BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL

JAMESTHEDARK

Legacy 1:07, Does That Seem Right To You?
Thursday, November 17, 2005

With Hera succeeding from the Alliance, the mastermind of its separation fulfilled his promise to step down. Now Jacob and Legacy must transport him to his destination before something goes wrong.


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 1745    RATING: 9    SERIES: FIREFLY

Seventh of this series, this overly verbously titled episode is a setup for a major plot turn that will be happening in the next episodes. What's more, it introduces the last member of Legacy's crew to join in the first season, and brings back a number of familiar faces. Now, I might be a bit of a while bringing up episode 8, what with real life getting in the way. It'll be up, sooner or later. I don't own any of this. Joss does. GIVE ME GORRAM FEEDBACK!

Does that seem right to you?

Despite everything that seemed to be going right, Jacob still didn't feel altogether good. He lounged in the copilot's seat, staring up at the night sky. Clouds skudded along obscuring the stars from time to time, as well as the tiny moon that was long ago deemed unfit for even the most rudimentary terraforming. Weren't often that a legitimate job took place in the wee hours of the morning. Weren't often that a politician kept his word, neither, 'specially when his word involved him stepping down when he coulda become the first democratically elected President of Hera. Which made Zekeal Fredesa a bigger man, in Jacob's estimation, for actually following through. Not much of a smart one, but a bigger one. He said, if the people had the strength to bring down the Alliance, they had the wisdom to find a better leader than he. Then, on the day after the last garrison of Alliance forces on Hera was emptied, Fredesa vanished without a trace. Course, he knew exactly where the man was. Anne was curled up asleep in her chair, bandages still wrapped 'round her head, but she'd healed up in the last few weeks. She'd be good as new, and that weren't no small miracle. He forced himself up, walking through the darkened ship. He heard Friday's snore, Zane's endless tinkering and such. That kid never slept, given half a chance. He was just happy that Friday kicked off her last boytoy-of-the-week, didn't have anything holding him to the rock when the job came in. He went down the stairs, giving a nod to Noreen, who was currently enrapt in Sun-Tzu's Art of War, the oldest of the books he'd brought with him when he had to leave his home. She didn't even notice him. He really expected that she'd have left a while ago, especially with this ship taking such a long stay on Hera. But she hung on, making food for the crew, keeping the kids out from underfoot. He was seriously concerned that she was starting to see Legacy as her home. But that wasn't what was keeping him up at night when he'd be perfectly happy sleeping right until the man he was transporting sauntered onto his ramp. He looked into the infirmery, its lights dimmed with the night, but not nearly enough to keep him from seeing. He slid the door open and entered, sitting on the counter next to the medical bed. Sylvia was looking very much not well. It was like every bit better Anne got, Syl got a bit worse. He wasn't sure what was going to happen if things went south. She was quite a bit handier in a firefight than he was, to say the least. And he still hadn't had that talk he wanted. "Guess I was wrong," he said. "No greatness. No anything." "Bite me, boss," came the weak reply. He was glad for the dark that hid his shocked expression. "No," she croaked. "I ain't dead." "Well color me shocked," he laughed quietly. "Certainly looked it. Hell, if you're alive, you should have been up and on your feet." "Workin' on it, boss," she murmured. He gave her shoulder a pat and left the room. He left the infirmery and slid the door shut behind him. When he turned about, a black man with a rather intimidating manner was sitting in his spot thumbing through the Art of War. "I know what you're thinking," the man said. "Wasn't I supposed to be alone? Wasn't this ship supposed to tell me if someone came on it?" the man looked up, his eyes steady and even as black lasers. "Maybe ship's reckoning that outta change. Maybe the ship decided that she'd open herself to me right willing, cause she weren't getting what she needed at home?" the man marked his place in the book with a large finger, and used the other to rub his chin. "But then, maybe I've always been here. A part of this boat. Maybe I've been watching you a long time, and your ship's just never found me. Strains the mind a bit, don't it?" "I assume from that voice you're the man who contacted me?" Jacob said. Something about this man weren't quite right. He wondered if he was going to need to shoot him. "Then you assume correctly," the man said, raising himself and carefully placing the book back in its place. "The name's Early." "Well, now that that's out of the way," he said, gaining a measure of this man. His shirt was entirely too white, and although he carried no weapons, he looked like he really should. A right psychopath. "We were to do business?" Jacob heard a small sound, like a suitcase being placed onto the deck. He turned to the cargo hold. There he was, the man himself. Fredesa was an impressive man in his own right, with his sun-darkened skin and well-muscled frame. His hair was sticking out in all directions, as it often did; appearantly if he wished, he could stop a pool cue with that mop. Fredesa put down the second of his two cases, then jogged into the common area. He was smiling. "Fredesa?" Jacob said, thumbs hooked behind suspenders. "The very same," he said, his voice smooth as glass. Not hard to understand how he gathered such a following to him. "You'll have to forgive the press," Jacob said. "We've got a few passengers that are headed out. Only got two rooms left, tell the truth. "That is all we'll need," Fredesa replied. He nodded to Early, who shrugged and went back into the cargo bay. Jacob spent no more time here, instead going back to the cockpit to stand by Anne's chair. She looked like a drugged-up little angel. He gently shook her shoulder. "I didn't take the pickles," she blurted as her eyes flit open. She glanced around, looking rather confused, then realized that she was in her seat, and she had a job to do. With a bit of a blush, she readied the ship to leave the world. <> Jacob woke up just as the chair in his room was about to fall over. It startled him awake rather effectively, leaving him to glance around at the emptiness of his domicile. Anne wasn't here. He climbed up the ladder, lack of proper sleep making his muscles ache and shout as he hauled himself onto the walkway. There was a lot of noise coming from the kitchen, he noted. His eyes couldn't focus on the happenings, after being acclimated to dark for so long, and it took a logn moment to realize that he'd almost missed breakfast. More tired than anything else, he took his seat, happy to find a still somewhat warm somewhat foodlike substance in front of him. He contently munched away at it. "So then, my brother tables a motion to shift all healthcare into the private sector," Fredesa was speaking. "Now, you understand I was having a hell of a night, with the being arrested with two women in the trunk of my car. Well, I've just made bail and he's pulled out the bit-secret-plan, something he'd wanted done before I got out. So, when I see what he's done. I march straight over to his seat and I tabled a motion of my own, one involving a mean left hook to his chin." Friday laughed first, followed by the others. "Couldn't have worked to well for you?" she asked. "It was sensational news, though," Fredesa laughed. "Brother fights brother on the parlimentary floor. All over the papers the next day. I'm telling you, though; Lyle had been calling for that for years." Anne shifted a bit to reach past him, and he was pleased to see her coming along so well. She always had a boarding-house reach when it came to meals of any discription, and she had no compunctions about getting between a man and his fork if something she wanted was on the other side. It was good to see the old her resurfacing. Then he saw Sylvia. She was moving in shuffles, as if her bones were entirely too brittle, as if too much movement would make them snap. She oh-so-carefully took a seat, the only one remaining and directly beside mister Early. "Well, the lazy one finally graces us with her presense?" Jacob said. Friday shot him one of those womanly glares, an expression that promised harsh words. What the hell had he done? She was the one who clambered up a flight of stairs. Be mad at Syl! "Can't get mad at the sick," Sylvia's weak voice leaked out. "Ain't right." Noreen took the momentary break in the conversation to address Early. "So, mister Early, what did you do before becoming his bodyguard?" she asked. Very neatly, Early dabbed his chin with a napkin and set his fork beside his plate. "I tracked down people, people who had a value to folk." "So," Hugh said. "You were a bounty hunter?" "No," Early denied. "That ain't it at all." A long pause followed, finally ending when Noreen asked "So what were you then?" Early looked her square in the eye. "I was a bounty hunter." Anne and Jacob shared a look. "Why did you give up your trade?" Friday asked. "River," he said simply. "You gave up your job because of a river?" Hugh asked. Early gave Hugh a shut up and listen look. "A year ago, I was at the top of my game, and I got approached by the Alliance to hunt down a particularly difficult target," Early said. "This little girl was far more dangerous and unpredictable than a dozen pyromaniac midgets, but I figured I had her number. Didn't end well." "How so?" Friday asked. "Well, it ended with me twisting in the black with my ship trying its damnedest to fly away from me. Underestimated my preparation, though. What sort of a man spacewalks without either a means to maneuver nor a means to bring the ship back to himself? An idiot, that's who. They left me to die, thinking I was an idiot. Does that seem right to you?" Friday shrugged, and he continued. "That was only the beginning, though. When I landed back on Sihnon, they crashed my account. Ten years worth of money, gone. They revoked my bounty hunter's license, and they confiscate my gorram ship. Left me with nothing but a gun on my hip and a lot of questions in my head. Sure I didn't bring her back, but they'd no right to bring down my livelyhood. Does that seem right to you?" "They done a lot of wrong, seems," Fredesa said flatly. "He sought me out, damned near threw himself into my service. Don't know why." "Ain't I ain't telling you," Early finished. He laid his fork atop his plate and pushed it into the center of the table. He really did have impeccable table manners. Jacob wondered where he picked them up. The crowd at the table thinned as the children were herded off to bed, and Early went to his own bed. Zane wandered off murmuring about engine timing, and Friday gave a final pointed glance to Sylvia, then retired to her own bunk. "I gotta say, mister Fredesa ain't exactly every day we get a politician aboard," he said, trying to get something to fill this unusually awkward silence. "My name isn't Fredesa," he said. Greyson found his hand caressing his gun. "Then what is it?" He wasn't even looking at Jacob now. "I was named after my father," he said. "No," Anne said. "Your brother was named after your father." The man shook his head. "That man and I don't share a sire. My father was an Operative of the Parliment. He and my mother had an ongoing tryst for a long time, ending when he had to be reassigned. I was the result of the affair." He said simply. "What was this Operative's name?" Jacob asked. "I know it says Zekeal on my birth certificate, but between my mother and me, we always knew my real first name. Derrial." "Alright, Derrial," Jacob said. His hand hadn't moved. "Few months ago, I got a Wave over the Cortex from a friend, said my father had just died. Since my step-father's been rotting in his grave for a good ten years, I knew what this meant. I visited his grave, you know. Finally figured out who I am," Derrial said. Sylvia was beginning to look very sick, and she slowly took leave of the table. Anne moved to help her, but Sylvia waved her off. "And who would that be?" Jacob asked. "Derrial Book." <> Sylvia almost fell on her way down the stairs. They were particularly tricksy, for some reason. Like while she was out, somebody took a big old hammer and smashed the ship a bit, just to throw off its planes and angles a touch. "for the bounties which we shall find in the new day, amen" "how she was right, but gorram it she was right" "what if I ain't right? Ain't righteous?" The whispers had tormented her constantly. First, they came to her in while she was awake, a constant din just on the understandable side of white noise. She thought she could handle it, but then it started creeping in on her dreams. And she couldn't sleep any more, not with all of that running around. It was too much. She stumbled to that place she was often found, those days. That corner in the common area. The din vanished as soon as she pulled her legs together, and she felt herself drifting away. It was a damned uncomfortable place to fall asleep, but having not slept for a week, she was willing to try anything. She knew she was dreaming, simply from the fact that she wasn't propped against the corner of Legacy. Even more, she didn't feel that horrid wilting illness that had crept into her very bones, and those gorramed wounding whispers were gone. There was only night, and the trees above her. She opened her eyes, beholding two men standing, facing each other. One wore a very white shirt, the other was covered head to foot in red leather. Besides that one distinction, they were identical, and they were both Early. "I ain't going back," the white shirt said. "Ain't nothing for me back there." "Nothing but yourself," leather answered. "You can run as long as you want, but this is a small ship, and you're only going in circles." White shirt smiled then, a cold smile. "I don't have to run forever. Just long enough. We are all just objects in space. Even you, and even I." "I thought you appreciated the substance of things," leather mocked. "The way of things." "I think I do," white shirt responded. "Very likely better than you. I realized who I am, and that I'm more than I thought I was. I ain't right, ain't righteous. She was right about that. But I know that, now. That's something," Leather smiled then, pulling out a small pistol. "I don't have to tell you that this here can still blow your brainpan every which-a-way. That happens, I walk the 'Verse again." "I ain't gonna fight you," white shirt said calmly, "'cause I don't have to." There was a sound of a gunshot and both vanished. Sylvia wondered whose dream this was. "He is broken," Sylvia heard a girl's voice. She caught a glimpse of the dark-haired girl in the forest. "He's trying to fix himself. Make it all right." Sylvia stared hard at this girl. She was almost a woman, by the look of her. Not very old, but not very young either. And she felt a sort of kinship with this pale-skinned specter. "What just happened?" she asked. The specter smiled. "One job done." <> As moons go, Triumph is one of the worse. Sure, its locals have a tendancy to be pleasant, and the weather ain't too bad, but the elders haven't too much money, and not much for trade. Jacob watched as Anne touched down lightly next to the other Firefly which was meeting them. Main problem with Triumph, he knew, was if you did them a good turn, odds are, you'd end up married. 'Specially a problem if the little damsel they picked out for you was a hijacker. Most thought it a rural myth, but it happened more often than one'd think. Niska once had one of his craft stolen right out from under him, and sold back to him by scrappers. They never found the hijacker. He'd asked Zane if it could have been his sister, but the engineer was decidedly mum. This was a perfect spot to get caught unawares. The sun was only beginning to creep over the horizon when Jacob opened up the ramp and waited. He'd been sitting a good long while when he finally went into the bunks to find Fredesa/Book conversing with the Kivettes. "We've decided," Noreen said, "that we're getting off here. My husband and I thank you for everything you've done for us." "Weren't anything special," he began, but she cut him off. "You put us up for three weeks without askin' a penny, and dropped us well clear of them Reavers. Don't matter what you say, that's a fine thing you done," she pointed out. Hugh shook his hand one final time. "Now, we're goin' into town and lettin' ourselves be known. I'm sure that there'll be a place for us." "I don't doubt it for a second," Jacob said. "Zane!" A blonde head poked out from the stairwell. "What?" "Load up the mule with the Kivette's things. They're headed into town." "Gotcha, boss," Zane said, vanishing again. Jacob heard the chains being thrown off the Mule a few seconds later. "I guess this is goodbye," Hugh said. "Guess," Jacob said. "Fredesa, you mind a word?" Hugh and Noreen herded their groggy children out into the cargo-hold as Jacob squared with this duplicitous fellow. "First of all, I'm still not sure what I should call you." "Derrial," the man said. "Or Book, if you can't manage three syllables." Jacob scowled. "We have no time for this. Go wake up your man and grab your things," his expression darkened. "When were you going to tell me there was another crew involved?" "Preferably never," he answered. "Your ship must have some powerful sensors to pick up a powered-down Firefly." Jacob forced a smile. "Why not?" "Because I want to vanish," he said simply. "And in order to do that, I need another degree of separation from Hera. They track my movements on Hera, they find you. Were the chain that long, they'd find me by talking to you. This way, they try to find me, they'll come to Triumph, and unless my dear Captain Reynolds is particularly dense, we won't be there." "Wait, Reynolds?" Jacob said. "As in Malcolm Reynolds?" "You know him?" Fredesa asked. "Accidentally. Guay, get your things. I'll see you off," he said. What sort of insanity ran the universe that he'd run into them again? Zane had already thundered away with an overloaded Mule when Early met them at the bottom of the ramp, a large case in his hand. Early looked to have not slept well, but Jacob didn't rightly care. He led the three off into the rather dense woods toward the other Firefly. Towards Serenity. The woods were absolutely obscurant, with each branch pushed away being replaced with another a few feet forward. Finally, the burst into the small clearing the landing Firefly had cleared for itself. "Well, ain't it a big damn surprise to see you again?" he said as he beheld Malcolm, Jayne, and Kaylee sitting on Serenity's ramp. Malcolm's eyebrows rose a bit, as close to the man staring slackjawed in surprise as any expression Jacob had ever seen. Of course, Mal's gaze then went back to run over the two companions he brought with him. His eyes caught on Fredesa for a moment, as if having just an inkling of recognition. Then his scanning eyes landed on Early, and they stopped dead. Early too had come to a halt as soon as he clearly saw the three occupants of the ship he was about to board. Everyone was silent for that pristine moment, then everybody on Serenity went for a gun. Jacob had been in enough firefights in his life to know that in lack of any better cover, hitting the ground was the best option. He didn't waste any time explaining this to his passengers before Mal, Jayne and Kaylee all opened fire on Early. The black man was thrown to the ground, and he heard Fredesa scream out in pain. It was then that Jayne grunted in pain. A black-haired figure in a red dress kicked him in the stomach and threw his rifle into the woods. While he was still bent double, she dashed into the quickly closing gap between Mal and Early. She placed herself between them and held her hands out as if ordering him to stop. "Out of my way, River." Malcolm ordered. His gun was pointed directly through her and at Early. "He's trying to fix it," the girl River shouted back. "Trying to make it right. Just the pieces don't fit and there aren't enough and they don't look alike..." "I've got exactly no time for crazy, little albatross," he said. "Out of my way." "You aren't going to kill him. No killing," she said. Her face a picture of concentration. "Any man's earned the right to die, it'd be him," Malcolm said. Jayne finally righted himself and moved to take the gun from Kaylee's shaking hands. "Now if you don't move, I'm going to knock you on your pee-goo and do it right. This man ain't gettin' out of what he deserves by standing, facing me, and bein' armed." "What?" Jayne said. "He ain't armed." "There's a guy," Mal said strongly. "He's very blurry. You gotta be careful," Malcolm shook his head, trying to shake some coherence into his words, no doubt. River continued to stare at him intently. Finally, Reynolds tried one more time. "All I wanted was a nice quiet drink." Reynolds' pistol fell from his grasp, and he turned to an intent study of his hand. He looked up again at River, eyes quite unfocused. "Son of a bitch," he managed, before pitching over sideways onto the grass. Jayne walked over, nudging Reynolds with his foot. "Did Mal just go crazy and fall asleep?" <> Malcolm woke up staring down at a hideously upholstered couch that faced the infirmery. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see River staring at him. "River?" he asked, tongue not wanting to produce the right sounds. "Yes?" she answered, oh, so sweetly. That smile weren't right, neither. "What did you do?" She grinned proudly. "I killed you with my brain." "Oh," he grunted. "Well. Don't do it again." "You'll be alright in a few minutes," she said, sounding entirely too sane. Almost insanely sane. He wondered where he thought that up. Must have been her killing him with her brain. With her message delivered, she skipped away, no doubt in search of Jayne to pester him some more. Sometimes he wasn't sure whether what she was doing was genuine insanity, or just staged insanity to get what she wanted. That was a rather frightening bit, that. The way his head was turned, he was forced to stare into the infirmery, where Jubel was up on the slab, getting bullets taken out of him. "For the last time, hold it open," the asian woman shouted. Simon seemed to be in no great hurry to help, and Mal didn't blame him. Jubel did put a bullet into the boy, and that thing with Kaylee besides. "I am not working on this man," Simon said staunchly. "He deserves what he got." The woman scowled contemptuously at him. "You see those doors?" she pointed at the edge of the room, and coincidentally at Mal. "He comes through them doors, he's a patient. That means I take care of him. Don't matter if he's had me strapped over a barrel in the morning, if by afternoon somebody's put a bullet to him, it's my job to patch him up," she leaned over Jubel's chest. "I may not have been top three percent out of the MedAcad on Osiris, but at least I know my oaths." Mal was suddenly struck on how similar this woman was to his old doctor, back on Shadow. That man'd been as blunt as a hammer, had no way with words, and every other word was a curse of some sort, but he knew his trade. Weren't all uptight and fidgety, like Simon was, neither. Funny, how a thing'll strike a fellow. Mal finally managed to lift his head, staring straight forward. A sickly-looking woman was crouched in the corner, and from the way she was sweating, she wasn't too well off. It took him a damned long moment to recognize her. "Ain't you Sylvia?" he asked. She tilted her head back, looking at him with sunken eyes. "None of it means a damn thing," she said, then her eyes slid closed again, and her head drooped. Malcolm didn't have proper words to describe how strange this day'd become. At least nobody tried to shoot him, yet. He forced himself to sit upright. His head felt several sizes too big and stuffed with wool besides. Fredesa didn't look to pleased with life at the moment, and in that moment, he realized who the man reminded him of. It struck him like a kick to the chest, and Mal had to remind himself. The Shepherd was dead. Fredesa chose that moment to add to the insanity of his day. "I hear you ran with man named Meria Book?" he said, with almost the exact voice as he often heard coming with words of wisdom from the Shepherd. "I once did," he said. Fredesa nodded. Was that a knowing look? Mal didn't feel like exploring it further, so made his shaky way to his feet. The world had an unpleasant tendency to twist, though, and he wasn't sure his path was altogether too straight. As he made his way into the cargo bay, he was confronted by a mass of red hair. "Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze," Malcolm swore. "Saffron, y'shouldn't be sneakin' on people," he managed to slur. "I needed to stretch my legs," she said flatly. He smiled at the thought of duct-taping her mouth and shoving her in the hold for another fortnight. "Have you seen Jayne?" "Look," he said. "Yo-Saf-Brige, I only let you out and around because you've done us a good turn last week. You try cross us again, we'll let you take a ten-foot walk out a five-foot airlock. Ain't puttin' up with that gos-se anymore. And did you check his bunk?" "He's on this ship." "Ain't this ship where his bunk is?" Mal said. "This ain't your ship," she replied, glad to finally have the upper hand in the conversation. She opened her mouth to press it, but was distracted when that young mechanic came roaring back in on a Mule. He still remembered fishing Zane out of the crawlspace of Serenity. Ain't much changed since then, it seemed. Zane bounded off the thing the instant the thing came to a halt. He caught Saffron up in an argument that he seemed to have been holding in for years, an opportunity Mal was smart enough to exploit to escape. Since there was only one direction left to go, he went up and into the kitchen. He groaned as he saw the Fredesa nursing his leg, speaking with Greyson. One of Jayne's shots went right through Early and lodged in Zekeal's leg. "Why in the nine hells are you keeping that shiong-mung duh quong-run alive?" Mal asked, his tongue still feeling a couple of sizes too big. "I've got no problems with mister Early," Greyson said simply. "That so? How about the problem where he finds one of you worth a pinch of money, ties up your mechanic and puts a bullet into your doctor?" Mal was fuming now. He never thought just seeing the man would do this, but seeing them's wanting to help him set him off that much worse. "I heard of the trouble he visited on you," Greyson said. "River filled me in. Also on how down his life went after you left him twisting in the black. 'S I figure it, everybody deserves a second chance. Even him," Greyson leaned in very close, his one eye flashing in the light. "Even you." "I ain't in needin' of a second chance," Mal said. Greyson smiled. "Are you sure?" <> There was a regular beeping that sifted into his ears. Beep. Beep. Beep. It was then he knew that he wasn't dead. He didn't really expect to be alive, not after getting shot by three people, one of whom fired twice. Of all the people there, though, it was little Kaylee he was sure was going to put the last bullet to him. He'd done wrong by her. Serious wrong. So wrong he didn't even know how to make it right. He opened his eyes. Friday leaned back, along with the doctor, Simon Tam. She was pleased, but he could instantly tell that Simon would have been much happier if he'd never started breathing again. He supposed that he'd done wrong by the doctor as well, but it was a lesser thing. He wondered if Kaylee had recovered yet. Then he caught that look, that possessiveness in the young doctor's fury. Yes, she'd recovered. He'd helped her. Early wondered what it would be like to die, as it was happening. Didn't have much time to think when his heart weren't working, and now that he had some time to contemplate the situation, he decided he didn't like it. It seemed like an idiotically simple decision, but folk had done some damned stupid things when they decided they wasn't afraid of dying anymore. Didn't mind the idea. Early wasn't sure if she was afraid, but he certainly didn't like the idea. "He's conscious," Simon said. "Kayn zeh tai de hai si dih ling hun, but he'll live." Friday reached across the table and cuffed Tam upside the head. Tam almost struck back, but caught himself. Still blue in the blood. "Mind explainin' to me why you felt the need to patch me up?" Early said. Or tried to, he wasn't sure the words came out right at all. How could they? He took four bullets. Still, Friday, in true medical fashion, deciphered what he'd mumbled. "I took an oath to heal," she said. She shot Simon a pointed look. "Don't much matter who I gots to healing." Was that a bit of animosity between the two medical personnel? Perhaps the boy's finally developing a bit of steadfastness. He didn't blame Simon for not wanting to patch him up. It just kinda seemed right to him. He did wrong, and payed for it. Finally, Friday ran through the tests he'd had before when he'd got shot. Does this hurt? Can you breath with my hand here? Can you feel this? Can you move that? With her job completed, she nodded toward the door. Tam wasted no time in vacating the room, and Friday left soon after. The room was still. He knew it wasn't empty though. "River?" he said. Her pale face appeared over his. "What did you mean, back there?" "You're not right, Jubel," she said calmly. Another face appeared next to hers, gaunt and sweating profusely. Sylvia was looking even worse every time he saw her. "You're not righteous." "You've got issues," Sylvia added. "I know that I do," he said. "And you're trying to fix them," Sylvia said. "But trying to fix what you are is opening a can of worms," River responded. He never liked that saying. Didn't ever make sense to him. He didn't see how opening a can of worms could ever be bad. A fellow goes fishing, he needs a can of worms. And to get the worms, fellow got to open the can. Course, once the can's open, them worms ain't causing any kind of fuss. Just squirming around. They ain't getting away, they're already in the can. And they still say that opening a can of worms is a bad thing. Does that seem right to you? River smiled. "You still talk too much."

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Legacy's crew is scattered across a city soon to be embroiled in a full-scale war, and time is running out before the bombs fall. In the sky, two of the greatest military minds clash, while on the ground, the best the crew can hope for is to not be crushed under foot.

Legacy 3:05, Confederation, Part 1
Finally arriving on Hera, Jacob settles down to unwind, but is interrupted by a startling revelation by a member of his crew. And not too far away, even as the Independant Planets sign their Confederation, somebody is waiting in the darkness for the perfect moment to strike.

Legacy 3:04, Definition of a Hero
With mere hours to go before Confederation, Jacob catches wind of a travesty taking place, perpetrated by his supposed allies. Will he jeopardize the conference for the sake of his principles?