garbled voice echoed in the wheelhouse. “Captain Kidd copies.”

“I am hove to. Raft up on my starboard. My deckhands are standing by.” Jim turned, his eyes peering into the darkness behind the schooner. A ghostly shape began to take form, moonlight adding some detail to the approaching vessel.

The radio crackled to life once more. “Captain Kidd copies. See you in two ticks. We’re about to make some noise. Out.”

Jim turned in his chair to see both deckhands busily hanging fat rubber fenders over the starboard rail. “Stand by to take their lines,” he ordered over the comm. “It’s showtime.”

*************************************************
Candidate Nathan “Nate” Howard, the man of the hour, was quietly fuming. “Look at this. Just look!” he whispered angrily to a cowering assistant. “These folk are melting…gorram melting! And so’s their coin! What…what…[i]báichī[i]**...decided formal wear for a night on a friggin’ boat?”
(**moron)

“I’m sorry, sir,” the timid lackey flinched beneath his boss’ withering eye. Actually none other than Mrs. Candidate Nathan “Nate” Howard had made the ill fated call for dress code, but there was no way on Buddha’s green Pelorum that he’d be stupid enough to point that finger. “I’ve talked to the planner,” his voice quivered. We’re trying to find fans or something…”

Howard leaned in, his towering height and girth threatening as he prodded the young aid’s chest. “Try…harder,” his fingers poked rudely with each syllable. “While you’re at it,” he glowered, “get those overpaid fiddlers to play something doesn’t sound like a gorram funeral…”

BOOM!

The harsh report echoed across the Antonia’s crowded deck, silencing a hundred murmured conversations. This time, Howard took the frightened aid’s collar. “They’re EARLY!” he whispered harshly.

BOOM! This time, the roar was accompanied by a visible flash, the muzzle burst lighting the darkness. “HEAVE TO!” a woman’s voice shouted over a loudspeaker, “AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!” The pirate vessel, Captain Kidd, came alongside the Antonia. The ramshackle fishing trawler was crudely decorated, with shreds of sail dangling from her mast, a comical row of homemade cannons at the rail, and the obligatory Jolly Roger flag hanging limp in the still night air. “AWAY, ME HEARTIES, AWAY!” the woman’s voice screeched.

A number of figures came over the rail, toy cutlasses waving as they rushed to take the Antonia. One, a tall, roguishly handsome man with brown skin and dreadlocks, swung aboard on a rope, a plastic dagger clinched in his teeth. He landed among party guests who laughed and cheered his arrival, bare feet touching down soundlessly on the teak decking. “WHO BE ‘DE FOUNDER OF DIS FEAST?” his musical island accent demanded of the crowd.

...to be continued…

Firefly - Second 'Verse

STORY NOTE:

The third and final day of the crew's shore leave passes into night. Abby hightailed it off the boat, this time in company with Elias and Imani. That's an odd group, Yuri thought to himself as he made ready to spend his own evening off and away with Edina.

OOC: We're now slipping into the final night, folks. My apologies for the delay in dropping a JP some of us worked on. I'll make up for that with the first installment, sight after a word from our sponsors...