INT. NILS' HOUSE

Zoe remains by the door after Nils shuts it.

Two men sit at a long table in the center of the main room. ZIG and JACK, large men resembling Polson in their intimidating manner.

The table is littered with the gutted remains of several pieces of electronic equipment, as well as the tools to work on them. The walls are lined with sturdy shelves, also covered with innumerable devices in various states of disassembly.

Nils proceeds to the table and picks up one of the few completely intact devices resting on it. It is nondescript, a rounded box with a nine digit key pad and a small screen, roughly five by six by two inches.

NILS: This here be the job.

MAL:(unimpressed) Is that it? That little thing's what got us sailin' halfway 'cross the quadrant?

NILS: Don't let it fool you, boy. This little puppy will produce some sizable changes in this 'verse. Trick is, gettin' it to the right folk. That's the job, facilitatin' the transfer of this baby to some friends of mine a few worlds away.

Nils picks up a plain black briefcase, shoves aside a few items on the table, and sets it down. When opened it reveals anti-shock foam shaped to contain the device. Nils places the item inside as if he were putting a baby in a crib.

Nils then reaches into his vest pocket (cut to Zoe, who tenses and creeps a hand toward her hip) and removes a small wallet from which he extracts some cold hard platinum. He hands it to Mal.

NILS: As we agreed, Mal. Half now, half on delivery.

MAL: As agreed. Now, as for a destination...

NILS: That's where this little endeavor gets a bit hairy.

MAL: How hairy we talkin'? NILS: Men in blue hairy. MAL: Alliance hairy. Well, wouldn't be the first time we buzzed their tower.

NILS: Well, buddy, I need you to outright moon 'em, but without them knowin' it. If this little unit falls into their hands, well, we'd both be in go-se up to our ears. I got a guy on the inside, lets me know what those Alliance fruits are up to, 'specially when it might affect my business ventures. This piece of hardware needs to make its way into his possession without the girls in blue catchin' wind.

MAL: Do I even want to know what it is? (thinks for a moment)Ain't gonna blow a hole in my hull, is it?

NILS: If it survives the journey, and gets placed in the right hands, you'll know soon enough thereafter what it is. And, no, it ain't nothin' explosive. Not in the literal sense, anyway.

Mal accepts the case.

MAL: So, where exactly in the Alliance's mighty paw am I stickin' this thorn?

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