Chapter E. ‘With the stories’ - *characters and their ‘verse belong Mr. Whedon and Co. Follies and mistakes all my own.” - - “I need a ride to Santo,” Ledah started with. “The cash should be more than enough, we’ll stay anywhere, Danny and I. And stay out of your way. And the wine, it’s worth a 150 credits at least, each bottle. So you can sell it or enjoy it.” “It ain’t about the money, Miss, like I was saying,” Mal explained. Though he knew exactly how hard it would be to get her off-ship, now that she was sitting at his table, with Kaylee beside her. With Book and Wash, the traitors, looking interested and sympathetic-like at the girl. And her boy. And she’d mentioned liquor and profit in front of Jayne. Who was watching the bubbles coil in helixes around the edge of the gold-tinged bottles. “I know,” she said. “But we have to go. My husband... my husband is on Santo. Working. He was trying to send us money to join him, but it never came. I think, I think something is wrong.” Mal caught Zoe’s eye. Family squabbles were nowhere near where they wanted to be. Zoe tried first. “Could be, Ledah, he just ain’t made money enough yet. It ain’t easy, getting a job on a lot of these worlds. And starting over takes—” “No, it’s not that. I’ve, we’ve spoken. Several times. He swears he’s sent money. Transferred it directly to me. I’ve seen the records. I’ve checked them. He did. He sent it. But it’s not there. At least, the bank tells me it isn’t.” “Someone taking it?” Jayne asked. “Banks ain’t like to lose nothing.” “Might tell you otherwise, though,” Zoe said, to Jayne’s nodding agreement. “The bank, or my father-in-law.” Ledah paused for a moment, obviously thinking, pulling words together carefully. “He’s an angry man,” she said, in a tone that suggested she was being generous. She glanced over at Daniel, who was wrapped up in examining the light on the table. “Hateful,” she continued. “And most of me. First for taking away his son, then for being the reason his son...left, left world. He’s left me with nothing; I wasn’t even allowed to leave the compound. Said it was for my protection, but what would I need protection for?” “How’d you get here, then?” Zoe asked. Wash made a face, shocked at her harsh tone. But Zoe kept her eyes on the girl. “Bribed the two guards. Jewels I had. My father-in-law always wants me to look like a lady. Took them and all the cash I could find. And those two bottles from the cellar. My husband’s family is in wine, you see. Only Charlie, my husband, he hated farming. He was trained to build, design. Which was going to be fine, ‘til his older brother died. And his father pulled him out of school to come back a run things. Which he couldn’t stand, being ordered about by his father, sitting around watching grapes grow.” Ledah realized Mal was growing restless, and Zoe remained cold. “So, Santo looked a promised land. Danny was so young, then.” Ledah had to pause; the table let her, as she picked up her son and held him on her lap. “We were just to wait a few months. I knew they’d be problems; Mr. Acton would not take kindly to our plans. Would not take kindly to us being still around. But that he’d... to be so cruel to kin, to his own....” When she spoke again her voice was low but unwavering. She held Mal’s glance, breaking only to stare equally at Zoe. “He’s killing us.” And, for once, everyone at the table believed her. “I took what chance had. Came looking for a ship. Found yours.... no one will notice me gone until breakfast.” There was a silent stretch of time, as the crew gathered together the details, the riches before them, the girl and her boy. “You sure of that?” Mal asked finally, breaking the collective wonder. “Cap-tain,” Kaylee said, shocked and chiding at his coldness. Zoe silenced her with a turn of her head. Ledah considered. “Relatively. Occasionally someone checks to see if I’m in my room at night.” Of course, Mal thought. He caught Zoe’s eye. She was blank, which meant she wanted the girl to stay, but was not sure of the risk. Leaving it up to him. Up to him, he knew, because his crew was wholly all on the girl’s side. Given a second they would make it know. Loudly. Clearly. He did not want to give them the chance. Her story seemed worn, though she told it convincingly. And coin looked good, and how much trouble could a young mother be? He smiled wryly at the thought, it sounded vaguely like how much trouble could a core-world doc be? Or a preacher. Or a girl mechanic, for that matter. He turned to Kaylee. Glared at her, just to make a point. Which worked, because she shrank into her seat. “All right. Couple things first, though. One, we ain’t taking all that cash. Or the wine, shiny as it looks. Fare between here to Santo ain’t more than thirty credits, and we’ve got work to do first on Milagros, so it shouldn’t even be that much, as we’ll slow you down. Now, our official reports have us leaving for Persephone, so anyone looking to find you, should be slowed some, but to be cautious we’re going take off now. Don’t want anyone banging on my doors tonight. Think you can handle that, Wash?” “Not a problem, sir.” “It gonna be chen xin with you, this detour to Milagros?” “Yes, Captain,” Ledah answered, sounding amused. “I’ll be chen xin with a detour to hell and back, so long we’re gone from here.” “Kaylee, show Ledah and..” “Daniel,” Zoe supplied. “Daniel to a guest room, please. See she gets comfortable, and set up for flight.” “Yes, sir, Captain,” Kaylee said, and her titles and smile should have been warm enough to ease the cold edge of Mal’s worry. Should have been. Zoe and Wash headed to the bridge, Mal followed them. “Zoe,” he stopped her. “Sir?” “You think this is a good idea?” “Frankly, sir?” “No, Zoe. I want your dishonest opinion.” “Sir,” she said, snapping her responses at him so that Wash flinched for Mal. “I think she’s a risk. Like all strangers. And all fares. Risk we neither want nor need. As I recall you mentioning.” But she softened, slightly, as she continued “That said, don‘t seem much of a threat. Boy’s liability, on her part, sir. If he’s more than a screen.” Mal was not relieved. He stared back towards the galley, worry clearly etched. “But,” she stretched out. “Her story sounds true,” she wavered, trying to clarify her point, “...true enough in that she doesn’t feel safe, where she was. That somethin’s going on. With her family. And that she risked a lot to get here, with that little boy, sir.” “So we did the right thing.” “Don’t mean we won’t get trouble for it,” Zoe said, acknowledging his decision. “Oh no. Means we’ll get it for sure. We always do.” “Best see to it the pilot’s on guard, then.” Mal nodded, and let Zoe go to the bridge alone. He wandered back to his room. He would not admit to himself why. - - Inara knew Kaylee, knew fashion, knew Mal. Perhaps not in that order, but it made finding a present that would turn the girl pink with cheer, and not break Mal’s fragile budget, and not look foolish anywhere in the ‘verse, easy enough. She found three, actually, to allow Mal to save face, if he wanted to choose among several. And halved their price, since she would add her own money to Kaylee’s gift. But the file chip sat on the top on her console screen. She did not feel like waving the captain yet. She had to arrange for tomorrow’s class, consider what she would say. She had to walk the halls soon enough. She had her own responsibilities. She sat down her dressing table, an old-fashion one on loan from Sheydra. Picked up a comb and looked at herself in the mirror. Saw her mother, instead. “A lady,” she was saying, “can be known by the way she wears pearls.” Inara shook her head. Put down the brush and turned away. - - At the counter chopping vegetables, Book considered Persephone. He had taken to walking its docks before deciding to leave the abbey. Noticing how many ships came and left, despite the fact it was far easier to stay in space. Avoid tariffs and taxes, not to mention the feds and on-world powers. Saved fuel to orbit, transfer goods through any of the cheap and easy terra-to-atmo companies. Yet only the worst off crews did so. Even hand-to-mouth operations, like this one, he chuckled, touched dirt often enough. Book wondered if it hadn’t something to do with the colors before him. The very human urge to eat something fresh. Real. Grown of sunlight and soil. To be part of a world. “Bless this before me,” he said silently, “and those that will take part of it. And those with whom we would share it, but that they roam far from our sides. Bless the child that joins us, that she might find home, and her child with us, that he might know joy. May those we’ve harmed forgive us, and find healing in you. And those that would harm us, bless them and keep them. And keep them far from us, too, God of many worlds. Who smiles on his wanderers, and leads his lost sheep with long lines. - - Ledah came to the dinner table hesitantly, holding the bottles. The warm flow of conversation stopped at her entrance, and she stopped, as well. But when Kaylee jumped up to ushered her to a chair, and Book handed her a glass, she relaxed and offered the wine. “I know you said you wouldn’t take it, but that makes it mine to give. Please,” she said, cutting off their excuses and denials. “I have a reason to celebrate, and I haven’t felt like that since, since Charlie’s been gone.” She popped the cork out of one is a practiced gesture, the gentle fizzing under-scoring her words. “I hate to waste this. And if I drink it all, I’ll wake up with reasons to regret.” She started pouring into the table’s empty glasses. Jayne downed the water in his, held out his mug. Everyone else followed, though Ledah had to walk over to Mal to fill his cup. “Guess you gotta toast,” he said, as she stood at his side. Kaylee reached across to hand her a glass, and Ledah raised it. But all she managed was: “I don’t know what to say.” The many lines and elegant verses she had heard over her life forgotten. Or seeming false or insincere. Wash covered her distress: “To trouble-free skies and untroubled engines before us,” “Good walls behind us,” Zoe added, raising her own glass. “Smooth sailings, homecomings,” Kaylee said, over Jayne’s “Gan bei” “To shared gifts,” Book answered gravely, nodding to both Ledah and Mal. “Absent friends,” Mal said. “Unpayable debts,” Ledah finished, and the crew drank easily to that. - “You know Santo ain’t exactly a place you just get off at,” Wash said to Ledah, well into dinner. Jayne had cracked open the second bottle, and Ledah had been right about the price. The wine was perfect and sparkly and strong. Very strong. “If you don’t know where you’re going, you might end up where you don’t want to be.” “Wash has a point,” Mal said, trying to clarify. He leaned forward. “Best bet might be find a ship take you somewhere else safe. You got family to run to; try and find your husband from—” “No. I’ve no one,” Ledah interrupted. “Just Danny and me.” “And your husband,” Kaylee said, hiccupping. Ledah nodded, looking down. “And you ain’t got no idea where he is?” Jayne asked, stretching his arms wide across the table, as if to point out how wide a world can be. Ledah shook her head again, and the table grew silent, each considering Santo’s dusty plains between settlements and factories. Its lack of federal control and multitude of local enforcement. “Conjure he’s pining to see you two,” Zoe said, fighting the sinking gloom. “How old was your boy when he left?” “Just born. I don’t, I don’t think Danny would know his father, except for the captures I’ve shown him.” “And he’s how old now?” “Nearly two.” “Ain’t he small for two?” Jayne asked. “Jayne,” Kaylee said in exasperation. Ledah was unconcerned. “Yes. But everyone on his father’s side grows slow at first. Charlie was the shortest kid in school for years. Then, in the space of a year, one of the tallest.” “Where did you meet him?” Zoe asked. “School. We studied together.” “Oh yeah,” Kaylee asked, “what’d ya study?” “Actually, I was in an agricultural program. Charlie took some classes as a way of appeasing his father.” “And Kaylee says you’re interested in ships?” Wash asked. “Yes. Developed out of—I thought, when I married Charlie, when he told me about his family, I thought it would be perfect. That I’d have the chance to help out, in the vineyard. But—” “Father don’t take to outside opinion” Mal offered. “Not female ones,” Ledah agreed. “Nothing to do all day, I started reading. And the library was full of mostly space adventures. Go through enough of them, you start to want to see what it’s like. To be between planets, hanging in the sky. But,” she stopped, started again. “And I don’t mean to pry; I’m not sure I understand why you’re flying to Milagros first. Wouldn’t it be faster to go to Santo?” “Yes and no,” Wash said. Zoe flashed him a warning. “Business works the other way,” she said, in a way meant to close the conversation. Ledah did not press, but Kaylee missed the signal. “It’s a triangle deal,” she said. “Triangle,” Ledah repeated, confused. Zoe looked at Mal; Mal shrugged. "More of an isosceles one, than an equilateral one," Wash drawls. “One part of the trip is dependent on the other,” Book offered. “Works like this,” Mal said, seeing Ledah still was not following. “We’re taking gen-seed from Aramis to Milagros.” “Farmers there need it, and Alliance ain’t shipping an over,” Jayne added. “Why—” “Don’t want no farmers on the land.” Jayne’s comment did not help. Mal continued his explanation. “Milagros’s terraforming ended up turning out a land filled with copper. ‘Cept the crews didn’t notice or didn’t care to report it. They just settled in, instead, let the ‘Liance parcel out the land like it were any bit of empty earth. And they started farming.” “Ain’t no one interested in working a factory there.” Jayne interjected again. “And copper is valuable?” Ledah asked Mal. “Hell yes,” Kaylee said, “need it in every part of the ship.” “Especially the delicate jobs,” Wash added. “So Aramis has gen-seed, which Milagros farmers want and can’t get from the Alliance, because the Alliance wants the farms to fail?” “That way, they can go in buy them up cheap. Start building factories and the like, import everything and everyone they need. Real folks of Milagros’ll starve.” The table seemed surprised at Jayne’s neat description of the problem. “What?” he asked. “Told ya I’ve been there.” “Ok, so they pay in copper, and the copper goes to Santo—” “A place that couldn’t grow rocks, if they tried,” Wash pointed out. “But does have good working factories,” Mal added. “Ones hungry for copper.” “And they pay you for the copper.” “Not quite. They pay us in goods—” “Wire, solar sheeting, make a lot of useful stuff there,” Kaylee explained. Mal kept going. “Which we take back to Aramis, and get our coin for that.” “Seems like a lot of work,” Ledah said, after a moment. “The worlds are going a good job of trading together, actually.” Book said gently. “Their system profits everyone, and by using independent contractors to keep the supplies circulating, they manage to avoid a lot of Alliance interference. Since the business is difficult to trace. Milagros is a young world, but these three might develop into something very strong in a few generations. Provided they can keep this thing up.” “And the Alliance don’t get wise to it.” Mal said. Ledah nodded. “I see. So Milagros first.” “Just so. And speaking of, deal with Milagros goes like this. Me and Jayne’ll take the shuttle. Make the remote runs. Zoe, you and Wash land at the spaceport, handle our connections there.” “Aw, but Cap’n I want to go with you.” Mal looked at Kaylee. “No.” “Ain’t dangerous, Mal. It’s Milagros.” Mal ignored Jayne. “Kaylee, you’ll stay with the ship. And Jayne, I'd take it as a--” Kaylee cut him off: “But how you gonna know you’re getting the real thing?” “What’d’ya mean, the real—” “Awful easy to imitate raw copper. Or mess with it. Ain’t it Jayne.” “How the hell—ow. Oh yeah. Real easy.” He rubbed his leg below the table. Mal was suspicious. "What?" “You know how to test it, Cap?... “Test?” “Yeah, you know how to work the scanner?” “Scanner?” Mal looked around the table, where everyone was growing increasingly amused at his one word responses to Kaylee. "Hold here, what are you--" “Checks the molecular material. Make sure you’re getting the stuff the Santo clients want, not just low grade anything they pop up with.” “And we got one of those scanners?” “Made two day we got the job, Captain.” “Jayne, can you work—” “Not me, Cap. Don’t know nothing.” He said it to Kaylee more than Mal. “But if you have to test it, what about the cargo in the spaceport?” “Wash can do it, can’t you, Wash?” “Not a problem.” Mal wondered where the conversation went wrong. He knew it started when someone took his orders as debate topics, but after that things slipped out his hands to fast to catch. He did not know how, but he knew he was beaten. Ledah seemed to be laughing to herself. “Fine. Kaylee comes with us. Everyone else, spaceport. And confined to ship, ‘less Zoe tells you otherwise.” “I’m going to go check on Danny, if you’ll excuse me,” Ledah said, still a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. She cleared her plate and glass and left. Mal waited to hear her start laughing, but she spared him that. He looked around at his crew. The entire group was cheerfully finishing the food. “Cheer up, Cap, we did good today,” Kaylee said, tipping the last of the wine into his mug. “Day ain’t done,” but he said it under his breath, and tried to store the memory of his crew, smiling and relaxed, shimmer wine held up in toasts around the table. - - “Is that true?” River asked. “True? That you never liked my friends? Yes. Couldn’t stand one. Remember? When someone came over to play, you would follow us around, and ask them to spell impossible words. Or if we were studying—” “I didn’t remember.” “Well, it’s true.” He flipped the papers, looking for his original list for the party. It was the least extravagant one. “I don’t like him, because he is your friend.” River sounded like she was working through a difficult translation. “Pretty much the only one in the ‘verse.” Simon rewound his own flip answer, and put down the papers. “That is...” River was watching him. “Elias isn’t a friend, I guess. Since I hardly know him. But he’s the closest thing, at the moment. The people on the ship, I wouldn’t call them friends, would you?” “No,” she whispered. “No,” he said. Suddenly needing levity, out of her, out of himself, he pulled lightly on a lock of her hair. “But since you’re still a spoiled brat, you’ve got to hate someone. Guess Elias is it.” River indulged him and rolled with his joke, though her mind was busy elsewhere. - After a few minutes of quiet, she focused back on Simon and his notes. She ran her hand around the table, a foot above all of Simon’s work, disturbing nothing. Occasionally she lifted up a page, squinted at it. Smelled it. “All these pages—nothing.” He had reopened a file, intent on studying his patients, if he could not come up with suitable things for Kaylee’s party. River kept talking. “She wants a poem.” “River, I can’t write—what do you mean, wants a poem? Who wants a poem?” She chose not to justify the question with an answer. Simon went back to his first line of defense. “I can’t write a poem...” “That’s not the point,” she said, talking over him, still looking at the papers. Though never reading them. “...even if that’s what she wants. Which, on a side note, how you know that? Did she tell you?” River looked at him. Scoffed. “No.” “River. You can’t pry into other people’s heads.” “I can.” “I meant, you shouldn’t. It’s not—” River wrinkled her nose. Gave him a look that suggested she would roll her eyes but she considered him too slow to get the gesture. A look she had down from the age of seven. “Didn’t pry. Just know. ” She waited. “It’s a girl thing.” “Ah. A girl thing.” Simon crushed up the paper he was writing on. Tried to flick it at River, with his pen. He missed. “You know how well I don’t do at those things. “It’s not hard,” she said calmly. “Mei-mei, what you classify as ‘not hard’ and what the rest of the ‘verse does aren’t exactly one.” River had taken a seat, perched on a stool taken from the corner table. “Wrote to Mirabelle once. Poem by Simon Tam. To her sweet,” she paused, “smile.” “How do you remember—that was ages ago.” “You.” River realized she would have to explain more for Simon to follow. Decided this time she would give him more. “Made me remember. Hating your friends.” She stretched, smiled. “It’s nice. Remembering what’s real. To me. Seeing what I’ve seen.” “Bring up the past did that?” “Yes. No. Random sequence of events strung together yielded a neuro-chemical response that made possible the guided access of pre-adolescent memory. Blocked random external stimuli that normally fractures controlled awareness.” “O-h.” Simon did not know what to make of his sister’s succinct medical explanation. “But, still, all I needed, all we needed to do to help you...” “Like a smoother. Works for so long. Then.” “Ah,” Simon said. “Then so long.” River sat on the table, rested her head on her arms around her knee. “Poem to Mirabelle.” “Oh good. Back to me, now. Like I said, River. A long time ago.” “Good thing,” she paused, “bad poem.” And Simon cracked a grin, again. Had to agree. “Yes it was. Really bad.” “You only can get better. We only get better.” She flashed him her rare open-mouthed smile. The one that made her eyes fit her face, made her cheekbones stretch full and beautiful. Took off the savage edge. Left the sister he’d known, only growing into a woman. Then she was gone, stealing his cortex handheld. The one he had been using, surreptitiously, as a thesaurus. “Great” he breathed to himself. “A poem.” He shook his head, and told himself on no account could he wish for someone to get shot. Although a minor emergency—an ear-ache perhaps, at this hour of the night... - Translations - chen xin: satisfied, ok with Gan bei: cheers mei-mei: little sister - - Note: longer, because some suggested they could stand more prose. And the back stories grew at such words. - I hope I have not greatly abused your trust here. Plot thickens next Thursday, but perhaps now you can see how or why, a bit better. Or not. Either way, like hamsters, comments is nice. Peace not pax. -- intopaper