THE LOSING SIDE, CHAPTER 23

“All prisoners, report to the gate, now!” The harsh voice of the intercom ripped through the housing unit, startling the occupants. Trading uneasy glances, the six men headed for the door.

Straaker held to the back of the group, and Gray grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him forward. “You first, fearless leader,” he said with a sarcastic grin.

Straaker jerked away so harshly that Gray was thrown off balance and fell against Zeke Hamilton. Hamilton caught him effortlessly and set him on his feet, ignoring the embarrassment on Gray’s face. “Nicely done,” Hamilton said dryly, rolling his eyes at Straaker.

A tense Malcolm Reynolds walked out at Wash’s side, the two of them managing to stay clear of the theatrics the intimidating order had sparked. Mal relaxed instantly when he saw Khiloh standing at the gate, grinning mischievously.

Wash complained, grinning. “Again with the traumatizing poor, helpless little-” Mal raised his eyebrows, and Wash corrected himself. “or, well, not so little, I guess – pilots!”

“And Sergeants,” added Mal hurriedly. “Don’t forget Sergeants.”

Straaker had taken position, standing rigidly at attention in front of the gate, and Wash saw an opportunity too priceless to pass up. He reached down and grabbed a dried stick that had blown into the compound, and ever so sneakily began to tickle Straaker on the ribs from behind. Mal tried to keep from laughing, but Khiloh’s fiercely bitten lower lip as he looked away proved far too entertaining and within seconds he and Khiloh were laughing uncontrollably.

Straaker snatched the branch away with a glare, and stiffly inquired why they had been called out to the gate.

“Well, our Sergeant Reynolds here had kind of a rough day yesterday, so I decided brownies were called for.” Khiloh held a large foil sack embellished with colorful ribbons through the gate. “Compliments of my incredibly talented wife, who baked enough to feed the lot of you for a week.”

“This mean you ain’t gonna let us out for lunch?” Mal asked with a grin, taking the offered package.

“Lunch? Hell no, it’s nothing but brownies and water for you people for a week,” said Khiloh with mock sternness. “Hope this teaches you a lesson……about something.”

“Wash on a week-long sugar high? Oh, I imagine we’d learn wonders,” said Mal. “Tell you wife thanks, an’ that she’s got a husband needs nominating for sainthood.”

“Will do,” said Khiloh, giving a mock salute and walking away.

The men went inside and started eagerly munching on an assortment of utterly delicious chocolate brownies, the frosting of one of which Wash felt compelled to apply to his face as war paint.

Apparently vexed at the sight of people having so much fun, Straaker felt compelled to interrupt. “Listen. Ah, I know you guys aren’t going to take kindly to my saying this, but you know it’s my duty. We shouldn’t be accepting special favors from the guards. Accepting any type of special treatment is-”

“You’re right,” interrupted Matty. “We don’t take kindly to it. Overruled.” He delivered one of his trademark bows. “And now, I’m going to go back to enjoying my special treatment,” he said, taking another bite with mocking relish.

“Excuse me-” started Straaker indignantly.

His response was promptly interrupted by Gray, who stepped towards him bearing a brownie and a menacing grin. “One more gorram word, and I’ll take truly enormous pleasure from the lot of us tying you down and gagging you with your special treatment.”

“Why are we waiting for the one more word thing?” asked Wash. “Am I missing something?”

“Only that it’d be a waste of a perfectly good brownie,” said Mal. “I vote gravel and shoelaces.”

Gray clapped Mal on the shoulder. “You,” he said with a delighted grin, “are my new best friend.” Straaker threw up his hands and stomped out the door in frustration.

Wash flopped dramatically down on his bunk in a pose of exaggerated relaxation, a brownie clutched in one hand. “Forget all the rest,” he said. “This is the tastiest prison ever.”

“I’m thinkin’ perhaps you went and forgot about the banana jelly they served us for desert yesterday,” said Mal with a shudder.

“You’re gorram right we forgot it,” replied Hamilton with a jaunty grin. “Selective memory, it’s called, and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t remind us again.”

“Think another brownie ought take care of that,” replied Mal, biting into the deliciously sweet confection and closing his eyes in bliss.