A Friendly Little Game

Captain Malcolm Reynolds sat at the card table, occasionally lifting a hand to wave in front of his face in a futile attempt to clear a breathing space in the miasma of smoke. The entire room being filled with a choking cloud of the smoke, from tobacco and other not-so-immediately identifiable combustibles, made his attempts almost pointless. At least he felt as if he could breathe slightly better when he did so, even if he actually could not. Of the other four players at the table, only one of them -- noticeably an offworlder, as was Mal -- seemed to be having as much difficulty with the tainted atmosphere. The other players looked as comfortable in the smoke-filled saloon as Mal would have on the deck of Serenity.

A delicate cough from behind him made Mal look quickly over his shoulder. Inara sat there, watching the game with interest, and the smoke had finally become as much as she could handle, at least for that particular moment. “You okay?” Mal asked.

She waved a hand in answer, as the other hand delicately wiped away the tear that had formed in one eye, managing to remove the moisture without marring the meticulously applied cosmetics. Once she had found her breath, she replied, saying, “I’m fine. It’s a small price to pay to see such an accomplished cardsmith at work.”

Mal quirked a half-smile at the praise, saying, “Aw, I’m not all that good. Just passing some time until our... meeting.”

“I wasn’t actually talking about you, Captain,” she said, inclining her head towards one of the other players, “I meant Mister Barlowe.”

Mal’s eyebrows rose for a moment as he turned back to the game. “Of course you did,” he said, “how silly of me.”

Barlowe, the gambler Inara mentioned, tipped his hat in her direction, and said, “Just a humble sporting man, ma’am. If my feeble attempts bring you some small measure of amusement, I am honored much beyond my paltry winnings.”

Mal barely suppressed a snort of derision. Those ‘paltry winnings’ consisted of the larger part of the money each player had brought to the table. The game wasn’t particularly high-stakes, and Mal hadn’t brought more than he could afford to lose, but he had hoped to be able to walk away with some portion of his stake intact. As he picked up his latest hand, he sighed, realizing that this particular hand wouldn’t be the one to turn his luck around. He shrugged and met the bet when it came to him, as his hand wasn’t completely hopeless. He wasn’t expecting any new cards to help much, but there was always a chance, and if not, he could finish out the game and head back to the ship. Only a few hours were left before the meeting anyway, and he could as well wait there as in the saloon. After two weeks in space, all of Serenity’s crew was happy to escape the confines of the ship for a few hours before they could deliver their cargo. For once, it was even a legal cargo. Well, the cargo itself was legal, at any rate. The fact that they had been hired to transport it, land and wait for eight hours before delivery made it clear that there was something or other not entirely legitimate about the job. But it paid well enough for the small risk that might be involved that it was worth the wait.

Mal discarded three, and almost choked on his drink when he picked up his new cards. The hand he was now looking at was better than he had ever held in a straight game. It was clear that the game wasn’t entirely straight, of course, but he hadn’t been able to spot anyone cheating in a big way, and he suspected that it was a legitimate deal. When the bet came around to him, he covered it, and took a moment to count his remaining stake. “I’ll see that,” he said, “and raise you... five platinum.”

Two of the players folded, one of them taking the opportunity to leave the game, thanking the other players. Barlowe took several moments, looking over his own hand and at the pot in the middle of the table. There was as much money in that single pot to make back all of Mal’s original investment, plus a bit more. Not a big win by any means, but enough to keep him solvent and pay for drinks. He suppressed a smile. Even if Barlowe stayed in, there was only one possible hand that could beat him.

Finally, Barlowe made up his mind, tossing in enough to cover the bet. Just as Mal was expecting him to call, he said, instead, “And I’ll raise ten.”

Mal bit off a curse. The best hand he’d ever held and he didn’t have the money to cover it. “I don’t suppose you’d take my marker?”

Barlowe smiled, not unkindly, and said, “Sorry, omae, table stakes only.”

Quickly, Mal turned to Inara. “Inara, do you have any money?”

She laughed, the sound of it tinkling through the air like music. “Oh no, there is no way I’m loaning you money, Captain.”

With as earnest a look as he could muster, Mal showed Inara his cards. One of her eyebrows rose slightly, and she said, “I’m afraid I didn’t bring any cash with me.” She removed a ring from one of her slim fingers and held it out over the table for a moment, then dropped it into the pot. “I think this might cover things...?”

Barlowe smiled slightly, looking at Inara much more closely than he looked at the ring. “Normally not,” he said, “but I was never able to resist a beautiful woman. The bet is accepted.”

Mal grinned and said, “Then I call.” He spread his cards on the table and reached for the pot. Barlowe held up one of his hands, palm forward, saying, “A very good hand, but...” He spread his own cards on the table. A perfect, unbeatable hand. “...I’m afraid I win.”

Mal’s jaw dropped. He had only suspected cheating before, now he was sure of it. He didn’t, however, have any way to prove it. Barlowe raked the money -- and the ring -- toward him. He turned to Inara and handed her a small business card. “I’ll expect you there by sundown, ma’am. That should be plenty of time for you to retrieve your belongings.”

Both Mal’s and Inara’s jaws dropped. *** After a few moments, when his power of speech had returned, Mal said, “Excuse me, Mister Barlowe, but I’m not sure exactly what game you’re playing at.”

With a quizzical smile, Barlowe said, “I don’t know what you mean. The young lady put her token into the pot, signifying that she was the bet. All games here are played by Cantor rules, as I’m sure you were well aware.”

“Wuh de tyen, ah,” Inara said in a tone that made Mal cringe. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were playing by Canton rules?”

“Um,” Mal said, in a stall for time, finally finishing the thought with, “because I didn’t know...?”

“Oh, come now,” Barlowe interjected, “It’s clearly posted at the doorway.”

Mal shot him a withering glance, and retorted, “The part I didn’t know was that Cantor rules are based on chattel slavery.”

Barlowe shrugged. “I can’t be held responsible for your ignorance,” he said, “but you can. I will have you both bound by law if you renege on your bet.”

With a look that would have burned through a starcruiser’s hull, Inara said, “He’s right, Captain.” The depth of smoldering anger she folded into the word Captain made Mal cringe. “I now belong to him. If you would please escort me back to the ship, I will collect my things.” She turned to Barlowe, and said, “I will be at the address on your card within two hours. Is that acceptable?”

“Quite.” *** It took them twenty minutes to get back to the spaceport, a twenty minutes that felt every bit as long as twenty minutes might have in the clutches of Niska. Inara had not said a word in the entire time, and Mal would have been much happier with a severe verbal lashing. She was not giving him any such luxury, however.

As they entered the ship, Kaylee bounced up to meet them. “Hey there,” she said, “how did it go?”

Not slowing his stride, Mal walked past her and said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

In response to the mechanic’s quizzical look, Inara responded, “It went as well as might be expected, where Captain Reynolds is concerned.” Kaylee knew something bad was coming when Inara called Mal Captain Reynolds. “He managed to lose me in a card game.”

Kaylee’s eyes blinked in disbelief for a moment, wondering if she had heard wrong. After a moment, she realized that she had, in fact, heard correctly, and went storming after Mal. “You lost Inara?!?” she called after him, “Next thing you know, you’ll lose Serenity.”

Inara was able to hear the exchange, even after Mal and Kaylee had left the cargo bay. “No,” Mal replied, “I wouldn’t bet Serenity.”

“But you’ll bet Inara?”

“Yes! I mean, no! I mean...” The voiced trailed off, going out of earshot. *** A half-hour later, the rest of the crew having returned after Kaylee’s fevered comcalls to them, they were all seated around the dinner table. Kaylee’s calls hadn’t explained exactly what happened, only that there was an emergency of dire proportions and that they had to return right that very moment.

“Yeh soo: ta ma duh,” Jayne said, “What’s going on, did the deal go sour?”

“No,” Kaylee replied, “the Captain lost Inara in a card game.”

There was stunned silence at the table for a moment, which Jayne broke by asking, “But the deal’s still good, right?”

There was a muttering around the table at that question, which Wash broke into, asking him, “Is that all you’re worried about, getting your payoff?”

Jayne nodded in response, saying, “Well, yeah.” He almost looked surprised at the question.

Before the two of them could get into more of an argument, Zoe asked Mal, “Were you, by any chance, playing by Canton rules?”

Mal responded, “Well, yeah, but I didn’t know--”

Shepherd Book interjected, saying, “I thought the Alliance had outlawed Canton rules?”

Zoe nodded, and said, “They did, on paper, anyway. Do you really think they’re going to send a squad of Feds all the way out here to enforce that law?”

Mal shook his head, saying, “No Feds!”

Simon shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. It really wasn’t a funny situation, but... well, maybe it was. “Why don’t we just take off? The situation being illegal in the first place, I seriously doubt that this Barlowe person would alert the Feds himself.”

Jayne shook his head, saying, “Uh-uh, no ruttin’ way. We’ve got a cargo to deliver. If we take off, we don’t make the delivery.”

Before anyone could jump on that comment, Inara spoke, the first time entering the conversation. “As much as I hate to admit it,” she said, “he’s right.”

Jayne nodded, surprised at being vindicated, saying, “Damn right I’m right.”

Inara went on, as if he had said nothing. “It was my own fault; I should have realized what would happen. My mistake shouldn’t mean that you lose this business.” She explained exactly what happened, the offering of her ring to cover Mal’s bet. Under the Canton rules, that ring became her token, signifying ownership of her onto whoever had it.

Kaylee, almost panicked by this time, said, “But we can’t just let you stay here, and... and...” Her words trailed off.

Mal stood. “And we won’t. Zoe, you and I will take care of the delivery, and the others will get back Inara.”

Jayne leaned back in his chair. “Ain’t no payoff in that,” he said, “and it ain’t like she’s part of the crew. She’s just a--”

Mal glared at him, and said, “You don’t want to finish that sentence.”

Unable to stop the word, as it was almost out of his mouth already, Jayne finished, saying, “--passenger.”

Everyone at the table was shocked, though whether the shock was at the fact that he was able to change what he was going to say so quickly or that he was planning on being something close to tactful in the first place was unclear to all.

Before the other’s shock could wear off, Shepherd leaned toward Jayne and said in a stage whisper, “Where there’s gambling, there’s money.”

Jayne blinked a moment, and said, “Of course, Inara’s more than just a passenger. I mean, she’s like crew, ain’t she?” *** “So,” Zoe said, bringing the conversation back to the point at hand, “under Canton rules, whoever has the ring owns Inara. All we have to do it get the ring back.”

Jayne shrugged, saying, “Then I’ll just go beat on him until he gives it back. Simple.”

“Yes,” Wash said, all innocence, “A simple plan from a simple mind.”

Jayne glared at him, and replied, “You want me to show you simple, little man?”

Wash smiled back, warmly, and said, “You do that every time you open your mouth.”

“Cut it out!” Mal bellowed, before the argument could get too far advanced. “We can’t do that, it’d be robbery, and we don’t need the local constabulary screwing things up right now. We do still have a deal to consider.”

There was a few minutes of confused conversation then, people suggesting plans, each of which was quickly dismissed as being too risky, or too illegal, or both. When the argument died down a bit, Simon spoke, saying, “Why don’t we just win her back?”

Everyone was silent for a moment, looking at him. He blinked, his cheeks turning slightly red under the scrutiny, and he said, “Well, she was lost in a card game, couldn’t she be won back the same way?”

After a moment’s thought, Mal replied, “Nah, it wouldn’t work. Barlowe’s a cheat. I couldn’t prove it or anything, but he was cheating on that last hand, if he wasn’t cheating the entire time.”

“Well,” Simon said, thoughtfully, “crime being the usual run of work on this ship, I would think someone here was able to cheat at cards.”

Mal shrugged. “If I was a cheat, I wouldn’t have lost her in the first place.”

Shepherd shook his head. “We used to play some cards at retreats, but not for money of course, and we’d never cheat. Gambling is... frowned upon... by my order.”

One by one, each of the crew denied any ability of cheating at cards. Except for Jayne. The realization slowly dawned on the others, and they all turned to face him. He looked up at the gathering of faces, all looking expectantly at him, and he said, “What?”

“Jayne,” Mal asked, slowly and enunciating each word carefully, as he might speak to a small child, or River, who was absent for this discussion, “do you know how to cheat at cards?”

Under his breath, speaking only to himself, Shepherd said, “Considering the extra chores I’ve done because of card games, I’m not sure how I want him to answer...”

Jayne blinked a couple of times, then said, “Well, I know how, but that don’t mean I’m any good at it. I mean, I can spot it, and maybe pull something on somebody what don’t know what they’re doing, but if Barlowe’s a professional cheat...” He shrugged, and tried to ignore the questioning glares shot his way by Simon and Shepherd, they being the ones that tended to pick up Jayne’s chores in their own games.

“That’s a start,” Mal said, “but what we need is somebody to actually do the playing, while Jayne keeps an eye out for anything crooked.”

“That’ll just have him looking in a mirror,” Wash quipped, then yelped as a boot found his shin forcefully.

Zoe smiled sweetly at him, and she said, “Not now, dear, we’ve moved on to business.”

Going on as if there had been no interruption, Mal said, “So who do we get to play the actual game?” His eyes turned to Simon.

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but Kaylee cut him off, saying, “It can’t be the Doc.” She turned to him, smiling sweetly, “No offense, Simon, but you tend to show whatever you’re thinking.” His earlier blush returned, and Kaylee said, “See there?”

Mal turned to Shepherd with a questioning look on his face. Book caught the look, and said, “Well, I suppose I could...” His voice trailed off as both Jayne and Simon shook their heads.

“No good, Preacher,” Jayne said, “the better a hand you got, the more you start telling bible stories.”

Appalled, Book replied, “I do not!”

Simon nodded, and said, “Yes... yes, you do. I’d never heard the story about Daniel told from the lion’s point of view before.”

As Book was gathering air into his lungs to offer a retort, River wandered into the galley. She was carrying a can of what purported to be black-eyed peas and speaking aloud, though only to herself. “If each of the peas has a similar volume, and the can itself holds three-hundred-and-five grams, taking into account the liquid medium the peas are held in...” She paused for a moment when she realized she was suddenly the center of attention, then slowly continued her thought, “...then there should be approximately seven-hundred-and-eighty peas inside, with a margin of error of seventy-five peas... What?” *** “Lookin’ for Barlowe,” Jayne growled to the bartender in the saloon that Mal had been playing cards with him.

“Ain’t seen him today,” the bartender replied, wiping an already clean glass with a rag.

“Well now,” Jayne said, “Ain’t that interestin’? As it happens, I know he was playing cards here just a few hours ago.”

The bartender shrugged. “I wasn’t paying that much attention then, I guess.”

Jayne leaned over the bar, a grim smile on his face. “Y’think you’ll be paying attention when I drag you across that bar and beat your head into the floor?”

“Oh, Barlowe!” The bartender’s attitude had magically changed to one of friendly helpfulness. “Yeah, he was here, cleaned some greenhorn out of his stake. He’s playing the rest of the evening over at the Silver Sun. He makes his entrance fees here, then goes over and plays for real money.”

“How much are them entrance fees?”

“Twenty-five platinum, and the invitation, of course.”

“Invitation?”

The bartender nodded. “Yeah, the games at the Sun are invitation only.”

“And how does a body go about getting themself an invite?”

“Oh, that part’s easy. All you have to do is get a letter of introduction from somebody already on the list. That gets you in on a trial basis, the permanent invitation depends on how you play.”

“So you know anybody on the list?”

The bartender suddenly looked anywhere but at Jayne. “Um... well, um... well, I...”

Jayne snorted, and said, “Head. Floor. Beat. Remember?”

“I have one.” The reply was so muffled by the bartender forgetting to open his mouth completely that Jayne had to make him repeat himself loud enough to hear it. After repeating the fact that he had one, the bartender added, “But if you go in and cause any trouble, I’ll get barred for life!”

“And if you don’t write that letter, ‘barred for life’ ain’t gonna be a very long time.”

The bartender hurriedly pulled out paper and pen from behind the bar, saying, “So whose name should go in the letter?”

“Miss River...” *** When Jayne returned to Serenity, everyone was getting ready for their respective jobs. Mal and Zoe were arming themselves for the meet, Wash and Kaylee were loading the cargo on the mule, and Shepherd Book, Simon, and River were practicing cards. River had already garnered up most of the chips they were using as bets. As Jayne walked up and tossed the letter of invitation on the table, River was saying, “Preacher’s holding nothing, Simon is drawing for an inside run.”

Simon shook his head, saying, “River, sweetheart, if you talk like that, they’ll think you’re cheating.”

Jayne grunted as he was checking the loads of several weapons, saying, “And then you’ll get shot.”

River gave him a look that a teacher might have used on a particularly slow child. “I know that,” she said, “I’m expecting that the people I’ll be playing are better then them.” Even as she spoke, her voice changed, taking on a different cadence, the accent subtly transforming. “Ah’ll make some small-talk with the gentlemen, discuss local politics and what-not, maybe talk about the vicissitudes of livin’ life upon a stah-ship, and the difficulties of findin’ a decent game in Alliance territory.” By the time her speech finished, her voice was the very embodiment of the landed gentry on any of a half-dozen worlds.

Shepherd Book looked at her in awe for a moment, then turned to Mal when he walked into the bay. “Captain,” he said, “while I’m confident in River’s abilities, what should we do if... if things don’t go exactly to plan?”

“Well,” Mal replied, adjusting the microphone pickup on the lapel of his jacket, “then you just try to stay in the game until we’ve made our exchange. We’ll let you know when we’re clear.”

“And then?”

“And then,” Mal said, adjusting his gunbelt to a more comfortable position around his waist, “you take Inara and get back here as fast as you can.”

From his position, kicked back in a chair, critically examining the edge of his knife, Jayne said, “I don’t see why we don’t just do that in the first place.”

Mal shook his head, saying, “I want it to be quiet and smooth if at all possible. But, since that’s usually not possible, I want you there to keep an eye on things, Jayne.”

Jayne grinned in reply. “So I’m in charge of the operation, then. Good.”

“No. You’re in charge if, and only if, things don’t go smoothly. Until that time, Book is going to be calling the shot.”

“Book?!” Jayne exclaimed, at the same time Shepherd exclaimed, “Me?!”

Mal nodded, walking over to Book. “That’s right,” he said, “I need someone respectable calling the shots, someone a little more used to polite company.”

Book was shaking his head, saying, “Captain, I appreciate that you have such... faith... in me, but I don’t know that they’ll let a man of God into the game.”

Half of Mal’s mouth quirked up in a disarming smile as he reached out and carefully removed the collar from Books’ throat. “That’s why you’re not going in as a man of God. You’re going in as the bodyguard of a vulnerable young lady traveling in the frontier. Just like Jayne is...”

“Well, yeah, I figgered that I’d be goin’ in as a bodyguard,” Jayne said, “but--” He was cut off when Zoe walked into the room, carrying one of Book’s spare suits.

Zoe tossed the suit into Jayne’s lap, saying, “I let out the hems, but it still might be a little tight around the chest. Put it on, we’ll see if it’ll hide your gun.”

“I ain’t wearin’ this.”

Mal grinned, saying, “Oh, but you are. And you’ll be polite, and you’ll stand back, keep an eye on the game, and not stir up any trouble ‘til it needs stirring up.”

Disgusted, Jayne stood and looked at the suit. “You’re acting like I ain’t never done nothing like this before.” Muttering to himself, Jayne left the room, taking the suit with him.

Mal turned to the table, looking over the three still seated there. “You two,” he said to Simon and Book, “look the part, you just need to... accessorize.” He placed two revolvers on the table.

Simon looked at the guns as if they were coated in some distasteful substance, while Book picked one up and competently checked the loads. “I’m not particularly comfortable with firearms, Captain.”

Mal chuckled. “I was... occupied... at the time, but Zoe tells me you were pretty competent with a gun when you all saved me from Niska.”

Book stood and put the pistol into his waistband at the small of his back, where his jacket would cover it. “Competent, yes,” he replied, “comfortable, no.”

“Better to have it and not need it,” Mal said, as he turned and walked away from the table, “than to need it and not have it.”

Book turned to Simon, who was still looking at the other revolver on the table. “Go ahead, son,” he said, softly, “take it.”

“I’m not very good with guns.”

“I know. But if we need to get out of someplace in a hurry, just shoot it in the direction you want to go. Most people will give a person shooting a gun the right-of-way.”

Simon gingerly picked up the gun, putting it into his waistband as Book had done. “If you’re playing a bodyguard, what part am I playing?”

Zoe walked up to the table, carrying a garment bag, which she handed to River. “Just be yourself, Doctor; a loving brother keeping an eye on his sister, so she’s not taken advantage of.” She turned to River, and said, “And speaking of sisters, we’d better get River ready. All of you are leaving here at the same time we do, so get prepared.” *** Twenty minutes later, Mal was pacing in the loading bay, Kaylee and Wash looking on in amusement. “Let’s go, people!” he yelled, “We ain’t got all day!”

Jayne walked into the bay, wearing the spare suit of Shepherds, minus the collar, of course. “I feel like a ruttin’ fool, dressed in this yi-jian yu-yi.”

Kaylee laughed delightedly and clapped her hands. “But you’re so shiny,” she said, “you clean up real good.”

“Gwon nee ju jee du shu,” he replied, though there was no real force or anger behind the words, more an air of resignation.

Book and Simon walked into the bay, both of them looking substantially the same as they had before, although Simon had added sunglasses to his ensemble, giving him something of a rakish appearance. While the group busied themselves with checking the concealment of firearms, River walked in, wearing the pieced-together traveling suit that Kaylee and Zoe had put together for her. Her air and bearing had changed completely into that of a self-possessed young woman, jarring to those more used to her usual demeanor.

“Well,” Kaylee said, looking over her outfit with satisfaction, “ain’t you quite the upstanding young lady.”

Condescendingly, River reached out and lightly patted Kaylee on the cheek, saying, “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing.” Before Kaylee could get offended, river tipped her a wink, causing the mechanic to stifle a giggle under her hand. She turned, almost regally, to the others, and said, “Gentlemen, I feel like playing cards. Shall we go...?” *** River led the way, her arm entwined in Simon’s, as they approached the door to the Sun, bypassing the long line of those waiting to be let inside. A few of those waiting muttered about line-hoppers, but they were quickly silenced with a hard look from Jayne. The doorman stepped forward as they approached, his mouth open to speak. Before he could do so, Simon handed him the letter of introduction, while River said, “Sir, would you please be so kind as to arrange a table for me to sit at? I would prefer not to have to wait for the normal delays in personal introductions and the like.” As she spoke, she gave a smile guaranteed to warm even the coldest heart, if nothing else was warmed by it.

The doorman looked over the letter for a moment, then back at the small group assembled before him. “Well now, miss,” he said, a smile struggling through his accustomed scowl, “I’m not really in charge of who plays where, but I’m sure the bartender inside can help you with that. The only problem is that club rules are that only two additional guests can accompany a guest. You have three.”

River turned and made a show of counting Book, Jayne, and her brother. “Why,” she said, “I do believe you ah right, sir. But surely you understand that a young lady must have proper... escorts... to avoid damaging her reputation...?”

The doorman thought it over for a moment, finally nodding in acceptance. “You will be the only player, though?”

With a mischievous smile, River replied, “Well, I had thought that perhaps a... beginner’s table... could be found for my brother.”

The doorman’s facade finally cracked as he chuckled, saying, “I’m afraid not, Miss. Only experienced players are allowed to play.”

River waved a dismissive hand. “No matter,” she said, “he would only lose any little bit that I might win.” Throughout the exchange, Simon’s face carried a look of tolerant amusement. As the doorman unhooked the velvet rope barring the door, River swept by him, lifting a caressing hand to his cheek, and said, “You are such a darling man. Thank you so much.”

Inside the doorway, two large men stood, waving scanning wands across each newcomer. Jayne muttered a curse to himself, knowing that the rudimentary steps they had taken to cover their weapons would never keep them hidden. As they approached, he was debating simply pulling out his gun and blazing away or allowing them to confiscate the weaponry. As it turned out, neither was necessary. As the bouncer waved his wand over Jayne, it beeped once at the gun hidden under his jacket, causing the man wielding it to take a close look at the results, then shrug. When it beeped again, it was moving over the comm unit in his jacket. That, rather than the gun, was asked to be given up. Apparently, the Sun was less concerned over players shooting each other as it was cheating. That stood to reason, though, as most shootings in gambling halls were caused by cheats than any other argument.

As the small group was finally waved through the security check, the approached the bar. After Simon had ordered drinks for all of them, River asked, “Ah there any tables needing a player that you know of, my good man?” There were a half-dozen card tables in operation at the moment, in addition to the other games of chance available. All of the group had noticed that Inara, who had left the ship shortly before they had, was seated at one of these tables, not playing, but sitting beside and slightly behind one of the other players. That player would, of course, be Barlowe.

The bartender looked around the room as he poured the drinks, all non-alcoholic. He pointed out two tables that were short a player, one of them being the one at which Barlowe and Inara sat. Looking them over, River finally pointed to the table the group was obviously the most interested in, as she said, “That one, I think. I would so hate to be the only lady at the table.”

The bartender had one of the waitresses lead the group to the table, explaining that only one person could actually sit at the table with the player, the others could sit at a non-playing table nearby, which, she assured them, was still in clear view of the player they had accompanied. Obviously, River was not the only player who had bodyguards in attendance. Even Barlowe had a man seated at a table directly behind him, keeping a close watch on the man, and on the newcomers approaching the table. As River warmly introduced herself to the others at the table, and nodded at each of those playing making their own introductions, Jayne and Book sat at the table offered to them. They noticed that, from their vantage point, they would be able to watch all of the action at the table, and could even catch glimpses of River’s hand, but not the cards of any others. Simon, who received a seat much like Inara’s in relation to Barlowe, could easily see her cards but not those of the other players. A very competent set-up for gamblers.

As it happened, the deal was at that moment moving to the seat that River had been given. The slightly skeptical looks some two of the other four players at the table had made when they realized their new player was a woman -- girl, really -- quickly vanished as she shuffled quickly and competently, then placed the deck on the table for the player to her right to cut. With a smile and a wink, he merely tapped on the deck, signifying that he was happy with the shuffle as it stood. She dealt the cards with an equal competence, and Simon sat back to watch.

At their table, Jayne and Book watched with interest, Jayne’s attention snapping back and forth from the play itself to Barlowe’s bodyguard, a huge, hulking bear of a man. He would clearly be the man to take down first, should any violence erupt, followed quickly by Barlowe himself, who appeared physically competent in his moves.

“Do you really think this will work?” Book asked in a low tone that would not be overheard by anyone else in the room.

Jayne shrugged, and said, “Maybe, if the girl don’t go all...” he made a circular motion at the side of his head with his hand “... on us.”

“She can be... flighty,” Book replied, “but she has shown herself capable in dangerous situations. And with her mental abilities, she should have no trouble at cards.”

Jayne smirked. “Don’t go getting too confident in her, Shepherd,’ he said, “just ‘cuz she can whup you and that brother of hers at cards don’t mean she can stand up to a real cardsharp.” “Well, I wasn’t referring only to her competence with cards, as such.” Jayne gave him a disgusted look. “You still saying she’s a mind-reader?” “She does show some... interesting... aptitudes, when the mood strikes her.”

At the table, River was showing that she was not an inadequate card player. She pulled in some modest pots, taking small risks as she took the measure of the other players. One of them, the man to her right, was a shameful bluff, betting on anything and everything, slowly losing the pile of chips in front of him. One of the men to her left was a very conservative player, only betting heavily when he was sure he would win. Barlowe and the other player were both much more difficult to predict, each seeming to bluff when it suited them, or bet reasonable amounts when they held strong hands. Very good players, each of them. She also noticed quickly that Barlowe was cheating. He sometimes slipped the cut with a hand movement that no one else at the table seemed to notice. He bottom dealt at times, placing carefully calculated and arranged cards into both his own hands and those of the other players. He even once dexterously slipped a card from his sleeve into his hand, palming the extra. River quickly took the tactic of folding her cards, no matter what her hand was, every time she noticed him cheat. After the second time, he narrowed his eyes at her in a speculative manner, giving her an almost imperceptible shrug and smile, showing that he knew what she was doing, and that she was well aware of what he was doing. After that, he did not cheat her directly, even though she continued to fold in any hand that he played dirty, even those that would not overly affect her. He cheated competently enough that none of the other players noticed that her folds were calculated. “He’s good,” Jayne muttered to Book, “nobody but River seems to have noticed he’s cheating.” Book looked narrowly at him, and said, “I didn’t notice. Are you that good at cheating?” Jayne gave him a wolfish grin, and said, “Nahhh, nowhere near as good. My hands was made for beating heads or pulling triggers, not bottom-dealing and cold-decking.”

Two hours later, two of the other players had retired from the game, only one of them being replaced by a new player. River had won modestly, though not to the extent Barlowe had, who’s stake had grown to over twice the size it had been when she joined the game. She had been watching Barlowe closely throughout the game, noticing exactly how he accomplished each of his feats of legerdemain. The only one of the cheats she would not be able to reproduce were the two times when the waitress had delivered fresh drinks to those at the table, while surreptitiously slipping a fresh -- and undoubtedly stacked -- deck of cards to Barlowe.

She felt the time was right, and as she gathered the cards for her own deal, she deftly built herself a bottom-stock of cards from those that she had seen when the others had shown their hands. After she shuffled, leaving her chosen cards at the bottom of the deck, she set it down for the cut. After it had been cut, she picked it back up, she slipped the cut, using one hand to restore the deck to how it had been before it had been cut, with a one-handed motion that appeared to go un-noticed by the others at the table.

When she dealt, she gave Barlowe a very strong hand, one that was sure to cause him to bet heavily, while giving the other two players strong enough hands to keep them in the game for the moment, at least, further inflating the pot. Her own hand, of course, was slightly better than those of the others, though not spectacularly greater. She had quickly learned that a good cheat does not regularly give him- or herself hands that were too good, or they would look suspicious.

She held her breath for a moment, half expecting Barlowe to have noticed her deal and immediately fold, as she had done. When he did not, her confidence returned. She won that pot, raking in a large pile of chips. When she noticed Inara’s eyes narrow slightly in thought, River looked at her directly for the first time since being introduced to her at the table. “You ah such a lovely lady, Miss,” she said, “However do you manage in such a place?”

Inara smiled sweetly, and replied, “Oh, I’ve been in much more dreadful conditions than this, I assure you. I lately spent entirely too much time residing in a dilapidated freighter, which--”

Barlowe cut her off testily, his mood soured by losing on what he had thought was a good hand. “We’re here to play, not gab on about traveling conditions. If you two would rather sip some tea and exchange pleasantries, do it somewhere else.”

One of the players, clearly annoyed by Barlowe’s attitude, took that opportunity to leave the game. As River gathered up the cards, she decided to cheat against not only Barlowe, but herself. She dealt a winning hand to the other player at the table, even contributing considerably to the pot herself, in an attempt to prevent any suspicion falling upon herself. Even with the comm units they had carried having been confiscated at the door, she knew it was time for the others to have finished their delivery, or have troubles of their own. Either way, it was time to wind up the game. It would take too long to clean out Barlowe’s remaining stake, and even if she did, there was no guarantee that he would wager Inara’s token.

Book and Jayne were also aware of the passage of time. At one point, Book cleared his throat slightly. River turned momentarily, giving him a direct look, very unusual for the girl, in her usual state. It was not completely out of question for the part she was playing at that moment, but Book caught it. When she turned back tot he game, he nudged Jayne slightly with his elbow, and said, “Get ready.”

Jayne, having at the moment when River gave them the look been watching Barlowe’s bodyguard, said, “Huh? What? What’s happening?”

Book shook his head, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, and said, “I’m not sure exactly, but something is about to happen.”

It was Barlowe’s deal, and he did so mostly from the bottom of the deck. At least, Barlowe’s own hand had come off the bottom of the deck, as had that of one of the other players, from another deck helpfully supplied by the waitress. The original deck was slipped into a pocket inside Barlowe’s jacket, cunningly concealed. When the bet came around to her, River clearly surprised Barlowe by not folding. His thoughts could only be that she hadn’t noticed him cheating, for the first time in the game, or was staying in. He silently swore to himself. Her hand could be almost anything, as it was not stacked by himself. The betting went around the table, and it was high. In that first round of betting, Barlowe had put a significant amount of the pile of chips in front of himself into the pot. River had done so as well, leaving her very extended, and she would be unable to remain in the betting if it stayed so heavy. When discards were made, and Barlowe dealt out the new cards to replace them, River discarded three. When Barlowe dealt her three cards, she smile sweetly, and said, “I’d actually prefer my cards to come from the original deck, if you don’t mind.”

Silence fell across the table, then quickly spread to the rest of the club. Cheating was something rarely done in the Sun, and even more rarely commented upon. A mere accusation of cheating at cards was often a prelude to violence. Jayne and Book both tensed at their table, their hands edging slowly towards the guns secreted on their persons. Simon could not make a similar move, as it would be spotted instantly.

In a cold, careful tone, Barlowe asked, “Just what do you mean by that, Miss?”

“I mean,” she replied, “that I would prefer my cards to come from the deck in your pocket, rather than the one the waitress gave you.”

His teeth clenched in anger, Barlowe said, “Young lady, I most assuredly do not, and have not, cheated. An apology will be sufficient, providing you leave immediately thereafter.” His bodyguard was tensing himself for action, much like Jayne and Book.

Faster than any eye in the club could follow, River extracted one of Simon’s scalpels, which she had secreted there before leaving Serenity. With a flick of her wrist, it flew across the table, the needle point burying itself in Barlowe’s chest, whose yelp was one of surprise, rather than pain. Barlowe’s bodyguard, reacting belatedly to the threat, leapt to his feet, pulling a concealed revolver into view. Before he could even level the weapon, however, the chair Jayne had been sitting in flew over the table, inches above the heads of those seated there, to shatter against the bodyguard, smashing him to his feet. Jayne’s own gun, pulled in the same movement as throwing the chair, was pointing directly into Barlowe’s face. Book’s gun, pulled scarcely slower than Jayne’s, was held easily, muzzle toward the ceiling, in unspoken warning to all those watching.

Unfazed by the sudden burst of violence, River smiled toward one of the bouncers, who were slowly approaching the table, their hands raised in placating gestures. They clearly wanted to avoid gunplay, if possible, but each was visibly armed and would most likely not hesitate a moment in pulling their own weapons, should the need arise. “If you would be so kind, sir,” River said, “I believe that you will find that there is no harm done, other than to the deck of cards in this gentleman’s coat.” She giggled slightly, and added, “Other than that to his coat itself, of course.”

Barlowe began to stand, his mouth open to deliver a denial, but the bounder’s hand on his shoulder held him firmly in his seat. “If you don’t mind, sir,” the bouncer said, “we can dispense with this matter quickly. Book had slowly circled the table, walking towards the downed bodyguard. The other bouncers watched him, warily, but made no move to stop him. When the bodyguard groaned, and began to stir, a sharp kick from Book stilled him once more, only eliciting a slight moan. One of the bouncers gave Book an almost-approving nod.

The bouncer who had held Barlowe in his seat carefully removed the scalpel, noting that there was no trace of blood on the tip. He placed it on the table, then ran his hand down the front of Barlowe’s jacket. His sudden frown showed that he had found exactly what River had told him he would, and with a practiced move, he ripped open the concealed pocket, letting the neatly skewered cards fall from their hiding place.

The earlier silence was dwarfed by the one that fell over the room at that moment. Barlowe was well-known as an expert gambler, and was known to cheat -- but only against offworlders or other outsiders. One did not cheat other professional gamblers. The looks of all in the room hardened against him, and he suddenly knew that he would never be allowed in another game on this planet, or many others, once word spread.

Suddenly feeling out of options, Barlowe went berserk! He whipped a knife from his sleeve, slashing the bouncer who had held him in his chair and revealed the hidden cards across the thigh, causing him to fall back, gasping in pain. Barlowe then lunged across the table, the knife thrusting toward River’s face. Simon’s chair skidded out from under him as he reached for his own gun, his backside hitting the floor with a resounding thump. Book was leveling his gun at Barlowe when Jayne’s roared. The bullet struck Barlowe in the shoulder, spinning him away from the table and onto the floor in a spray of blood.

Jayne walked around the table, and placed his boot firmly on the wound in Barlowe’s shoulder, holding his gun aimed directly into the fallen gambler’s face. Book looked over at the tableau, and said, “I’m surprised. You missed.”

Jayne shook his head, and replied, “No I didn’t. If I’d killed him, he wouldn’t be able to pay back every single penny he’s cheated folks out of.”

Simon, regaining his feet, said, “That’s awfully... altruistic... of you.”

Jayne grinned, and said, “I don’t know from altri... altra... whatever you said. Part of that money goes to the Cap’n, and part of it to the girl, and I’m expecting a cut.”

Dusting off the seat of his trousers, Simon said, “Of course. What was I thinking...?”

Book, who had approached Barlowe, reached down when he saw the gleam of gold at the man’s neck. Grasping the chain there, he pulled it hard, snapping it. With great ceremony, he handed the ring that it had held to Inara, and said, “This belongs to you, madam, if I’m not mistaken.”

Inara’s eyes twinkled, as she said, “Why, thank you, Shepherd. You know exactly what to say to a lady.”

As Barlowe’s stake was shared out amongst the players, along with all of the other money he was carrying, Shepherd Book was still blushing furiously. *** Outside the Sun, Jayne switched on the comm which he had reclaimed from the club’s security. As it crackled to life, he could hear Mal’s voice shouting, “--the hell are you? What’s going on? We’re on our way!”

Thumbing the transmit button, Jayne replied, “What’s wrong, Cap’n? Something go wrong at the meet?” “Jayne?” Mal’s mixed relief and annoyance was evident even through the static-filled transmission, “We’ve been back for half an hour! Is everything all right there?”

“O’ course it is. Everything went--” He stopped, a look of surprise on his face when River pulled the comm from his hand.

“Everything is just fine, Captain,” she said, “It was just a friendly little game, after all...” End.