Book felt a little ambiguous about helping out with this plan. There was a moral dilemma involved, although as moral dilemmas went, it was refreshingly simple. It was, of course, a sin to steal; a commandment, even. But if one got just the tiniest bit flexible with one’s perspective, the fact that this crime would be committed against a faceless entity – the Universal Alliance – and its faceless taxpayers, well, it could hardly be considered theft in the strictest sense. Add to that the potential benefit this “crime” might have, the possibility of improving the lives of so many, and it didn’t take much to tip the scales. This was clearly the right and proper course of action. Then why did it eat at him so? Perhaps, he reflected, it was because he was so aware that all of his justifications were, in the end, complete (bullshit). Justify it any way you chose, it was still a violation, and he knew it. Even if it did help a billion people. That was the problem with absolute morality: no wiggle room. He had come to terms with his sinful nature years ago, though, and any vestigial feelings of guilt were mere intellectual curiosities, not real impediments to action. This was clearly a case where the theoretical ends justified the less-than-legal means. At least his part was minor, he reminded himself. He merely served as a liaison between the Captain and . . . well, it probably would be the Thomasite Order, once all was said and done. It seemed the most promising. With chapter houses on eight worlds and missions on ten others, the small monastic order had a divine mandate (read their charter) to minister to the whole of mankind, as suffering was an affront to the Lord. Book knew about the Thomasites; the Order had some serious doctrinal differences with his own, but the approached the Great Work with a common spirit. It’s everyone-deserves-redemption-in-practice-as-well-as-theory doctrine made it a haven for reformed criminals and . . . people who were flexible with their perspective regarding laws both secular and sacred. But they were hard workers, extremely dedicated, and always on the lookout to do the greatest good for the greatest number. Nor were they adverse to paying for the opportunity. While by no means a wealthy order, it did have its benefactors, and the Brothers took great pains to manage their worldly goods with good stewardship. And they were highly unlikely to deal with the Alliance on anything approaching friendly grounds. Book remembered a Thomasite he had met once, a course Rim-world monk named Brother Michael, who had stayed a few days at the abbey. Of particular note was his approach to scripture. Book vividly remembers the brown-robed man sneering, “yeah, yeah, render unto Caesar – but don’t be afraid to spit in his soup back in th’ kitchen!” and punctuated his pronouncement with a juicy glob of expectorated mucous himself. Yes, they could do business with the Thomasites. Indeed, Book had already secured an appointment with the Abbot Jeremiah, at the Big Sal Abbey on Dearborne. Using thinly-veiled euphemisms and carefully selected scriptural passages, Book had relayed the potential of the job, and had received an encouraging reply along with a rendezvous. He passed the intel along to Simon, who seemed to be organizing this thing, and relaxed back into the role of shipboard spiritual advisor. That was why he was now in the engine-room, talking with Kaylee. You had to be as thick as hull plate – or a talented fugitive surgeon – not to realize that something was amiss with the engineer. Book felt a little guilty turning her over to Wash the previous evening, but he was wise enough to know when he was licked. Kaylee didn’t need pastoral care last night, she needed a drinking buddy. Today was different. After a lengthy stay in her room, she skulked out long enough to attend the meeting, then disappeared back into the Engine Room, where she shut the hatch. No one scurries away like that, Book knew, unless they had something they wanted to conceal from someone else. He knocked politiely on the hatch and waited while Kaylee figured out who it was and let him in. “Sorry ‘bout that, Shepherd,” she said as she wiped her hands on an oily rag. “I was workin’ on the starboard fuel intake, and I didn’t want to fill the ship with fumes,” she explained – a perfectly plausible excuse and an outright lie. “Funny,” he commented, “I don’t smell any fumes.” “Ain’t got to that part yet. But if we are gonna leave world tomorrow, better go ahead and get the job done.” “Quite right,” Book agreed, not believing a word of it. There was an uncomfortable pause as Kaylee turned back to the engine housing. Finally, she turned around, wrench in hand. “Uh, you need somethin’, Shepherd?” “Actually, I wanted to see if you needed something, Kaylee.” “This about last night?” “Yep.” “Guess I made an ass of myself, didn’t I,” she said, guiltily. “Yep.” “Well, I wasn’t totally accountable for my actions, on account I was drunk.” “No one poured it down your throat, Kaylee. And a body don’t drink like that ‘cause they’re happy about life.” “You sound like you have some experience . . .” “Let’s just say I’ve seen the like before.” “Yeah, suppose you would. Must be powerful hard, you consortin’ with sinners all the time.” “Actually, I find it refreshing. Monks can get pretty boring after a while. About the thirtieth time you hear the same tired joke, you’re ready to commit a few mortal sins yourself.” “I ‘magine. Always wondered what’d be like, in an abbey or somesuch. I suppose they—” “Kaylee, you’re changing the subject.” “Noticed that, did you?” “Anything you wanna talk about?” “To a preacher? Not hardly!” “How ‘bout to a shipmate, then? I mean, I’ve known you for several months now. While that doesn’t make us old school friends, I’d like to think I earned your friendship along the way. I know I consider you a friend.” He smiled. “In fact, you have a warmer, lovlier disposition than just about anyone back at the Abbey.” Kaylee beamed. “Why thanks, Shepherd.” “Now, you wanna talk, or should I beat it out of you?” “You might find that harder’n some.” “So I heard. Let’s start with the bar . . .” “Do we have to?” “Okay, let’s start with why you went to the bar in the first place.” Kaylee thought about it for a moment, and started to strip away part of the engine casing. “Well, you know, I can’t rightly place just why I wanted to go. Stretch my legs, I reckon, after bein’ in the ship so long. Good to feel dirt under your toes.” “And that explains the beer?” “The first one. But I know what you’re gettin’ to. Yeah, I got drunk and ornery, same as a lot of spacers do.” “But not like Kaylee does.” “Well, not as a rule, no. But I had cause. I guess you might be aware that I have . . . some . . . feelin’s for a certain fugitive from justice who shall remain nameless.” “I think I might have noticed. I don’t think he has.” “Not fer lack o’ tryin’! And that’s my problem right there in a nutshell. I was frustrated, preacher, and a little pissed off that he hasn’t noticed my feelin’s. Oh, we’ve gone out when we’re in port, but it’s more like crewmates on leave than what I’d call a real date. And just when I think I got him to admit he might, y’know, consider—well, he just opens up his mouth and the dumbest stuff comes out. Like he means to piss me off.” Book considered. He was well aware of the situation, including facets that neither Tam nor Kaylee may have seen. “There’s a lot more to his actions than mere stupidity, Kaylee. Oh, I admit, the boy is thick – one of those who can be brilliant on one subject, then be a complete idiot in others. It’s quite common in professionals, doctors in particular. I think it has to do with medical school. It’s like they want to wring every last thread of real compassion and humanity out of them, fill their head full of data and skills, and then expect them to be more than mere technicians afterwards. A sad state of affairs.” “Yeah, well, the part I was hopin’ to appeal to I didn’t think they’d mess with,” she said bitterly, removing another bolt. Book chuckled, caught a sharp look, then quieted himself. Kaylee continued. “I guess if you heard ‘bout everythin’ else what happened, you know ‘bout . . .” “Your . . . liaison? Yes, Jayne was good enough to fill me in about the rest of your evening, in that colorful way of his.” “I bet,” she said, sniffing. “I’m a might confused about it, truth is. I mean, I enjoyed it – enjoyed the hell outa it – but I got this feelin’ . . .” “A little guilt about sating your lusts so commonly?” Book asked, eyebrows raised. “Huh? Oh, hell no. I ain’t been a virgin since – well, let’s just say a long time an’ leave it at that. I like a good tumble. Bet you didn’t know this, but that’s how I come to be on this boat. Old mechanic was named Bester, who just barely knew which end o’ the wrench to hold on to. He was an idiot – but cute, and a spacer, and a mechanic. So I met him down at this shop at the ‘port, and we gets to talkin’, and he says, ‘wanna come back to my ship and see the engine room?’ and I couldn’t hardly say no to that. I been hangin’ ‘round the ‘port all my life, pickin’ up on how these pretty things work. I knew what he wanted – hell, I wanted it to, ‘specially since I ain’t never done the deed on no ship before. And he was cute and young. Most spacers ain’t neither. So my introduction to Serenity was with my bare ass on the deckplate,” she pointed to where Book was standing, “right ‘bout there, actually, where you’re standin’.” Book self consciously moved three feet to the right, and the image of Kaylee naked and rutting came unbidden to his imagination. He tried to exorcise it, and focus back on what the young engineer was saying. “So I ain’t no stranger to sex. An’ just about all of it’s been what you’d call ‘common’; I ain’t never been in love, and a couple o’ times I weren’t really even in like with the man I was doin’ it with. But I ain’t ashamed o’ that.” “You seem like such a warm and intelligent person, Kaylee. Doesn’t it bother you that you haven’t ever . . . given yourself to another in the state of love?” Kaylee removed the casing with a grunt, turned 90 degrees, and let it drop with a clang. “Shepherd, I have only seen two married folks who I’d rightly say were in love, an’ that’s Zoe and Wash. And look how they argue all the time. My folks? Maybe they was in love, once. But they fight, too. I ain’t never been in love before. Not sure I’m likely to now. But it’s powerful frustrating not to get the chance!” “So . . . you’re not . . . regretful of your . . .” “Gettin’ ploughed by a farmboy in the upstairs of a brothel? Nah. Truth is, probably one o’ the most comfortable places I ever done it. I’m just a little weepy now, because Simon knows I done it – and probably why I done it – and he ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout it yet! What he must think o’ me, moonin’ over him like that. I got drunk over a man, Shepherd, a shipmate, no less. That’s bad. It shows I ain’t got no control over my emotions. Bad, Kaylee, bad!” She slapped her own wrist. Book was tempted to chuckle again, then contented himself with a smile. “So you’re worried about how Simon might take the news of your indiscretion?” “’Course I am! I mean, I feel bad a little myself, on account that I feel like I was cheatin’ on him or somethin’. I know that ain’t true – he got no claim to me, nor I to him. But I do feel guilty ‘bout it, ‘cause while Buck was givin’ me the goods, I was pretendin’ it was Simon – and that’s hardly fair to Buck, now, is it?” “Uh, I suppose not . . .” Kaylee started stripping some obscure piece of equipment out of the casing. “’Cause it was supposed to be a special time for him, bein’ his first, and I owed him the honor of at least not pretendin’ it was someone else. But a woman’s heart and her privates do have a tendency to get entangled, they say. Not that there was anything wrong with Buck, mind – he’s got what Inara would call ‘a lot of promise’. But I’m afraid I messed it up with him ‘cause I couldn’t get that damn doctor outa my ruttin’ head!” With a shout she removed the part – a piece about the size of a toaster – and placed it on top of the casing. She turned and gave her full attention to Book. “Look, I wanted to be there with him – but I really wanted to be there with Simon, and now that he’s gone and found out what a damn fool little miss Kaylee is, he ain’t very likely to want to go courtin’, now, will he?” “Uh, Kaylee, I don’t think you got to worry ‘bout that.” “And why’s that?” “Because I don’t think Simon has any earthly idea about last nights . . . events. He’s been so involved in planning this new job that he wouldn’t notice if you sat on his lap naked.” “You mean,” Kaylee said, a dangerous look in her eye, “that I went out and got stinkin’, knee-walkin’ drunk, tore me off the biggest piece I could cram ‘tween my legs, got in a gorram BAR FIGHT, beat a man unconscious with a 10mm wrench, nearly got bound by law, and dragged my sorry ass back to the ship bleedin’ and bruised at the crack o’ dawn and that over-educated fancy boy HASN”T EVEN NOTICED?” The fury in her voice was overpowering – especially because it was completely out of character for the sweet, warm, and loveable Kaylee he had had the pleasure of getting to know over the last several months. He took a step back, raising his hands defensively. “But – but Kaylee, I thought you were worried Simon would find out! Isn’t this good news?” “GOOD NEWS? IT’S A RUTTIN’ DISASTER IS WHAT IT IS!” she screamed. Book took another step back, noticing only one more would take him through the hatch. “But – if you didn’t want him to know, then why are you upset that he doesn’t? Or did you really want him—” “JUST—Just, just don’t mention it, Shepherd Book, if you please,” she said, murder in her voice. “I appreciate your listenin’, but it’s clear as Black you ain’t got a ruttin’ clue about women! Now, git, so I can fix this RUTTIN’ engine so we can get off o’ this RUTTIN’ rock and go do GENIUS BOY’s masterful plan!” Book took another step back, closed the hatch, and heard one of the most vile strings of Mandarin invective it had ever been his pleasure to witness by anyone. And that included condemned prisoners. He cringed at one particularly choice turn of phrase, and retreated down the corridor. As he came up, Jayne passed by. The mercenary nodded to the engine-room door. “Why she got that closed?” “Fuel. Something about the fumes. Didn’t want anyone to, uh,” there was a loud clang as something large and metallic impacted against the hatch. The shouting rose in volume and pitch. Both men raised an eyebrow and unconsciously took a step back. “Fumes, you say.” “Yep. Workin’ on the . . Starboard . . . fuel . . . something or other. Anyway, I don’t think it’s a good time to—” Another loud crash forced them back a further step, and they both watched the engineer have her tantrum through the hatch door. “Fumes,” commented Jayne. “That’s what she said.” There was another pause, and both men realized that it may not be healthy to stick around such a noxious situation. “Them fumes is dangerous,” murmured Jayne. “Yep, they surely is,” said Shepherd Book, who decided that maybe someone else needed his moral guidance. Maybe someone off ship. Perhaps in a bar.

* * *

“So, is everybody feelin’ as good about this plan as I am?” Mal asked, grinning and rubbing his hands together as he entered the bridge. “It’s a fair bet, Cap,” acknowledged Wash as he went through his pre-flight ritual. “If we can get everything we need up front. Otherwise, I should probably break it to Zoe that my next wife will be a good deal larger than she is – and hairier.” “That,” commented Mal, “presents such a disturbing mental image that I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear it.” “I’m just saying,” defended Wash. “I know, I know. But things are lookin’ real clean on this one, so far—” “Which, considering we haven’t even left this rock, ain’t surprising,” added Wash ruefully. “This ain’t a train job, Cap, it’s a long-con with more details than this ship has rusty parts. Are we up to that? Really? I mean, I’m a pretty good actor – face as handsome as this helps – but you an’ Zoe ain’t exactly thesbians.” “We done all right on Ariel,” Mal said, frowning. “Yeah, yeah we did. Right up ‘till the Feds showed up.” “Hey, that’s what made it fun!” “No, the really large pile of cash we accumulated made it fun. The actual job went well only ‘cause we got lucky.” “Be honest,” Mal said, “It went well ‘cause the Doctor planned it out in detail. Just like he’s planning this one.” Wash shrugged. “This one’s a lot more complicated – more detail. At Ariel, y’all didn’t need more than a few lines to be convincing. Here – well, I expect that there gonna want to talk to you.” “Yeah, and on Ariel I was playing a medic; here, I’m playing a tramp freighter captain. I know it’s a stretch . . .” “Yeah, well, we’ll see. If the IDs we get are good, we might just make it work. If they ain’t, then it’s hello occasional rectal dysfunction. If they don’t just shoot us first.” “Well, you got more to worry about than the rest of us. That handsome face ‘n’ all.” “Speaking of violence crazed locals, take a look,” commented Wash evenly as he noticed something out the viewport. Mal stood forward to have a look himself. Striding across the field was a group of three or four men – only one of which was even remotely respectable looking. Mal looked confused – Wash looked anxious. “That’s the Arachne’s Revenge guys we kinda beat up last night. I’d know them arses anywhere.” “Lookin’ for payback?” “That there is a constable, if I’m any judge of law enforcement officers.” “So it is. That don’t answer my question.” “You think they’re makin’ a social call?” “That’s what I thought. I’ll go talk to them, you get Zoe and wake up Jayne. Let ‘em know to be ready when I signal. Tell the others to stay put ‘less I call for ‘em.” “Aye, Cap,” Wash said, tagging a few more switches before he vacated his seat. Mal sighed. He didn’t mind the occasional brawl – he’d started enough to respect a good portside donnybrook. But it was daylight, now, and he had trade to be done on the other side of the Black. He really didn’t have time for this today. Sighing again, he drew his pistol, checked the load, and replaced it – loosely – in its holster. “You the Captain?” asked the constable in a friendly voice. “Yessir,” Mal said, grinning. “What can I do for you?” The constable was in his late 40s, standard, the kind of relaxed keeper of the peace that was more interested in protecting his people than filling out forms or following regulations. He wore a brown jacket with WISDOM CITY CONSTABULARY neatly embroidered on his shoulder, and bore a copper nametag and badge that read STEVENSON. He wore a pistol, too – a standard police-issue .45 revolver that didn’t look like it had been drawn in some time. That was a good sign. It was almost always better to talk to the cops than exchange gunfire with them. “Well, Captain, these gentlemen,” he said, motioning towards the scruffy crew, including a tall one in an eyepatch that had to be Morgan, “are upset about an altercation in an establishment not too far from the confines of the ‘port, last night. They say some of your people were involved.” “Did they now?” Mal asked, feigning interest at the news. “And just what would they be upset about, then?” “One o’ yer thee-cat bithes broke mah theef!” whistled Morgan angrily. “Big, thtrong, vithous bith, too! Thaid thee wath your entheneer!” The evidence of Kaylee’s work was all over his face, which hadn’t started out too pretty to begin with. “That all?” asked Mal, casually scratching his ear. “Some maniac bit me on the ear! Damn thing like to get tore off!” said another one angrily. “Six stiches! Hurts like a bitch!” “Blonde fella? Ugly blue shirt with cranes on it?” inquired Mal. “Yes, gorram it!” “Yeah, that’d be our pilot.” “Well, he owes me a gorram ear!” “Anything else?” “Some big lunatic from your ship dislocated my shoulder!” squeaked another crewman. “I got pain and sufferin’! I do!” “Well,” Mal said, trying to keep a straight face. “I am truly sorry if you . . . gentlemen have suffered at all. Constable, may I ask why you are here? Any criminal charges?” “Nah, Captain, I arrested these and three more like ‘em for Drunk and Disorderly, Brawling, and resisting arrest.” “We didn’ rethith’! I wath unconthith!” howled Morgan. Constable Stevenson ignored him. “I came along to make darn sure we didn’t have any unnecessary violence on account o’ this. Captain Morgan,” he said, overemphasizing the title and turning into a mockery, “insisted that I come along as a witness, should you attempt any treachery. I like to keep all the tussles out o’ the town, so I said I would.” “I see. So what do you actually want, Morgan?” “Thath’ CAPTHAIN Morgan tho the liketh of you!” “Excuse me, Captain. What is it you wanted? Sounds like you got hurt in a fair fight.” “Fair?” shrieked the wounded man. “Thee blindthided me! Hith me wif brath knuckleth, or sommin’. Wath thandin’ there, mindin’ my own buithineth, and thee cometh ou’ o’ nowhere ‘n’ hith me in th’ mouf!” “I guess she was pretty big and aggressive, then?” “You beth yer ath thee wath!” “My what?” Mal looked confused. “Yer ath! Yer ath! Tha’ thing you thit on!” Mal looked at the constable. “I’m sorry, I don’t—” The constable cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight face himself. “I believe the Captain said that you could ‘bet your ass’ that she was a large, aggressive woman.” “Ah! I thought it might be his accent. Okay, Captain Morgan, this crazed warrior woman came at you with a club? When you were mindin’ your own business?” “Yeth! Thee wath a beath! A amathon!” “Ama-whatsis?” “AMATHON!” “’Amazon’,” supplied the constable. “Amazon! Yes, that makes sense! An amazon. Wash!” he called out over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off of Morgan. “Yes, Captain?” “That’s the madman what bit my ear near off!” screamed the second man. “Please go fetch our amazon engineer.” “Who, Captain?” “Kaylee?” “Oh! Her!” “Please.” He studied each of the three men in turn. “Now, if I bring her out here, what are y’all intendin’ to do about it?” “I wan’ thatifacthion!” hollered Morgan. “Thee hi’ me by thurprithe las’ nighth, bu’ now ‘m ready fer her!” “You want to . . . duel . . . a member of my crew?” Mal asked, skeptically. “I haf my pride, Capthain!” Morgan insisted. “No doubt you do, no doubt you do. Well here she is,” he said as Wash entered, leading a very embarrassed-looking Kaylee. Her face was smudged with grease, her hair was pulled mostly out of her face and under a bandana, and her coveralls were filthy and smelled like fuel. As she approached, eyes wider with every step, Mal put his arms around her shoulders. Wash stood back and to his right, arms crossed, trying very hard to look menacing. “Now, is this the amazon that managed to get the drop on you, beat you unconscious, and otherwise wound your honor?” Kaylee was dwarfed by both Captains, and in her present state she looked meek, mild, utilitarian, and not at all threatening. “Ye-e-th,” agreed Morgan slowly. “Thath’ her.” Every moment that passed made his claim seem more and more ridiculous. “Thee thurprithed me, remember?” “If she took you out like that, I don’t doubt you were surprised,” Mal said. “Kaylee, did you beat up this nice man and break his teeth and render him unconscious?” Kaylee stared blankly for a few minutes. “Uh, could be, Captain. I beat up a couple, last night, and this one looks a might familiar.”

The constable roared with laughter. “Morgan, you’ve gotta be jokin’! This little thing did all that to you?” “Thee thurprithed me!” Morgan insisted. “Kaylee, this nice man wants satisfaction for you beating him all unfairly like. And did you beat up these other nice men, too?” “I really don’t remember,” Kaylee said. “It were a busy night.” “That’s the brute what bit my ear!” howled the man in the head-bandage. “I demand satisfaction, too!” He spat on the deck in front of Wash. Mal looked at him, pained. “Was that really necessary?” “So you really want to go ahead and fight this little girl, Morgan?” Stevenson asked gruffly. “You got the right to challenge. Can’t say what’d happen to your reputation if you did, though.” “Just what are the dueling rules on Sophia, Constable?” asked Mal. “Pretty standard, I guess. The Challenger picks the time, the challengee picks the weapons. Both name seconds, either can bow out and let their seconds have at it. Don’t happen much ‘round here – ‘till election time, that is.” “Understood. You gonna persist, Captain?” “Well . . . I gueth if thee thaketh me back thu the enthen room and giveth me a little, I can counth mythelf thathifieth.” He grinned evilly at her. “I gueth thath the betht way fer a whore thu thatify a man!” He chortled at his own wit, and his crew followed suit, if not with his enthusiasm. They all chopped it off quick when they looked around and saw nothing but steely-eyed stares. And Mal’s pistol pointed and cocked at Morgan’s temple. “Gentlemen,” he said, icily, “I think we can offer you satisfaction. Now you may think you can come aboard my ship and behave like a buncha Reevers and get away with it, but I aim to educate you otherwise. Just to let you know, I’m Kaylee’s second. And I choose pistols. I’m a pretty good shot, too: just ask the twenty-odd purplebellies who didn’t go home to their mamas after the war ‘cause I had cause to practice. I’m willin’ to bet my ‘ath’ that I can put a bullet right through your good eye into your brainpan, drop you with one shot. And Wash, he—” “I’m his second,” came Zoe’s voice, low, smooth and deadly, as she approached her husband from behind. Wash had continued trying to look tough, and continued not quite managing it. Zoe managed it without trying. She drew her side-arm and cocked it, then laid a hand gently on Wash’s arm. “This here’s my husband. I let him out of my sight for two seconds, and he’s always bringin’ home trouble. But don’t worry none, I’m used to his wild ways!” She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. “But I don’t want him to get bruised up, on account I like his pretty face the way it is. So I’m gonna take his place, should you press this matter. And I’m gonna choose . . . shotguns as my weapon. I don’t know how many Feds I killed in the war with one – do you remember sir?” “I quit countin’ after fifty,” Mal said lightly. “I was never good at math,” admitted Zoe. “But I wouldn’t mind startin’ my count all over again. Honey, would you help me keep track this time?” “I surely would,” grinned Wash. “That’s my smart baby.” She turned to the man with the bandaged ear, whose eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “You ever duel with a shotgun? We stay real close, so we don’t miss none – wouldn’t want to leave y’all maimed, and a shotgun blast at close range, why, that’d blow your hand right off, clean as you please.” There was a short silence, followed by a rattling of chains from above. The three complaining crewmen and the constable all looked up – Mal didn’t move. He guess who it was. Sure enough, Jayne came zipping down the cargo hoist chain, landing within three feet of Mal with a gentle grace. He straightened, then strutted over to the little man whose arm was in a sling. “Hey, looks like I humped up yer shootin’ arm. That’s too bad, see, ‘cause I love shootin’ folks. I’m real good at it – hell, it’s about all I’m good at, ‘cept what I do for the ladies,” he said, grinning evilly. The little man cringed in fear. “So I tell you what: I won’t choose pistols. Or shotguns. Or rifles. Hand grenades. Machine guns. Lasers. None o’ that.” He drew the long bowie he kept perpetually at his belt and waved it around in front of his challenger. “I’ll use this. I ain’t killed me no one with this pig-sticker in, hell, musta been a year gone, now. An’, seein’ how you only got the use o’ one arm, I’m gonna do you the honor of usin’ my left hand to fight you with. That sound fair?” He looked around, and the crew of the Serenity all nodded and murmured their assent. Jayne then looked back at the little man – who looked close to soiling himself – and spit at his feet. “Your asswipe of a Captain called our engineer a whore four times last night. And he done lost four teeth, at least. Now he gone and done it again. So I think he should lose another.” “No fair, Jayne!” Mal said, angrily. “I got him first! I’m Kaylee’s second!” “Well, I can’t very well knock out his teeth after you kill him! Well, ‘spect I could, but there wouldn’t be no pleasure in it. I guess I’m gonna hafta challenge him my own self.” He walked over to Morgan, who was obviously deep, deep over his head and trying to figure a way out. He came toe to toe with the man, then suddenly looked over at the constable. “Y’all do duelin’ the traditional way hereabouts?” “Yeah,” the constable admitted. “No special rules. We like tradition on Sophia.” “Thought so,” Jayne said, bringing his open hand up and slapping Morgan in his wounded mouth so hard that the man fell to the deck in agony. “On account we’re leavin’ soon, as the Challenger I think we should take care o’ this bit of business right here, right now. Captain?” “Yeah,” Mal said, his pistol not moving a millimeter since he drew. “We got us a schedule.” “Okay, asswipe, right here, right now, you choose the weapon,” Jayne said, twisting his neck until it cracked. “’less, o’course, you withdraw your challenge to Kaylee. And get down on your knees and apologize for what you said.” It took a few moments for the Captain to become coherent again. The constable witnessed the quick retraction of all challenges, and then witnessed the equally humorous sight of Morgan abasing himself in front of the young engineer and giving an apology – though most of what he said was unintelligible. When he was done, he stood, wobbling, clearly ready to leave. “I ain’t quite done,” Mal said. “now that all the personal challenges are finished, and everyone who wants it got satisfaction, I still find myself none-to-happy to hear the word ‘whore’ used about one o’ my crew. So, unless you gentlemen strip down to your skivvies and leave your clothes here, I’m gonna have to take some exception.” Morgan looked horrified, but couldn’t speak properly anymore. The man with the bandaged ear filled in. “You can’t be serious! You gonna shoot us right here in front of the law?” “When you’re on my ship, I’m the gorram law!” Mal said with quiet ferocity. “Use that kinda language to one of my people, and I get angry. You disagree, constable?” “What, me? Hell, I went out to lunch fifteen minutes ago!” “Thought so. Gentlemen? Your clothes?” There was more grumbling, but eventually all three stripped down and left their gear on the deck. Stevenson supervised as they all trooped off and over the landing field to where their own sorry sty of a ship sat parked. Stevenson waited until they were gone, and Mal had holstered his weapon, before he approached him. “That was a mighty fine piece o’ work, Captain,” he said, smiling. “Wisdom City has problems with that pustule every time his ship touches down. Nothin’ but vultures pretending to be raptors, that one. This must be the sixth time they spent the night at the jail. But he does have a few friends in the business community, so it might be in your best interest to keep to that schedule. He ain’t gonna take kindly to what happened today—though I’ll be talkin’ about it for months!” “Sorry for the trouble, Constable,” Kaylee said meekly. “Don’t let it fret you none, sweetie. Those boys are arses, and they got what they deserved. Hell, they got off light.” He stopped on his way out and looked back at Mal. “You were a Browncoat?” Mal nodded. “Infantry sergeant. Fought like hell ‘till Serenity Valley.” Stevenson nodded back. “Was an infantry sergeant myself. Got captured on Thetis, just after Serenity. Times been tough since then. Glad to see a few of us made the transition.” With that he left. “Not sure we really did,” Mal muttered. “Okay, people, show’s over. We got work to do. Kaylee, you’re responsible for this mess – you pick up them clothes off the deck.” “You want me to toss ‘em over?” Mal considered. “And mess up this nice grassy field? Nah. Stow ‘em away. I just got an idea how we can use ‘em.”