Taking Back The Sky - A Firefly Continuation (Chapter 2 - Damaged Goods)

The dull tremor of landfall used to feel safe and reassuring. That was when he was at the controls.

She used to be able to sleep through it, it was so smooth. Now, it just felt mechanical and artificial.  


  Zoe collected her gear and heaved herself up the ladder without a second thought. She didn’t want to spend a moment in that berth more than she had to. It still felt cozy and homey, and that was the problem. She intended to redecorate, make everything functional and spartan and efficient. Life is rarely efficient when it’s happening, though. And a lot of life had passed in the last 14 months.  

  The hatch closed behind her as she marched her jackbooted feet down to the hold. Jayne and Mal were already busy getting the mule loaded.   

  Simon and River had already started loading the sides with the smaller crates, with her side being held higher than his. Even though Simon was the older brother, River was the stronger and faster of the two.  

  Kaylee was elbows deep into the antigrav, trying to divine another load out of it.  

  Zoe set her gear to the side, and grabbed hold of the opposite handle that Mal had taken.    

  “All right?” He asked, the front of his shirt starting to dampen and darken.  

  “Yeah.” They both heaved the cargo over to the mule, making a perfect square of boxes on the mule. “That’s all?” She asked.  

  “Yeah.” Mal gave his brow a wipe. “Tsao-gao, I’ll be glad to to be rid of all this.”

   “Hopin’ this’ll be the last time, sir.” Zoe allowed her bone-tiredness a voice. In the last 2 weeks, they had taken these 50 boxes of who knew what to Copernicus Station to Greenleaf Colony, and back again. Never had they been opened, nor even accepted. Neither Copernicus’ nor Greenleaf’s customs officers had even signed for them.  

  “If’n they don’t take this ruttin’ load, I got half a mind to space it all and use ‘em for target practice.” Jayne snarled. He passed by a box that still bore the scuff mark of his boot, placed there when told they had to load it all back up again for the fourth time.  


  “If it costs us our payday, you’re welcome to go out there and float with ‘em.” Mal snapped back. He agreed with Jayne, but he didn’t need to know that. “Can’t spend nothing that we don’t got.”  

  “And Serenity still needs some tender lovin’.” Kaylee piped up, grease stain on her cheek and hair tousled. “Can’t fix her from nothing neither.”  


  “The medical supplies are starting to get stretched a little thin as well.” Simon leaned against a bulkhead, sweating more than Mal or Jayne. He was also breathing heavier. “Given the amount of fire we all seem to take...”  


  “Hao de!” Mal let his annoyance show. “Anyone else?”  

  There was a brief silence before River spoke up. “We’re out of Fruity Oaty Bars.”  


  “So we’re all of the same mind, more currency is a good thing?” Mal addressed everyone. “Well, shiny. Let’s get this  hushuo over with, and make it to the next foxhole. Mark and move.”  

  He started the mule’s engine. Zoe hit the door control to allow them to enter what was known as Heartleaf Outpost’s Lower Commerce Level.


  The mule moved at a walking pace, to allow everyone to keep step. Only Jayne and Zoe walked, both on each side as River drove.    

  The bone-white buildings all looked nearly the same. Made from the refined rock of the asteroid’s metallurgical makeup, they weren’t supposed to used for long-term habitation. But, using the same mud principle that made up most of the ceramic parts in the ‘verse, it provided a durable and easily modified infrastructure. Like a giant shantytown that was able to be packed up and moved in a day.  

  “We’re looking for Harris Mueller & Sons.” Mal called to River. “They’re supposed to be up here someplace, according to legend.”  

  River nodded, and responded matter-of-factly. “178 meters.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road as she maneuvered around a slow-moving wagon.  

  Mal shurgged. “What she said.” He said to nobody in particiular.  

  “Who’s Harris Mueller?” Simon asked from the back. He rode on one of the boxes.  

  “Mid-level barter and trade goods man.” Kaylee said. “Sometimes he has decent tools or parts.” 

“Just don’t ask where he gets his wares from if he’s selling less than wholesale.” Zoe added. “He moonlights as a small-time crook. Wheels and deals whatever he can get his mitts on.”  

  Simon, being of refined breeding, nodded slowly, evidently unimpressed. “You always know the nicest people, Captain.” He said.  

  “ ‘Nice’ ain’t exactly a renewable resource this far out, Doc.” Mal called back. “Out here, it’s more so take what you get.”  

  The ancient wooden sign reading “H. Mueller + Sons Private Trade” looked like it had been burnt in by someone who only barely knew what they were doing. Mal knew from his last time here that Mueller was a penny-ante huckster who would sell one of his own boys if it got him one more pint, and that he wasn’t half as smart as he claimed to be.    

  That trait seemed to run in the family as one of the Junior Mueller’s stared at the mule, dead-eyed and slack-jawed.  
 
  “Morning, sport.” Mal dialed up the charm. “Is the old man about?”  

  The brain trust grunted twice, a small dollop of drool coming out. He shouted something into the store. Moments later, Harris Mueller Sr. came lumbering out of his storefront. His hairline had receded further, and his waistline had become more pronounced.  


  “Well, well. Cap’n Mal Reynolds. Surprised that they even let you make port, you shanyang zhangfu.”  

  “Always nice to see you, Harris.” Mal killed the mule’s engine, and dismounted. “They say water seeks its own level, mostly when a fellow ne’er-do-well has money for trading purposes.”  

  Mueller grunted. That must have been where Junior took his speech lessons from. “This it?”  

  “Surely is.” Mal said. Behind him, Jayne let the support go slack to start unloading. Mal grabbed the first crate he could and set it before the shopkeep. “From Greenleaf, to Copernicus, to here.”  

  Mueller opened the crate himself, looking over the goods. His brow furrowed a little deeper, though he had the kind of face that looked like he’d never smiled in his life.    

  “And the rest of this?” He gestured a fat finger at the contents. “More of the same?”
 

“That’s the lot.” Mal said. “Just as agreed.”  

  “Well, I’ve got no need of this. It’s all too lightweight to be of any use around here.”Mueller shrugged. “Sorry, but you gotta take it all back where you got it.”  

  All Mal did was blink. River sighed, while Jayne looked like he was about to boil over. He slammed a meaty hand on the nearest container.  

  “Jayne, please refrain from manhandling the goods.” Mal said before taking a step towards Mueller. “You know, Harris, you say you are, but you don’t sound sorry to me.”  

  “That is, by definition, your problem, you Independent lao-shu.”    

  Zoe stiffened. Mal swayed only a moment. Mueller may have been an idiot and a shyster, but the worst thing about him was the fact that he was an Alliance collaborator.  

  “Now, see here, Mueller.” He said evenly. “I think we’ve proven that we don’t necessarily need to like each other to do business together. Are you really telling me that you’ve got nothing for me?”

“Not a thing.” 

“I see." Mal lowered his voice, and continued. "Not even enough for a nugget of information? Knowledge is power, after all.”

“What information?” Mueller was now growing suspicious.    

  Mal turned to River, who pulled her goggles up from her eyes.  

  “Most of these wares aren’t yours.” She said to Mueller. The whites of his eyes showed, much like his true colors. “Some of them still have the ident tags on them.”  

  “How the huo ren gou shi did she know that?” Mueller demanded.  

  “Oh, so now suddenly, our business relationship is important to you again.” Mal did his best play-acting to appear shocked. “Well, isn’t that quite the reversal?”  

  “Gorrammit, Reynolds. I’m not in the mood for playin’ around!” Mueller hissed his whisper.    

  “I don’t presume to speak for our girl here,” Mal said. “Though she does have a certain insight to how the ‘verse works. Still kinda wet behind the ears, you see. Still has all those fine notions of honor and decency, and she’s still clean enough that the local sherrif will believe what she tells him. So, I ask you again, Mr. Harris Mueller. Are you absolutely certain that we can do no business together?”  

  Mueller turned a very rousing shade of purple. His whiskers bunched out to the sides. “How much?” He said through gritted teeth.  

  “What I need is 5000 currency.” Mal said, keeping his voice even and level. Mueller hated to be patronized, or made fun of. “What I’m asking for is 2000. See, I'm not a greedy man.”
 
  “Seems awful steep, just to keep your ruttin’ mouth shut.” Mueller whinged as he took out his datapad.  

  “Weigh it against the 17,000 fine for being in possession of wares that aren’t yours, plus your illicit inventory. And the 10 solar year penal colony sentence as well.” Mal now gave a smile. Mueller was sunk, and he knew it.

  Mueller grunted and was nearly about to complete their transaction. Mal said “And you do realise Harris, that was the cash price?”  

  “Reynolds, you bastard.” Mueller muttered before retreating into his vole nest of a store. He returned, shoving a fistful of currency pledges into Mal’s gloved hand. “Happy now?”  

  “Oh, I’m shiny, Harris. Always a pleasure.” Mal placed the money safely in the pocket in the small of his back – protected behind the Independent duster he wore. He raised a hand, making a circular motion with his fingers. “This is it, folks. Last call for stevedore duty.”  

  Mueller snapped his fingers at his offspring beasts of burden. Wearing ill-fitting rags, and smelling of fuel, they sped up the unloading process considerably.  

  When they were empty, Mal waved goodbye. Mueller, safe inside his shop, responded with a rude gesture.    


  With the cargo gone, there was now room for everyone to actually ride in the mule. Which they did, all the way to the Upper Commerce level.   

  “Now let’s never do that again.” Jayne heaved out a sigh as he wiped the back of his neck with his hanky.    

  “Oath.” Agreed River.    

  The Upper Commerce level was not nearly as nice as the retail outlets of Persephone or Bellerophon, but it was a drastic improvement over the Lower’s Black Market. When settled in an out of the way parking spot, the currency was divided amoung them with essential shopping lists.    

  “That’s all there is, so don’t splurge.” Mal cast a glance at Jayne as he said so.  

  “Mal, just when the good gorram are we gonna get a decent payday?” Jayne huffed. “I didn’t join up to get the travel points, you know.”  

  “Wait, we get paid for this?” Simon’s ear perked up. River was playing with her hair. She said softly “Fiat currency is an unwise system. Prone to inflation and failiure. Barter for goods or skills is better.”  

  “Much as I wish it weren’t the case, we’re still stuck with needing the cash.” Mal said. “Now come on, let’s mark and move here.”  

  They all went their separate ways. Mal and Zoe went off to secure the next batch of arms and provisions. Zoe led the way, but Mal took a last look. In the general direction where Jayne wandered off, he caught a whiff of spice. He knew the aroma, and the person who generally wore it.    

  There was no way she’d ever come to a low-rent hovel like Heartleaf. Mal shook his head and kept the pace with Zoe.  

  *** 

Weaving through the throng of buyers and shoppers, each speaking their own particular dialect, she kept her path steady. She knew where she was going, the felt cloak and hood kept her from being bothered by the denizens.    


  The dispensary was close, but it required cutting through the parking garage. Fine enough, nobody wanted to hang out there longer than they had to.    

  That’s when she saw it. The beat-up old mule. She didn’t have time to spare, but she went to see it anyway.    


  The same chipped paint job, the same hole where a bullet ricocheted off the engine housing, the same worn out seat that the chief mechanic tried to patch up.    

  Inara Serra couldn’t help but smile. How could she describe the feeling? Dread, anxiety, hope, apprehension, the butterflies that spawn from revisiting an old love affair, all rolled into one great burst of emotion.  

  “Malcolm Reynolds.” She whispered. “Gao sheimei gui are you doing out here?”