((Foregoing all the backposting to get back in the saddle “present time”))

“Ai ya,” Dash groaned as he hauled himself to his feet a little less hesitantly than he might have liked, “Sumbitch that ruttin’ hurts!” The sound of the blast that had sent himself, the Kid, and Jim flying down the stairs still rang loudly in his ears and, as Dash shook his head to clear his vision and rattle that damn buzzing loose, he realized that he might be a little more than bounced around. It didn’t seem like there was a part of his body that didn’t hurt or he wasn’t bleeding from and even the act of clearing the cobwebs produced sharp pains here and there.

Yer standin’ up, least ways, Dash, he reminded himself as the haze caused by the explosion started clearing from his eyes and he discovered Jim sprawled not far from him. Then he caught sight of the Kid, battered, bloodied, and, Dash imagined, just as baffled as he was his own self.

“Ya a’right, Ash,” he asked, reaching out a hand to help haul the boy to his feet, “Ya look ‘bout like I feel, Di-Di.”

Asher nodded and may have even muttered a reply… his lips moved but the ringing in Dash’s ears was still loud enough that he couldn’t tell if words had come out or if the Kid was just sucking in a breath…

(minor liberties with Ash’s actions there, will edit if necessary)

…didn’t matter, though. The Kid was up and moving around which was more than could be said for poor ol’ Jimbo. The prospector was in bad shape, for sure, and in years past when Dash went by a different name and worked for a different crew, he’d seen enough folk lookin’ like this to realize that Ryan had taken the brunt of the blast… That as didn’t get soaked up by that damn fool kid, Dash reminded himself, suddenly sickened by the way that boy – Kenny, weren’t it? Li’l rutter couldn’ta been scarce old enough ta shave, let alone fight… – got fragged to bits by his own. “Where’s my gorram gun?”

Despite the fact that the shooting seemed to be over and, from the sound of it, Wyatt had corralled the rest of the crew that had come off Celestia Dash had been set to exact a little retribution but realized at that moment that the explosion that had tossed them all down the steps had also jarred his pistol from his grasp and sent his shotgun skittering from its sheath as well. He was in the process of retrieving the weapons when Miss Will showed up and when she dropped to her knees and started her examination of the critically injured prospector, Dash figured that she wouldn’t be letting him get away without helping. Stuffing the pistol back in its holster, Dash offered the Doc a faint nod as she looked up at him, letting her know that he and the Kid weren’t probably as bad as they looked and, also, that he was ready to help out with jim if necessary.

“I need one of you to put pressure on these wounds,” she said, pointing out the wounds as a wincing Dash gingerly lowered himself next to the fallen man, “here and here, the ones that are spurting.”

The pilot stripped the bandana from his head to press to one of the bleeds and tugged another, which he offered to the Kid, from his back pocket.

“Don’t turn that shade of green,” Willow demanded – though he wasn’t sure if she was addressing him or the Kid, “I need you to help while I check the rest of the crew! Yes, that’s it, loves, I’ll be right back.”

As the lovely doctor rushed off to check the others, Dash fought off a wave of dizziness and offered a wry grin to Asher. “She’d turn green too if’n a staircase banister got jammed inta her nethers, I reckon… Buddha’s balls but this guy’s bleedin’ like a stuck hog, ain’t he?”

((OOC: More to come… just figured I’d get this up to get back in the saddle so to speak… If anyone else gets around to posting before I do, Sam’ll be following orders (help with the wounded, get back to Roc and get his ownself patched up as time allows, etc)… If he passes any of the Celestia’s crew on his way out, he’s likely to have some fairly coarse words for them but isn’t liable to smack none of ‘em around none… specially with the whinin’ and boo-hooin and such… ))

Through the aftermath of battle, Willow picked her way carefully, speed and delicacy sending her lithe form in a complicated dance among the carnage. There was Jim to look after, but also Dash and Asher, who were both standing more from stubbornness and grit than health and well being. Hawkes looked dazed, so a check for concussion was in order and the Captain, well, if he didn’t shoot the motley crew from the other ship, he needed a lookover, too.

As Hawkes and Kora bring the stretcher over to Jim, Willow secures the injured man’s spine as they maneuver him onto the flat board. Moving from person to person as if with new dance partners, Willow moves a tourniquet here, gives a reassuring pat there, takes a quick peek at a gash on Asher, murmuring encouragement to her battered triage crew.

“You can save him, can’t you, Miss Willow?” Sam asks quietly as they make their painstaking way across to the Rocinante and the little doctor looked the anxious man full in the face. “I don’t make false promises, Sam dear, “Willow responded evenly, her voice calm even as she fought the urge to scream for more haste,” he’s sorely hurt, but it’s not anything that we can’t handle in our medical bay. I’d seen Captain-San and crew in action before I designed that medical bay...and we’ll do our best for Jim. “

(Making an assumption here for fellow players and Trish, can revise if needed). The cargo door whooshed open as they approached, and Trish stood there at the ready, Bess’s business end pointed at the other ship’s crew. Willow traded looks with the silent woman, and then paced to the medical bay, turning on lights and pulling equipment trays towards the bed.

Once Sam and Kora had Jim settled, Willow turned to Hawkes, warm eyes glowing in her serious face. “You head back now, dear, and let me do what I need to. Jim’s in good hands, but I need space to work. Kora’s got enough training to give me a hand, and the boys here need to sit down before they fall down. (OOC: if either Dash or Asher protest that they are fine, or have to get back to Wyatt, Willow will give them “the look” and respond, “And how is bleeding on the prisoners going to help the Captain, hmm ?”

Once Sam has left, Willow washes her hands, winds her hair in a business-like knot and starts her examination of Jim’s wounds. Even though the man is deeply unconscious, Willow strokes his arm, brushes his hair, and makes a thousand other little gestures as she assesses all his injuries. “Tell Willow where it hurts, darling one,” she murmurs as she starts the long process of cleaning, sewing and binding.

Rocinante’s Infirmary
Kora and Hawkes followed behind Willow as they made their way into the ship. Sure enough, Trish was waiting for them with Bessy in hand and a small kitten on her shoulder – holding on with all four claws. Seeing the damage to the crew members and the miners, she immediately moved out of the way. If he saw Trish’s disfigurements, Hawkes kept any reaction to himself.

Once Sam and Kora had Jim settled, Willow turned to Sam Hawkes, warm eyes glowing in her serious face. “You head back now, dear, and let me do what I need to. Jim’s in good hands, but I need space to work. Kora’s got enough training to give me a hand, and the boys here need to sit down before they fall down.”

Sam nodded his head and turned to leave. He looked at Kora who smiled back at him and they shared a special look that Willow had learned to recognize long ago. She suddenly got a feeling that Kora might not long with the crew, but maybe she had found a home.

Once Sam has left, Willow washes her hands, winds her hair in a business-like knot and starts her examination of Jim’s wounds. Even though the man is deeply unconscious, Willow strokes his arm, brushes his hair, and makes a thousand other little gestures as she assesses all his injuries. “Tell Willow where it hurts, darling one,” she murmurs as she starts the long process of cleaning, sewing and binding. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Sam get up and start to head for the door of the infirmary.

“Where do you think you are going?” She asks in a tone that sounds pleasant and threatening at the same time.

(assuming some comment about helping the captain)

“And how is bleeding on the prisoners going to help the Captain, hmm ?” Willow asks looking back at the monitor that show Jim’s vitals. Her voice remained sweetness and honey “I swear to you - you walk out that door to get a gun and a bottle of ill-gotten whiskey, and I will never use anesthetic to remove bullets in you again.”

(assuming some “but …”)

“Ever! And if you die of your injuries while you're running around playing hero, Mr. Samuel Dash, don't come crying to me."

Outside
“Strip to yer skivvies, the lot o’ you. I want t’ make sure none o’ you are packin’ no heat. Then step to an’ bring yourselves right up to the porch here.” More quietly, Sung said out of the corner of his mouth, “Kora, keep an eye on them, I’m going out t’ meet ‘em.”

Sam Hawkes voice responds, “Kora is helping Miss Willow. For pity sakes Captain Wyatt, can’t we leave them their dignity? It is so little to ask yet sometimes it is all that separates us from them.”

(Assuming some discussion. Hawkes offers to search the other crew’ while Wyatt covers him.)

Wyatt didn’t sheathe iron, but kept his Colt in hand as he made his way to the front door and onto the porch where he could watch their approach. “Now,” the captain said with ice in his tone and danger in his eyes. “I want to know everything you know’d ‘bout this Ludlow. Be quick ‘bout it.” His wound was smarting and the smell of the fight was still in the air. The combination of which was enough to make him a Wei Shian Dohn Woo should they decide to do something foolish.

Though the crying and grieving, you get somewhat of the story. The Fultons were on Regina and in a bad way. They were hadn’t had a good streak of luck in awhile and things were tense. They had come to Regina for a job to find it had been jumped by another crew. They were low on fuel, provisions and had little money left when Ludlow came and offered them 1000 platinum to take him to the Lullabelle mine and back. He said they would pick up another passenger named Hawkes and they would get another 1000 platinum when they landed back on Regina. Once they were underway, he started to come up with stories of being a bounty hunter and that Hawkes was a dangerous criminal. Penny and Kenny became enamoured with Ludlow, and he exploited the two of them. He started to get edgy as they got closer. When Rocinante showed up, he got hostile and threatening, acting like everyone was out to get him.

Penny remembers that Ludlow referred to the person who was gonna pay him for the bounty was a she, but he never mentioned a name.

Jim will recover, but he will be on bedrest for awhile. Asher and Sam need some recovery/healing time but can move about again.

It couldn’t have been that long but to Dash, it seemed like Willow had been gone for an hour. The longer he sat in one spot, holding a blood-sopped bandana to one of Jim Ryan’s wounds, the more he became aware of how much pain he was in, himself. He flicked a glance in Asher’s direction, checking to see if the Kid was still holding up (even though Dash was sure he was – He’s a kid fer hump’s sake! Course he’s a’right! Prob’ly gonna get back ta Roc, eat a ruttin’ pie, an’ go clean ‘is guns er sumthin’…). When Asher looked back and offered a nod to answer the pilot’s unvoiced “how ya doin’” Dash returned the nod and turned his eyes back just in time to spy Willow coming back, followed closely by Kora and Hawkes bearing a litter for Jim.

“‘Bout time,” Dash grumbled, waiting a little less than patiently as Willow inspected Asher and himself before dismissing them from their triage duties and moving to get Jim situated for transport, “I was like ta get a cramp in m’ass sittin’ here. Ev’rthin’ shiny with th’ Cap?”

((OOC: Assuming a “look” and an affirmative reply a la “Captain-san is just fine, Sam… he’s got the situation in hand… Now, give us a bit of help loading Mr Ryan and then you get yourself to the infirmary”…))

“Ku,” Dash reached for the ruined banister and used it to haul himself to his feet, wincing as the motion aggravated a dull ache in his ribs, “I’m all over it… just’s soon’s I make sure Cap’s got…”

((Again, assuming something along the lines of “The captain’s fine… he wants you in the infirmary... now, scoot!”))

Yeah, yeah! An’ if there’s more of a tussle fixin’ ta break out, ol’ Sam gets ta miss it, he sighed inwardly as he limped out of the way, glancing back over his shoulder as Willow, Hawkes, and Kora loaded Jim on the stretcher. Thing is, someone needs a good boot in th’ pi gu fer humpin’ up breakfast. Knowing better than to argue with Willow in a situation like this, though, Dash kowtowed to the delicate woman and hobbled out of the house and towards their boat. His progress was only briefly interrupted as he stepped out onto the porch and caught sight of Ludlow’s cooling corpse and then Wyatt herding Celestia’s crew in at gun-point.

“Wong ba duhn,” he chuffed in disbelief as his gaze tracked from Ludlow to the other crew and finally to the Cap, “Them’s th’ bunch o’ inbred yukkers as tried to set us t’drift?! Ya gotta be strokin’ me!” When he’d first come out of the house, Dash had been all set to shoot or, at the very least, punch someone in the face. Upon seeing the surviving members of the Fulton clan, however, he knew there was no way in hell that he’d be able to bring himself to do a damn thing to any of them. Look at ‘em, he heaved an almost disappointed sigh, his expression an odd mix of disdain and sympathy as he glared at them, just a bunch o’ gorram wu ming shao jwu as prob’ly never burned clear of atmo on more’n a world er two!
Dash chewed on his tongue for a long moment, wishing that he could bring himself to say or do something to the remains of the red-haired family that might make him feel better about this whole thing. The way his jaw clenched and unclenched it appeared he just might unleash a flurry of obscenities but, what with that Kenny kid corpsified, the girl bein’ all weepy, and one of the older men all of a sudden breaking down in tears, too, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Gun,” he shook his head, spat on the ground and, just a hair on the other side of aggravated, stormed as best he could off the porch and hobbled his way back to the docking coupler, muttering under his breath about “stupid yokels getting hitched up with big damn bad men.”

Onboard Dash limped up the ramp in the wake of Willow and the litter-bearers, casting one last disgruntled look back at Wyatt and the Fulton’s gathering on the porch of the blasted homestead, before nodding to Trish. “We was gonna bring ya back some breakfast, Ma, but them others went an’ blew it up,” he smirked, flicking a curious glance at the kitten perched on her shoulder.

“Figgers,” he muttered, as he reached out to scratch the little critter under its chin before continuing on through the main bay, “I tol’ Kora I smelt cat-whiz.”

Arriving in the infirmary, Dash did what he could to help get Jim unloaded – which consisted of mainly supervising and staying out of the way – and then propped himself against a wall…

“You head back now, dear,” Willow smiled at Hawkes, “and let me do what I need to. Jim’s in good hands, but I need space to work. Kora’s got enough training to give me a hand, and the boys here need to sit down before they fall down.”

Hawkes nodded his head and turned to leave. Once the prospector made his way out and Willow got set to tending his partner, things got real boring in the infirmary. Dash watched for a moment while Willow stroked Jim’s arm, brushed his hair, and made the other thousand little gestures that were common to the Doc’s assessment of her patients. “Tell Willow where it hurts, darling one,” she murmured.

Figuring she was well into being distracted now, Dash took that as his cue to slip out and take care of other things whilst he was waiting his turn on Miss Wil’s table. He’d already picked out all the splinters and shrapnel he could get on his own, after all, and sitting here with his thumb up his keester wasn’t helping to ignore the pain of the stuff that was left. Shootout an’ tusslin’ aside, there’s still work ta do, right, he mused, justifying his reasons for leaving the sickbay before his wounds were tended, I’ll jus’ mosey on up to m’bunk, check an’ see if Tink’s sent a wave back, grab my rifle an’ a nip er two of that hooch, an’…
“Where do you think you are going?” Willow’s tone was pleasant but threatening at the same time so Dash knew that she was talking to him… He froze in his steps just before reaching the door.

“I was jus’ gonna go get a swallow of anesthetic an’ then give Wyungsung a hand with…”

“And how is bleeding on the prisoners going to help the Captain, hmm?” Willow asks looking back at the monitor that show Jim’s vitals. Her voice remained sweetness and honey “I swear to you - you walk out that door to get a gun and a bottle of ill-gotten whiskey, and I will never use anesthetic to remove bullets from you again.”

“Aww c’mon, Wil,” the pilot protested, wondering how she knew he was also planning on grabbing his rifle, “Cap’s out there all on ‘is lonesome – ‘less ya count Hawkes and he seems a wreck over his partner and that ain’t gonna be…”

“Ever!” The doctor reiterated. “And if you die of your injuries while you're running around playing hero, Mr. Samuel Dash, don't come crying to me."

“Mi tian gohn,” Sam chuffed as he limped back to his seat and flopped down like some five-year-old that had just been chastised by a disapproving mother, “nah mei guan shee! I better get a gorram lolli outta all this!

Hey, Ma,” he hollered as he begrudgingly unfastened his ballistic vest, hoping Trish would hear him, “could ya bring me my hat er sumthin’?”

((Posting just cuz I can, really… Dash’ll wait his turn fer doctorin’, of course, then do what’s needed as far as mopping up the mess and helping load cargo if we get that far. Otherwise, once he’s patched up and there’s nothing to do but wait, he’ll get around to checking to see if Tink’s replied to his earlier wave, rest up, etc…))

Edited out Dash's take on the looks exchanged between Kora and Hawkes. Misread the GMs post and failed to realize that "it was a sensitive moment, not likely to be picked up by crass, boorish, brutes with bandanas on their heads."

Sam Hawkes voice answered Wyatt’s instructions instead of the mechanic’s, “Kora is helping Miss Willow. For pity sakes Captain Wyatt, can’t we leave them their dignity? It is so little to ask yet sometimes it is all that separates us from them.”

Wyatt glanced at the man as though he were using his brainpan to fry eggs instead of think, and then shrugged. “This is still your house, Sam.”

Not nearly as confident as he would have been with Kora watching his back, Wyatt makes his way out to the porch and listens to their explanation of how they’d wound up at the Lullaby. Now, Wyatt had known his fair share of dangerous criminals, as a matter-of-fact, some would consider him to be one in some instances, and despite his raging mind, the captain just couldn’t see Sam Hawkes as a dangerous criminal. It didn’t fit none. And even if it did, these misbegotten backwoods folk had just hurt what was his to protect. That alone made him awful unforgiving despite their loss. Wyatt kept skipping back and forth between reminders of how he had felt upon finding Summer and Eden to wanting to end their wasteful lives then and there and be done with it. In the end, it was the memory of his wife and daughter that brought him around.

“All right,” he drawled coolly. “I ain’t one bit pleased about the fact that the lot of you happened in on our business dealings when you did, and what’s more is that I ain’t at all pleased with being shot at, much less having my crew being blown up. Seeing how this isn’t my mine, however, you’ve just found yourselves some saving grace.

“I’m gonna tell you once what you’re gonna do next, an’ only once. Dohn-ma?” Without waiting for them to confirm an understanding, the captain continues. “You’ll return to your ship and sit pretty quiet an’ still in your galley until we figure out whether you’re going to be the ones to make up for the damages here, or not. If I so much as see red-hair in the next while I’ll blast it clean through before I ask any questions. Now git!”

(OOC: assuming there isn’t any resistance… if there is, I’ll retrace my steps.)

After the lot of them had returned sniveling to their ship, Wyatt drops from the porch and approaches the mad man who’d caused them so much grief. The man’s legs were buckled under him, his black eyes staring up at the simulated sky, the gat he’d used to pepper the house pointing back towards the bay door. There was a single bullet hole visible in his forehead, not clean through the center like a circus sharp-shooter could have done, but off to the side a bit. It had worked though, in combination with the other rounds. Standing over the corpse as he was, Wyatt popped the empty shells from the cylinder and thumbed new ones into place before holstering the weapon. Stepping over the dead man, the captain searched the body over, complete with pulling the boots and looking for hidden pockets in the hems of clothing and in the back sides of belts. Gathering up everything of consequence that he finds, Wyatt returns to the house, dropping the weapons on the tabletop and turning to Sam Hawkes with a level gaze that belied the pain he felt in his shoulder.

“They said you was a criminal, Sam. Now,” he held up a hand to forestall anything by way of protest, or explanation, from the man and continued. “That’s none of my concern. What is my concern is that I’ve got crew who are cut up and bruised, an’ you’ve got a partner that needs some lookin’ after. You’ve also got a pack of mongrels hanging out on your doorstep with a broke-down ship that ain’t goin’ nowhere soon. So, the way I look at things, is that we’ve some decision-makin’ to do.

“My suggestion is that you an’ Jim should take their ship by way of payment for the trouble here. You can chose to keep the crew if’n you want, but I’d suggest that anyone stupid enough t’ fall in with that three-eyed corpse out yonder might not be worth their weight in manure… of course, they might be worth something to you on the cargo end and it might work out—“ Wyatt paused as though saying the next part was difficult. “—you using them to run cargo for you an’ all. It’d provide some half-wits with an honest job and give you and Jim somethin’ extra by way of ownership. Either way, I’ll back ya up so long as I’m here.

“Speakin’ of which, once Willow’s looked after everyone, we’ll be beatin’ a quick path to the Black providin’ everything’s decent an’ all. We’re already on a tight schedule t’ meet that delivery date of yours. I don’t wanna leave no one in a lurch though, so we’ll do what we can t’ help while we load up. I’ll just have t’ check in with the crew to see which o’ them can exercise.”

Wyatt looked down at the weaponry and then back up at Sam Hawkes. “Well?”

With Jim stabilized, Willow thanked Kora and sent her off to report in with the Captain. She turned next to Asher. Mr. Samuel “Ants in Pants” Dash would go to the end of the queue just because he’d tried to leave and no one ran out on Willow, if she could help it. Oh no, of course not, you’re the one that does the running, hmm?
“Now Asher, honey, show Willow everywhere it hurts, and I’ll take care of things in that order,” she began, noting the various splinters and contusions and ignoring the blush on the young man’s face as he revealed some of the more embarrassingly placed splinters. “Sam, dear, please look away, give my patient some privacy…now don’t be shy with me, Asher…I’m your doctor, and you won’t be showing me anything I haven’t seen before, even if they weren’t as fine as yours.” Willow laughed lightly and gently as she teased a particularly nasty wood splinter out of Asher’s side. She was about to wipe the area with disinfectant when the monitor alarms on Jim whooped and shrilled.

Willow cursed liquidly in Hindi and handed Asher the disinfectant wipe, rising from her crouch and spinning round to Jim. His blood pressure was dropping and his breathing was laboured. “Damn it, must have missed a bleeder in his chest!” Moving quickly, Willow picked up a fresh scalpel and sliced through the bandage on the injured man’s chest. She made short work of her stitches and soon spotted the source of bleeding, a nicked vessel that had begun to seep blood once a splinter had been removed. Within a few moments, she’d tied off the bleeding vessel, suctioned out the blood from Jim’s chest cavity and re-stitched the wound shut, doing her best to minimize new suture wounds. As Jim’s vitals stabilized once more, she turned back to Asher and Sam, blowing a curly lock of hair back away from her face. They could see how pale she was, but she drew a slow, deep breath, and the colour returned to her face

“Well, that’s enough drama for one day, don’t you both think? Let’s get you both cleaned up and out of my bay.”

Humming as cheerfully as she could manage after her scare, she went back to work on both of her reluctant patients, removing each and every splinter and cleaning all gashes carefully. Neither men had broken any bones, and there wasn’t much she could do for bruises other than to offer to kiss them better. (OOC: Insert colourful comments from the peanut gallery here)

Once the men were on their way, Willow looked ruefully at the mess of bloody gauze and gloves on the floor, the used instruments to be cleaned and sterilized, the supplies in her portable med kit to be replenished. There was also the Captain’s injury to be looked at, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to go near him while he was still feeling mean.

“He’ll come when he feels everything else is looked after, no sooner, “Willow told the unconscious Jim in a confidential tone,” and broaching the Captain-san before he’s ready is like nudging a bear a month before spring thaw. Let’s just get this bay back into ship shape…then we go find Captain Bear-san.”

GM note –Music by Cowboy Junkies “Now I know”

An old decoy rocket carries the remains of Kenny Fulton to the stars. The rocket was part of the Maria Celestia’s hold and Hawkes had offered the use of the launcher.

“Someone should say something.” Lenny said awkwardly, knowing that it should be him but not having the words to say. He looks to Denny who just shakes his head.

Penny steps forward. Her eyes are lost to the night skies of the dome, made clear for this occasion. She starts to sing softly, beginning quietly then louder as the melody soothes the anguish.

Now I know, now I know what it means to be broken
Now I know, now I know what it means to be bared
The Marakovs were nothing special, standard to any hardware shop on the rim as was the shotgun. As for the magnum with the 8 inch barrel, now that was a collector’s piece. It would fetch a pretty penny to the right buyer and it wasn’t something anyone with sense carries as a weapon - Too big, too bulky and too much kick. The Gatling looked impressive from a distance but upon closer inspection, the grenade launcher was welded onto the barrel and held on with two sided sealing tape. There was a grenade in the tube, and as far as Wyatt could see, there was no way to remove it without arming it in the process.

Ludlow’s armour was alliance military; you could see the emblem corners where he hadn’t scrubbed all of it off. No doubt stolen as it barely fit him and had been rigged together in places to make room for his larger girth.

Nice jacket though – too bad it was now covered in dirt, blood and brain matter. Wyatt knew that this man was no bounty hunter, but he certainly had a thing for weapons.

You in the chair perceptibly sinking
I'm on my knees once again made aware
of the world out there
“I ain’t no criminal Wyatt. I have done many a things that I am not proud of during the war, but if they were hauling us off for that, then they’d be taking us away by the planetful. This smells wrong to me, like I’m being set up for a fall but hell if I know the whats or wherefores.

Grief is a word to describe the absence of feeling
Now I know, now I know what it means to be broken
“Hey there Doc.”

Willow looks down at her patient, “How you feeling Jim?”

The prospector laughs and coughs, “Couldn’t be better. Knew I’d find a way to be alone with you. I even got you to take off my clothes.” He smiles and then nods off again.

Now I know, now I know,
now I know what it means to be broken
“What are you going to do with them Sam?” Kora asked standing close to Sam.

“I think your captain had a good idea. Make them work off the damages, maybe give them a direction or two to help them. They were used and right now, I can’t find the hate in me to make them pay dearly. They already have in many ways.”

Now I know, now I know,
now I know what it means to be bared
Silence hangs between them for the moment. “I guess you’ll be leaving soon, after you all get the ice?” Sam asks tentatively.

Kora looks at him coyly, “Unless you have a better offer to make Mr. Hawkes.”

You in the chair systematically sinking
I'm on my knees once again made aware
of the world out there
“Ma! Give that back to me! It’s medical, I swears it!” Dash calls as Trish hides the bottle of rum she took from his hand. The kitten hisses as menacing as he can from Trish’s shoulder, but it comes out more as a sneeze.

Grief is a word to describe the absence of feeling
With the help of the crew and the Fultons, it doesn’t take long to load up all the containers with ice. The units are all activated and keeping the frozen gases of the comet at absolute zero. Asher and Sam are back to form after some rest and Willow’s tender attentions.

Now I know, now I know,
now I know what it means to be broken
“Captain, it has been a good time with you and the crew, but it is time for me to leave. Rocinante has been my home for awhile now, but well, I think I may have found a new home now.” Kora tries to hold back tears unsuccessfully. “Besides, with these flashbacks of mine, and the freezing up, I’m going to put you and Roc in danger one day. Remember Mack? The guy who helped us on that job, friend of Dash? He’s on Regina and I know he’d jump at the chance to sign on.”

Now I know, now I know,
now I know what it means to be broken
“Listen Wyatt,” Sam said, “Bailey wanted me to warn you that the Alliance has set up a blockage on Regina. It is the mining consortium trying to pressure the independent mine owners to work by their rules. Now they are watching but they can’t be everywhere at once. Figure a good pilot would be able to slip by without them noticing. This came up sudden like, before he could warn you. They are in dire need for this ice, so I’m sure Bailey will make good for you."

OOC: My musical montage – The ship is loaded with ice and you are ready to leave with Kora staying behind. Someone might want to ask about the cat and the bracelet/necklace that it was wearing though. Backposting is always welcome but you can now move forward to getting to Regina and the town of Frisco.

Wyatt made sure to find other things to be doing during the funeral. He could understand people getting mixed up in something that wasn’t good and not understanding until it was too late, but he had a hard time forgiving the violence they’d brought with them. As far as he was concerned, the Fultons were reminders of who he really was despite the front he demonstrated. His quarters were a good escape.

He’d offered the Marakovs to Ash, the shotgun to Dash, and told everyone that they were going to sell the magnum the first chance they got to add to the ship’s finances. The gatling wasn’t worth the effort so Wyatt had left it in the hands of the ranchers. He’d done the same with the armor—Alliance Luh Suh.

The captain had taken Sam’s answer to his question in stride. He didn’t really need to know what the man’s history was, but, as the intel departments in the military would have said, ‘The more you know…” It was fully feasible that Ludlow had been there for something other than Sam as he’d claimed. After all, he’d lied to get on the Fulton’s boat, and he’d apparently lied to Kenny, costing the boy his life. All that lying had cost the man his life eventually. So be it. Wyatt had let the line of questioning fade into the Black. Besides which, time had come to load up and git, and with the Fulton’s help they’d managed pretty well, getting the crates of ice on board Rocinante without difficulty. That’s when everything turned upside down.

“Captain, it has been a good time with you and the crew, but it is time for me to leave. Rocinante has been my home for awhile now, but well, I think I may have found a new home now.” Kora tries to hold back tears unsuccessfully. “Besides, with these flashbacks of mine, and the freezing up, I’m going to put you and Roc in danger one day. Remember Mack? The guy who helped us on that job, friend of Dash? He’s on Regina and I know he’d jump at the chance to sign on.”

Wyatt had been about ready to board, the others lingering around the cargo bay door ready to say their farewells to the miners when Kora had touched his arm to get his attention. Though the captain’s face remained a screen of calm, and his nod effectively said, ‘whatever’, the lump in his throat and the sudden pit in his belly was a testament to his feelings on the matter. He glanced towards Sam and Jim—the Fultons he ignored—and then back to the beautiful face of the mechanic he’d come to love as family.

“Well,” he drawled. “Can’t say that this doesn’t surprise me. Kora, you know I weren’t concerned none ‘bout your freezin’ up. Willow’d have you fixed up in no time. You was already doing better. But I ain’t never been the type to force someone t’ stay where they no longer want t’ stay.”

The captain then turned and boarded Rocinante, moving quickly through the hold, up the stairs, down the hall, and into the cockpit. Alone, he dropped into the co-pilot seat and stared out into the tail end of the comet. His mind flew faster than the speed of light as he considered her words, her new-found life, what they would miss, the absence of a voice he’d come to associate with his life… after a few seconds, he snatched up the mic and pressed the intercom button.

“Anytime today, Dash. We got cargo t’ deliver.”

Setting the mic back in its cradle, Wyatt shifted his thoughts, more out of necessity than desire. He thought back to a conversation he’d had with Sam just as they were finalizing the deal inside the shattered house.

“Listen Wyatt,” Sam had said, “Bailey wanted me to warn you that the Alliance has set up a blockage on Regina. It is the mining consortium trying to pressure the independent mine owners to work by their rules. Now they are watching but they can’t be everywhere at once. Figure a good pilot would be able to slip by without them noticing. This came up sudden like, before he could warn you. They are in dire need for this ice, so I’m sure Bailey will make good for you."

Blockades, the Consortium, it was sounding an awful lot like the war and the runs he’d made. They’d have no problems if they kept their heads about them.

After they’d detached from the comet Wyatt and Dash had worked to plot their course and using their knowledge of possible military and police blockade actions they’d spent some time discussing possible avenues for dealing with the Consortium. Then dinner time rolled around and Trish summoned them all with the clanking of a bell.

Seated at the head of the table, Wyatt decided to quickly head off any discussion that might arise concerning Kora, his eyes focusing on the kitten that seemed to have come out of nowhere and had taken to perching on Trish’s shoulder like some damnable parrot.

“All right, we ain’t provisioned for another mouth t’ feed, nor is the systems in place t’ deal with… that. Hair all over the place n’ such. What’s more is it appears t’ be someone’s pet gone astray, what with that fancy pretty about its neck. An’ judgin’ by the bauble there, I’d assume it was someone who took a position o’ like t’ the creature. So, we’ll put a lost n’ found poster up on the Feed as soon as we can… maybe it’ll fetch us a bit of a reward.”

After the discussion with about the cat, Wyatt turns to matters of business.

“We’ll connect with this Mack fellow soon as possible, but there’s something the lot o’ you should know. There’s a blockade ‘tween us and dirt. So there’s gonna be some runnin’ an’ that means we need t’ be prepared. Make sure everything’s secured an’ see what we can do about any rattlin’ as we’ll need t’ run silent when we get close. Any questions?”

In the Infirmary “Now Asher, honey, show Willow everywhere it hurts, and I’ll take care of things in that order,” Willow cooed, turning to face the Kid when she’d finished up with Ryan.

Back o’ th’ line agin, Sam-o, Dash smirked inwardly, When ya gonna learn not ta try an’ sneak away from th’ Doc? Wincing at the effort, Sam adjusted his postion on the bench, resting a bruised elbow on a scraped and bleeding knee. “Go on, Kid,” Dash chuckled, noticing Asher’s blush when he got around to pointing out some of the more embarrassing injuries, “whip it out. If I sees anythin’ I ain’t seen before, I’ll shoot it.”

That remark, of course, earned him another of the Doc’s “looks”…“Sam, dear, please look away, give my patient some privacy…”

“Wuh de mah,” Dash protested, playfully flicking a wink at Willow as he turned his head, “You people don’ let me have no ruttin’ fun! Don’ go getting’ drunk, Dash! Don’ raz the Kid, Dash! Why ya gotta leave yer dirty socks in the mule, Dash? Don’ fly so ruttin’ close to th’ sun, Dash!

Hump it,” he chuffed, throwing his hands in the air in mock surrender (and again wincing at the barbs of pain induced by the sudden action), “I give up!”

Just then, the hat that Trish had knitted for him sailed through the infirmary door, caught the pilot in the side of the head and flopped to rest on his shoulder. Dash blinked, his whiskey-hued eyes ticking toward the door to catch sight of Trish slinking off back towards the front of the ship. “Thanks, Ma,” he called after the woman, snatching the cap off his shoulder and pulling it onto his head, “I ‘preciate that.”

Shut up, Dash, he appended his earlier rant as he pulled the cap lower and resigned himself to stretching out on the bench and trying to catch a wink or two while he could, We’s jus’ gonna let ya be alone with yer thoughts an’ let ya fret about how there ain’t no way in nine hells that jumbo-sized hwoon dahn was after just plain ol’ Hawkes… Couldn’a been… Not that guy… he’s too much of a… prospector to be on anybody’s short list… What if’n ya’s been found, Sam?

Shut up, Dash!
The Funeral Dash watched the Fulton kid’s funeral from a distance, leaning against the docking coupler, sipping away at the bottle of rum he had snaked days earlier, and occasionally turning his attentions to the proceedings when his own thoughts started wandering down the trail to twitchy.

“Someone should say something,” he heard one of the Fultons say as he watched the decoy rocket/casket shoot out into the Black. Dash’s gaze slid towards the red-headed clan and, in order to quash the turning in his stomach when Denny just shook his head, took a hard slug from the bottle.

“Right, whatcha gonna say,” the pilot snorted, “Sorry we was too ruttin’ dumb ta keep ya suckin’ air? Better you than us? Idiots…” If the rum hadn’t been so good at easing the aches, Sam decided, he’d have dearly loved to walk over and bust the bottle over one of the elder Fultons’ heads. This whole debacle had turned into one giant goat-rope; all the way from the corpsified clients back on Bellerophon, to the hinky back-and-forths with Dodger and Griff, all the way on up through to where they stood now… The more he thought about it, the more none of it made sense, and the more none of it made sense, the more it pissed him off… at least until he thought about it long enough that anger was subsumed by nervousness and uncertainty… and that made him even more angry…

When the girl stepped forward and started singing, though, Dash could take no more. No matter how much he wanted to be angry at the red-headed clan… no matter how badly he wanted to take out his frustration on somebody, he couldn’t find it in him to level his wrath at a bunch of innocents… his building anger flipped in his stomach and morphed into an almost heartsick, sinking feeling before the second verse of Penny’s song was voiced. “Gorramit,” he scowled around the neck of the bottle as he downed another swallow and, with one final look at the rapidly disappearing rocket, stomped back into the Firefly’s belly, hoping beyond hope that Tink had finally gotten around to answering his wave.

Regarding Kora “… it is time for me to leave. Rocinante has been my home for awhile now, but well, I think I may have found a new home now.”

As he stomped across the cargo bay wiping the dirt from his hands onto his jeans, Dash had heard Kora giving Wyatt the ‘Dear Cap’ bit. The pilot had been on his way to clean up and maybe have a drink being as he’d just spent an hour our better in the company of the Fultons loading ice into Roc’s hold – and what with the Fultons twisting knots of anger, disgust, and, oddly enough, pity in his gut just by their proximity, that desire to clean up and have a drink was nearing a full-tilt need. Kora’s resignation speech stopped him dead cold, though and he gawked at her in disbelief as, with tears running from her eyes, she tried to explain it all to Wyatt.

“Besides, with these flashbacks of mine, and the freezing up, I’m going to put you and Roc in danger one day,” she offered. “Remember Mack? The guy who helped us on that job, friend of Dash? He’s on Regina and I know he’d jump at the chance to sign on.”

It took him a minute to realize that he was standing there with his mouth open, looking like some high-falutin’ Londinum chef who had just discovered a turd in the gourmet meal he’d spent hours preparing for Parliament. When Kora’s gaze slid almost apologetically from the Cap to meet his, though, Dash slammed his mouth shut, and snorted in derision, and shook his head. “That’s jus’ as ruttin’ shiny as it gets, ain’t it,” he groused, turning on his heel and clomping towards the steps, “what in the hell is goin’ on on this boat?! Gorram buyers gettin’ kilt, ruttin’ yokels tryin’ ta set us ta drift cuz they’s gorram bent on gettin’ themselves punched inta th’ Black, mother-humpin’ cats runnin’ loose an’ takin’ dumps inna mechanicals an’ Buddha only knows where the hell else! Now this bunch o’ lovey-dovey crap…”

The rant continued the whole way up the stairs and got progressively riddled with more and more profanity as Dash included incidents and worries that didn’t involve the present crew. “Fong luh,” he barked, leaning over the railing when he reached the catwalk and jabbing an outthrust finger at everyone who stood in his sight, “fong luh, ever’ last damn one of ya! If Roc loses containment twixt here an’ Regina, Kora Mei Ling, that mi tian gohn’s all on you, mei mei, dohn ma?! Gorram, tze sah yu ji, if ya ask me. But don’ nobody ask Dash, nothin’, does they! Noooooo! Jus’ fly th’ ruttin’ boat, Dash… Climb up there an shoot whatever might come this way an’ don’ look friendly, Dash…” With nothing else immediately available, he gripped the catwalk’s railing angrily with both hands and shook it for all he was worth, “Guuuuun!!!” Then, when he finally was able to force his grip loose, shook his head again and skulked off towards the foredeck – still grumbling and cursing under his breath. It was likely more than obvious to those who had crewed with him for any length of time that the pilot wasn’t as angry as he was hurt by Kora’s leaving, but the Fultons all seemed to have been whithered a mite by his outburst as they sheepishly filed out of the Firefly’s hold.

((Got some more coming, just wanted to post this bit before I lost it... again... will catch up with the rest very soon...))

Willow sat in the infirmary beside Jim, elbow propped on the side of the bed, head cradled in her hand as she watched her patient slumber. She was tired, bone tired, and unsettled by all that had happened. She’d gone out to the cargo bay in search of the captain, to tend his injuries, only to learn of Kora’s departure. Willow had been completely pleased for her, enfolding the taller woman in a joyful hug and wishing her well. Kora had tried to thank the doctor for her help, and tried to explain again why she had to stay, but Willow had touched a finger to Kora’s lips, turning the touch into a soft caress. Don’t be silly, she’d told Kora, you found someone who can love you, and who you may love in return. He’ll heal places in you I can never reach. Be happy, dear, be happy.

Willow’d been walking away, sorting out her feelings about Kora leaving when Dash’d leaned over the railing, ranting at the world for all that had been done to him. His words were angry, but Willow could hear the hurt in them, and she ached for him. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, but there were barriers she knew she couldn’t cross…and chasms she couldn’t bridge.

“Hey there Doc.”

Willow looks down at her patient, snapping back to the present and slipping her warm smile back into place, “How you feeling Jim?”

The prospector laughs and coughs, “Couldn’t be better. Knew I’d find a way to be alone with you. I even got you to take off my clothes.” He smiles and then nods off again.

Willow smiles wistfully and stands to lean over the sleeping man. She kisses his forehead to check for fever and ruffles his hair with genuine affection. “Why is it that you have to drug a man for him to express his feelings?” she asks no one in particular. Jim, for his part, does not reply.

To Willow, even Rocinante had a pulse, and when it began to quicken, she knew the Captain was preparing to leave. It was time to shake off the dust of Lullabelle Mine and head out into the black.

Willow bustled out to the hold where the Fultons were finishing with their loading tasks. She eyed the two slope shouldered men icily and commanded,” You there, follow me. “

With the imperial indifference of one who’d grown up with servants, she returned to the medical bay without looking back and disconnected Ryan from the monitors and IV’s around him. When the Fulton men arrived, she gestured for them to take up the litter, and silently, the three of them returned Jim to his quarters.

Willow got the injured man settled, dismissing the Fultons with another nonchalant command, and reviewed Jim’s post-op care with Kora and the concerned Sam. Jim had started to rouse again from his slumber, and Willow bent over him to stroke his face as he woke up.

“Goodbye, love, and get better soon for me, hmm? When I return, we’ll have to finish that conversation we never did get to start,” and with a wicked smile, she kissed him for all she was worth. She felt him shiver underneath the blankets and she warmed inside for the first time since heading for the basement.

Turning back to Sam and Kora, she smiled and tilted her head. “A little bit of business before we lift? We’ve got some sweet things to counter some of the bitterness today has brought…” and she began to discuss trading some chocolate and rum for some of the fresh vegetables Sam could spare (or anything else of value.) (OOC: DM’s discretion on how we do, not trying to drive Sam down at all!)

Moving forward to dinner time
“All right, we ain’t provisioned for another mouth t’ feed, nor is the systems in place t’ deal with… that, “ the captain began. “Hair all over the place n’ such. What’s more is it appears t’ be someone’s pet gone astray, what with that fancy pretty about its neck. An’ judgin’ by the bauble there, I’d assume it was someone who took a position o’ like t’ the creature. So, we’ll put a lost n’ found poster up on the Feed as soon as we can… maybe it’ll fetch us a bit of a reward.”

Willow really looked at the kitten at the mention of the bauble, and her gaze sharpened when she noted the quality of the gemstones. She pondered the implications of a open posting in the Feed and didn’t like what it could mean for them. She’d no reason to hide or go unnoticed, but she hadn’t missed Sam’s habit of slinking to the back of a crowd when official types were around, and the captain had a less than easy way with officials, too.

“Captain, perhaps a discreet inquiry or two would be better for all concerned? That kitten comes from money, and money means Alliance power on Bellerophon, which is where I’m guessing we picked up our fuzzy castaway. An intermediary or two between us and kitty’s owner may be the way to go. Dodger should be feeling kindly towards me these days, let me send him a wave.”

The Message
Dash sat in the pilot chair, readying the ship for preflight. That was when he saw the light flashing on the communication console. He checked it out to find it was 23 messages, all from multiple sources across the Verse.

Tink He thought to himself and called up the decoding software that she’d given him. It pulled the files together into one and the display came to light. The familiar pale white face with black hair, and way too much blue eyeshadow came on and spoke.

“Hey there. Puhn Yoh You know what to do.”

Dash clapped twice, and then clapped twice again, wondering how she rigged a wave message for an audio code. She smiles slyly, with a look that would make a grown man feel underage, and continued, “Hey Sammy boy. Hope this fines you well. I looked into your shipment. Whatever it was, someone didn’t want anyone to know about it. You have shell companies going into more shell companies, laundering through government ministries that don’t really exist. Whoever was shipping it, was well connected. I lost the trail in St. Alban but there was something I noticed, well didn’t notice if you catch my drift. The trail hit every planet in the verse except one – Greenleaf. Kinda suspicious if you ask me.” She shrugged “but I can’t find a buyer beyond the usual suspects - Blue Suns and the Consortium. Ta Ma Duh”

The image changes to another image of a newsreel. It is dated within the last two days. A small article blows up for Dash revealing its content. Apparently a Senator Kyle Tang was reprimanded by the senate council for the use of alliance assets in a personal matter. His Daughter lost her favourite pet, a kitten, while on Beaumonde. The Senator used his authority to authorize a military search for the cat. A lesser senator would have been stripped of title for such a violation, but Tang’s many years of service lessened the blow. However the Senator did offer to resign his position as speaker for the senate, however the senate declined to accept it. There is no mention of a bracelet in the article.

“There’s your search party Dash. Some people have more money than Dohng shee. Hope this helps.”

With that the image fades and the software begins to delete itself from the cortex.

The Meeting
Kora is able to deactivate the alliance signal on the bracelet before you leave, just so you don’t have to worry about something screaming “OVER HERE!” as you try to get pass a blockade.

Wyatt Spoke up, “All right, we ain’t provisioned for another mouth t’ feed, nor is the systems in place t’ deal with… that, “ the captain began. “Hair all over the place n’ such. What’s more is it appears t’ be someone’s pet gone astray, what with that fancy pretty about its neck. An’ judgin’ by the bauble there, I’d assume it was someone who took a position o’ like t’ the creature. So, we’ll put a lost n’ found poster up on the Feed as soon as we can… maybe it’ll fetch us a bit of a reward.”

(note – I had stated that trish took the bracelet off the kitten. So the kitten is san jewelry)

Willow really looked at the bauble, and her gaze sharpened when she noted the quality of the gemstones. Before she could get a good look, Trish told the bauble from her hand rather forcibly and carried it away. Asher then asked to look at it, Trish hesitated and then gave the bracelet over to the kid.

Willow pondered the implications of an open posting in the Feed and didn’t like what it could mean for them. She’d no reason to hide or go unnoticed, but she hadn’t missed Sam’s habit of slinking to the back of a crowd when official types were around, and the captain had a less than easy way with officials, too.

Willow asked “Captain, perhaps a discreet inquiry or two would be better for all concerned? That kitten comes from money, and money means Alliance power on Beaumonde, which is where I’m guessing we picked up our fuzzy castaway. An intermediary or two between us and kitty’s owner may be the way to go. Dodger should be feeling kindly towards me these days, let me send him a wave.”

Trish is clearly agitated about the bracelet. She hovers around anyone who is looking at it and seems to get anxious if anyone touches it for an extended period of time. She keeps taking it away from people and placing it back into her stockpot, even though the signal is now defunct. When asked what is bothering her, she just shakes her head and mimes about it being dangerous.

The Flight
The tail of the comet is fading behind the ship and with it goes the memories of the miner’s camp. Ahead of you is the Black, and somewhere a town that apparently has a powerful need for ICE.

Loading with ICE plus some fresh tomatoes and veggies for the journey, Dash takes route to Regina that will give you a view of any blockades. After a few days of the dull nothingness of space travel, Regina is comes up soon when Dash’s controls start to light up as the pulse beacons of the alliance ships are picked up.

Recog: Victorious : All2638648 – Heavy Cruiser Class
Recog: Redoubtable : All9287382 – Patrol Class
Recog: Renown : All6237828 – Destroyer Class

Attention all Ships. The transport or sale of frozen materials (Carbon monoxide, Carbon Dioxide and Methane) is strictly prohibited on Regina by order of the Alliance Council. Any ships attempting to move such items planet-side will be seized and the crews bound by law.

Have a nice day.

The three Alliance ships are in distant orbit around Regina, and any transport or frigate is being challenged, turned away or boarded. Dash’s trained pilot eye spots some immediate holes in the blockade that a good pilot could use to slip by. The Alliance is anything if predictable(Chwen) in their patrol patterns.

There is also the possibility of trying to bluff your way pass the blockade.

“Captain, perhaps a discreet inquiry or two would be better for all concerned? That kitten comes from money, and money means Alliance power on Bellerophon, which is where I’m guessing we picked up our fuzzy castaway. An intermediary or two between us and kitty’s owner may be the way to go. Dodger should be feeling kindly towards me these days, let me send him a wave.”

Wyatt had watched the interaction and the passing around of the bauble that had been attached to the kitten’s collar with little expression on his face. He didn’t even bother to take a turn at examining it. Instead, he waited for his crew to come to their conclusions and he had to admit, Willow’s deduction was likely the best course.

“Do it, Willow. We don’t have the time t’ be playing cat an’ mouse with the Alliance when we’re doin’ it with the Consortium. Now, unless any of the rest o’ you have something t’ add concerning this stowaway, I suggest we turn our attention to the matter at hand and begin coverin’ points about runnin’ a blockade…”

That said, the captain began to review the standard practices required to help a ship run silent.

* * *
Wyatt made sure he was sitting co-pilot when they reached Regina. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sam, he was just a hands-on type of captain and he wanted to be there to help if Dash needed it. Sung watched as the Alliance ship registers began to show on the monitors, calmly storing the names of each in the back of his mind as he glanced over to the radar screen. He was accomplished at this sort of thing, having run Alliance blockades during the War, and he knew Sam had some practice as well, so he was positive Sam knew what he was talking about when he said in a quiet voice, “You see what I see?” The holes in the ship’s positioning were just big enough to allow a ship to slip through with some skilled piloting.

“All right, Sam. Take us in.”

Back to dinner Dash probably wasn’t the best of company around the dinner table. After his earler rant, fueled by the discovery of Kora’s leaving and alcohol, Trish had seen fit to abduct his bottle when he wasn’t looking. On top of that, he wasn’t entirely convinced that Ludlow and his crew hadn’t burnt out to the Lullabelle mine in hopes of nabbing Sam Hawkes, either. Hell, if there was a bounty on the miner’s head such as the case was claimed to be, why send some heavy-fisted goon to blow the bejeezus outta the whole place? How are you supposed to collect on something like that when you go blowing mi tian gohn all to hell and trying to get everything and everybody sucked out into the big empty? To Dash’s way of thinking – and he’d done more of that than he truly might’ve liked the past few hours – Ludlow was likely out there after a Sam but not necessarily Hawkes…

Sour-faced, Dash sat through the dinner conversation with scarcely a word and, when the stowaway critter’s neck-baubles were passed around and discussed, he had little to add aside from ‘hump a reward, leave th’ li’l sumbitch here wit’ Kora fer all I care’ and ‘get that gorram thing outta my face, I ain’t touchin’ it’ when the collar was passed his way. Even if he didn’t show it, the pilot was relieved when Willow offered to put some feelers out where the cat was concerned, though. Something deep in his gut told him that the Alliance or somebody was getting just a might too close for comfort and the more they knew, the easier it’d be to turn tail and get when they had to.

With discussion of the kitten out of the way, table talk turned to getting to Regina and, thanks to the clue in that Hawkes had passed along from Bailey, getting around the Purple Belly blockade. “Shouldn’t be too ruttin’ hard,” Dash offered, laying out the route he and Wyatt had planned out ahead of time and suggesting a couple alternates just in case things got ugly, “as long’s we keep Roc cool an’ runnin’ quiet, I figger we c’n jus’ float on by inna dark an’ burn through ‘fore they know we’s a boat. Th’ chwen mother-humpers as th’ Alliance runs out this deep ain’t too gorram quick onna uptake most times. Jus’ need ta keep someone back inna engine room ta keep a hand on th’ mechanicals an’ sech, in case we don’t catch the sumb!tches sleepin, get me?”

Cuttin’ loose “Any time today, Dash,” Wyatt’s voice drawled over the comm., “We got cargo t’ deliver.”

“Roger that, puhn yoh,” Dash replied holding the mic in one hand while the other danced over the consoles before him and brought Roc’s pre-flight routines online, “lightin’ the fires as we speak. We’ll be leavin’ this one in th’ lurch in less’n two shakes.”

His trained eyes swept over the displays and he verified that nothing obvious was going to keep them from disconntecting from the comet’s umbilicals and burning out for Regina… Combusters’re in good shape, containment’s shiny, pulse iterators timing checks out, he patted the control yoke as a rancher might pat a beloved horse, Tha’s our baby. Now, let’s fire this up an’… what inna samhell? The waiting message light on the communications console blinked insistently, demanding attention.

He cued up the display and was, at first, a little concerned when he discovered twenty-three different messages from all over the gorram place but, then, a spark of realization flared in his mind and he grinned. Tink, he thought, his fingers moving excitedly over the console as he brought up the decryption program, ‘bout time, sweetpea! Hope ya got some happy-happy fer me.
“Hey there, puhn yoh,” Tink said as her image appeared, making him feel just a bit too old to be having the thoughts that were running amok in his brainpan, “You know what to do.”

Dash chuckled and, still at a loss as to how the girl managed to rig her waves to recognize the audio cues, clapped twice and then twice more in order to start the defragmented message.

“Hey, Sammy boy. Hope this finds you well. I looked into your shipment. Whatever it was, someone didn’t want anyone to know about it…”

He leaned back in his seat, listening intently as Tink went on about the shipment that had apparently gotten this whole ball of mi tian gohn rolling. Shell companies, funneling through shell companies, getting cleaned in non-existant government agencies… blah, blah, blah, yackity-schmacktiy and a tall, frosty glass of Blue Sun OJ
“Whoever was shipping it, was well connected,” Tink informed him, “I lost the trail in St. Alban but there was something I noticed, well didn’t notice if you catch my drift. The trail hit every planet in the verse except one – Greenleaf. Kinda suspicious if you ask me.” She shrugged “but I can’t find a buyer beyond the usual suspects - Blue Suns and the Consortium. Ta Ma Duh”

“Mei yong ma duh tse gu yong,” Dash echoed the little lady’s frustration, “Ain’t that just a kick inna nethers! Ever’ where ‘ceptin’ Greenleaf, huh? Wonder what th’ hump’s on Greenleaf tha’d make this nightmare skip it when it done touched ever’ other gorram rock inna Verse?”

As he pondered that question, the image on Tink’s wave changed to another image of a newsreel, dated within the last two days. A small article highlighted itself and expanded to reveal its content and Dash’s stomach flipped. “Aw, ya gotta be greasin’ my pi gu! The ruttin’ Alliance was huntin’ that gorram cat?! Fan-ruttin’-tastic!”

“There’s your search party Dash. Some people have more money than Dohng shee. Hope this helps.”

“Sheh sheh, bao bei,” Sam grimaced… the information Tink had dug up likely would help some, of course, but at the same time it didn’t make Dash feel any better about any of it. To him it sounded as if they were like to be royally humped no matter which way this all flushed out and, if he knew Wyatt like he thought he did, the Cap wasn’t gonna be to shiny with all of it, neither. “Reckon I’ll find out soon enough.”

((OOC: In the interest of getting this posted before the turn of the millennium, I’m going to go on the assumption that, at some point very soon after getting this info from Tink, that Dash will share every last bit of it good, bad, and ugly, with Wyatt (and also Miss Willow as she’s got the rundown working through Dodger) and, from there, the “trickle down” to the rest of the crew’ll commence. Now, on to Regina…. ))

Slip-slidin’ on by Aside from the occasional bump in the proverbial road and a good dose of discussion over the info that Tink had passed down to him, the trip to Regina had been relatively uneventful and, now, as the Firefly crept closer to the planet, Dash found himself half-napping in the pilot’s seat., his feet propped up on the console and his half-open eyes lazily sweeping the Black beyond the viewports as Roc, guided by the autopilot, moseyed silently onward. His eyes snapped wide open as the pluse beacons of the Purple Belly blockade started pinging against Roc’s sensors.

“Mmhm,” he nodded, shaking the boredom away as he dragged his feet off the console and took hold of the yoke before calling off the AP and making sure to keep Rocinante well on the skirts of the patrol routes for the time being, “looks like we got three stooges, Cap. Th’ Victimous, th’ Redoucheable, an’ th’ Redrown. Don’ reckon we got much t’worry ‘bout wit’ th’ patroller, but th’ cruiser an’ destroyer’ll poke holes in us like we was rusted through.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam caught the tell-tale bobbing of Wyatt’s hat as the Cap nodded his acknowledgement and began scanning the instruments on the co-pilot’s side of the flight deck. “You see what I see,” Wyatt asked after a moment.

“Like we had the same set o’ peepers, Cap,” Dash affirmed having also spotted the gaps in the patrol patterns, “two, maybe three big ol’ slip me throughs. I c’n slide us right on in there soon’s they give me a second. Reckon we oughta pop a couple of dekes (decoy missles) in the bay fer good measure?”

((OOC: No plans on using the decoy missles, ATM, just a hedging yer bets kind of call… Cap’s discretion as to whether we load ‘em in the bay or not… assuming any answer, though…))

Dash nodded at Wyatt’s reply and flexed his fingers around Roc’s control yoke; “Say the word, puhn yoh, an’ we’re in… I c’n out zig any zag as these knuckleheads might have.”

“All right, Sam,” Wyatt said after a moment, “Take us in.”

“Aye-firmative,” Dash replied, firing a quick and hopefully hidden burst from a pair of maneuvering thrusters to align Roc’s attitude to the most promising of the patrol gaps, “Hush-a-bye an’ say goodnight, afore ya knows it we’re outta sight.”

((OOC: Okay, sneaky, dark and quiet… Sam’s nudging Roc in towards atmo and keeping a keen eye on the Alliance. We’re hoping to stay as low profile as we possibly can until we need to burn in – at which point, I suppose, it’s hard to be unobtrusive when you’re cooking atmosphere on yer hull like big ruttin sparkler! ))

Leaving the matter of flying to those that knew it, Willow turned her attention to matters she’d taken in as a child along with mother’s milk: gossip and intrigue. After making herself presentable again, she made herself a cup of chai and sat at her computer console.
A few quick taps at the keys and she was facing her Auntie Sun once more. They chatted briefly about family and Aunt Sun even offered her own pithy recount of Asher’s date with Beth, which had Willow smiling and laughing fondly, both at Asher’s sweet naiveté and Sunni’s outrageousness. “Only you could insult a judge’s wife and get away with it! If your channa masala weren’t so good, you’d have been sent to the Rim planets as a cook years ago!”

After a while, Willow turned the conversation to the kitten, and it’s precious “collar”. She made it known that she knew where the kitten was and asked Sunni to inquire through discreet channels about means of returning the kitten and gaining a reward. The reward was secondary, of course, and at least half would go to Sunni for paying bribes, but Willow didn’t want anyone to even get a whiff of where the kitten had been. “Don’t teach your granny how to suck eggs!” retorted Auntie Sun when Willow reminded her to use as many intermediaries as possible,” I was sending the bosses on wild goose hunts while you were still running around naked as a jaybird. And, “she grinned wickedly,” I mean as a child, and not as part of any professional engagement.”

Willow laughed in response and the two women ended their conversation with more fond chatter. The former Companion knew the matter was in good hands: Sunipta had access to people when they were relaxed and not on their guard, and no wealthy person noticed the person serving them. Many of Sunni’s hostesses had gone on to serve in well to do households, and they never forgot who gave them their start in life. If there was a way to get the kitten returned without tracing it back to the Rocinante, Sunni would find it.

Willow touched up eyes and lipstick, then sent a wave to Dodger. As usual, he didn’t come to the console, so it was a carefully worded message that Willow left. She asked about a bounty hunter by the name of Ludlow (describing him since that likely wasn’t his name), and any jobs he may have undertaken in the last little while. She said merely that their paths had crossed (making no mention of Ludlow’s fatal bout of lead poisoning) and that she was understandably concerned about undue influences in their current task. She wished Dodger well and hoped that she would be able to visit again soon.

With the console off, Willow picked up a few items on the way back to the kitchen and found Trish there, as she assumed she would. She set the chai cup aside for washing and touched Trish’s arm softly. “I want to know what has you so fired up about that bracelet, Auntie dear,” Willow began,” The kitten has us all concerned for the trouble it can bring to our door, but you are spooked by the bracelet itself. I want to have a good look at it,” and she held up a pair of surgical gloves from the medical bay,” without you taking it away from me again. We’ll also need to talk….so spill, Trish dear.” With a determined look on her lovely face, Willow pushed her last two items over the counter towards the older woman: a notepad and pencil.