[Firefly] Spring Bingo Challenge - Shades - Serenity crew & Vek

Title: Shades
Author: Vek Talis
Timeframe: Between the episodes Trash & The Message
Setting: Lazarus (planet), Silverhold (planet) & Beggar's Tin (moon of Sliverhold)
Characters: Serenity crew, Vek

Notes: This is for the Spring Bingo (Springo) Challenge, given to us by the anything but enigmatic @Chyntuck - All Springo words will be in bold.






Workers the captain picked up on Persephone filed out through the cargo hold. Though he'd joked about leaving them there like so many cattle, he and his crew had found a way to accommodate all twenty of them in quarters. Mal tried to hide it, but Shepherd Book — Derrial, to his closest friends — knew there was some faith hidden under his gruff exterior. Somewhere.

If God was choosing to test Derrial's patience with the challenge of Malcolm Reynolds, then the Shepherd would rely on the Word to see him through. With the Lord on his side, he might at last crack that rough surface and discover what truly drove the captain.

From casual conversations with Zoe, Derrial knew the captain used to have faith. After the unfortunate conflict ended poorly for his side, the captain had thrown his cross onto the ground, turning his back on what had brought him through the war safely. Sometimes, God gave you what you needed most — life — so you could have another chance to make amends for your past.

Fortunately, everyone had arrived on Lazarus in time for the festival of the Ram & Bull. Spring on this swampy frontier world — orbiting the proto-star Heinlein, in the Red Sun system — involved fertility ceremonies, giving of thanks to God and some pagan beliefs revolving around new births as well. It was a spiritual journey the likes of which rarely happened on core worlds any more.

A wet wind blew up from the south. Rain would be coming soon. What was that old earth-that-was saying?

Book sidled up to Mal as the captain approached the clerk who would sign for and take charge of the workers. "April showers bring May flowers." That was the saying. Book brought it out so suddenly it had spilled over his lips with a smile.

Mal glanced at him, a bemused look briefly gracing his features, before returning his attention to the clerk. "There's twenty of the finest workers ever set foot off Persephone's filthy dockside."

The clerk was busy counting. "Fifteen."

"Sixteen," Mal said, pointing to a rather large worker. "That guy ate enough for two."

"Fifteen," the clerk corrected.

"As you say," Mal said.

"Derrial?" A familiar voice came from behind a wall of vendor stalls. Derrial turned, searching for the mouth that uttered the word. "Derrial Book, as I live and breathe!"

"Looks like you're the popular fellow around these parts," the captain said before returning to the clerk. "Let me know when you've used your slide rule or whatever it is to count to twenty workers, so's we can get our due. Something tells me I'm glad we didn't come here with twenty-one workers," Mal added when the clerk was busy counting on his fingers.

Derrial at last spotted someone. The dark skinned figure moved out from behind a stall cooking something in the meat family and advertising 'Good dogs'. A bright smile spread across the now familiar man's grizzled features and his hand extended. "Troubadour?" Book asked. The wrinkles were new, but his old friend's smile stretched the flesh until it looked closer to what Derrial remembered twenty years gone.

Troubadour Hercules rushed forward, his grin growing. He grasped Derrial's hand, gripped it tightly and shook it exuberantly. "I see them dadgum eyes of yours ain't gone dim yet, you ol' flimflam artist," the man said.

Derrial was still having a hard time believing he was standing there in the presence of his old friend. Suddenly, however, a flood of pleasant remembrances poured through him and he felt himself smiling from ear to ear. "You old scalawag. It is you, isn't it?" Along with the good, a few painful memories also came to the front of his mind, but he pushed past those. What relationships didn't have conflict?

Troubadour's nod was emphatic and youthful.

"Last I saw of you, you were dating that little thing... Cecilia, that was her name," Book said.

At the name, his old friend's demeanor drooped and his hand in Book's went soft.

"'Dadgum', 'flimflam'? 'Scalawag'? Did hear that right?" Wad of cash in hand, the captain stood at Derrial's side. "Were we attacked by a passel of pirates while I wasn't looking? Prospecting pirates, perhaps?"

"Troubadour, this is Captain Malcolm Reynolds. He captains the ship I've been flying in for a while."

His old friend shook Mal's hand, though his demeanor was still crestfallen. Then he gazed sidelong at Derrial. "When did you get all fancy talking, Derrial? And why you dressed like a Shepherd?"

"I am a Shepherd, Troubadour." By the look on his face, Derrial's old friend didn't believe it.

He shook his head slowly. "My Cecilia, she coulda used a Shepherd." As dour as his features had turned, they soured ever further. "They done killed her, Derrial. Damn purple-bellies, they killed her to get to me and my land."

Book turned to Mal. He knew he wore a pleading look, but the captain hardly noticed him. "You'd best tell me the details," Mal said.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Simon had once been in this 'hotspot'. Standing before the whole crew of Serenity, making his case for River and himself. Now, he sat amongst the crew, beside Kaylee. At the front stood Mal and an older gentleman with dignified grey at his temples.

"Tell it like you told me, and we'll see about putting our heads together," Mal said and took a few steps to Simon's left.

The man looked down to the floor, took a deep breath before speaking. When he looked up, Simon detected a wetness to his eyes. "Thank you, suh. Troubadour's the name, folks. I gots a small ranch on Beggar's Tin. Jus' wanted the worlds to go by and leave me an' mine alone. Looking for a little tolerance, you know how it is."

"Troubadour. Shiny. Your name makes me smile," Kaylee said, and set words to action. She was especially pretty when that bright smile creased her face.

The man smiled briefly, glanced back down at the floor before continuing. "I fought for freedom in that war, so's I could be lef' alone to carve out something that might blossom among the stars. Gorram purple-bellies, they sent one of their own to Beggar's Tin, 'bout three years gone.

"They set up a town nearby, got some settlers from the Core and then they started leveeing fines on me and my Cecilia. Said we got to zone the place and my ranch was taking too much resource from the water table.

"But me and Cecilia, we wouldn't give in to them big government types and that Lieutenant Haskins what runs the town. More'n a week gone, I come back to the well, cause it's hot in the field, and there's my Cecilia, slumped down against the back of the house."

Simon could tell immediately what that had to mean. So must Kaylee, because her fingers slid their way into his hand and squeezed his. "Oh no," Kaylee said. "What happened?" Her concern for another made her even prettier. Simon glanced over to the smear of engine grease on her left cheek and nearly smiled despite the heavy atmosphere.

"Shot in the back of the head by a sniper," Troubadour said, his voice catching in his throat. Before he could continue, he inhaled deeply. It seemed to steady him. "Shot must've come from the forest out back of my property. Beyond it is the town of Alms."

"I ain't going up against official Alliance," Jayne said and sniffed. "That's just stupid."

"It ain't official Alliance, not yet," Troubadour said testily. "Local lawyer trying to get Alliance jurisdiction, but so far, the judges been on my side, as I was here before that carpetbagger and his fancy town moved in." Jayne scoffed again and got up to refill his drink.

"I got money squirreled away," Troubadour said defensively. "I can pay for help, jus' ain't many looking to help others. They think I'm a moth, heading for a fiery death, but it ain't right, let a woman be killed and a man kicked off his own land."

"Why do you think they're doing this?" Zoe drew attention with her question. "Do you have any idea why they want your land?"

"Not a notion," Troubadour answered. He looked and sounded honest. Simon wasn't exactly the best judge of character, but the captain wouldn't have brought him aboard if he didn't also believe the man.

Despite his concerns about getting anywhere near the Alliance, Simon also didn't like the idea of leaving him to whatever the authorities had in mind. Of course, no matter what Mal said, he didn't feel fully a part of the crew, and so he waited before speaking. If he'd been more aware, he might have realized how wise a strategy that was. For him, however, he just didn't want to be first to speak up.

"Anyone wants to sit this one out, you can miss out on what Mister Hercules is offering," Mal said before turning to Troubadour. "What's the situation like now? We're a ways from Beggar's Tin. Do you still own your land?" Lazarus and Silverhold — the planet Beggar's Tin orbited — were both in the gravity well of Heinlein, the proto-star. So it wasn't a long trip from one to the other, but Simon didn't think it was a good sign that the man was here, not on his home moon.

"It's still mine," Troubadour said proudly. "But that no good skunk of a Lieutenant Haskins, he put up towers just outside my land, and he got a bunch of hired goons watching, too. When they accused me of murderin' my sweet Cecilia, they sent in the sheriff to cordon off my land."

"What kind of towers?" Wash looked more intently at Troubadour than he had before. Curiosity sparkled behind his eyes.

"Triangulation towers," Troubadour said. "They will see us coming."

"Not necessarily," Wash said slyly.

"You think you can get us in, Wash?" Mal looked intently at the pilot.

"Depends on what kind of towers they are and what their range is."

"That's my man," Zoe said, her own smile lighting up the room. She slipped her arm between his and his body.

"I'll help in any way I can," Simon at last said. He felt Kaylee's eye swing to him.

"Count me in, too, Cap'n." Kaylee sounded all the more excited because Simon had said it first.

"How much money we talkin'?" The typical mercenary, Jayne cared for only one thing. If Simon hadn't just learned that he had tried to sell River and him to the Alliance, he might have had kinder words.

"Money isn't everything, Jayne, even for someone who'd sell out his own mother for a bit of platinum." All eyes turned to Simon. Immediately, he felt foolish. For the first time, however, Jayne's threatening glare didn't make him nervous. Maybe he'd conquered that particular mountain. The man-beast had already tried his worst and failed. True, it owed nothing to anything Simon had done, but he and River were still here on Serenity and Jayne no longer held power over him.

"I don't mean to sound insensitive to Mister Hercules' problems, but unless Mal has an idea how I could help, is there a chance I might be able to schedule a respectable client on Silverhold, since we'll be in the vicinity?" Now all eyes swung to Inara.

"I don't see as to why not," Mal said, nodding to the Companion. "Once we've sorted things on Beggar's Tin, we can swing down to Silverhold for refueling and sundry to pick you up."

"Thank you," Inara said. She turned elegantly and left the common area in the direction of her shuttle. Simon suspected she already had a list of potential clients to choose from. Besides possessing incredible outer beauty, the doctor also knew her to be a cultured, wise and sophisticated lady.

"I would like to see the grounds, if you don't mind, Mister Hercules." That was Vek, with his cultured British accent, like something you'd hear from a nature show from Earth-that-was. Though he was helping River learn to meditate, and the action was, in fact, seeming to have a positive effect on his sister, Simon still wasn't sure about the man.

He wasn't very willing to speak of what he knew about River's condition. And he had to know something, or he wouldn't have had such a positive influence. Non-specific treatments were dubious at best in any given situation. If a professional didn't know anything about someone's condition, how could they help? Nothing Simon had tried prior to getting that brain scan had had any effect on River. And yet, here was Vek, no medical training Simon was aware of, and his instructions were having a small but noticeable effect.

"Reckon we can help you out there," Troubadour said reasonably.

"A platinum bullet holds Alliance secrets. The Lieutenant's deception goes right through the base of her neck." Once more, all eyes swung to one of the people in the room. River was huddled in a corner, the look in her eye... distant.

Mal cocked his head to one side. "Supposing our youngest and brightest don't mind, Wash, would you join me on the bridge and we can see what needs doing to set us down safely on Beggar's Tin?" Though framed as a question, Simon understood — as surely must Wash — that it was, in fact, an order.

"It's all right," River replied, as if the captain hadn't been being rhetorical. "Watch out for the rock walls and rioters."

Wash looked from River to Mal, his eyebrows raising. Then, his gaze swung toward the bridge. "I'll make sure to avoid flying into the rioters. I can't promise anything about the rock walls, because they're so much fun to crash into, I might not be able to resist. We need minerals in our diet, after all."

 

I'm so, so excited for this!

Before I get into the story proper, I want to say again how impressed I am at the fact that you managed to get the various characers' dialects so perfectly. I could hear them in my mind, especially Mal, but the others too, and it really transports me to the Firefly-verse every time.

Also, before I get to the story proper, the idea that Vek's British accent is "something you'd hear from a nature show from Earth-that-was" told me exactly what his voice is, and I love it

Troubadour's story sounds like exactly the kind of situation the crew would get involved in. There's foul play, there's oppression and there's a dastardly Alliance agent who is up to no good; that's right up their alley! At the same time, if this story follows the pattern of a Firefly episode, things are bound to not be quite as they seem. The intro from Shepherd Book's POV in particular had me curious; will this particular mission allow him to remind Mal of the faith that he used to have? I'm also curious about Inara exiting stage left, as it could mean that she won't be participating in the mission, or that she'll actually sweep in to save the day by pulling the strings with her client. Eagerly awaiting the next chapter!

 

Yes, the Serenity crew is back with another exciting adventure. And with Vek participating and Inara going to her shuttle, what will happen next when they are helping Troubadour?

 

Richard Attenborough, eat your heart out.

Inara will certainly be around in this one. Not saying where, of course.

What's next is coming, anon.

Thanks everyone for reading.


Title: Chapter 2: Frenzy
Author: Vek Talis
Timeframe: Between the episodes Trash & The Message
Setting: Lazarus (planet), Silverhold (planet) & Beggar's Tin (moon of Sliverhold)
Characters: Serenity crew, Vek
Notes: This is Part II of my Springo Challenge, given by the ever effervescent (or is that effer evervescent?) @Chyntuck




"Oh, very nice. They must think an entire squadron of Independent fliers are coming for that little patch of ground," Mal said as he surveyed what Wash showed him. "They got the industry and the tools; they must be protecting something mighty important."

"Well, it's not the sunshine. The Alliance lets us peasants enjoy that for free." Wash was keeping his distance, skirting the atmosphere. There was an Alliance patrol orbiting Beggar's Tin. Just a PT boat, but it was right above Troubadour's land. "Kind souls they are and all." The PT boat was part of an interesting defense grid, relaying signals received by the triangulation towers their employer mentioned.

"Troubadour. What an amusing name. If I had it all to do over again, I'd like to be named Troubadour." Wash tasted the name on his lips. Would Zoe still love him if he'd been named Troubadour? That was an interesting question.

When he broke from the fantasy in his head, Mal was looking at him from behind a raised eyebrow. "You finished being all amusing? Reckon you can find us a way in?"

Wash called up a scan of the towers. "They're older models. They have a thirty-five degree field of vision. That PT boat up here with us is a problem, though."

"I have a solution for that problem."

Wash swiveled — that was another shiny word: swivel — his chair to spot Vek wandering onto the bridge. Why Mal let a visitor, and a recent one at that, wander the entire ship gave Wash pause.

"What can you do to that ship that won't have it come down on our heads?" Mal looked out the viewer. The PT boat was only crewed by fifteen or so, but they were Alliance soldiers. If Mal messed with them, the Alliance would absolutely mess back, no doubts. The equipment on the surface was military grade, but old, so more likely military surplus, easily acquired by anyone with enough connections or credit.

"May I have a connection to your deflector array, Captain? I can send them a small problem that will sprout into a larger one when they attempt to purge it."

At Mal's nod, the enigmatic fellow opened the floor panel at the fore, just forward Wash's station. Serenity, like all space worthy vessels, carried a small but effective device. Out here in the black, a small piece of debris, asteroid, etc, could tear right through a ship traveling at a tenth the speed of light. A deflector was a mundane piece of tech that sent out micro-pulses of charged ions to clear the way in front of the vessel from objects too small to detect by sight.

Wash didn't see how it would help disrupt that PT boat's communications. Then again, he had always been more interested in flying vessels than working much with technology. While Vek worked, hooking up his strange computer pad with Serenity, Wash once again checked his sensors. The land immediately surrounding Troubadour's ranch from the west was jagged, with dry canyons for dozens of miles spread out across a large portion of Beggar's Tin. To the east was the forest he'd mentioned, and the burgeoning town of Alms.

The triangulation towers were arranged fairly well to canvas the area, except to the west. The PT boat in orbit helped cover that gap. As he watched the monitor, the connection from the towers to the PT boat suddenly severed. Wide eyed, he half stood from his chair, looked over his console, down to where Vek was busy typing into his computer pad, facing away from Wash.

"I take it the connection is no longer functional?" Vek asked without so much as looking up from his work, as if he could somehow sense Wash watching him.

It unnerved the pilot. He chuckled uncomfortably as he sank back in his chair. "Yes." Wash turned his attention to Mal. "I can get us down by taking us through those canyons."

"Do it," Mal said with a slight nod.

Now in his element, Wash felt a sense of renewal of purpose course through him. Turning away from the PT boat, he chose an entry vector that would make the Alliance believe he wasn't intending to land where he was. They could no doubt see Serenity, and had to have been wondering what the Firefly was doing in orbit. Purposely moving away from it and Troubadour's land seemed the sensible thing to do.

Of course, that meant Serenity would get hotter in entry than it otherwise would. Wash was sure the ship could take it. Reasonably sure. When it began to shake, he reminded himself how good a pilot he was. I might be a leaf on the breeze. It was a saying he'd been tinkering with. He didn't want the crew to think him mad for saying something so flippantly Eastern, so he kept it to himself. Maybe one day he'd bring it out.

"Why are you shaking my ship, Wash?" Mal asked when he had to grab an overhead compartment to steady himself. "Ship crash, I take it out of your pay."

"No crash." A nasty bit of turbulence took hold and shook Serenity harder. "Hopefully." He was reminded what his teacher had told him. It was like the ship was suspended in a big tub of jello. The air outside could shake everything as violently as it wanted, but the ship wasn't going anywhere.

Mal pointed a finger in Wash's face. "No crash. I mean it."

Suddenly, Wash found a calmer stream of current and glided Serenity into it. He jammed the flight stick down and into a tight cloud cluster. Inside, he turned sharply to port. As they came out of the cloud cover, they were going in a very different direction. Fortunately, the clouds continued for some little while, which should lose the ship to the Alliance boat in orbit. They would likely think Serenity had maintained course, since the clouds were thicker at the trajectory he'd initially entered them.

Since it would take too long to say all that, he summed up for Mal. "We hide in cloud. Cloud mask our direction."

"Wash. Talk like you think I'm not an idiot," Mal scolded.

About to reply in one of his typical bon-mots, his voice was drowned out by the shrieking sounds of shearing metal. Serenity bucked and Wash immediately lost control of the ship, the jolt jarring Mal, who had to grab on to the other console to keep himself from getting thrown to the floor.

"That was one of the servos connecting to the starboard engine," Wash said in some alarm.

"We go crashing?" Mal asked through gritted teeth. "You break my ship, you'll get out and push us to the nearest service center."

He still had full port engine control, and partial starboard. Though they'd been jolted, he could still do as he'd intended. He realized he was gritting his own teeth as the ship nearly hit the deck. Instead, he neatly skimmed the surface of one of the canyons before righting Serenity.

"Ah, it's a good thing we already let Inara's shuttle go, or this would have gotten more interesting," Wash said. The extra weight and bulk might have made things harder. He would have given anything to have been in Inara's shuttle right about now. Instead, he deftly maneuvered Serenity across and over craggy rocks at a perhaps inadvisable speed. With the loss of control, he'd had a harder time slowing the ship, Serenity picking up speed as gravity pulled her closer to the ground.

Wash's eyes grew wide as he cleared the last outcropping of rock. One of the towers was a bit closer than he'd thought it would be. Without full control, the starboard engine crashed into the tower, throwing Serenity off course. Thankfully, Wash didn't lose control, but he was flying by the seat of his pants for a moment, imagining Mal boring a hole in him with his glare.

"Well, I guess we don't have to worry about that tower anymore, do we?" Wash chuckled nervously at his joke as he set Serenity down at last less than a mile from Troubadour's ranch.

"You broke my ship." Mal was glaring daggers at him. "You broke it, now you gotta fix it." He turned his head. "Vek, you did great." Zoe came up from the back just then, Troubadour with her. She was looking concerned, but Mal quickly turned to her. "Change of plans. Kaylee and Mister Butterfingers here gotta go find parts to fix my ship."

"There's a junkyard about 15 kilometers south of Alms, Captain," Troubadour said helpfully. "It ain't the best of neighborhoods, you know what I mean."

"Jayne!" Mal bellowed down the hall. "Jayne, go escort Kaylee and Wash to get some parts. We got a job to take care of." He focused his eyes on Wash's wife. "You get Simon and take care of things. Vek and me are heading to the ranch."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Welcome, Vikram," Inara said as the man entered her ship. He wore a tan satin achkan with a red dupatta draped over his right shoulder. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I've looked forward to this for some time." It was true.

He was a fine man of culture, had been an upstanding member of local leadership on Silverhold for a decade. Rumor had it he was destined for Parliament. He wasn't the kind of man Mal would have any interest in: sophisticated, dapper, refined. Of course, Mal had his own charm, and she admitted to herself that he looked quite good in his Independent coat, but that was beside the point.

"Thank you, gracious lady." Vikram bowed from the waist, his vision only caressing her cleavage for the slightest of moments before falling to his boots. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it while in that position. The whiskers of his moustache tickled the soft skin of her hand. "I too have looked forward to this meeting. You are spoken of well amongst your fellow Companions."

Part of the fun of being a companion was playing with words and intentions. "Oh? And you communicate often with my 'fellow Companions', do you?"

"Only in the most modest of ways, you understand," Vikram replied. "I speak to many people from all walks of life. Sometimes to gain perspective, others to engage in dialogue."

"What sort of dialogue is there to be had with a Companion?" Inara was ready to carry this as far as Vikram was willing.

"Only the most stimulating and revealing, for both participants, of course." Had his eyebrow raised slightly at the word 'revealing'?

"Of that I have no doubt." She gave him her most charming smile. "Please, sit, I have some tea steeping." Incense she'd prepared sat on an offering table along with the samovar and cups. She turned to it now.

His hand touched her hip, but she quickly realized the act wasn't sexual. His voice in her left ear was relaxed, comfortable. "While I was enjoying my ritual abstinence and pondering some poetry from the Mahabharata, I decided that this occasion should be punctuated with something that has become important to my family."

After lighting the incense, she turned around. "Of course. It will be my pleasure to honor you however you wish."

From the pocket inside his coat, he pulled something wrapped in paper. "I did not wish to foul this place with the pungent smell of fresh fish. Dried will do fine." He handed her the object, which she unwrapped to indeed discover some dried fish.

She looked at him, a little puzzled. This wasn't a ritual she'd ever heard of.

"Over the last century, my family has come to a new custom. Fish represents rebirth in the oceans of the universe. Space, water, the cycle of birth and rebirth, they all have much in common, yes?" He sat, accepted the cup and saucer Inara handed him. "Burning this with your incense will symbolize a reawakening of my soul after a long abstinence. Not just from love making. I have been on a fast and spiritual journey for a month."

"I would be delighted to help you with this culmination, Vikram." Inara followed his instructions in how to sanctify and then burn the dried fish. Thankfully, it had been prepared in a way that the aroma it gave off wasn't disgusting. She would have hated to have burnt fish in her nostrils.

After some more light conversation, the burning offerings were creating a delightful atmosphere. They drank their tea and Vikram leaned over, placing a well manicured hand on her knee, bright smile on his face lighting up his eyes.

Before their lips met, however, an urgent beeping came from his coat. "I'm terribly sorry," he mumbled. He reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing a communications device. "I turned it off, but it reactivates itself if there is an emergency."

"No, please, don't apologize. Would you like some privacy?"

He shook his head as he answered his call, placing an audio piece ejected from the device into his right ear. "What is it, Sanjay?"

Inara heard a tinny voice come through the earpiece, but she couldn't understand anything that was said. Not that it was any of her business. Suddenly, Vikram's eyes went wide and he looked to the door of her shuttle, as if he might have to burst through it at a moment's notice. And that's when she heard it. Her eyes, too, went to the door.

Chanting, furious chanting came from outside. How had it grown so loud without her realizing it until just then? That's when her shuttle started shaking.

"What's happening?" Fear climbed into Inara's throat.

"Some of my indentured servants have tried to escape," Vikram said. Inara hadn't been aware the man owned others. It might have made her reject his offer, had she known. Vikram continued, "They started a riot when my overseer discovered them plotting something. It's so hard to find good help."

You mean it's hard to keep good help chained? The thought flashed through her mind. Of course, now she was in the same proverbial boat Vikram was. By the shouts she heard — not to mention the pounding on the door and all over her ship — there were a lot of angry people outside. They might not care that she was an innocent bystander in all this.

What a time for Mal to be on another world. That thought also came to mind, but it was buried deeper than the rest and didn't register as singularly as the first had. "Where is your security?" It was hard to keep her cool, but Inara managed somehow.

Vikram looked as though he'd bitten into a lemon. "I gave most of them the night off." Inara didn't like how this was starting. "Sanjay tells me my indentured have locked the rest of my security forces in their dorm. They are organized somehow."

"Come out or we'll kill you!" As soon as one of the servants outside shouted that, the others quickly took up the chant. "We'll kill you!" More voices shouted and the shaking of Inara's ship became more violent. As it evolved, the chant got shorter until it was just one word: "Kill!"

Vikram stared at Inara, wide-eyed, terror making his hands quake. There was only one thing for Inara to do. She opened the door.

 

Inara in trouble and Mal and the crew too. What will happen next. Can Vek help?

 

We shall see.


This should do it for all the Springo words, though there are still 2 chapters after this one!


Title: Chapter 3: Answers
Author: Vek Talis
Timeframe: Between the episodes Trash & The Message
Setting: Lazarus (planet), Silverhold (planet) & Beggar's Tin (moon of Sliverhold)
Characters: Serenity crew, Vek

Notes: This is Part III of my Springo Challenge, given by the indomitably indomitable @Chyntuck



Zoe crept through the shadowed alley between the barber and mortuary. The doc was at her back. There was something not right about Simon. He wasn't weak, she'd give him that, and he was devoted to his family, unlike most of Zoe's own. He was willing to go into an Alliance friendly town, despite being a wanted fugitive, so she respected him for that. Still, there was something that tweaked her the wrong way about him.

She'd been wrong before. When she first met Mal, at the beginning of the War, she'd thought him a wise-cracking buffoon who would get her entire platoon killed. Well, he'd kept many of them alive through the whole war, so that was one thing. And he wasn't as big a buffoon as he sometimes made himself out to be. That was something. He'd even convinced her to go on a sort of pilgrimage with him when they had leave once. Back when he believed. Zoe had little interest one way or the other, but she'd gone to support her then Corporal and friend.

Then, there was Wash, her beloved husband. When she met him, he'd come across as a cocky lech. He wasn't like that at all. Devoted and loving, his eye never wandered. Oh, that dirty little so and so Saffron might have briefly made him sweat, but Zoe had never doubted that he hadn't given her what she'd wanted.

All that being said, there were certainly people she'd been right about. The most recent, Vek, was turning into one of the smartest passenger pickups Serenity had ever taken. He'd dealt with Walt, a man the others were taken in by, but Zoe had wondered about from the moment he stepped aboard. It was the way he looked at the Tams, like they were a subject under a scientist's microscope. Vek, on the other hand, was getting through to River in a way even her own brother had trouble.

In Zoe's experience, all you had to do was use your eyes to see who was helping and who wasn't. It was in Simon's nature, or so it seemed to her, to be awkward. Whether that would bear poisonous fruit or not, she still regretted the captain sending her on this mission.

As if to punctuate her feelings, when she stopped at movement ahead, Simon — unaware as was his usual — bumped into her from behind. Though he was slight for a man, he nearly shoved her out of the alley. Fortunately, the movement she saw was the shadow cast from a tree branch fluttering in the night wind.

"Stay aware," Zoe admonished in a whisper. "We don't know who might be out this time of night." What she'd really wanted to say had been somewhat more... pungent.

"I'm sorry."

A light went on in a room across the street. It was over the pharmacy and likely was where the pharmacist lived. Fortunately, Zoe saw no figure through the diaphanous curtains. She sneaked around the corner, holding Simon by his shirt to keep him at a safe distance. The lock was easy to pick, since there didn't turn out to be a lock on the door.

Only when they were safely down in the basement, where the bodies were kept, did Zoe dare to speak again. "Remember: all you need to do is see if you can verify the wound on Mrs. Hercules' body."

"Right. It might be difficult, but I'll do what I can." Simon went over to the wall that contained pods. Zoe didn't want to think specifically about them, as at least some of them no doubt contained once living humans. He searched until he found the right one and opened it. His reaction was one of surprise.

"What is it?"

"Mrs. Hercules hasn't been embalmed yet. I'm not even sure she's been examined by a coroner." He turned, looked at the examination table, then back to the body. "Help me get her onto the table, please."

"What is it?" Zoe asked after she'd helped. Simon's face got very concentrated, as if he was about to perform some ritual. It was his working face, if she had to guess. "Is this normal for her to go unexamined?"

"In Capitol City, I would say absolutely," Simon answered, his voice distant. He reached gloved fingers beneath Mrs. Hercules' head and neck. "We had an enormous caseload. It would be abnormal if an autopsy was performed in less than three weeks. Here... it seems unusual."

Suddenly, he sucked in a breath of air and his eyes darted up and to the right.

"What?"

"Help me turn her over." No longer polite — not rude, but not polite — he was every bit the Capitol City doctor with authority. Zoe reacted to obey before conscious thought caught up. It was very impressive from him.

When the body was on its face, Simon stood back to allow Zoe to see what was obvious to him. "What am I looking at?" It wasn't obvious to Zoe.

"The wound." Simon dug into it with his finger, pulled out the slug. "This bullet was inserted into her neck after she was dead." He held it up to the dim light.

"That's a 13mm slug," Zoe said. "Consistent with Alliance sniper rifles."

"Yes, but it's not the bullet that killed Mrs. Hercules." Simon sounded so sure. He turned this way, then that. At last he spied a microscope and walked toward it. "Let me show you; I'm certain she was killed by a smaller caliber weapon."

Things might turn interesting after all, if he was right about this.

The microscope turned on with a soft whir. Simon placed the slug into the receptacle and began to examine it. "Now that's interesting."

"Your voice carries a mite," Zoe whispered angrily in his ear. "Can you keep it down a bit?"

"Sorry." He was too focused on his work. It was what drove him, she realized.

When he didn't go on, Zoe said, "What's interesting?"

"Take a look."

Zoe squinted and looked through the microscope. "What am I looking at?"

"Those striations. They aren't consistent with a bullet that's gone through softer tissue and muscle to hit bone. It shows me two things: one, that this bullet was fired at a consistent object, concrete, steel, something that doesn't have harder and softer layers. Two, it's consistent with old Alliance hardware."

Zoe looked up, practically glared at the doc. "Tell me how you know how old the weapon is by the bullet." She didn't believe he could give her an answer.

"While I was writing my dissertation, I took a few private lessons from a former combat medic who'd fought in the war." Simon leaned his butt against the table, set his hands on the edge to steady himself. "He showed me slides of Alliance bullets before and after the war. I'm not a metallurgist, but there's a big difference in how old and new Alliance bullets react when they hit a target."

"Even out here, an Alliance officer like this Lieutenant Haskins would have current gear," Zoe said.

Simon pointed at the microscope. "And I'm telling you that bullet is old. And the wound to Mrs. Hercules was made by a 6.5mm slug."

6.5mm was standard Alliance officer sidearm caliber. "Was the weapon that killed Mrs. Hercules older or newer Alliance?"

Now, Simon looked thoughtful. He walked back over, fingers pressing into the flesh at the back of Mrs. Hercules' head. After a few moments, he turned to Zoe. "Since I don't have the slug that killed her, all I can do is guess.

"Based on the depth, which is the only information I have, if the weapon was fired point blank, then this is an older model Alliance pistol. If the shooter was, say... twenty meters away, then it was likely newer issue."

This mission just got more interesting, all right. "Ok, we need to get out of here and report in to the captain."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

There was a sound in her head. It was a deep groan, like the death chant of tens of millions. Very quickly, it turned into a growl that caused River's lips to peel back from her teeth.

A man in a business suit, cloaked in darkness, laughed deep from his belly. Then suddenly River was younger, seated in a chair behind a small desk. Other students filed into the room, silent, sullen, their heads bowed.

"We were examining the causes of war." A teacher stood before a transparent screen. "On Earth-that-was." Geographical maps flashed on the screen. "Can someone name me a reason old nations went to war?"

"For resources?"

"To dominate a hated enemy."

"To take slaves of nearby enemies?"

"To extend the government's power over other people." River drew the attention of not just her peers, but the teacher with her observation. The teacher didn't look happy.

"Only so they can bring freedom to the masses, River," the teacher said. His voice was light, almost flippant. "Everyone cherishes freedom, don't they? Sometimes it takes conquest to free others from their mistakes."

"Fire fighters fight fires. Crime fighters fight crime. What do freedom fighters fight?" The other students turned away from her, their faces more crestfallen and dark than before.

"People need to be shown the correct course to their own personal freedom. Otherwise, they make it harder for others to be free." The other children stood from their desks. "Line up now, children, it's time for a lesson."

Without argument, the children trudged into a single file line. "Your leaders know what's best for you, otherwise, they wouldn't be your leaders. It's time to prove your loyalty to those above you who love you and want what's best for everyone."

A device appeared. River had seen one before. It was a trash incinerator. The teacher pointed to it and the children trudged toward it, turning their heads as one to stare at River, their facial expressions accusing, hateful. One by one, they hurled themselves in, their screams amplifying until they filled River's head.

She woke with a scream of her own.

"River? Are you all right?" Shepherd Book knocked and slid the door open gently.

"It was hot. There was screaming." She looked around. Back on the firefly. It had been so real. Most of her dreams were these days. Terrifyingly real.

"Well, the nightmare is gone now, I trust," the Shepherd said. He meant well.

He'd meant well, too, back before he was a shepherd. Back when he wore very different clothes with brightly colored stains. River had to shake her head to get that image out of it. It was none of her business what he'd been before. Now, he was a kindly older man who was trying to help.

"Why don't you come out and join us for a little while?"

Reluctantly, because she didn't know what might happen, River got off her bed and wandered out. Sometimes, the images or thoughts that spun in someone's head shot right into hers. Often, she didn't know whose they were, or if they were hers.

Shepherd Book's friend was sitting on the sofa. Book sat down there, too, so River took the chair across from it. She pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"You all right, little girl?" Troubadour asked, his brows coming together above his nose. There was something hiding behind his eyes. It was about the situation he'd brought to Captain Reynolds, but it also wasn't.

War. Explosions. Troubadour wore the same type of brown coat as Mal. He threw himself into a trench as fire rained down from above. A piece of shrapnel bit into the back of his leg. Despite it, he rallied his soldiers. They popped up from their trenches and fired into the oncoming Alliance soldiers. Chased them away.

Then the pain hit. He clutched at his leg. Combat medics came, took him away.

It was night. He lay in his cot in the field hospital. The war wasn't going well. Every day, bad news came in. It was the dead of night. He sneaked from his cot, avoided the nurses and sentries and disappeared into the darkness.

Then, he wore a helmet. He carried a different kind of rifle. Shrouded in a purple haze, River couldn't see more of Troubadour. But she saw what he did. Silverhold was a graveyard, right out in the open. Prisoners. After their surrender. Upturned dirt. Shovels, stained brown with old blood.

Hatred. Anger. It ate away at him. He saw through the killer's eyes that day. River saw through his eyes, seeing through the killer's. It was all very confusing. Bullet to the back of the head. Up close. Personal. As the dead person had been.

"Out by the well. Forgotten, cold. The contract, signed in passion. A platinum bullet, fired before he knew."

"What's that, River?" Book's voice took on a higher tone. Worry clouded his mind. He looked from River to Troubadour and back again. "We were just discussing what each of us has been up to since we last saw one another."

"Purple follows brown, more hide on the ranch." His mind was angry, but he didn't know it. River shook; her bare feet trod on the deck, her legs pulled her to her room, the door slid shut. "I have to sleep. So many. They lie down. The purple made them lie down."

==What is it, River? Clear your mind, just like we practiced== Vek. Grateful. Deep breath. Calm. ==Picture a peaceful body of water, a gentle flow filling it. Then, the sun makes some of it evaporate. It turns to mist and your troubles evaporate with it.==

He accessed her memories. Not harsh, like the doctors, shoving twenty needles in her eyes. Vek was soft, kind. The tension went away, replaced with peace, calm.

==I understand now. Returning to Serenity shortly. You will be cured of this terrible burden you've been given. Someday. I promise==

Unlike when Simon said it, she believed Vek's words. They glowed green in her head. Green warred with blue. "Blue and purple. Always together." She repeated the words as she lay in her bed in the fetal position, picturing that peaceful lake Vek had taken her mind to.

 

Interesting for Zoe and Simon to find out what the real size of the bullet is. Who did kill her?
And river and her dreams. I hope that Vek can help her

 

Sorry for playing catch-up here; I was on holiday with my children and didn't have quite as much online time as I would've liked.

Chapter 2

Loved Wash's puzzlement at Vek's antics and at the use of technology that's clearly not from this galaxy But hey, it worked! I also love the backstory you're building for "I'm a leaf in the wind" here; it's a very Wash thing to be thinking of something clever to say as he navigates Serenity through the atmosphere... but Serenity has other ideas, which is the sort of thing that happens when the ship you're flying is held together with shoelaces and duct tape. This is such a classic Firefly story beat, with half the crew having to go in a different direction because the ship needs repairs. I'm sure adventure will find everyone when they reach their respective destinations.

Meanwhile, adventure appears to have already found Inara, and she definitely chose the wrong client – for facing a riot by his indentured servants, of course, but also for choosing a client that has indentured servants in the first place. I'm curious to see how Vikram will turn out to be connected to the main storyline and Troubadour's land.

Chapter 3

The plot thickens! I loved seeing Simon in action here; he's such a different person to the blumbling aristocrat the Serenity crew are used to when he's on the job. I'm not entirely sure what conclusions one can draw from his findings, but it's clear that things are not what they seem when it comes to the murder of Mrs. Heracles – or rather, than someone tried pretty hard to camouflage what happened. And River's harrowing visions may have given me a clue... but I'll just wait for the next chapter to arrive.

I know that this story still has a ways to go, but I'll say straight away congrats for completing the Spring Bingo challenge in such a spectacular fashion. You integrated the prompt words in the text so seamlessly that I wouldn't have known they were prompts if you hadn't bolded them

 

I reckon he can try.

Wash's humour is a little awkward for me to write, at least that's the way I feel about it, so thanks for the feedback that it feels natural coming from him. Poor Serenity, held together with bubblegum and tin foil.

Haha, adventure doesn't even cover it.

Then get ready, cause it's coming very soon.

Thankfully, all the collected info will soon be in Mal's hands. What he does with it, well, that will be up to him.

Poor kid. They put her through so much.

Thanks! The only awkward moment for me was trying to fit "sprout" in. it's not something Vek would normally say.


One more chapter after this!

Title: Chapter 4: Fissures
Author: Vek Talis
Timeframe: Between the episodes Trash & The Message
Setting: Lazarus (planet), Silverhold (planet) & Beggar's Tin (moon of Sliverhold)
Characters: Serenity crew, Vek

Notes: This is Part IV of my Springo Challenge, given by the infamously famous @Chyntuck




The Mule ground to a stop a few meters from the gate. Thick fencing with razor wire at the top stretched around the entire circumference of the junkyard Jayne had been ordered to take Kaylee and Wash to. Serenity needed parts, after that half-assed landing Wash pulled off. Jayne could have messed things up that badly if he'd the impetus.

"Why does this not look like a welcoming, open door establishment?" Wash thought he was being funny, judging by the look on his face.

Jayne, however, wasn't in the mood for funny. The place really didn't look inviting. What kind of business didn't want customers? "Hello? We're looking to buy some parts." He had a wad of cash Mal had given him to buy what Kaylee needed to fix the ship. Of course, he was expected to haggle on the price. If he could intimidate the owners, that was a kind of haggling.

No one answered his repeated calls. They were on a tight schedule, so Jayne tested the gate. It slid open without hassle. Just inside hung a sign. Jayne wasn't the best reader out there, but he gave it a go. "'Come in. Help yourselves. We'll be around to ak-sept payment.' Now that don't sound suspicious or nothing. How would they know when we're done looking?"

Kaylee pointed. "They got cameras everywhere. Smile!" She kicked Jayne's leg — not hard, Kaylee wouldn't hurt a fly — but out of consternation when Jayne refused. "Everyone gets a better deal on parts when they smile a lot, Jayne. Gotta be friendly, like."

"You can be friendly for all three of us, Kaylee," Wash said. He scowled, but it looked more ridiculous than threatening. "Jayne and I will be terse. That's how men get a better deal." Kaylee only rolled her eyes.

"Well, we ain't gonna get parts standing around here jawing." Jayne was practical. He opened the gate the rest of the way and went inside. Wash and Kaylee followed, each twisting their heads one way, then the other. Kaylee looked like she was in hog heaven, Wash was looking with a practiced eye. Jayne was no mechanic. If he'd wanted schooling, he'd have gone to school.

Jayne kept his eyes peeled for trouble as they wandered. Kaylee grabbed a cart near the entrance and almost immediately started filling it with greasy parts that looked broken. If anyone could make them work again, it would be little Kaylee.

Before he knew it, Jayne found himself in a large, circular area. Junk piles all around, there also stood a ramshackle hut that looked sculpted from junk, complete with rusty corrugated steel sheeting for a roof and a hole cut out of one side, as if it was a place for a merchant to do business from. When he looked inside, no one was there, but a cashbox sat on the counter.

When he looked back to where he'd expected Kaylee to be, she was hurrying his way, concern awash over her face. Trailing behind her were not one, not two, but three snarling attack dogs.

"It seems we've each met some new friends." From another 'lane' in the massive junkyard came Wash, another dog behind him. "And by the way, next time the captain sends me on an errand, remind me to ask to be spaced instead? I was near the entrance when this horse disguised as a dog came at me, and I watched the gate close and lock itself. We're trapped here."

Just as Jayne was formulating a plan to escape the situation, a whirring stole his attention. When he turned, he realized the sound came from the hut. It was sort of an elevator car. Two men stepped out. Their clothes were dirty and ragged, their faces smutty, with unkempt beards. The one on the right laughed, showing a few missing teeth.

"Looks like we got ourselves some profit, brother," the other one said. The uglier one.

"'Bout gorram time, brother," the laughing one said.

"We just gotta bargain for the price of these here parts," Jayne said. "Then we'll be on our way." He didn't like the way they were both eyeing him.

They both walked in different directions past and around him. Their route took them all the way around Wash and Kaylee too. The dogs sat as they came near, each in turn and looked up with literal puppy-dog eyes at their masters. Jayne sized up the fat one pretty fast. He would be slower on the draw than his brother, the one with missing teeth.

Of course, he got the feeling they were sizing him and the others up, too. But not in a fighting sort of way. They had the airs of men who thought they were in control of a situation. They didn't really understand, then.

"Yeah, we got us some nice workers," the fat one said. They'd come full circle, standing in front of Jayne once more.

"And that fine female, she'll fetch a pretty price for a breeder," Mr. Missing Teeth said, gazing at Kaylee like he'd want to sample the merchandise.

These were Jayne Cobb's crew mates. Though he'd never found much use for people in general, he'd come to understand what Mal said, Mal meant. That nasty business on Ariel and Mal's response had at last gotten through to Jayne. They weren't just crew, he and Kaylee and Wash... they were family to Mal. Beneath his cold exterior, Jayne understood the idea of family. Mama Cobb would have stood for nothing less.

He may have his disagreements with them, but Jayne would do just about anything short of dying for the two people with him. They'd never know it, because talking wasn't any sort of way for a man to act. Not about his feelings, that was clear certain.

Sometimes, though, a man did have to speak. "And what makes you think we're your'n for the taking?"

Now, both of them laughed. Mr. Missing Teeth stepped forward. Jayne judged his distance, a smile forming inside his head. Just a little closer. "You too stupid to know what's going on here, son?"

"Yeah, we got ourselves some buyers for human flesh." The fat one leaned back in a big belly laugh, his side arm now clear as his coat flapped back. "We always got us some buyers lined up, don't we, brother?"

"Now, let's have a look at that horseflesh, son." Mr. Missing Teeth took another half step forward. Just right.

Jayne's hands whipped into action. His left clutched the hilt of his bowie knife. The weapon sprang from the easy release holster and lunged forward right into the belly of his foe. At the same time, his right hand grabbed his pistol. The shot made the fat man's eyes go wide. He clutched at his chest and fell backward. Mr. Missing Teeth grimaced, his hands going to his belly as he dropped to his knees. "Maybe I'm stupid, but I'm the one who's still alive," Jayne said as he watched the light leave Mr. Missing Teeth's eyes.

Jayne casually turned the knife in his belly, eliciting a groan. The man dropped beside his brother, both stone dead. Jayne plunged his knife into the dirt to clean it. When he turned around, Kaylee was pale, her mouth open, her eyes fixed on the dead men.

Wash looked even paler, though he rallied as Jayne expected. "Remind me not to stand too close to Jayne when there's negotiations at hand."

The dogs instantly stood up and started snarling when their masters died. They were so angry, foam began to form at the corners of their mouths. This would be a delicate situation.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

When Inara opened the door to her shuttle, Vikram gasped, grabbed her arms and held her in front of him. In dramatic moments, a person's true character was often revealed. Mal never would have acted in such a deplorable way. That thought passed her by fast enough she almost missed it.

However, the rioting servants also did something unexpected. They quieted down when they saw a Companion standing in their way. "Go back to your quarters," Vikram said from behind her, his voice mousy.

That seemed to reinvigorate the mob. They raised their fists and shouted "No!" in unison. If Inara's pulse raced a little and her insides quivered, she did her best not to show it to the servants.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked them calmly instead. "Aren't you beholden to work out your contracts?"

The rioters shook their fists again and shouted something unkind at her. Maybe they thought she was going to demand they return to their quarters as well. However, the one directly in front of her turned to his companions and raised his hands in the air. When he had silence, he turned back to her.

"That man broke his contract. He keeps us as slaves. We don't have the tools to do the job or the living quarters promised in our contracts. He give us only enough so we squabble with each other for the scraps, to keep us divided against ourselves."

"That doesn't mean you can threaten our lives in this way," Inara said sternly. "What makes you think rioting will improve your conditions?"

"Alliance man, he come to us last week. He say, if you come work for me in my mine, Alliance will protect you from... what's the word..." His voice trailed off and his grasped his hands, as though the words could manifest themselves in the air and he could trap them.

"Repercussions?" When Inara offered the word, the man's eyes brightened and he nodded. What sort of Alliance rep would have that kind of pull? Or was it a carefully crafted lie? And where was there a mine nearby? Despite its name, Silverhold had virtually nothing of value on it any survey team had ever found. At least, nothing that could be taken from a mine.

"Tell me of this Alliance man and his deal."

"Tell me his name and he's a dead man," Vikram said, still from safely behind Inara.

Turning her head, Inara agve him her sweetest smile. "Be quiet, Vikram, or you'll make things worse." The look he gave her was affronted, perhaps because she was a woman, perhaps because he knew she was right. Either way, it seemed to leave him nonplussed.

"Some Lieutenant." The rioter looked thoughtful for a moment, his eyes darting upwards and off to his right, indicating he was likely thinking back, rather than making something up. "Haskins, that was what he say his name was. Said he got hisself a platinum mine. Said he'd make us honest employees of AMI."

"AMI?" She was unfamiliar with the term. Acronym, most likely.

"Alliance Mining Interests. Said he'd take us to Beggar's Tin and we'd get us a small share of what's in that mine."

Beggar's Tin. Haskins. Inara took a deep breath. "Did he say where this platinum mine was located? Near a residence, perhaps?"

The rioter brightened. "Yeah. Some ranch. Is you in with the Lieutenant?"

Inara turned to Vikram. "You'll excuse me? I need to make a call." She fixed him with a glare she reserved for people who really ticked her off: Matron Jade or Mal leaped to mind. "I strongly suggest you re-examine your contract with these people. They are human beings, after all. Find the person I know is inside you and make things right, or they might just make you sorry. I will, of course, grant you a full refund, as I am no longer able to keep my appointment." If she'd been truthful, she would have told him how reprehensible she found him, but that would have been unbecoming.

"Of course," was all he had time to stammer before she unceremoniously shoved him from her shuttle, into the mob's waiting hands. Imagine, contracting with a slaver. That earned Vikram a black mark in the client registry.

She sat down behind her console, activated the comm. "Inara to Serenity." No answer. If they were on Beggar's Tin, she should be able to reach them with her system. She waited a little while. Outside, the sounds of the mob died away. Vikram wasn't screaming, so she supposed he was agreeing to whatever the mob wanted.

"Inara to Serenity."

There was static for a few moments, then a familiar voice said, "Hi, Inara. What can I do for you?"

"River? Where is Mal? Zoe?"

"They're all outside, fixing Serenity. Shepherd Book and his friend are here with me inside, alone. Mal and Vek are still... away."

"All of them?" It made her happy to think of Simon attempting to fit in. So long as he didn't have a fit about getting grease on his fancy clothes. "Does Mal have his communicator with him? Can you patch me through to him?"

There was silence for a few seconds, then River's voice reappeared. "Mmm, give me a sec. Communications devices of this nature are new to me. I like learning, though." More static came through the connection. The next voice she heard wasn't River's.

"Our little genius treasure says you got need of me?" Mal was practical as always. Inara explained everything the leader of the mob told her. "Huh," was what he said after she'd finished.

"That's all you have to say?"

"Hang on." There was a less distinct voice on Mal's end. Static filled the line again for a few moments. "Vek's here. He says he knows. Knows what, I got no notion. Thank you, Inara, for the info. Best you finish up your business on Silverhold and return to Serenity as fast as you're able. We got a few things left to finish up here and we'll put this matter behind us."

That suited her just fine. So far as she was concerned, her business was most definitely finished on Silverhold. "I'll be back within the hour," she said and broke the connection. She started a pre-flight check of all systems.

 

Got to love Jayne when he's in that particular mood (did I really just write that? ) He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, nor is he the most sophisticated man, but you sure want him on your side when you're on the verge of being captured by slavers with a bunch of attack dogs in the background. It's nice to see that Mal's little lecture about crew and family got through that thick skull of his, though Mama Cobb's earlier lessons probably helped too

Also, got to love Inara and how she handles the situation she was thrown in with grace and class – and bringing Vikram down a notch or two and then dumping him with his (former) indentured servants, because really, the guy deserved it I snickered at all her side comments about Mal; she's in deeper than she thinks here.

And of course, unlike Jayne, Inara is the sharpest knife in the drawer, so she puts two and two together pretty quickly. I have to say, between the "brothers" that tried to capture Jayne, Wash and Kaylee, and Vikram and his indentured servants, there's a lot of unpaid labour going on in this part of space. Methinks that Lieutenant Haskins was about to pull a con on the indentured workers and turn them outright into slaves for his platinum mine... and now we know why Troubadour's land was so valuable.

Troubadour himself, though... I'm still cautious to interpret River's visions from the previous chapter. Something didn't feel entirely kosher there, but I'll wait for the story to end before I pass judgement.

 

I love Jayne in action saving Kaylee and Wash from those slavers. And Inara deals with another slaver in her way.
What will happen next?

 

Yes. You wrote that. You can't take it back now. But yes, Jayne certainly has his uses.

Inara definitely learned her training well. I imagine a Companion would be given all kinds of lessons in deescalating situations and giving the brush off to people without them being aware that they're being brushed off. Inara and Mal, so much better than the question that came out of the 90s: Rachel and Ross (though I do like Friends, too, of course)

What would the Alliance be if not predictably tyrannical?

Let the judgements fall.

Thank you! Sadly, what happens next is the end of the story. I've really enjoyed writing these Firefly pieces and hope the muse will supply me with more ideas for the future. And I hope everyone who's been reading along has enjoyed this little flight of fancy. That being said, here's the last chapter.


Title: Chapter 5: Closure
Author: Vek Talis
Timeframe: Between the episodes Trash & The Message
Setting: Lazarus (planet), Silverhold (planet) & Beggar's Tin (moon of Sliverhold)
Characters: Serenity crew, Vek

Notes: This is Part IV of my Springo Challenge, given by the Knight of Notoriety @Chyntuck



The first thing Vek noticed was the cool breeze, sweeping in from the dry canyons they'd flown through. Autumn was swiftly giving way to winter here on this part of the moon. He accessed his datapad, ran a search for weather reports from the time Cecilia Hercules was murdered. There was also something sticking in his craw about Troubadour himself. Vek had been accessing his own memories since first setting eyes on the man.

Captain Reynolds crept along through the underbrush. He still had his army training. The purple-belly he moved toward was completely unaware. However, the captain didn't see the second one.

Concentrating hard, Vek bent the light around him, vanishing completely to close the distance between himself and the second trooper. It took a lot out of him, since he'd been disconnected from the Force for... how long had it been? Six, seven billion years? Give or take ten million. What did numbers mean anymore?

And just when he thought he found someone, Gabriela disappeared into her own desires for status and power. For someone who enjoyed speculating on peoples' motivations for their behaviors, he didn't understand her in the end. Had she used cynicism, thinking it would somehow have the reverse effect and bring her closer to power? Or had she played the cynic to attract someone like Vek? Had she always been so duplicitous, or had she truly cared for him once?

The captain hit the sentry a blow to a pressure point. The trooper dropped to the ground, just as the second man sprang forward. Vek lunged, wrapping his right arm around the man's chest, his momentum knocking the second sentry to the ground. A forearm to the chin and he was out, too. Vek got to his feet, adjusted his robe.

"That's... that's fine work," Reynolds said. "I was ready for him. Knew he was there the whole time."

"Of course, Captain."

They continued on through the forest towards the rear of Mr. Hercules' ranch. The underbrush got thicker as they went. Vek's pad beeped. Conditions on the day Cecilia Hercules was killed. "Four degrees Celsius and overcast is rather cold, wouldn't you say, Captain?"

"I'll say." Reynolds stopped, turned, a quizzical look on his face. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Conditions on this part of the moon the day Mrs. Hercules was killed."

"The man said he was sweaty from working in his fields." The captain nodded, taking Vek's point, but then he shook his head. "A man can work up a sweat in the fields, don't matter the temperature. I was raised on a ranch my ownself."

"On Shadow, yes. Shadow is very humid, yes? This is a dry moon. Water evaporates from the body in a dry atmosphere before it becomes sweat." There was great suffering ahead. Or had been. Vek sensed many souls, crying out in alarm, before suddenly being silenced.

==Purple. Brown. Death. Dead.==

River was in some turmoil. There was something in Hercules' head. What is it, River? Vek reached out to her, attempting to ease her troubles and see what she was seeing. Clear your mind, just like we practiced. Picture a peaceful body of water, a gentle flow filling it. Then, the sun makes some of it evaporate. It turns to mist and your troubles evaporate with it.

The men wore purple. They carried rifles, military grade weapons. Hardened hearts, hatred, burning, loathing. The others wore tatters, pieces of uniforms. They were tired, beaten. They just wanted to survive the war. Shovels laid out on an open piece of ground. They dug their own mass grave.

And River, a sixteen year old girl, who was gifted beyond a child's capacity to understand, had to witness it all in stark detail. The horrors the government doctors inflicted on her were impossible to estimate. Looking into minds, trapping their most terrible memories, only to relive them again and again. That's why he closed off his own memories to her, didn't allow her access to most of his mind. The things she would see there were not appropriate.

I understand now. Returning to Serenity shortly. You will be cured of this terrible burden you've been given. Someday. I promise.

"Look there, Captain." Vek pointed to the well behind the Hercules' home.

"Yeah. Shiny." Of course the captain could see it, too. He was nobody's fool. "No wonder he wanted this land."

At last, Vek's datapad beeped. The face that flashed on his screen was all too familiar. He showed it to the captain. It would be interesting to see what Shepherd Book would do with this information. Vek knew him well, too. The Londinium War, years before the War for Independence. Long before he was a Shepherd. The war brought Londinium into the Central Planets coalition. That wasn't his story to tell, though he understood why a man like Book would turn to God after what he'd been involved in.

"Well, ain't that something," Captain Reynolds said softly. "Been playing us for suckers all this time."

"There's also the matter of what Lieutenant Haskins intends with this land." There were telltale signs of wealth, just below the substratum. What had River said, "'A platinum bullet'," Vek said abruptly.

Reynolds turned that quizzical look on him again. "That's what our little River said, after Troubadour got finished with his talk, wasn't it?"

"Very astute, Captain."

"I got a few things to say when we get back to the ship."

"Wait." There was something connected to the killing. Having met Troubadour, Vek was drawn to something that belonged to the man. It was close. Tracks led from the direction of the ranch house to the woods. Following their trajectory, Vek wandered until his foot kicked something. With a handkerchief, he picked it up.

"Old issue Alliance sidearm." Captain Reynolds recognized it immediately.

"Very good. What makes you think it's 'old issue'?" Vek knew, but wanted to know how the captain did.

He pointed to the handle. "The clips on newer Alliance hardware are flush with the handle. This one juts out at an angle. Made it awkward to hold. I had me one of them I took off a dead officer, back on Triumph, Battle of New Trafalgar. First year of the war."

"Ammunition is different now, as well," Vek said. "It will have made a different impact on the bullet it fired as well. Dr. Tam might be able to match the bullet."

"What bullet? Isn't that more proper to be found in the victim?"

"I have a theory." Vek wandered onto the property. Captain Reynolds followed him. There was a shovel sticking up from the ground, a few meters away from the opposite side of the house, from the well. Blood stained the dirt a darker brown. It was old, a couple of weeks. A spent bullet was partially buried. With another handkerchief, Vek fetched it from the dirt.

"You carry lots of handkerchiefs."

"Never know when they'll come in handy, Captain."

"We need to get back to my ship."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Zoe was waiting at the bottom of the ramp when Mal arrived, Simon with her. "What do you got for me?"

Vek continued on into the ship, as Mal had ordered. There was no telling what might happen once they dropped their evidence on Troubadour. Wash, Kaylee and Jayne were finishing up their work on the starboard engine.

Mal listened intently, nodding as Simon explained. When the doc was finished, he knew what needed doing. "That tracks," he said and nodded once more with resolution. "There's no reason to involve the rest of the crew."

"Involve us in what?" Mal spun to see Wash standing behind him. Kaylee was climbing down the ladder, Jayne still at the top.

"What needs doing," Mal said. He whispered what Inara had told him to Zoe, who looked at him, wide-eyed. "We may as well all go in together, then."

Kaylee was hurrying toward him, but when Mal turned to her, she stopped short. "That look, Captain. I don't like it. Looks like you got some bad news. Like you gotta hurt somebody you don't want to. What's going on?"

"You'll see. Inside. Let's go, everyone."

They walked into the smaller common area near the guest quarters. Troubadour and Shepherd Book were sitting there, laughing about something. Mal regretted what was coming, for the shepherd's sake. For the first time in a long time, he pined for a little bit of the faith he used to have. Faith that he was doing the right thing.

When Troubadour saw him, his smile dropped and he stood. "You got some news, suh?"

"Yeah." Mal stopped at the entrance to the medbay, the others filed past him. He turned to nod when Vek came down from above. The other man nodded, indicating he'd sent the message Mal had wanted him to send. Not wanted. Needed. More than anything, Mal wished this wasn't happening.

"Well, y'all look like you got something to say, might as well spit it out, then." Troubadour looked from Mal to Zoe, to Vek, to Simon, back to Mal. Shepherd, who had still been smiling, turned ashen.

"We know you killed your own wife, Troubadour." This was part of the burden of command. Having to say all this and make Shepherd Book see his old friend for what he'd become. He pulled out the sidearm. "You fired a bullet into some concrete from an old Alliance sniper rifle, then killed your wife, dug the bullet out and replaced it.

"We know about the mass grave of Independent soldiers under your ranch house."

Shepherd Book looked from Mal to Troubadour, his mouth opening in shock and horror in the few heartbeats it took to complete the motion. He took a few steps to the side, away from his old friend.

"You deserted the Independents, joined the Alliance at some point in the war, became a lieutenant. You had prisoners on Beggar's Tin, but you never logged them. Instead, you buried them, then came back to claim that land as your own to hide the secret.

"Only thing we don't know is... why?"

Troubadour looked from Mal to Vek, then to Simon. "Y'all think you're better than me. Y'all kin go to hell. You didn't live through what I lived through." Surprisingly, he ripped open the top of his shirt, a few buttons flying through the air. His chest showed old, scarred marks. "Cecilia, she liked to burn me. Always tol' me I was nothing.

"She was there; she was the sergeant of my platoon. We didn't have enough to eat, not for my platoon and the prisoners. Alliance had no outpost there. They sent us as one o' them expeditionary forces. They was weeks out. We had rations for that, no more. Them Independents, they was hiding out. They thought we was coming for their supplies, so they burned 'em. Cecilia and me, we decided there wasn't nothing to be gained by all of us starving to death, so we made 'em dig a big hole, and then we..."

He looked to Shepherd Book. "I didn't like it. But you ain't got no right to judge me, Derrial. None of you do. You wasn't there."

River came out of her room just then. Troubadour lunged, grabbed her before she had a chance to scream. A pistol slid down from inside the sleeve of his coat. "Y'all gonna get out of my way now. I'm gonna take a long walk with this pretty young thing. You don't pursue, I let her go. You want to find out the hard way, then you find out."

"For God's sake, Troubadour, don't make this any more difficult than it already is," Book implored. "Find a piece of the man I once called friend and end this peaceably, before someone else gets hurt."

"I'm walking outta here."

"We won't stop you," Mal said, his hand ready to grab for his pistol at a moment's notice. "But I tell you plain: you harm a hair on that girl's head and you'll wish you were in that mass grave, 'stead of those browncoats you murdered."

"I ain't gonna hurt nobody, lest you get in my way," Troubadour said. He yanked River's arm, shook the girl a bit. "Ain't that right, little lady? Gonna let you go nice and easy once I get a fair piece away from these folk."

The two of them backed away, toward the stairs leading down to the cargo bay. He watched Troubadour closely, like a man watching the eyes of his opponent in a pistol duel. He was afraid, he was angry, but Mal judged he wouldn't try to harm River unless provoked. That made him relax a bit. When Troubadour was out of sight, he turned to Vek.

"I sent the call as requested, Captain. Lieutenant Haskins should be en route."

"You called for the Alliance?" Simon took a step away from Mal, giving him a hardened, angry look. If he'd been a fighter, he might have gone for his weapon. "Are you insane? They- they'll find us. They'll take-"

"No one's getting took except the murderer." Mal's plan was for River and Simon to hide in their quarters. Haskins had no warrant or reason to demand a search, nor did he have the notion, not with Mal turning over a wanted fugitive to them, a fugitive who had, in fact, committed the murder for which he was wanted.

Mal had no problem with killing, but only when he had no choice. This man, Troubadour, may have been abused by his wife, but he made a choice to end her life, rather than leave her. It may have been his weakness, to not be able to leave, but he made a choice for another. It was the very antithesis of what Mal stood for. He'd fought in a war because he didn't want the Alliance making his choices for him. How could he condone someone ending another's life when his own wasn't in danger?

River had popped up at just the wrong moment, and that was about to make things a bit stickier. However, Mal needed to suss out the situation and see what he could do to make sure River stayed on his ship, and didn't end up in Alliance hands. Damn feds weren't going to make her decisions for her, if he had anything to say about it.

Unfortunately, as he walked casually down the stairs to the cargo bay and the door opened, his heart sunk in his chest. An Alliance officer — undoubtedly Haskins — and a few armed men in civvies waited on the ground. When they saw Troubadour heading their way, hostage in hand, they rushed forward, onto the ship. They grabbed Troubadour's gun hand before he knew they were there. The officer himself grabbed River, whisked her away from the now raving man. The others tackled him to the deck, slapped wrist restraints on him.

Mal gritted his teeth. Jayne was beside him, Zoe on his other flank. He knew if he drew, they would as well. Now it was down to Lieutenant Haskins.

"It seems we showed up just in time, Captain Harbatkin. I'm Stephen Haskins. Thanks for helping us apprehend this dangerous fugitive."

"You're welcome," Mal said in his most pleasant voice. Just turn around and walk away with your killer, leave us folk to ourselves. "We got the evidence you need, put him away for a long time."

Haskins was about to speak, but he glanced down at River, who bent her head toward the floor. "What's your name, young lady?" His grip on her shoulders tightened. Mal squinted, concentrating on the man's torso. He was already on the ragged edge of the galaxy, what was one more step?

"Lieutenant Haskins, may I have a word?"

Mal swung his attention to Vek. The robed fellow walked casually down the stairs and toward the purple-belly, a confidence in his stride that even Haskins' thugs couldn't ignore. They pulled Troubadour up and got out of Vek's way.

The two men walked down the ramp. The goons eyed Mal, Jayne and Zoe. They were fighting men. They knew Mal was sizing them up, as he knew they were paying him the same compliment.

"What do you think Vek's doing?" Zoe whispered, her gaze never wavering from the thugs in Haskins' employ.

"Everybody's got a story," Mal said, mostly to himself.

"I knew that fellar weren't right, Mal," Jayne whispered from his opposite side.

Haskins looked back at River, his eyes dropping to the deck as Vek said something else. He visibly deflated. He looked from the deck to his men. "Let's go. We have our murderer and the evidence to convict."

The thugs dragged Troubadour, still kicking and fighting, down the ramp. Haskins stalked away, but stopped short, then turned. His eyes sought out one of Mal's crew. "You are Shepherd Derrial Book?" At Book's crestfallen nod, the lieutenant continued. "Mrs. Hercules was prepared to tell us the location of the mass grave. She perished before she could. However, thanks to Captain Harbatkin and his crew, we have all the information we require.

"Cecilia Hercules had a substantial insurance policy in her name. As you are named in her will, after her husband, as her heir, a portion of the money will be turned over to you, after expenses for Mr. Hercules' defense are subtracted, of course."

"Now hold on, a minute," Mal said, taking a step forward. Haskins glared at him, clearly not liking the tone the captain was taking with him.

"Seems to me, other than whatever spiritual thing marriage is, it's also a contract. That fellow there," Mal pointed at Troubadour, "he broke that contract when he murdered his wife. Anything that was hers, or for her heirs, should be hers separate.

"That land, where the platinum is, that's his land. You got the Alliance behind you to take it, but it's still his until that moment. That's what should pay for his defense."

Haskins looked like he was ready to shout. He checked himself, looked down to his boots again, kicked at the dirt. "I'll make the arrangements." This time when he turned and stalked away, no one said a word.

A ping came from the comm system in the cargo bay. Wash picked up the transmitter and clicked a button. "Mal's carnival of mysteries, head jester speaking, how may we direct your call?" Some tinny words were spoken out of the receiver. Wash looked to Mal. "Inara is requesting permission to dock with Serenity, oh grand panjandrum of mirth."

Mal glared at the pilot, who clicked the transmit button again. "We're all ready to receive you, Inara. I think we're getting off this world in a tearing hurry once you're secured."

The button to close the cargo door hadn't done anything to Mal. He hit it like it had, anyhow, and stalked toward the stairs. Being closer, he heard Inara's response come in loud and clear, "It sounds like this ended much like many of Mal's jobs."

Book was waiting at the top of the stairs. "I don't want that poor woman's money. I think I'll give most of it to the orphans."

"Why you telling me, Shepherd? What you do with it is up to you." He wanted to put this whole, sorry mess behind him.

"Because I intend to give the rest to you. And Serenity, of course. You've been kind enough to let me stay a while, despite me having nothing to reciprocate with, since you're not interested in my council."

"Your council, I've taken a time or three, in case you forgot," Mal replied. "God's ain't welcome on my boat. Not now, not never. You're welcome here as long as you like." He'd put that business behind him, when the galaxy turned its back on justice and freedom and put him and millions like him under the thumb of the Alliance. This was the price he paid for surviving the fight and he was doing the best he could with what God had stuck him with.

No, God would never be welcome on his boat again. God had taken everything that was right with the worlds and turned it all upside down. Or He had let the men with ill intentions do it. Either way, He could have lowered His mighty hand to smite the evil, but He didn't.

"Regardless, I'd like you to have some recompense. The ship could use some tender loving care, and your crew deserves to be paid for their work. Just because Troubadour isn't the man I knew once..." His voice trailed off after that, and Mal didn't think it right to pry if there was more.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

==What did you see? In the Shepherd's mind? I know you were in there==

Vek opened his eyes. River sat in silent meditation. Her mind was quiet. Most of it. The more insane voices were silent. The tangents, and rabbit holes and dark, hidden secrets were tamed by the quiet she'd slipped into. But the questions had most definitely come from that hidden part of her mind that knew.

"No more than you saw, my young friend." He'd known Derrial Book, known of him, if not personally. He didn't need to see it from inside the now Shepherd's mind.

==But you knew. Before. You know a lot==

"Ha!" Vek barked laughter at that, then returned to his own meditations. "If I know so much, why am I still here?"

==You're tired. I understand. You want an end==

This was, perhaps the most informed mind he'd ever conversed with. The experiments the government conducted on her had opened up far more than they'd hoped for. They should have feared what they sought. Had a healthy respect for it. Then, they wouldn't have sought it so ruthlessly. What they had on their hands was a time bomb of galaxy shattering power. Even Vek couldn't plumb the deepest depths of what was inside her.

==You think of me as Blackbird. It's blurry in your mind. You don't want to fail me like you failed her==

No one, not in a dozen parallel galaxies, billions of years — perhaps a trillion — could see through him. But there sat this tiny girl who knew... everything.

==It's already happened, but you fear it could still change. That's why you want to be close now. I'm glad. Simon and I need you==

"Nothing is going to change, River. I will shake the foundations of the Alliance before I let anything change. There's very little in this universe that can stop me."

==I believe you. They made me the same. Maybe you should be my father. Mine cared more for status than his blood. Maybe I'll live forever, like you==

Vek turned a vicious look on her. It only lasted a moment and it was gone. "Don't ever say that, not even in jest. You have no idea. That is not the torment for you. You already have your burden, don't go looking for another. I won't permit it." So much for allowing everyone to make their own decisions. Still, she had no idea what she was asking for. It was his duty to protect her from that, as well.



~fini

 

They caught the killer with Vek's help.
Vek of course knows more about Book and that conversation with River. Vek has almost lived forever.
Nice ending of your story