The Fish Job, Chapter 3/19
Disclaimers and notes:
Obviously, it all belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the rest. I’m just playing with it.
This was my first fanfic, and was posted on fireflyfans over a year ago. (I've learned a bit about writing since then, so I'll be making improvements as I post here.) The Fish Job has a sequel which was posted last summer; I am currently working on a third part in the series which will be ready in a month or so. So... my goal here is to spread the word before I get to posting the new installment, and also it's about time I learned how to get around this LiveJournal place.
For your ease, mouse-over Chinese for English translations.
Many thanks to Guenever, BlueEyedBrigadier, and vera2529 from fireflyfans for doing beta.
**This one got lots of changes for LJ posting (mostly to smooth out POV and characterizations) and no new beta, so there's sure to be leftover bugs. I'll try to catch them all with a readthrough or two...
The Fish Job: Chapter 2/19
The Fish Job: Chapter 1/19
The Fish Job, Chapter 3/19
by: Mal4Prez
One Alliance base opens and there goes the neighborhood.
“Qīngwā cào de liúmáng!” Wash swore at the scanner screen.
Mal didn’t disagree. He and Zoë stood behind the pilot's chair, taking in the bad news on the screen for themselves. The planet they were heading toward had an Alliance freighter hovering over it - right next to the station where they needed to make their delivery. Further out from the planet, a cruiser kept watch while lines of blocky shuttles ran supplies from the freighter down to the planet’s surface.
Mal heard soft footsteps enter the bridge behind him. “What is it?” Inara asked.
“Just a new neighbor moving in,” Wash replied in a falsely chipper voice. “Nothing to worry about. I’m sure they’ll be fun - keep their hedges trimmed and never throw loud parties.”
“But sure as hell they’ll be nosy,” Mal added. “Wantin’ to know what we’re up to. And who wants to lay odds that Big Ricky knew about this when he hired us?”
“I guarantee they been here longer than two days,” Zoë said, nodding her agreement.
Mal gritted his teeth to stop himself from spitting out a few curses of his own. This was not what he needed - another complication to get everyone further on edge. The crew’d been walking soft around him since they left New Melbourne; Book and Inara had hardly spoken to him. He needed this to go easy, if just to get them off his back.
“But why would he send a shipment of his own cargo right into this?” Wash asked.
“Maybe to test the situation,” Mal said. “See if the Feds are searchin’ inbound ships and whether they’re lettin’ his chow hit the market. Not like we got any friends to give him payback if we get humped.”
“To hell with it then!” Wash said. “It only took two days to get here from New Melbourne, let’s go back and return the goods. And let Jayne take the cost of the fuel out of Ricky’s hide.”
“Most like the Feds have been trackin’ us for some time,” Zoë said. “They see us turn tail now, they’ll be after us and sure as guĭ they’ll have questions.”
“Okay - but if we’re going in, we’d better make a plan,” Wash said. “We’ll be hailed soon, and they’ll want to know where we’re headed.”
“We're like to get searched,” Mal said. “I ain’t worried ‘bout the cargo, but it won’t work so good hangin’ Simon and River out the window. That station’s got too much traffic, someone’s bound to see ‘em.” He put a hand over his mouth while he thought, then turned to the system chart on the control board, searching through it. “I recall there bein’ an outlying moon, poorly terraformed, not so many people. There!” He pointed it out. “Good, it’s on this side, don’t have to pass by the Feds to get to it. We can tell ‘em we need to stop there, to fix our docking equipment or some such”
Mal turned back to Zoë. “Get the doc and his sister together. We’ll leave them on this moon while we do our business.”
“I have a better idea,” Inara said.
“I’m sure you do.” Mal replied without even looking at her. This wasn’t her business - and what did a Companion know about skirting the law? He continued giving orders to Zoë without hardly missing a beat. “You’ll stay with them. And do something clever so no one’ll recognize them. But please, don’t let Kaylee handle the makeup.”
“There’s barely a hundred people in a single colony on that moon.” Inara interrupted. “Do you think they won’t notice three strangers getting dropped off?”
Mal looked at her and humphed in annoyance. She was chosing a fine time to start talking to him again.
“And how do you plan on explaining why you need to stop there again on the way out?” she asked. “Why don’t you save time and send a wave to that cruiser - 'Outlaw Crook Dropping Secret Stuff Here'.”
That was enough. “Inara,” he said, trying to keep himself calm and reasonable. “I can’t take them near that station. Don’t know if you’re payin’ attention, but this ship might be gettin' searched. I have to do something with them, and I got no other option.”
“Try this one: as I am soon to be departing for the Core and leaving your ship bereft of a precious Ambassador, we have another Companion in training. Clearly, myself and my novice need a hired man to do our laundry and such.”
He frowned at her blankly.
“Mal, send them in my shuttle with me. I’ve already arranged to see a client, and he’s high in the local government. I’ll be going straight planetside with his specific permission. The Alliance won’t bother me.”
“No way. You have any idea what would happen if you got caught with these two in your shuttle?”
“I won’t get caught.”
“And if your boyfriend of the week wants to try the new Companion?”
Inara rolled her eyes, as if he should know the whoring rules better. “Novices are never available for ‘trying’.”
“And he won’t talk about her to any of his government buddies, or recognize her if he sees her ‘wanted’ picture in the new Alliance outpost?”
“You have no respect for my talent with makeup and costuming.”
“It’s not a bad idea, sir,” Zoë said.
“No,” he told Zoë firmly. “It’s too dangerous.” He looked back to Inara. “I won’t have you turnin’ criminal your last few days here.”
“It’s a little late for that. You do recall the event with the Lassiter?”
“This ain’t some cute little heist. The Alliance don’t just slap your hand and sit you in a cell for a few years if they catch you harborin’ fugitives like those two.”
Inara didn’t back down. “For several months I’ve been on this ship with them, and I’ve taken the same risk as you. They are my friends and I will do all I can to help them. Besides, if they get caught on Serenity it won’t go much better for me than if they get caught in my shuttle. I'll still be an accomplice.”
Zoë earned herself a glare when she backed up Inara again. “Sir, she’s got a point.”
“Captain, they’re hailing us,” Wash called from the pilot chair. “What should I tell them?”
“Zāogāo!” Mal swore, and he turned away from Inara and Zoë to study the planet now visible up ahead. Thing was, he knew Inara was right. In fact, it was a damned fine plan, but he didn't want to have to admit that. He shook his head, annoyed at himself. First he's a attacking a kid, and now he's endangering his crew out of pride?
“Fine,” he said. “Wash - tell them we have a delivery to make on the station and… a contractor and her crew with an appointment planetside. Then you take us in slow as you can without, you know, lookin’ like you’re tryin’ to go slow.”
“And if they ask what we’re carrying?” Wash asked.
“Tell the truth. Ain’t nothing illegal about easy-rehydrate seafood delights.”
Wash got chatty with the comm and Mal nodded for Inara and Zoë to follow him off the bridge. He might have given in to Inara’s plan, but he was still the gorramn captain. He barked orders over his shoulder as they passed through the corridor toward the kitchen.
“Inara, you get to your shuttle and set up your travel plans. I want you, River, and Simon out of here before we get anywhere near that station, and I want it all done by the book, special permissions or not. Jayne,” Mal found the merc polishing his knife at the table. “We got a complication in plans.”
“Wouldn’t know what to do with myself if we didn’t,” Jayne replied.
“You find Kaylee and y’all help Zoë get the Tam’s stuff together. Stow it all in one place - an empty bunk. Make it look like it’s been there for some time, like it got left a while back.”
“They movin’ out?” Jayne asked. His mouth pulled into a grin as he tucked his knife into a leather sheath on his belt. “This is the kind of complication I like.”
Mal ignored that comment. “We got maybe half an hour to get this done, people, so get to movin’.”
* * *
Simon and River each carried a small bag onto Inara’s shuttle; everything else they owned had been stacked in Simon’s room in a few old, dented crates. They didn’t have enough personal belongings to attract much attention, except for Simon’s med bag, but he brought that along with him.
Inara launched the shuttle as soon as the Tams were aboard. She set a leisurely course to the city of Meleager, located directly below the geosynchronous station of Atalanta. When she returned to the main room of the shuttle, she found Simon sitting on the sofa next to River, explaining the situation in a patient voice.
“It’ll be like a game,” he said. “Pretend you’re a doll. A very pretty doll, but a doll that doesn’t talk.”
“No talking?”
“None at all. You can’t let them know that you’re a real girl.”
Inara joined them with a box of makeup. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to stay somewhere private," she told Simon. "I wish I could leave you on the shuttle, but Chairmen Yeng wants to have his appointment here.”
“We could stay and watch,” River suggested.
“No, we could not!” Simon insisted.
Inara laughed as she began applying eyeliner. River expertly looked up, then down, as Inara outlined her eyes. “I think it best you take your brother somewhere a bit more comfortable, sweetie.”
River sighed. “You’re right. Might be overwhelming. It’s been a while for him.”
“River!” Simon snapped.
Inara took pity on Simon and bit back another laugh, then attempted to change the subject. “It must be rough having a mind reader for a little sister,” she told him.
“You have no idea,” he said with a shake of his head, then he told River pointedly, “Maybe we should start the not talking part right now, as practice.”
River made a face, then had to drop it and hold still for mascara. “Don’t need practice,” she replied smugly as she tried not to blink. “I understand. Undercover. Put on a doll. Look out from her eyes and watch people. They won’t even know I’m in there.”
“Are you okay with that?” Inara asked.
“Could be fun. They’ll want to have sex with me, won’t they?”
Simon’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, but Inara couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Yes, they will. But that’s not allowed. No one will touch you.”
“I am old enough, you know.” River lifted her chin at Simon defiantly.
“Whether you are or not, now is definitely not the time,” Inara replied, hoping to spare Simon this conversation. “But it is the time for a new name. What would you like?”
River considered the question thoughtfully. “Something pretty...” she said. “Pretty name for a doll, a doll who can’t be kissed.” Her eyes lit up. “Daphne!”
Inara nodded her approval. “You are the Novice Daphne. Now - no talking while I do your lips.”
* * *
An inspection team was waiting outside the airlock as soon as Serenity docked; a man with a digital clipboard in the lead. Mal let out a little breath of relief at the sight - the man didn’t look like an Alliance heavy, just a local recruit stuck with the job of shoving Alliance law up the nose of every crew that stopped in.
“Captain, welcome to Atalanta station,” the man murmured in a monotone without more than a glance at Mal. “I'm Agent Phillips. Ship’s paperwork?”
Mal silently handed over a brown folder.
“Very good,” Phillips said after scanning the ship’s registry form. “What’s the purpose of your visit?”
“Business. We’ve got some foodstuffs to deliver.”
“Can I see the papers on the cargo?”
Mal frowned. “Never needed papers to deliver here before.”
“There was no law before. Now there is.”
“I see that. We were given no papers.”
“We understand that many people this far out aren’t aware of the laws,” the man said with a bored sigh. “The first time you get by with a warning, as long as your cargo isn’t contraband.”
“Awful nice of ya,” Mal said, hoping it really would go that easy. “And you’ll see we got nothin’ contraband.”
“Uh-huh. We will need to inspect the cargo so we can estimate the tariff.”
“Tariff?”
“Alliance law charges a tariff for all goods shipped between worlds. Surely you are accustomed to paying tariffs, being captain of a cargo ship?”
“Well… of course,” Mal improvised. "Tariffs... make the system work, don't they?"
Agent Phillips replied with a doubtful grunt and made some marks on his clipboard. “Where is the cargo?”
“Right over here.” Mal pointed to the crates behind him.
“Team one, check the crates,” Phillips called over his shoulder. “Team two, search the ship.”
“Search my ship?” Mal did his best to look insulted.
“The Alliance treats everyone alike," Phillips said, the words rolling off his lips like he said them a hundred times a day. "Which means every ship gets searched, even one owned by such a fine upstanding man as yourself.”
Mal rolled his eyes. Phillips didn’t notice - he was looking past Mal at Zoë, Jayne, Kaylee, and Book. “Is this your whole crew?” he asked.
“I got a pilot who’s finishing up on the bridge. I also have a Companion and her staff. They’ve gone to meet her client already, as we reported to station control.”
“A Registered Companion?” The man looked at Mal with a new respect.
“That’s right.”
“So... when’s she coming back?”
“Not until we’re all done and headin’ out. She’s a busy woman.”
The man swallowed a disappointed look, then turned to the cargo.
***
The shuttle landed in the center of a lush roof garden. Inara stepped through the hatch a moment later to be greeted by a slightly pudgy yet thoroughly dashing middle-aged Chinese man. River followed after, watching through her thick veil as the man addressed Inara with reverence and more than a little obvious anticipation. River closed her eyes and let herself sway; she could almost see a dark red color flowing out of him in waves to cloud around Inara’s graceful form.
Inara did the introductions and explained the situation to her client, the honorable Arthur Yeng, Chairmen of Oeneus’s Committee for Agricultural Development. River played her part, keeping her eyes down-turned and not speaking while she curtseyed.
The House Mistress, as Yeng called her, appeared to take care the Novice Companion and her servant, freeing the shuttle for Inara’s appointment and freeing River to hold her head up and look around. The woman guided Simon and River to a large, sunny sitting room; three men were already seated at a table on the far side. The men were talking quietly, their heads bent together over words like “foreign exchange,” “equity,” and “maximize profit.” Boring talk about money - it reminded River of people her father had worked with.
But soon she felt that dark red color drifting in light wisps again, this time gathering around her own body. The men knew that a Companion was visiting the House today, and their conversation was shifting from business to something else. It was so obvious - even if she hadn’t been able to pick up the things in their minds, she would have seen their looks.
It’s all about misdirection, Inara had said as she hastily pinned up the hem of a dark blue silk gown, then opened a side seam for a slit that reached above mid thigh. They will never remember your face if we give them something else to look at.
River was seeing the truth of this. She sipped her tea with her kohl rimmed eyes lowered modestly behind her veil, but her lips curled when she felt her skirt fall to the side, revealing most of her leg. She was aware of the turn of her ankle, foot stretched to lengthen the line of her leg all the way to the floor. The background chatter of thoughts turned a darker shade of red.
“That’s a pretty color, but it looks better on Inara,” River said to no one in particular. Simon looked up in confusion but didn’t respond; he was sitting on a hard wooden chair beside the plush sofa where River reclined comfortably - close enough to be of service, but too far to be mistaken for anything but a serving man. River enjoyed the arrangement.
She liked his clothes too. They were funny, so different from what he usually wore. So plain. The best was his wide brimmed conical hat - it hid the top half of his face, so Inara had insisted on it. But it was unnecessary; no one was looking at him.
“How are you doing?” he whispered. He studied the three men across the room suspiciously, as if he suspected them of paying too much attention. He was right, but he didn’t understand that their interest was no danger to her. Inara's plan was working flawlessly.
“It’s so easy,” she whispered. She glanced down through her veil at her own bosom. Her slim dancer’s build didn’t lend itself to cleavage, but it did make for a graceful curve from her hips over her rib cage to her open shoulders. She arched her back slightly.
…would that be a full handful?… she heard the thought and had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“They’re like … puppies,” she said.
“Who?” Simon asked.
“Puppies who want a new chew toy.” She tilted her head at a new string of images that formed in her mind. “Poor puppies. Never happy with the toys they have. Need something new to chew on…”
“Um, are you hungry?”
“…something young and fresh.”
“River?” Simon touched her arm and she started, then focused on him.
“I’m not hungry. Shh - this is educational. I need to listen.”
Simon shook his head, but left her alone after that.
* * *
“Yúbèn de tariff,” Mal muttered as he waited for the lift to arrive.
“Better not be comin’ out of my cut,” Jayne growled.
Zoë gave Jayne a dark look. “Anything we have to pay, we all pay, just like always,” she said.
“Maybe someone ought’a be doin’ a little research on our jobs before we take `em,” Jayne said with a glare at Mal. “So as we can avoid gettin’ into this kinda crap.”
“Calm down, now,” Mal said. The conversation paused as a group of people unloaded from the lift and he, Zoë and Jayne got on. Then Mal did something he hadn’t done in quite a while: he resorted to optimism. There’d been too many problems lately and he needed this to work out smooth, if only to get the crew to relax a bit.
“Probably just another reason Ricky hired us," he said with something like cheer, "to find out if tariffs are enforced. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable about it.”
“Yeah, cause reasonable is somethin’ we see a lot of,” Jayne replied with a sneer.
They arrived at the dining and entertainment level of the station, separating as they left the lift. Mal led the way to an eatery toward the center of the station, a fairly nondescript place, dirty and dark, but not so low brow as to invite trouble. A bar stretched along one side, black tables were scattered on the other. Mal chose one in the middle of the joint, back against the wall furthest from the bar. Zoë followed him in, sitting at the bar toward the back, near the kitchen. Jayne stayed just outside the wide entryway to the concourse.
Mal ordered a drink to sip, but it wasn’t a long wait before Ricky’s contact showed up; a polished man of Indian descent joined him at the table. The man had a thin black mustache and wore a loose fitting brown robe over cream colored trousers and leather sandals. A cloth skull cap covered his short black hair. He sat down and set his elbows on the table, threading his fingers together and openly studying Mal.
“Welcome, Captain Reynolds. Ricky sends his regards,” he said with a sharp, clipped accent.
“He could send a few apologies to go along with those. Who the hell are you?”
“You may call me Kamath. Did you have any trouble with the Alliance?”
“Actually, Kamath?” Mal repeated the name and the man nodded, “We had a little toss and tariff that would’a been nice to know about in advance.”
“Ricky thought you might not take the job if you knew too much about the situation here on Oeneus. I’m sure you understand.”
“My understandin’ ain’t what it used to be. How long have the Feds been here?”
“Three weeks, but they build fast. The new base is nearly complete. Now they are unloading supplies and personnel and beginning to make their presence felt, as you experienced. Tell me, how was the search?”
Mal glared at how casually Kamath asked about that, but decided to play nice. “Not the fussiest Alliance search I’ve seen. Pretty shoddy, actually. The guy running it wasn’t trained in the Core, just some local grunt. Wasn’t hooked up to high level Alliance intel neither, or he’d of asked us a few more questions after he got our ship’s registry.”
“And the tariff?”
“Glad you asked. I brought along the bill,” Mal spread a sheet on the table. “I believe some reimbursement is in order.”
“Of course.” The man checked the paper then discretely counted some bills out of his pocket and added them to an envelope, which he held while he spoke into a comm unit in Hindi. There was a pause as he listened to the response, then he handed the envelope to Mal.
“The cargo is nearly finished unloading already,” Kamath said as Mal counted the pay, not trying to hide his distrust of the man. “This has been informative, Captain Reynolds. I will send a most positive report to Ricky, as well as others in the local shipping business. And - as Ricky requested, I offer you his apologies for any discomfort you may have experienced. I have included bonus pay for your hardship.”
Mal closed the envelope with a low whistle; the man wasn’t lying about the bonus. “That’s very reasonable of you,” he said with poorly concealed surprise. Then he remembered himself and frowned. “And why don’t you let Ricky know I’ll need a little more information in advance if we’re to do business together in the future.”
“Of course,” Kamath replied. “In fact, I can give you advanced information about your next job right now.”
Mal tucked the fat envelope into his pocket of his coat. Funny how getting a bonus affected one’s attitude. Maybe it was a result of his experiment in positive thinking; maybe he ought’a try it more often. “I’m listening,” he said with a nod.
“We have some other things we need to move. The same route. You’d have Ricky’s goods in your cargo hold, and mine somewhere more discrete.”
“And your goods are...?”
“Something the Alliance does not approve of. But something the locals need.”
“Why you offerin’ me this now?”
“We needed to see how you’d get through the new security. It also helps that they’ve seen you once. The next time you arrive with cargo, they’ll already know you.”
“And it’d be easier to get your hush-hush through.”
“Yes. You would get the same pay for Ricky’s goods, and twice as much again for my cargo.”
Mal whistled again. “That is quite an offer.”
“Good.” Kamath sat forward. “You should leave as soon as possible. We need to move the cargo before the Alliance gets more permanently established.”
“Hold up a sec, Kamath buddy. I didn’t say I’d take it.”
Kamath settled back in his chair again. “You have a problem?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“It sounds like a good thing, but I don’t like jumpin' on it without knowin’ some details. I’ve tried that before, didn’t like how it went. What’s the cargo?”
“It is the duty of a good smuggler to not ask such questions.”
“I guess I ain’t a good smuggler. What’s the cargo?”
The man gave Mal an appraising look, then shook his head. “Best of luck of you in the future, Captain Reynolds. It is a shame we won’t be working together again.”
Mal bit his tongue to stop from callign the man back. That was a lot of money he’d just passed by, but he couldn’t let himself take a job from people who’d already set him up once. Besides, how stupid would it be to go through the Alliance checkpoint again with the Tams around?
He ran a hand over the envelope in his coat pocket. Best to leave everything as it was. After all, it hadn’t worked out too bad. With this much cash, they could go planetside to upgrade a few things on the ship and let Kaylee have her free time. He allowed himself another moment of cheery optimism.
It didn’t last long - it wasn't a full minute before Jayne’s voice sounded from the receiver tucked in his ear: We got company.
A squadron of Alliance guards stepped into the entrance of the bar and an authoritative voice called out, “Alliance business - everyone stay where you are!” The man’s eyes quickly settled on Mal. He nodded to the guards and they moved toward Mal’s table.
Mal took a quick look around the room, then glanced up at the ceiling; the place was lit by two large overhead lightbanks. “Awful bright in here,” he said softly.
Two shots rang out, one from the bar, one from the entryway behind the guards. The sudden darkness was full of the tinkling of shattered glass and the scuffle of people scattering.
*
*
*
Translations
Qīngwā cào de liúmáng:
frog-humping sonuvabitch
guĭ:
hell
zāogāo:
damnit
yúbèn de:
stupid
*
*
*
On to Chapter 4/19