He could get used to this. Serenity was a nice boat and all, but she was not this. Day he made it, he was buying himself one of these. Course, the cruising speed on this thing was for crap. Just like the maneuverability. And the mileage. “Jayne.” But gorram it if it wasn’t the most comfortable ride he’d ever sat his rump down in. “Jayne.” Serenity didn’t have a bar in it. Stroke of genius, that was. He was going to have to talk to the captain about that. Of course, it’d have to be stocked with bigger bottles than these tiny *gao-wahns*. “Jayne! Get your head out of the liquor cabinet and get up here *ma shong*!” He growled, and stumbled as the ship started swaying to and fro just as he was climbing all the way up back to his feet. “*Kao*! I’ll right up! Could just’ave called, y’know. No need to get uncivilized, you *mei nai-shing duh hun-dan*.” That last part came out more softly. Seemed like the smart thing to do—Mal wouldn’t have taken kindly to it. He never did when Jayne had any comments on his plans, his manners or whatever. “Well, finally,” Mal said without looking around when Jayne staggered his way onto the bridge. “We’re there. I’m gonna need some help docking this pile of bricks.” Hell, the way he was shaking the ship about just flying, maybe they should just get in the lifeboat now and launch. Better chance of someone picking them up than of bringing this baby in safely. “Chair, chair… Ah! Chair!” A place to sit was good. Sitting made the deck bounce up and down less. He suddenly noticed that Mal was looking at him strangely, and before he could say What are you looking at, Mal, Mal said, “Jayne, are you *drunk*?” Pft. Drunk. Him! “Well whaddaya expect? There’s a *bar*. On the *ship*.” “Stocked with bottles barely bigger than your pinky finger, with contents that you described earlier as being ‘girly drinks that you wouldn’t touch if you were lost in the desert with them.’” Jayne had to think his response to that one through for a minute. “Long trip,” he said finally. “Got bored.” “The Hell with it,” Mal said. “You navigate like this, you’ll only point me towards the wall.” “P.V. Moondancer, are you gonna dock, or are you gonna hang there and block our approach all day?” “Keep your shirt on, friend,” Mal told the traffic controller. “Fancy boat like this don’t earn no consideration around here?” “Not as long as the registered owner’s on board. Either makes you the hired help or a bunch of ship thieves. Neither kind tips well, so just get a move on.” Shaking his head, Mal grumbled, “Used to be, captain of a ship got respect no matter whose ship he was flying. Thank the Alliance for bringing a touch of commercialism into every corner of the black.” Jayne muttered a string of curses in the Alliance’s name in support. Seemed like the thing to do. Then he must have missed something, because the next thing he knew, his face was getting intimate with a bucket of icy cold water. A number of things then became clear to him. The first and most obvious being that water was highly unpleasant. The second, that it was Mal holding him down. The third, that he had no idea what he’d done to deserve suffocation this time—but probably nothing. And the fourth, that breathing was becoming an issue. Fueled with anger, Jayne threw all of his weight back against the hand holding his head down. Mal stepped back, letting him break free at the first show of a concentrated attempt. “What the *Hell*, Mal?” Jayne demanded, shaking the cold water from his head. “Jayne, you were so far gone you didn’t even wake up when I set off the proximity alarm while docking. Go clean yourself up and grab your gear. Owner’s gonna be here in about ten minutes, and if he ain’t satisfied with the state of this ship because right this minute you’re about to puke all over it—you’re walking back home.” He turned and walked away. Trying to rub the water out of the inside of his ear with his pinky finger, Jayne growled. A guy wasn’t satisfied with this set-up, he ought to take a walk out of the airlock. He went to find a towel. With practically a full minute to spare, Jayne met Mal at the airlock. “Finally,” the other man whined. The buzzer rang, and Mall unlocked the door. Jayne was about to pull the thing open—it was pretty heavy-duty—but of course on this ship, it was automated. There was a soft, mechanical rattle, and the door swung open all by itself. Jayne was left standing in the opening, looking like an ass. There was a gasp from beyond the doorway. It was a woman, and a fine one if he’d ever seen one. At least half of what her generous cleavage was showing probably wasn’t natural, but then Jayne didn’t really care. She was staring at Jayne in a fright like he was a Reaver or something. From the sight of the wimpy-looking rich boy whose arm she was clutching, it was probably because she’d never seen a real man. Oh yeah. A woman like that could gasp at Jayne all she wanted. Preferably from underneath him. “Jayne,” he heard Mal say, “why don’t you wait outside while I accompany Mr. Sotheby on his inspection of the ship. Mr. Sotheby. Mrs.? Sotheby. Hi. My name is Malcolm Reynolds. Selina Shipyards engaged me to fly your fine ship out here. Why don’t you come on in and check to see if everything’s as it should be.” The Core folk came inside, leaving as much space between themselves and Jayne as the corridor allowed. Jayne didn’t take his eyes of the woman. She looked just as fine from behind. “But Mal, I wanna—” “Wait. Outside.” Reluctantly, Jayne did as ordered—and it was that, an order. As if he couldn’t behave himself. He never got no respect from the captain. It must have been at least fifteen minutes before the airlock opened again, and Mal came out, alone. “Come along,” he said, and walked further into the space station. Jayne’s mood had not improved. Standing still and doing nothing was not one of his strong suits, and he wasn’t nearly stupid enough to pull his guns—the only entertainment he’d brought along—out of his duffel bag and enjoy himself calibrating them. Not in full sight of an Alliance security camera. Officially, of course, Fell Springs was a civilian-owned station, but everyone who flew that sector of the black knew where the owner’s sympathies and bribes lay. “What in the ruttin’ ‘Verse did you even need me to come along for anyway, cap’n?” he wanted to know. “I’m just sitting on my hands here. I could be enjoying myself on holiday, lyin’ on the beach or something.” “Well,” said Mal, not even bothering to look at him, “aside from the fact that lying on the beach basically *is* sitting on your hands, only more boring, you’d have made a point of ruining the doc’s vacation, and that man could do with a little less stress. More to the point, *I* could do with that man having a little less stress.” “Could always toss him off the ship if he’s getting on your nerves,” Jayne suggested. Mal finally looked at him for a moment, and it wasn’t friendly-like. “We’ve had this discussion, more than enough times. He’s crew.” “Still don’t know why you ever made him crew in the first place.” “To piss you off, Jayne. To piss you off.” They were making their way through the station at a good pace. Early on, some people stared at them as they passed—it was obvious that they were out of place in this squeaky-clean miniature world. But the further they got, the more the residents seemed at peace with their presence. Hell, there even started to be some trash lying in some of the corner, making the place seem a whole lot more lived-in. “Where the *pi-gu* are we going, Mal? This ain’t the way to the transports.” “No transports leaving till tomorrow afternoon earliest,” Mal replied. “This is why I needed someone along, Jayne. To watch my back for me here.” There was a smile in his voice as he continued. “Not all of Fell Springs station is a lifeless husk, you know. I hear there’s even a few old Browncoats living on the cheaper levels.” Finally, things were looking up. A place where you needed muscle at your back to even walk the corridors safely, that was more Jayne’s kind of place. A place of brawls and all the best entertainment. Hey! Maybe there’d even be whores! “We goin’ anyplace specific? ‘Cause I just saw a bar that looked pretty damn promising.” He caught a bunch of real hostile looks as they walked by—good potential for a bar fight, there. “Sorry, Jayne. Not here for entertainment. There’ll be some time later, but we’ll be wanting to keep a low profile.” “We’re not? No entertainment?” Jayne frowned. “What kinda business, then? Place like this, all nice-nice with the Alliance, everything costs double the going rate here. Only thing this dump’s got over the smaller places is that it’s too bigger for the Reavers.” “It’s also a Cortex Hub Transmitter. The entire Cortex is filtered through here. Including all the government and encrypted channels.” Mal quickly looked around, to see if anyone was watching them, and then quickly led Jayne down a narrow tunnel, barely high enough for him to stand straight. “Ha! You want to by info off the Alliance security contingent here?” Jayne said. “Yeah, that’s real *tyen-tsai*!” It took Jayne a minute—in which Mal said nothing—but eventually he connected the dots. “*Zhe-shi shen-me tzao-gao*! You mean…? Man’s gotta be insane to go live under the Feds’ noses and hack their systems!” “No argument here,” Mal said, pulling aside a rusty piece of metal plating to reveal a two-way comm unit underneath, “but lucky for me, sanity is not a requirement of his job description. This guy’s the fastest hack on both sides of the core.” “Why, thank you, Captain Reynolds,” a voice sounded from the comm unit. Jayne’s hand was on his gun in an instant, but he quickly realized that there was no immediately threat. “Very flattering of you to say. All true, of course, but still… You took your time getting here—I’ve been expecting you since you flew in that very fine yacht. Finally traded in that old rust bucket of yours?” “I haven’t,” Mal said, “as I’m sure you already know. You ready to deal?” “Oh yes. I have to say I was a bit surprised when you contacted me to look at schools, Reynolds, but I can see how this one caught your interest. Why, this Academy is now the school I would pick for my children. If I had any, of course, and if I was an inhuman bastard.” “So you have the info.” Mal sounded terse. “Gonna let me in?” “Fine, fine, if you’re in such a rush. Your thug’ll have to wait outside, though. Three’s a crowd.” A door swung open into the wall with an almost inaudible creak. There had been no sign of it a moment before. “You heard the man,” Mal said to Jayne. “You wait here. I shouldn’t be long—an hour, tops.” Jayne grunted an annoyed agreement, and Mal walked inside, the door closing behind him. Wait there for an hour? Hell with that. ‘Here’ was a very elastic concept, after all. Might even stretch to a few of those bars. Let’s see how many of them he could get thrown out of in the space of that hour.

--------------------------------------------------------------- New chapters (almost) weekly--now read the previously unaired pilot! 'Normal Consciousness Will Be Resumed, Pt.1,' at www.BattleOfSerenity.tk