Six Years Earlier...
The two smugglers watched carefully as the client surveyed the shipment.
"This everything?" He grunted.
The first mate, a woman, rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Yanzi, you know we have never held anything back—"
The captain held out his hand to stop her with a tap on the shoulder.
"It's all there," he answered. "Fifty pounds of authentic Philadelphian delicacies."
The client grinned as he lifted a crystalline sweetmeat and held it up to the light. Letting it drop back in the crate, he announced, "Three hundred credits."
The woman flinched. "You twisted scrounger! We carted that halfway across the galaxy for you! You make three times that in profits!"
"Zoe!" The captain cut in firmly. "Stand down!"
Zoe stopped talking, but she still held her stance like she still very much wanted to punch Yanzi, the owner of the most unique restaurant in the quadrant—ultimately the Galaxy. Or so he'd like to think.
"Stand down, Zoe," Captain Mal repeated.
Zoe backed up. "Yes, Captain," she said flatly.
"Now," Mal continued, stepping forward and assuming control of the situation. "It's a powerful dangerous journey for a box of crystals," he said slowly, holding Yanzi's gaze, "and a lot of risk just to keep your little cache of goodies stocked. You wouldn't want to lose customers because someone else has delicacies at a better price than you do, would you?"
Yanzi's mouth twitched, his mind racing to figure out what the captain might be planning.
"No," he answered.
"You wouldn't want a customer coming in and telling you what price they would pay for the delicacies, even though you have already informed them of this price you set, would you? Don't want them changing the price on you, just because they don't want to pay so much."
Yanzi started to sweat, as the captain's words began to hit home. He said nothing.
"The price we agreed on," continued the captain, "was one hundred credits per every ten pounds. Now, this here crate is fifty pounds. Zoe?" He directed the comment to her without taking his eyes off the client. "How much would that be, according to the price we agreed on?"
"Round about five hundred credits, Captain," she answered.
"Five hundred," Malcolm repeated.
"But—" Yanzi started to protest. "My business—"
Malcolm nodded. "I understand; the economy hits us all hard at times. Lucky for you, I am willing to negotiate. We'll take the three hundred credits, and leave you with thirty pounds of crystals. That's the deal, and we can sell the other twenty pounds to someone else."
"No!" Yanzi snapped, gripping the edge of the crate. "These are mine! My shipment!"
"Then give us our price!" Zoe retorted.
Yanzi hesitated for only a moment. "Fine!" He signaled his henchmen. "Show 'em the money, boys."
The burly men brought forward a case full of credits—all five hundred of them. Yanzi grinned as the shamefaced Zoe accepted the case, and offered the pair a sloppy salute. "Pleasure doing business with ya," he goaded.
Zoe felt Mal's hand grip her elbow tight, or she would have laid into the slimy swindler right then and there. The two entered their borrowed land skimmer in silence and commenced the long drive back to the ship.
Zoe didn't bother even looking at the captain to know where his thoughts were going.
"All right, say it," she snapped.
"Say what?" Mal replied. "What do you want me to say?"
Zoe sighed and hung her head, groping at the spot under her shirt where she had hung her wedding ring, the last piece of her that bore any connection to Hoban.
"I'm not ready," she murmured.
"Your words, Zoe, not mine," Mal said softly. "I did ask, you know; you were in there a long time. Anybody would be glad for some space after what happened to all of us, but you, most of all."
"What Happened" was the fiasco on Miranda seven weeks before, when her world came crashing down in a heap of twisted shrapnel, an explosion detonated to save them all, at the expense of the one man in the galaxy who really knew her and adored her for who she was. Mal knew her, sure, but they were two halves of the same coin, forever back-to-back but never face-to-face; Hoban was all the little parts she had been missing her entire life. And he paid the ultimate price to save her life, to save all of them.
"I said I was ready, and I am," Zoe replied. Two weeks straight of mourning in the empty docking bay where Inara's private shuttle once sat was enough to recover her composure, though it would be some time before she regained the old spark.
"And I trust you, Zoe," said Mal, "I always have. Though I admit, you were a little skittish around Yanzi back there." He gave her a small nudge. "I thought I was supposed to be the mouthy one, and you were always the strong, silent type."
Zoe felt the guilt knotting in her stomach. "I nearly ruined the job, didn't I?"
"Not a bit!" Malcolm allowed himself a small grin of victory. "I think your little rampage was the reason he gave in and let us have the full payment." He glanced and saw that Zoe still frowned. "Doesn't it make you feel a little better to blow off some of that pent-up steam?"
"With all due respect, Captain," Zoe said in a strained, calm voice, "what I feel like right now is shooting something, so if you don't give me a reasonable alternative, I reckon it might be you!"
Malcolm laughed as the hull of the Serenity came into view. "That's my girl! Don't you start scratching that itchy trigger finger just yet." They climbed out and Jayne opened the ramp for them. The gunman's perpetual scowl eased when he saw the case of money Mal carried.
"Well! Didn't think the old skinflint had it in him," muttered Jayne.
Mal wagged his head. "He's probably been holding out on us for years, but Zoe scared the credits right out of him!"
That brought a small curve to her lips.
"So," Jayne said as he closed the ramp. "Where to next, Captain?"
Mal shrugged. "Oh, I've a hankering for a good, rousing dustup. River?" He called up to the cockpit.
The pale face appeared at the door without a word.
"Set a course for Persephone," he instructed. "I'm thinking it's a while since we visited our friend Badger."
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The docks of Persephone held considerably less color and sparkle to them than they once did. The market population had reduced to about half, and most of them sold wares such as machine parts or foodstuffs.
Mal nodded to River.
"If it's all right," he said, "I'd like you to do a little shopping here; there are some parts we need for repairs, and our provisions are getting low."
River nodded. "You can trust me," she promised.
"Persephone's a good place," Malcolm assured her. "We know this port. Close up the ship, Zoe and Jayne will come with me."
The young girl smiled. "Aye-aye, Captain!" She gave a small salute.
Mal felt the sense of foreboding worsen when they arrived at the alley usually dominated by Badger's tent, and found it empty. He stopped in the middle of the dead end.
"Badger?" He called loudly.
A loose, rasping cough erupted behind him. The trio turned as a scruffy, bedraggled figure crawled out from under a blanket held aloft by short sticks. The bearded man squinted up at them.
"As I live and breathe," gasped a familiar accent, "Captain Malcolm Reynolds! Is it really you?"
"Badger!" Malcolm kept his tone light and friendly as he assisted the erstwhile kingpin to his feet and watched him dust off his jacket and adjust his bowler as if nothing had changed. "What are you doing down here? The way you had things set up when we parted ways I always assumed that the next time we saw each other, you'd be living like a king!"
Badger snorted. "Of what, might I ask? Persephone? I'd sooner be king of bloody hell, thank you!" He gestured them all forward to walk as they discussed business.
"What's got you in such a sunny mood?"
They entered the old tavern, which had been walled off to occupy only a portion of the space. Jayne counted six patrons, plus the bartender. Badger gripped his mug, but only took tiny sips.
"Sorry to break your hearts, gents... and lady," he nodded to Zoe, "but things aren't what they used to be. There's a new leader in town, and he's been rough on the economy in these parts."
Zoe frowned. "Somebody else is running the black markets?"
Badger nailed her with a look as the liquor invigorated him. "Somebody's bloody running me!" He snarled. "Bogeyman from the Core, calls himself Abbadon; nobody knows if that's his real name, or what he uses for official Alliance business, but there's rumors around that he is somebody pretty high up."
"Rumors that he probably started," Mal mused. "So what does this Abaddon have on you?"
Badger plucked the bowler off his head as he gave the captain a dry look. "Only my bleeding ledger!"
The smuggling crew kept a respectful silence; a kingpin's ledger was as dear as his own soul.
Meanwhile, Badger's mind had done some thinking. "That's what... Well, I mean, now that you're here—" he stopped and glanced suggestively at each of them. "I assume you came looking for a job, hey? How would you like to steal my ledger back from Abaddon?"
"Like to?" Jayne snarled. "Since when did we do anything for you because we liked you?"
"Here now!" Badger retorted. "The last job you did for me, I paid, we squared up! You do this one—"
"And you'll owe us?" Zoe cut in.
Badger's flinch demonstrated how distasteful was the idea that he would owe anyone, much less a crew he used to have on his payroll.
Malcolm leaned forward. "No," he said. "We need more."
Badger scowled. "Bloody cheek—"
"You said yourself, Abaddon's very influential in the Core. There needs to be more at stake for us, if we're going up against the Alliance."
"Shushhh!" Badger raised a grubby finger to his lips. "Not so loud, you numpty!" He waited a beat, but no one backed down. He sighed. "All right; the ledger Abaddon stole, it's on a device, a memory stick." He raised a finger, keeping his voice low. "Also on this device are many top-secret Alliance files, very important ones that my best men couldn't crack."
"You put your ledger alongside a bunch of Alliance files?" Mal asked incredulously.
Badger shrugged and plopped his hat back on. "I figured the Alliance files would be enough of a screen to hide my own data, and besides, there was plenty of room for all that information on just the one little stick—you know what? That's beside the point! The point is that Abaddon thinks he has just my ledger."
"As long as he doesn't know about the Alliance files," Zoe mused, "he has no reason to try accessing the device himself."
Badger nodded. "Not he! More than likely he's got it stashed somewhere in his headquarters, so all you will have to do is break in, find the device, bring it back to me, I'll remove my ledger and let you have the Alliance files." A bit of the old gleam returned to his eye. "Maybe let that pixie of yours take a crack at it—you know, the smart one."
Mal and Zoe shared a look; they both knew he was referring to River.
Mal smirked. "She really did a number on you all that time ago, didn't she?"
Badger sniffed. "Do you want the job, or not?"
Breaking into the fortress of a man they knew nothing about, to steal a device River might be able to decode, which could contain files of immense importance, as evidenced by the security measures taken... Or it could be the unrealized fantasies of a paranoid, delusional megalomaniac. More than likely it was the latter; the Alliance had plenty of those working for them.
Mal glanced at Zoe; a little of the old color was back, at the prospect of finally being able to do something effective. That was enough of an answer for Captain Reynolds.
"We'll take it," he said, extending his hand to Badger. Still shaking hands, he added, "And you will still owe us a favor."
Badger stopped and he tried to jerk his hand away, but Malcolm wouldn't let go. "That isn't—I don't—"
"Come on, Badger," Malcolm shook his head. "Just how badly do you want this ledger back? Because I think all of us would agree that we aren't looking for trouble in the Core if we can help it."
Zoe and Jayne nodded.
Badger rolled his eyes. "Very well," he growled.
"Say it," Malcolm demanded.
"Do this for me," Badger growled through clenched teeth, "and you can have the Alliance files—"
"And?"
"And I'll owe you a favor."
Captain Mal gave one last shake and released Badger, who massaged his hand and glared at him. "Pleasure to be back in business with you again, Badger." He took one last swig of his mug and set it down with a contented sigh. "So where do we find this Abaddon and his secret lair?"
Badger snorted. "It's no secret."
He led them out of the tavern and further down the street. From this corner, Mal could see one feature of Persephone's skyline he didn't recognize: a tall building, gleaming black among the desert-brown clay structures.
"That's where Abaddon lives, works, and throws parties for anyone who has something he wants," he said.
Mal's mind caught the unspoken idea. "And is he planning on hosting a party anytime soon?" He asked.
Badger grinned for the first time in the conversation. "There'll be one on tonight."
Mal nodded to Zoe. "Contact River and tell her to rendezvous with us at the docks. Looks like we have a party to crash!"
That evening, the crew of the Serenity turned out to blend in with the crowd streaming for the big black building. More people than they had seen in the markets all day suddenly emerged at the promise of food and entertainment, all for the price of bondage to a very clever, very powerful man.
Malcolm let River and Zoe serve as the diversion to give their group the illusion of participating, while he watched for their host, and Jayne watched their backs.
Finally, Jayne grabbed Mal's arm. "I'm guessing that's him."
Mal followed his nod to behold a man who seemed to be making his way down the enormous staircase, right into the thick of the festivities. Electric spotlights honed in on him as he gave a benevolent wave to his guests. He stopped halfway, turning back to the top and extending his hand. A stunning figure in a shimmering gown descended, standing amorously at his side like a paid escort. In fact, as the couple descended, Malcolm knew for certain that this woman was a paid escort for Abaddon. She happened to glance his way; their eyes met.
Under the excited hubbub of the crowd, Malcolm Reynolds cried out in a voice only his crew would hear.
"INARA?"
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P.S. Hope you enjoyed the SPN references. :D -KM