Emmett’s Bar, Beylix, Newhouse – 12:05 am
Dason wanted to be quick, not give this Bowman fella a chance to get to his guns. He pulled the hammer back while it was still in his pocket, planning to quickdraw and fire in the same motion. But the gorram guy was faster than Buddha’s little pony and had a gun in his hand in a blur. Dason panicked and tried to draw and fire but he pulls the trigger while it is in his pocket and the hammer fouls on the material of pocket.

Andrew saw the butt of the gun in the man’s hand as he attempted to draw on him. His reflexes took over and he double tapped two rounds at his assailant and then threw himself to the floor in case the mans lived and fired back.

But Dason didn’t have the chance. Both bullets hit him through the heart. He arched backwards and fell to floor, dead before his head him the ground. The gun, still trapped in his pocket.
Andrew Bowman had spotted the butt of a gun in the man's hand as he tried to draw it from his pocket, he must have tried to draw it after cocking it. Amateur! He had apparently snagged the gun on his pocket and was having trouble drawing it. He saw all this as his chair, with him in it, tipped backwards as he looked back over his head at the attempted assassin.

He skill was such that he could fire off a double tap into the gunman's chest while he was upside down to the target before he fell to the floor. As he hit he rolled our of his chair to his right and came up on one knee his gun still trained on the gunman in case further shots were required. He relaxed and lowered his gun slightly as he watched the gunman hit the floor apparently dead.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Screamed the barmaid in hysterics. She looked at the dead man, back to Andrew and screamed again as she peeled out of the bar screaming murder at the top of her lungs. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“Gorram it! You shot him!” Darryl said in disbelief his own guns out and trained on Andrew, “He didn’t even have a gun!”

“That was murder mister! Sheriff’s gonna hang you!” Doug added. He hadn’t drawn yet but his hand was on his gun
Andrew slowly rose to his feet and very slowly holstered the gun as he kept his eyes on the Darryl and Doug, but before he could say anything to them the other guy, Bobbie, spoke up.

Bobbie shook his head, “Hold on boys. I heard a hammer cock. I’m sure of it.” as he got up and walked over to the body. “It’s in his pocket! It’s a gorram peashooter, but he’s got a gun.”
"I heard the hammer as well," Andrew said as he relaxed at the more friendly turn of events, "I dont know who he was after but he came to kill someone."

Walking over to the dead body he looked at him and shook his head. (Assuming he doesn't know Dason) "I don't recognize him, do any of you?" He said as he turned back to them.

A shotgun is pumped behind Andrew and the men just as a man comes into the bar with a colt in hand and a bemused look on his face. Both of these newcomers wear a silver star denoting them as the law in these parts, the colt bearing man’s star says sheriff.

“Well, what do we have here?” The man drawls with an accent (John Cleese in Silverado). He looks over all of the men in the bar until his eyes fall on Andrew. “So what’s your story?”
Hearing the shotgun rack and seeing a man walk in with a Colt in his hand, Andrew keeps his hands away from his guns so as not to escalate an already bad situation. He thought he would be lucky to get out of this one without further trouble; for some reason he just didn't have much luck when it came to dealing with the law.

"Howdy Sheriff!" Andrew said as he gestured to the dead man on the floor, "This man came in here with a gun and attempted to shoot someone here and regretfully I shot him dead. As for me, my name is Andrew Bowman, I came in on a freighter today and I'm just looking for work." The Sheriff couldn't help but notice the lack of drawl in the man's voice, he sounded more like a very educated man, a man from the core.

Note – this is very brief in places. If you have something you want to add anywhere along the line, feel free. I just wanted to get you off planet and on Beylix.

Blake’s Town hall, above the bank, Regina, Frisco – 11:00 am
The meeting was over now, people were milling around, chatting to each other about issues that were important to them. Charles was busy finishing off any of the sandwiches left on the table. Sherm, CC and Derek Chow move to speak to Willow about the offered goods while Brigit looks on. Chad and Bailey begin a discussion on the when and where for a miners meeting on short notice, and they both leave first and in a hurry. John and Cora have a whispered discussion, mostly Cora whispering to John with rather stern and pointed gestures. James Blake’s attempts to talk with Brigit but she waves him off complaining of a headache and would JW take her home.

Wyatt speaks to his PR man who just volunteered for a world of hurt. “You aim t' sit by planetside and make sure these folk you just met don't get a raw deal, is that it Kid?" Wyatt asked, "Think it'll be easy? You might have to deal with Alliance, explain them that are recently made dead by our hands, maybe even hold off some before we're back to pick you up. You up for that, Asher? Truly?"

“I’ve handled worse Captain”, the young man lied, “Besides, it ain’t gonna be long. Two weeks tops. I can handle the troubles they got here until then – anything is better than what they got. As for Alliance, I can play stupid with the best of them, Captain. I’ll wave you every day so you can keep tabs on me – and I’ll let you know what’s gonna on here. I got’s the feeling there are many hands being played here.”

Willow came over after making promises to visit the merchants later. She leaned over to take Asher’s hand, squeezing it hard, and nearly lost her composure when he turned that sweetly open and honest face to hers. “Oh Asher, honey, you don’t have to set everything right in the world all at once, you do know that? Promise me you’ll be careful!”

“Of course I will Miss Willow. Don’t I always? You’ll tell Ma for me? I don’t think I could and stay behind.”

Wyatt and Willow exchanged looks of doubt but the two of them knew that there was more here than Asher was saying. He came from a farm and had to fight off thieves and criminal elements from taking over his world since he was way too young. The situation in town was too close to home for him to turn his back.

Rocinante, Regina Spaceport – 2:00 pm
Once he finished fixing the mule so that it purred like a kitten again, Wolf managed to find some parts at Port Authority depot. They were willing to let some stuff go at a better price to the big mechanic, seeing he was like a local, but some things just weren’t cheap. Fenris inspected the engines of Rocinante. with approval and admiration. Kora had done a good job of looking after her, no doubt there. He even chuckled good-naturedly on the hand knit blanket that was used to conserve heat on the bypass valves.

He stored his belongings in the room closest to the engine room, the one that Kora had vacated for him. Wolf didn’t have much. Mostly tools and things but he made himself at home. At one point he came into the room and found a wool sweater folded neatly on his bunk – a gift from Trish to say welcome to the family.

The captain wanted to leave as soon as the getting was good. But he also said he wanted the septic sweep done and there was no way to rush that – it would be evening before the ship could leave. Good thing he did give the go ahead too, them septic valves were getting mighty green in a bad way.

Fenris continued to do maintenance work, minor repairs and tweaks. Some things he changed to the way he liked things and others he left as they were, but it wasn’t long before he found himself thinking of the ship as his home.

When the Captain and Sam returned to the ship, Trish did not take the bad news well. In fact, Sam had to pry the pink shotgun out of her hands before she ran out to rescue Asher from his own naivety. Then they had to break the second piece of bad news which was that they were gonna have passengers. Trish was shy at the best of times, and strangers on board were never a good thing in her books. Trish took the news as well as she could and retreated into her room, locking the door – the sound of busy knitting needles clicking being the only sound from within.

Wolf and Sam do a quick run to the stores to stock up on foodstuffs and provisions for the trip. Nothing fancy of course, mostly protein paste in all colours of the rainbow. Willow arrives later in the day, after negotiating an excellent price for the chocolate and the rum. When she hears about Trish’s state, Willow immediately delegates the rum and chocolate delivery to the Captain as she attends to the distressed mother of the ship. Wyatt is left in the cargo hold with bottles and packages muttering something about – “…but I’m the captain. I thought I was the captain. Say so on my …”

Rocinante, Regina Spaceport – 8:00 pm
The septic flush is finally finished. JW and Bailey arrive early to see you off. The passengers arrive with time to spare. John Blake, A.E. Sherman and CC Fiddler all arrive with assorted luggage; all seem to prefer to travel light. Mr. Blake pays the fees for the travel up front. James arrives shortly afterward with more luggage than the three men together. He initially starts to suggest he pays half now and half later when JW comes over and cuffs him on the back of the head and tells him to “Pay up and shut up Jimmy. No one wants to hear it.” Jimmy pays the full amount and heads in muttering about how someone should really help him with his bags.

Chad shows up after that with an over the shoulder duffel bag and a strong box that he’s holding like his life depends upon it. He walks onboard very wide eyed and staring – you have to remind him about the fees before he pays you, but he does so willingly, all the time not letting the strong box go. When he does pay, he’s given you twice the amount without realizing it.

Rooms are established with moderate ease and everyone is onboard. Sam starts the initial fire up sequence to leave Atmo. JW and Bailey shake Wyatt’s hand and wish you all a safe journey before retreating to a safe distance. Soon you are leaving Regina and heading back into the Black, the sounds of a horse galloping across the ship echoes familiarly as you go to hard burn.

Note: Willow occupies two of the passenger dorms (one is her room, the other she converted into a closet – a walk in closet). Now I am gonna assume that you ain’t about to shift around lodgings. There is the area around the infirmary, Asher’s room is free, and the kitchen can take hammocks. It isn’t an issue and I am not gonna make it one.

John Blake and the two merchants don’t seem to have much problems adjusting to life on a transport. They mostly keep to themselves, don’t stray too far around the ships and avoid all the areas they are told to avoid. James is like a kid …on his first space flight. He wants to be up in the cockpit, he wants to hold the controls, he wants to see the engines. Chad gets even twitchier as the ship leaves Atmo and you sail into the Black. He takes his strongbox of ballots to his room and shakily says hat he really just wants to go to bed – in has been a rough day.

By dinner time, Willow has coaxed Trish out again and makes quiet introductions to her to the passengers so there isn’t too much fuss. James freaks out at the site of Trish which causes Sam to take James aside forcefully to the engine room where he and Wolf have a quick conversation about behaving on the boat and where they will shove their collective boot if he doesn’t.

Dinner passes well after that. Trish does her usual magic in the kitchen and all the passengers are vocal in their appreciation, especially James. Chad does not join you for dinner.

Late that night as Sam is setting the auto-pilot before heading to bed, a wave comes in from Asher. He is settling in well, people are nice to him. Some hooligan problems but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Asher does go on to explain something that happened to him during the day. Seems he was getting to know the town, walking about when Chad Sloat approached him. Chad asked him to come into the Lawrence Saloon to help him out. Well in he goes and the place is packed with miners – very drunk miners. They push him up front to the bar and tell he gonna run the election. Asher is confused and Chad explains that he needs a neutral party to take the ballots and put them into a strong box so there can’t be any tampering.

Well the miners are more interested in drinking than they are voting. Chad is trying to tell them mining guild stuff but they can’t hear him over the ruckus and the singing and the laughing. No one else volunteers to run for the guild rep position and the miners all just do their ballets quickly so they can get on to drinking. The ballots were all gathered and Chad took the box with him, but boy, did he look scared!

JW McClarrin House, Frisco Regina – 11:00 pm
“But Miss Brigitt. what about JW?”

“Oh Asher, he’s not into that. But when Sam gets back – We’ll talk about it.”

*rip, tear, fling*

Day One, The Black
Time is extremely relative on a ship in the black. Routine decides when morning is, when lunch is served and when you call it quits. John, Sherm and CC all politely ask if there is anything they can do to help around the ship. They do as they are told to or they find ways to entertain themselves. CC and Sherm play cards frequently while John Blake reads a novel of long ago days when Knights and thieves and clerics adventured against evil into dungeons. Willow notices that his bookmark is a picture of his wife – taken probably a few years back, as she is wearing a showgirl’s outfit, like in a cabaret or upscale burlesque show.

Chad comes out for breakfast but he doesn’t talk much and is even jitterier than before. Anytime someone heads in the vicinity of his room, he jumps up to intercept them. He never confronts them, just watches. After the meal he quickly returns to his room again.

James spends his time alternating between trying to get Willow alone to suggest ways they can break the boredom of space travel and hovering around the doorway of the cockpit or engine room, attempting to make nice with Sam and Wolf.

Dinner is good but quiet. Chad joins you but he eats so fast and returns to his room that it leaves everyone feeling uneasy. After the meal John Blake goes to talk with Chad and is in with him for most of the night.

Asher sends a wave that things are going well. He seems relieved that Wyatt gets his wave this evening. The Ladies in town threw him a little party and Cora Blake had invited him over for dinner.

Day One, Frisco, Regina
“Umm… Miss Blake. I don’t know if we should…”

“Oh be quiet Silly! John fulfills many of my needs but right now, I need you and I need you badly.”

*rip, tear, fling*

Day Two, The Black
Morning comes and Chad joins you all for breakfast. He seems more relaxed now, although still a bit edgy. At least he eats and joins into the conversation although both he and John keep the topic off the guild election.

Midday, the ship begins to lose power- a faulty couplet on the drive shaft is quickly found by Wolf and is repaired without incident or lose of time to the schedule.

James continues his hunt for pleasant pastime with Willow with no success.

Asher sends a wave at night. He looks tired. Very strangely asks how John Blake is doing. He seems to have the riffraff scared, things have settled down a bit. No sign of the Alliance. Tonight he’s investigating some problem at the Lawrence.

Day Two, Frisco, Regina
“But ladies. There are three of you and only one of me.”

“That’s okay Mr. Sheriff.”

“Yeah. We like it that way.”

“But don’t tell our daddy,”

*rip, tear, fling*

Day Three, Newhouse, Beylix, 10:00 am
By late morning you see the planet Beylix, a speck getting bigger and bigger as you approach. The junkyard, garbage dump of the Verse, Beylix is where all the space trash is dropped from Reclamation. There are many farming communities on the planet but most of the workers and industry is melting down scrap and re-processing it.

No Alliance blockade here, and with so many junk dealers passing through, getting pass the port authority is nothing beyond a good morning and here’s where we are heading – kinda nice but boring in its own way too.

Rocinante . lands on landing pad 17a, of Newhouse Port Authority. Time is now 10:00 am Beylix Standard time.

Your passengers are packed and ready to go. John Blake asks the captain if they could have an escort to and from the Sheriff’s office. Since they do not know this man and they are coming to hire him away from this sheriff, he feel safer if he had some people around him who … were used to trouble.

James is off like ..a kid off home planet for the first time. Chad is also quick to take his lockbox and head over to the Mining Guild house – most likely be glad to hand over his burden.

Emmett’s Bar, Beylix, Newhouse – 12:15 am
"Howdy Sheriff!" Andrew said as he gestured to the dead man on the floor, "This man came in here with a gun and attempted to shoot someone here and regretfully I shot him dead. As for me, my name is Andrew Bowman, I came in on a freighter today and I'm just looking for work."

“Really now? You know, I would have to say that you are going about it in the wrong way. In fact, shooting a man who has no gun in his hand, is most likely the exact opposite of looking for work – unless you are an assassin. You aren’t an assassin are you? No matter, I’m sure that you wouldn’t tell me if you were – secret code of the not so very stealthy assassin and all that.”

“He got a gun in his pocket, Sheriff.” Bobbie adds helpfully.

“He? To which ‘He’ are you referring?”

“Umm… The dead guy.”

“Ahh. Well, I guess that didn’t help him did it? Ahich is why I carry mine in a holster. In your pocket and you are likely to shoot the family jewels. Did you go through his pockets before he hit the ground or before?”

“I didn’t Sheriff. You can see the bulge…”

“That’s as far into that conversation as I wish to go. Fine. You, you and you,” He says waving his Colt at the three workers nonchalantly, “You stay here and I will take statements. You,” He points to Andrew while playing with clicking the hammer back and forth, “Will go with Deputy Weaver here, who will take you over to the jail. Now I do not like trouble. That is why the people in this town gave me the badge, I simply detest trouble and have little tolerance for it. Go nicely, and I will take it as a kindness for future considerations. Give me trouble and I will end you. See what I mean – simple. Any questions?”

Emmett’s Bar, Beylix, Newhouse – 12:15 am
“Really now? You know, I would have to say that you are going about it in the wrong way. In fact, shooting a man who has no gun in his hand, is most likely the exact opposite of looking for work – unless you are an assassin. You aren’t an assassin are you? No matter, I’m sure that you wouldn’t tell me if you were – secret code of the not so very stealthy assassin and all that.”
Andrew opened his mouth to respond when he was interrupted.

“He got a gun in his pocket, Sheriff.” Bobbie adds helpfully.

“He? To which ‘He’ are you referring?”

“Umm… The dead guy.”

“Ahh. Well, I guess that didn’t help him did it? Ahich is why I carry mine in a holster. In your pocket and you are likely to shoot the family jewels. Did you go through his pockets before he hit the ground or before?”

“I didn’t Sheriff. You can see the bulge…”

“That’s as far into that conversation as I wish to go. Fine. You, you and you,” He says waving his Colt at the three workers nonchalantly, “You stay here and I will take statements. You,” He points to Andrew while playing with clicking the hammer back and forth, “Will go with Deputy Weaver here, who will take you over to the jail. Now I do not like trouble. That is why the people in this town gave me the badge, I simply detest trouble and have little tolerance for it. Go nicely, and I will take it as a kindness for future considerations. Give me trouble and I will end you. See what I mean – simple. Any questions?”
Andrew smiled slightly as the Sheriff gestured around and threatened him he if didn't go along with the Deputy. He knew that if he wanted to escape this situation, he was fast enough to draw and kill the Sheriff and his Deputy probably before either of them got a shot off, even though they both had their guns out already. But why risk it when he didn't have anything to worry about since he has at least one local who was willing to talk about what happened.

"Of course I will cooperate Sheriff," Andrew replied, "But as this gentlemen can testify," he gestured to Bobbie, "we both heard a hammer cocking as this man had his hand in his pocket and then tried to pull out his gun. Who was his target is unknown."

Keeping his hands in plain sight he turned slowly and took a single step over to the table and picked up his bag which he had laid next to the table.

"If you don't mind," he said as he moved slowly, "I will grab my things." He also grabbed his winnings on the table, leaving what he still had in the 'pot' and slide his money into a side pocket of his bag.

"Divide the pot amongst the three of you, Gentlemen," Andrew said as he turned to the Deputy who was to escort him, "I regret the disturbance, our game was just getting interesting."

He nodded to them all and then left the bar, following the Deputy's lead on where he should go. He would follow the Deputy's instructions all the way to the Jail. Once there if he was to be disarmed, which he figured that he would be since he seemed to be under arrest or at least was being detained for an investigation, he would comply and give up his belongings, as well as his guns, unloading each as he turned them over.

If he was shown into a cell, he would make himself as comfortable as possible, reclining on the bed as he waited for questioning or whatever passed for justice on this backwater planet.

Wyatt didn’t like the fact that his crew was dispersing all over the ‘Verse, even if for a while. He felt protective of them. He felt like he should be wherever they were to protect them. He knew Asher was more than capable with just about any weapon, but the inexperienced young man was prone to get into trouble through his naivety in ways that his weapons couldn’t get him out of. That was what Wyatt wanted to protect him from…himself. Well, Wyatt figured it would be either Willow or himself that would be looking out for him—Sam’d likely cheer him on, bless his heart.

Still, the captain wasn’t a dictator, and these sure as hell weren’t his decisions to make for people, so as much as he disliked the idea, he could do nothing more than accept to the choices that first Kora had made, and now Asher as well.

With this in mind, Wyatt returned to Rocinante a little grumpier despite lining up so much credit he wouldn’t have to worry about finances for a bit. Of course, Trish’s reaction didn’t help. Sung stood by while Sam held her back, unwilling to comment, or to involve himself in that display of raw emotion. Once the pilot had deterred Ma from chasing after the stray, Wyatt turned his focus towards preparing for takeoff.

He was in the cockpit reviewing star charts on the navigation computer when Willow came bursting in with the delivery order claiming she was going to tend to Ma so he’d have to handle the deliveries himself. Not especially keen on that end of the business, and more than disgruntled over the way things had turned out thus far, Wyatt sullenly went about the task with more than enough mumbling to provide him with some minor satisfaction.

Even the Black didn’t relieve the depression that was filling the captain’s soul as he’d thought it would. If he’d had a rear viewport, he’d have been checking over his shoulder for signs of pursuing ships (the sensors weren’t enough). Due to his mood, Wyatt Sung was less than the perfect host. He wasn’t rude, but he wasn’t companionable. Unless otherwise necessary, Sung spent his time in the cockpit, or in his quarters. He had nothing to discuss with the passengers, and even less he wanted to observe. He kept his focus on the starcharts, the sensor readings, and the duty of getting his crew and their passengers from point A to point B, so that he wouldn’t have to ponder on things left behind too much.

When Asher’s waves came through he’d internalize them quietly, and then leave the rest of the crew to their banter, returning to duties and to mull over the reports from the young man. He didn’t like what he heard. Asher was supposed to just be watching, and doing his best to stay out of trouble. Instead, he was digging into rat’s nests from the sounds of it. But, again, Wyatt’s hands were tied.

At dinner that night, Sung was brought back to the harsh realities that his little piece of heaven could be perceived as something different as James reacted rather dramatically to Trish’s appearance. Sam’s quick reaction kept the man from experiencing Wyatt’s wrath at the indignation Trish had just endured. The whole time the man was gone (having been drawn off by Sam’s judicious actions), Wyatt sat very quietly, very still, watching the other passengers through narrowed eyes, daring them to step one iota out of line. Whatever had happened to James while they were away was enough to set the man straight, but it didn’t cull Sung’s mood at all. As the meal ended, Wyatt had decided that it didn’t need any further addressing, so he let the incident slide with whatever Sam and Wolf had done to turn James around.

Day one in the Black, Wyatt pulled Willow aside.

“Sam got a wire while you were enjoyin’ the company of the Tong,” Sung drawled as he leaned against the railing overlooking the empty cargo bay. The passenger’s were all lounging about in the designated safe portions of the ship—Wyatt had arranged for some of the ship to remain off limits in order to provide his crew with some semblance of privacy.

“He told me about it, but there weren’t no time on Regina to share the contents of it with you. Well,” Wyatt looked around affecting a bland expression that belied the tumultuous feelings inside. “Now there ain’t nothin’ but time. So…”

Scratching at the back of his neck, Wyatt took in Willow’s beautiful face in an effort to read her reaction as he relayed Sam’s news. “It would seem someone’s usin’ the Cortex to hunt you down, Willow. I don’t know who, and the wire didn’t reveal nothin’ either, but there was enough to it t’ concern me. I thought you should know.”

He didn’t feel he had to let her know that he’d do whatever he needed to do in order to help protect her. They’d been together on board Rocinante long enough that he felt they understood each other well enough to avoid such behavior. He allowed her time to respond, to elaborate, to share with him what she knew and what might come of this news, and then he retired to the cockpit where he was reluctantly drawn into laid back banter with Sam. Sam could do that…not many others could draw Wyatt out of his doom and gloom, but Sam’s casual sarcasm and irreverent way could.

Day two proved a test of Wolf’s skills. He proved himself not only capable, but quick, for which Wyatt was grateful. The remainder of the day went by blessedly uneventful, and Wyatt began to calm a little. There was something about the Black that set his mind at ease. He was unlike others—those who had traveled to the Edge and claimed that the site of pure black was maddening—Wyatt found it peaceful. Out there, he was closer to Summer and Eden than on any dirtball. Even his own home planet. Out in the Black, he was temporarily at peace.

Of course, all good things come to an end.

“Beylix,” Wyatt drawled as he stared out of the cockpit at the speck ahead of them. “Ain’t nothin’ worth nothin’ there.” Rising up from his seat, he gave Sam a pat on the shoulder. “Take us in…and try to make it somewhat smooth.”

Snatching up the mic he activated it. “Folks, this is your captain speakin’…” he paused long enough to eyeball any smart-alecky comment Sam might have made into silence. “Beylix is on the horizon. We’ll be dockin’ at about ten, so prepare yourselves.”

Everything went according to plan: boringly easy as far as Wyatt was concerned, and the docking procedure was so routine he nearly fell asleep. He had to remind himself that they had half the ‘Verse after them in order to start keeping a sharper eye out. It seemed that John Blake had the same sort of idea as he approached and asked for an escort.

Wyatt raised his brow and glanced at Sam before turning his attention back to Blake. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt t’ protect the investment none. Strap on, Sam. We’re goin’ planetside.

“Wolf! That mule ready to go? Fire ‘er up!”

Now that they were on the mudball, Willow and Ma would know how to keep themselves busy until they returned.

The few hours before lift off found Fenris hard at work making sure the Rocinante was ok to fly. With his compulsion to have everything in top shape, once the firefly class ship was in the Dark, Wolf got very little sleep that first day out. Combined with passenger James seemingly need to be friends after the incident over Trish, by the time Wolf hit his new bunk he was red eyed and exhausted.

Of course as if the Dark was teasing him it was the second day that brought the first trouble as about roughly what could be considered midday, or ‘middark‘, that the ship began to lose power. Fenris having spent the last day and a half pouring over her knew almost at once it was a faulty couplet on the drive shaft and quickly as if mentally connected to the Rocinante had it repaired without incident or loss of time to the flight schedule. At one point during this second day, Fenris could not help but notice James’s continuing hunt for pleasant pastime with the lady Willow, with no success. Pulling him aside he gave a quiet word of advice.

“Hate to tell you James but you and I are not her type so why don’t you save yourself a lot of BS and quit while your ahead.”

Then it was day three with the planet Beylix, a larger growing speck getting bigger and bigger as the ship approached. Called the junkyard, garbage dump of the Verse, Beylix, Wolf knew quite well, though never having been there himself, was where all the space trash, including people, had been dumped from Reclamation.

No Alliance blockade here, even they could care less about the place, and with so many junk dealers passing through, getting past the port authority was almost quant in a boring sort of way. A good morning and here’s where we are heading and a reply of where to land and the Firefly class ship found itself grounded on Pad 17a of the Newhouse Port Authority at 10:00 am Beylix Standard time.

Finally, Wolf thought to himself, I can get some real uninterrupted sleep as he watched their passengers debark but as thoughts are fleeting and things don’t work out as we hope Fenris heard his name called.

“Wolf! That mule ready to go? Fire ‘er up!”

“Yes sir Cap’n on the way”

Within just minutes Fenris went from tired mechanic to ready and alert mule driver, after all ya never knew when the next bank robbery/gunfight would happen...........

At the Meeting Dash couldn’t help but choke on the mouthful of sandwich he’d just started chewing on when Asher volunteered to stay behind on Frisco and play sheriff for a spell. Sure the Kid was hell with the firearms and such, more than a match for any one or even two or three of the locals hereabouts in a stand-up fight, but Sam figured he knew a little better than Asher that, in places like Frisco, real, honest-to-the-fuzzy-wuzzy, stand-up fights weren’t typical the order of the day… An’ what wit’ th’ Kid leadin’ wit’ his heart one minute an’ his pecker th’ next, who’s ta say what kinda ruckus he might dust up without someone close by ta wipe his nose an’ cover his keester?.

He tossed the half-eaten sandwich back down on the platter and, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, stomped over towards where Wyatt and Willow were already doing their damndest to get Asher to rethink his decision. “Ma ain’t gonna be none too joyful ‘bout this, di-di,” Sam smirked at the Kid as he leaned in between the Cap and Miss Wil, “an’ I’d try an’ talk ya outta this m’self if I figgered ya’d listen some. That’d be sump’n like G’en ho tze bi dio se, though, huh?” The pilot hooked an arm around the Kid’s neck and dragged him closer; “So I reckon I’m just gonna say two things to ya. First, mind the crossfire an’ the crotch crickets whilst yer down here playin’ big damn hero, an’ second, if’n ya end up doin’ somethin’ all-fired dumb an’ wind up gettin’ yerself kilt, Ash, I’m personally gonna blister ler lily-white ass, Sheriff or not, dohn ma?” With that, he shoved away from the younger man and punctuated his sentiment with a punch to the arm.

“Ain’t no talkin’ to th’ Kid, Cap,” Sam shrugged as he passed back between Wyatt and Willow and ambled towards the door, “Wu toh wu now an’ all that crap.”

Rocinante, Dirt-side, Frisco
Sam figured that he was glad that Trish couldn’t actually scream when she got the news about Asher volunteering to stay behind and play lawman whilst Roc was sailin’ the Black to Beylix an’ back. If the woman had had the capacity to have let a wail rip, though, Sam was sure it would’ve shook the whole of Frisco and got Asher beatin’ feet back to the boat, pronto (and like would’ve got the whole crew an invite ta never burn atmo over Regina again). Since the woman wasn’t capable of screaming, though, she grabbed her shotgun instead, and stormed towards the airlock.

“Whoa, Ma,” Sam exclaimed, pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the bulkhead and imposing himself between Trish and the airlock. “Runnin’ down th’ road wit’ yer roomsweeper ain’t gonna do you or the Kid no good,” he said, meeting her half-angry, half-heartsick gaze evenly as he laid one hand on her shoulder and gently pressed Bessy’s muzzle toward the deck with the other, “Won’t serve no purpose but ta get ya even more riled up, if it don’t get ya plugged full o’ lead, an’ give Ash a right fine case of the guilts.” As the older woman gave in and let the barrel of the shot gun get dipped into a less threatening posture, Sam’s hand slid from her shoulder and pulled her into a warm embrace.

“Comes a time when a fella’s gotta do what he conjures needs doin’, Ma. You know that much’s I do,” Sam said in a softer tone as he felt Trish’s grip on the shotgun loosen, his other hand lifting from the wavering barrel of the weapon to wrap around the silently saddened woman, “An’ no manner o’ persuadin’s gonna set ‘im off th’ trail once he’s firm in th’ saddle. Kid’s been lookin’ fer that kinda thing since he first come aboard an’, I reckon, the boy’s decided this here’s his thing to do, get me?”

He smiled a little when Trish nodded weakly and sniffled against his chest. He didn’t say anything more, though, nor did he release her from what he hoped was a comforting embrace until he was sure that she’d spent her tears and had composed herself enough to look at any of them again… she let him know when that was by finally returning the embrace and then soundly smacking the pilot on his backside. When she wriggled free of Sam’s arms, she wagged a finger at him as if to say ‘You’d better be right, Sammy! And if you ever grab hold of me like that again…’ The gesture was admonishing but the placated smile that threatened to crack the woman’s affected scowl belied her true feelings.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dash smirked leaning over to kiss the woman on the forehead, “If I’m lyin’, Ma, I’ll pull dish duty fer three months. Now, let’s you an’ me go find that bottle an’ have a drink ta wish th’ Kid well… whaddya think?”


((OOC: More to come, of course... Just felt the need to post something and this is what I've got that's postable... Sorry this is taking so long... More on the days in the Black and the portin' at Beylix upcoming. ))

Deputy Weaver watched carefully as Andrew grabbed his stuff. He then moved in to take all of Bowman’s guns and look through his bag to make sure there weren’t any other surprises “Okay Mr. Bowman. I hear you was here looking for work? So I tell you what I’ll do. You take your bag there and carry it in a fashion where I can see you hands, then we stroll over to the station like we were all acquainted. If I cuff you and make you walk through town all bound up and the like, even if you are declared innocent, no one gonna remember anything but the cuffs.”

(assuming you don’t object, or try to run.)

The Deputy takes you out the back way, carrying his shotgun casually over his shoulder but in hand in case you decide to misbehave. Just as you are leaving you can here the bar maid giving a colourful and highly inaccurate account of what happened.

“Just blasted the poor man down! Didn’t hear not hammer, them thar floorboards are so old and rickety that my Aunt Martha’s knees are quieter.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Just stick to the facts my dear, I don’t give a rat’s arse about your family and their assorted ailments.”

The deputy escorts you through town and true to his word; he makes it look like you two were just old friends taking a walk across the Green. The sheriff’s station and jail are in one building, a two-floor establishment with a resident on the top, most likely the sheriff’s place. The interior is very neat and tidy. There are three desks with chairs and a long couch across the wall near the entrance. A gun rack hangs on the wall behind the biggest desk. There are four jail cells across the farther wall (one is occupied). On the other side of the room is a small wood stove with a coffee pot on it, and a table set up with utensils and the like for eating.

The deputy takes you to a desk and puts all of Andrew’s belongings into a closet that he locks up. He gives you a form to sign acknowledging that your possessions are in their keeping until such time that they decide to give them back or sell them for your trial fees or your burial service. Under the itemized list area of the form, Ken wore “Mr. Bowmen’s Stuff” in almost undecipherable penmanship.

Weaver puts you in the cell farthest from the door. Usual accommodations in a jail – an old spring mattress on a cot frame bolted to the wall. Once there you can see that the cell on the opposite side of the room has an occupant as well. The man is huge, almost gigantic. He is stretched across the bed and his legs dangle far off the edge – you’d guess he must be at least seven feet tall. He is very muscular and broad shouldered, with a face that looks like it has been in far too many fights (Ron Perlman). The man is wounded, you can see that his shoulder is bandaged and his left arm is in a sling.

Weaver asks you if you’d like a coffee (Answer?) and does the same to the other man who just shakes his head. He then asks the other man how his shoulder is and whether he needs the Doc to look at it again and the man shakes his head to both questions. The deputy tells you that Miss Ellie will be in around 5 to give you dinner. He then leaves you alone while he slowly (almost painfully) fills out paperwork.

“So.” The prisoner in the other cell speaks without getting up. His voice is gravelly, like dry leaves crumbled between your fingers. “What you in for?”

Emmett’s Bar, Beylix, Newhouse – 12:20 pm
“Okay Mr. Bowman. I hear you was here looking for work? So I tell you what I’ll do. You take your bag there and carry it in a fashion where I can see you hands, then we stroll over to the station like we were all acquainted. If I cuff you and make you walk through town all bound up and the like, even if you are declared innocent, no one gonna remember anything but the cuffs.”
“No problem Deputy,” Andrew replied with a nod as he was disarmed and his bag examined (It contains the items he doesn’t wear but that are listed in his inventory but no other weapons).

“Sounds like a reasonable request to me. I have no wish to cause a stir in your town,” he glanced down at the dead body leaking blood on the floor, “well no more than I have already.”


Jail, Beylix, Newhouse – 12:30 pm
He followed the Deputy’s instructions and they proceeded to the Jail where he handed over his bag and signed for his belongings. He paused before stepping into the open jail cell; he hoped he was making a mistake with letting himself be locked up. Once inside it would be harder to get out once the door was locked. With a sigh he stepped across the threshold; he was trying to be a little less troublesome in his old age, thus far he was not as successful as he would have liked.

As the cell door was locked he glanced over at the other cell and checked out the only other prisoner. Judging by the man’s size he was strong; he thought that he wouldn’t like to meet the man who was able to bust up this giant of a man.

“Yes Deputy,” Andrew replied, “I would like some coffee, Black please. Thank you!”

Taking his coffee, he sat on the bed as it squeaked and shook his head slightly, not the way he was hoping to start out here. He had only been looking for work on another ship; work off passage or even a more permanent position; it was going to be harder to accomplish in here.

“So.” The prisoner in the other cell speaks without getting up. His voice is gravelly, like dry leaves crumbled between your fingers. “What you in for?”
Andrew turned his eyes to gaze at the other prisoner who spoke, he took a long pause before answering the man.

“Murder!”

He sat drinking his coffee, leaning back against the wall behind his bed, hoping that what counted as Justice in this little berg would get him out of this fix; if not he might have to come up with a plan. It wouldn’t be the first Jail he had broken out of in his life, but then breaks were always risky for everyone involved.


(Woof away if you must. Andrew wont be doing much but waiting on the 'slow' wheels of justice.)

Andrew turned his eyes to gaze at the other prisoner who asked; he took a long pause before answering the man. “Murder!” he spoke.

“The other man gives a short laugh and rolls over his back, “Sheriff must have got ya then. If it was Pearson, you’d be dead.”

Weaver spoke up, “Don’t be putting yourself into a noose yet, Mr. Bowman. Sheriff will get to the bottom of this. You’ll see.”

The big man snorted again but didn’t speak.

The day passes uneventfully with the deputy writing out his report for hours and the other man seeming to decide to sleep some more. It is late in the afternoon when the sheriff comes in. He looks over Weaver’s shoulder and shakes his head, “Has Luke been in?”

“Nope.” The deputy answers. “And I haven’t heard a gun shot for awhile either.”

“Hmph. Running out of people I suppose.” The sheriff looks over at Andrew in the cell. “I will have you know, “He says loudly, “that I spoke with your witnesses and they seem to collaborate your story. Well, most of them do. The fact remains that the man did indeed have a gun and if you hadn’t shot him, he’d most likely be alive and with a sore foot.”

(assuming some response and a what about me? Can I go or similar)

“Now we have to wait for the Governing council to open up so that we can have a judge assigned to your case. Then you may have your trial and evidence will be presented.”

(assuming a “when will that be?”)

“Well now, there is the difficulty. The council is…on vacation.”

(assuming “for how long”)

“Ah. Well. There you have hit the hammer on the nail. You see … We don’t know. The council didn’t rightly tell anyone how long they’d be.”

“Or where they went off to either.” Deputy adds while rubbing his report with a oversize eraser. He blows all the rubber bit off the page, “Been away almost a month now haven’t they Sheriff?”

“No. More like three weeks. But they will be back soon. Then we’ll get you that trial and hopefully your witnesses will still be around to speak on your behalf.” the sheriff says with the conviction of a man making the best of a bad situation. "Tea? coffee?"

Jail, Beylix, Newhouse

“The other man gives a short laugh and rolls over his back, “Sheriff must have got ya then. If it was Pearson, you’d be dead.”
Andrew only smiled at the other prisoner’s word; why did most people assume that just because he was older than most gun toting men out here on the fringes that he was slow unable to take care of him self. He didn’t say anything, as he had learned it was always better to be thought innocent and lull people in a false sense of security about his abilities. He would be the first to admit that his skills were diminished compared to his earlier years when he was much younger but he was still more capable than most; his advanced years testimony to the speed of his gun hands that had thus far kept him alive. He knew that he probably wouldn’t be the equal of a young fast gunslinger whose only profession was killing, but then he didn’t go around antagonizing people for just those reasons.

Weaver spoke up, “Don’t be putting yourself into a noose yet, Mr. Bowman. Sheriff will get to the bottom of this. You’ll see.”
“I would think that after the statements of the witness were heard,” Andrew said, “that things would be clear that I had little choice in the regrettable matter.”

The sheriff looks over at Andrew in the cell. “I will have you know, “He says loudly, “that I spoke with your witnesses and they seem to collaborate your story. Well, most of them do. The fact remains that the man did indeed have a gun and if you hadn’t shot him, he’d most likely be alive and with a sore foot.”
“So what about me,” Andrew asked, “am I free to go now?”

“Now we have to wait for the Governing council to open up so that we can have a judge assigned to your case. Then you may have your trial and evidence will be presented.”
“When exactly do you expect that will happen?”

“Well now, there is the difficulty. The council is…on vacation.”
“Vacation? How long?”

“Ah. Well. There you have hit the hammer on the nail. You see … We don’t know. The council didn’t rightly tell anyone how long they’d be.”

“Or where they went off to either.” Deputy adds while rubbing his report with an oversize eraser. He blows all the rubber bit off the page, “Been away almost a month now haven’t they Sheriff?”

“No. More like three weeks. But they will be back soon. Then we’ll get you that trial and hopefully your witnesses will still be around to speak on your behalf.” the sheriff says with the conviction of a man making the best of a bad situation. "Tea? coffee?"
Andrew was so stunned that he didn’t say anything at first and ignored the offer of a drink.

“Are you saying, “Andrew asked, “that I could be sitting here for weeks even though it is clearly apparent that it was all in self defense?” He sat down hard on the bed and shook his head, silently wondering now if he should had just blasted the Sheriff and his deputy and took his chances. But he had been trying to turn over a new leaf, gads how he hated such clichés, but it was the truth. It wasn’t that he abhorred killing; he was getting on and knew that if he continued the way he had been going he would probably end of dead. Something he desperately wished to avoid till his much, much later years.

“This is unbelievable,” he said more to himself than to any response from the Sheriff. He shook his head and stood up and then walked to the bars looking at the Sheriff.

“I think I will have some coffee if you please,” he said, “don’t suppose you have anything stronger? I could use it.”

Seeing no other reasonable choice; Andrew sat back and waited for the very slow wheels of justice to run their course. He hoped that he didn’t get crushed underneath those wheels.

The early part of their departure was a bit of a blur for Willow. There had been her worry over Asher, of course, and calming Trish had taken all of her skill. Sam had gotten her to a point that she didn’t march out into town, Bess in hands, to haul Asher back by the ear, and Willow was touched by his thoughtfulness, but that had been a temporary lull. As soon as she could decently abandon the captain to handle passengers and deliveries, the former Companion moved as fast as the tight cheongsam allowed.

It took a while to convince Trish to open the door, but few people existed that could resist a determined Willow, and soon, the older woman was enfolded in Willow’s arms, weeping silently and shaking with sorrows old and new. When the worst of the storm passed, Willow went to her room briefly to change into her “shipboard” sari before returning to Trish’s room, carrying her flute. While Trish knit with the intensity of someone determined to brood, Willow played softly, letting the notes come as they wanted. The low, sad melody floated around both women, a ghost of Trish’ lost voice, and it spoke of loss and longing. Eventually, the clacking needles slowed before stopping, Trish heaving a great sigh, and Willow knew that the worst was over.

Dinner had been another trial, what with James being a complete ass over Trish, and Willow had wondered what she had ever seen in him. The first time he tried to accost her for a little alone time, Willow was nice enough about letting him down, but he was persistent in the way that pretty boys who get their way often are. Fortunately, Willow knew the ship better than he did, and she became adept at never being in the more narrow hallways when he was.

On the first full day, Captain Sung pulled Willow aside and let her know that someone was looking or her. With the Captain, it was as much what he didn’t say then what he did say that mattered, and Willow ducked her head a bit, feeling his concern for her. So many people had claimed to love her, but rarely had Willow felt cared for, the way she did on this ship.

“I don’t quite know what to say, Captain-san,” she finally responded,” It’s not like I am actually hiding. Perhaps it is a former client, but it is puzzling….anyone can reach me on the Cortex by wave, they just don’t necessarily know where I am. I’ll…I’ll ask around, see if any of my old colleagues have been contacted.”

Otherwise, things settled mostly into a routine, as much as it could with extra people on board. Willow knew part of her duties on board would be to entertain the passengers, keep them too busy to wander where they shouldn’t, and so she spent much of her time with them in the common areas, playing cards, chatting and otherwise being a bright spot on an otherwise uneventful trip.

When they landed, Willow was prepared to ask Sam to accompany her “shopping” so she could see about Grandfather’s errand when Sung announced that all the men were headed out. Willow bit her lip, but said nothing. They would be planetside for a time: she could always go later.

Jail, Beylix, Newhouse
Three days can seem like an eternity to a man with nothing to do but wait. Andrew Bowman, The Professor as some have called him, could do nothing else. Wait for the Government, wait for a judge, wait for a trial date and wait for someone to get him off this rock.

Deputy Weaver was a good man. He had a kind heart and treated everyone with respect and decency. He got Andrew and the other prisoner coffee, even managed to slip them some whiskey every once and awhile – to make the time pass easier. Had trouble with the paperwork, probably never really taught to read or write much.

The Sheriff was a different sort. He was a man who felt self-important and was quick to spread that importance around. He spent little time during the day at the jail, but when he returned he often would sit at his desk and count money from various packets. He had a protection scam going, Andrew was sure of it, and Ken wasn’t cut in on the deal.

There was another deputy that came around some – Deputy Luke Pearson. The only interaction Andrew has with him was the first time he came in. At first glance he seemed like a fine upstanding citizen, every ounce of him like a sheriff. Very tall, with steel gray hair and distinctive hawk like nose; his badge was polished up bright and he carried old style Colt at his hip, and a M40A3 that he slung across his shoulder.

He looked at Andrew though like he was an insect. “What’s he’s in for?” He asked Ken.

“He killed some guy at Emmet’s, self –defence. He’s just waiting for..”

“It’s always self defence, ain’t it? Should have taken him down Weaver. You’re too soft.”

“Gorram it, Luke! Lay off it.”

“Whatever. He’s your problem.” With that he left.

If there was a bright spot to your days, it was meal type when a local woman named Miss Ellie would come in with food for you and the other gentleman. She was a brown haired beauty with an easy smile and a sparkle in her eyes that lit up her face. She was a sight of sore eyes, which was a good thing because her cooking was as ugly as sin. Her corn meal biscuits could make hard tack seem soft. Her stews were watery and mostly root vegetables cooked so long they were mush. Ken has a sweet spot for her because he eats all her cooking gladly; complimenting her like she was a chef out of Ariel.

The sheriff didn’t eat her cooking but looked at her like she was on the menu. He had something on her too because he always made sure she knew that she owed him “interest”. The mere mention of it took the smile off her face for awhile, replacing it with fear and loathing.

Three days…an eternity and getting thinner.


Day Three, Newhouse, Beylix, 10:30 am
“Wolf! That mule ready to go? Fire ‘er up!”

“Yes sir Cap’n on the way”

The Captain, Sam and the three business men pile into the mule. Wolf drops down the two rear seats into benches so that the men can at least sit and he doesn’t have to worry about them flying off.

“You did fix the brakes Mr Wolf?” John Blake asks nervously as he gets into the vehicle.

The roads of Newhouse all lead to a central area called The Green, a pretty park in the centre of town that is well cared for considering it is the middle of a smelting operation. The town is more industrial than Frisco, but it is a central trading area, hence the large port authority. You pass many a people as you drive by, many of them workers from the Smelters but others would live in town as well.

The Sheriff’s office and jail is very easy to fine. Wolf pulls up across the street, parking beside the edge of the Green – close enough to get to easily by far enough not to be picked off. The three business men climb eagerly out of the Mule, barely waiting for Wyatt and Sam before cross the road to get themselves a sheriff.


Day Three, Newhouse Jail, Beylix, 10:45 am
Andrew tried to stir the oatmeal that Miss Ellie had made for him today. “I found some real blueberry synth to add in them Mr Bowman.” She had said happily and she gave him the bowl. Ken took his and was eating happily as she left. He was no gourmet, but he was sure that oatmeal was suppose to be boiled – or at least introduced to water before you mixed blueberry synth to it.

The door opened up and a group of men walked into the jailhouse. Three business men dressed up in their Sunday best with the shortest and fattest of the three asking where they might find the sheriff. Behind them, the door open again and in walked …

OOC: Stopping at this point because I need to know who is going in with them. All of you? Wyatt? Sam and Wyatt?

Jail, Beylix, Newhouse
Three days? It felt like much more. Andrew sat on reclined on his bunk and again thoughts of a jail break began to run through his head. He figured that the only way he would do that was to get ahold of a gun and shoot his way out. Then he didn't have much cause to shoot the Sheriff or his men and he had become fond of Deputy Weaver and would hate to kill him.

Weaver had been nothing but cordial to him and the other prisoner; he didn't seem soft just that he believed in treating men, even prisoners, as human beings. The Sheriff on the other hand was all business and didn't seem to give a hoot about him and was only interested in what was best for him. Andrew spotted what appeared to be some sort of 'racket' the Sheriff had going down around here; he wondered what exactly it was. Probably some type of protection scam since he was the only law in these parts he could pretty much do anything he wanted within reason.

Deputy Pearson now, Andrew was thinking more and more of giving him a go at a little game called 'who's the fastest?'. The man didn't seem to care about the law at all and apparently thought he was better and faster than anyone around his planet; Andrew wondered just how good the guy was with his Colt. He had a reputation because he had heard other mention the name with reverence for the man's gun. But at the moment, Andrew didn't have good cause to kill anyone here. He was innocent of murder and he was sure the trial would prove it out, he was just tired of sitting and waiting.

There was one bright part of his stay, Miss Ellie. She was find to look at and it was obvious she knew the effect she had on the men around here, the Sheriff especially seemed interested in her. It seemed a one way street though as Miss Ellie didn't return his advances. Deputy Weaver liked her too and commented her cooking to a nauseating degree; speaking of which, her food was just this side of nauseating. Andrew made a good show of enjoying the food she brought them and he thanked her for her effort, but once she was gone he found he couldn't stomach much more of this 'torture'. He wasn't a connoisseur of food, but he had eaten well in his days and this was barely palatable.

"I found some real blueberry synth to add in them Mr Bowman." Miss Ellie had said happily and she gave him the bowl.
"Thank ya Miss Ellie," Andrew said with a slight smile as he took the bowl and noticing it's consistency was more like semi-hard concrete, "I appreciate all you do for us."

As he tried to decide if this might just clog his throat and kill him if he ate it, the Jail door opened and he looked up to see three men in formal business suits walk in and asked for the Sheriff.

(Edited: Moved last part down to where Wyatt entered the jail)

Day Three, Newhouse, Beylix, 10:30 am
Wyatt’s steely eyes devoured the scenery as they blew past it. Too much had transpired over the past few days that the captain was now suspicious of shadows. His right hand hung about the vicinity of his Colt, his brown coat out of the way. He didn’t say anything the whole of the trip, wrapped up in his solemn survey and cataloguing of possible danger as he was.

“Gorram greenhorns!” Sung growled quietly as the three men leapt from the mule as soon as it slowed enough not to topple them. As soon as his boots hit the dirt, Wyatt was striding quickly after them, his gaze passing over the windows and rooftops of the buildings, the alleys, and the passerby’s. He hoped Wolf caught the drift and parked the mule near the post, then came in after, he knew Sam was right on his heels.

Captain Sung entered the sheriff’s office with more than a little trepidation. Rocinante wasn’t exactly on the cortex’s Most Wanted lists, but she wasn’t floating about the Black with a crew of saints either, and the Law never really did Wyatt any good to begin with, so he wasn’t about to trust them now. He wasn’t stupid, though, and he didn’t want any trouble, so as he entered the office, he let the jacket fall back over his hog leg, and instead chose to use his countenance bear the brunt of whatever they encountered as he met those in the room from beneath the brim of his lowered hat.