SUMMARY:  Post-Serenity story.  When these five kinds [of spies] are all at work, none can discover the secret system.  This is called divine manipulation of the threads. -Sun Tze

*****

Kaylee's hands trembled a bit as she scanned the guards lining the bar.  They were knocking back liquor and eyeing the girls with varying degrees of lust.  Her stomach in knots, Kaylee zeroed in on a likely customer -- tall but not too tall, medium build, short brown hair, skittish expression on his face as he stole sidelong glances at the half-dressed women strutting around the saloon.  Didn't look like he did this often, which would probably be for the best, since she didn't really do this often, either.

She liked sex lots, but she'd never really learned the arts of seduction.  She was far too straightforward for work like this, preferring plain talk to hints and double entendres.  The other girls draped themselves on the guards, usin' their hair and their scent and their whispered words to seduce 'em 'till they didn't know nothin' but their need to bed someone, sooner than later.  Kaylee knew she wouldn't be able to pull that sort of thing off, no matter how many times she'd seen 'Nara do it.

Kaylee hoped her approach wouldn't spook a man embarrassed to be in a whorehouse, watching as the shy young guard nearly dropped his mug of shaoxing jui.

Steeling herself, Kaylee pushed away from the wall and moved toward him, still a little uncertain on the heels Xi He had given her.  She felt her hips sway, exaggerated-like, and made herself smile when her mark noticed her approach.  Inhaling slowly to calm her nerves, Kaylee reached his side and linked her arm through his.  "First time here?"

"Ye--yes," he answered, eyes wide.  Shy as he was, his gaze kept dropping to her cleavage, and Kaylee knew she had him.  She felt an odd sense of power, of confidence, and let herself embrace her role.

Leaning up, she murmured in his ear, "I'll be gentle with you."  Kaylee let her breath dance across his neck until he shivered.  "Unless you want me to be rough."

He choked, coughing into his fist for a moment.  "Excuse me," he said, his eyes on the floor, his arm stiff under her hands.  Kaylee stuck to him like a burr, trailing her fingers down his biceps.  After a long moment, he stole a glance at her face, and she nodded encouragement.

Awkwardly, he shoved his free hand in his pocket and came up with three silver coins.  Kaylee accepted payment with a smile, tucking the coins into her top before ushering him across the room.  She glanced at the bar, where Xi He was giving her a look of maternal pride that turned Kaylee's stomach.

Pushing that aside, she showed her shy client into her room and asked, "What's your name?"

"Ted Huang," he answered, his voice still shaky as he stared at the bed, eyes wide.

Kaylee nodded, running her hands over his chest, feeling the rectangle of his ident card tucked into his pocket.  "Nice to meetcha, Ted.  You can call me Kate," she answered, her voice low and throaty.  

"Kate," he repeated, still a bit dazed.  He stood stock still, letting her caress him without even reaching for her.  Kaylee decided he needed to be put at his ease for this to work.

"You work down here on Eunomia?" she asked, her tone conversational as she smiled up at him.  No reason she couldn't get useful information while she worked him.

Huang nodded emphatically, his breathing erratic as Kaylee started to toy with the buttons of his shirt.  She gave him a sweet smile.  "You work with all those scary prisoners?" she cooed, running her fingertips along his biceps as she skimmed the shirt from his body, tossing it against the wall.

"Not the real dan-- dangerous prisoners," he answered absently, the words tumbling from him in short bursts.  "I guard the political prisoners.  Not very violent."

"Still," Kaylee answered, twining her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him until he groaned.  "That's a very manly job," she whispered, leaning up to kiss him.  His arms came suddenly around her ribcage, pulling her close as he deepened the kiss.

Her hands were unsteady, the spring-loaded needle unwieldy in her grasp, but she managed to press it against his neck and pull the trigger.  As the sedative flooded his system, Huang staggered back, his pupils blown out.  "Wha--?" he asked, then slumped to the floor in an awkward heap.

Breathing hard, Kaylee stared down at his unconscious body, overwhelmed.

"Gorram girl," Jayne said, his voice low as he swung a leg over the windowsill.  The opening was barely large enough for him to squeeze his way in, and set high up in the wall.  He dropped awkwardly to the floor.  "Took you long enough."  He tossed a small knapsack onto the bed, not taking his eyes off the unconscious man.

Kaylee turned to him, her legs feeling unsteady.  He looked blurry, somehow, and she blinked, trying to clear her vision.  "Jayne--"

"Sssh," he admonished, suddenly at her side.  His hands encircled her forearms, and he pushed her down onto the mattress, then urged her to lean forward.  "Head between your knees," he ordered, his hand awkwardly patting her shoulder for a moment.  "I'll take care of this one."

Dots swam before Kaylee's eyes, and she obeyed Jayne, gasping.  Eventually, the lightheadedness dissipated, and Kaylee was able to sit back up, still feeling unsteady.  Jayne had Huang tied up and was stripping off his boots.

"Get changed," Jayne ordered, not looking up from his work.

Kaylee looked down at her skimpy dress, having a bit of trouble focusing on the situation.  She felt numb.  "What?"

"The bag," Jayne explained, grunting as he pulled the rope tight around Huang's wrists.  "Brought you some clothes."

"Oh."  Kaylee opened the bag with some difficulty, her fingers responding sluggishly to her commands.  Normally, she'd be embarrassed to change in front of Jayne.  Now, she didn't much care about modesty; she wanted only to get out of this place.  Quickly, she pulled her familiar olive green jumpsuit on, her equilibrium coming back slowly.  She rubbed the embroidered bear on the leg.  "I'm ready."

"Good," Jayne answered, kneeling beside her trunk.  He tossed handfuls of gauzy, sequined fabrics onto the bed.  "Help me put him in here."

"Jayne--"

"Ain't killed him, Kaylee," Jayne told her, "and a few hours in here won't either."

Reluctantly, Kaylee moved to Huang's form and gripped his ankles with shaking hands.  He was heavy, but they got him into the trunk with a loud thud that made Kaylee wince.  "Sorry, Ted," she whispered as Jayne pushed the cover down, then scooped the whoring clothes over the top of it.  

He grabbed the knapsack, folded it up, and shoved it into the cargo pocket of his vest, then looked to Kaylee.  "Let's go."

Kaylee cast one last glance around the room, then stepped in his cupped hands to boost herself up and out the window.

*****

Inara rubbed her forehead tiredly, a little frustrated that her tea hadn't managed to stave off the headache she'd earned scanning hours of archival footage.  Political trials were theatre, to be sure, but not in the least bit entertaining.  In fact, watching the scared, defiant men and women be accused by silver-tongued Alliance officials was disheartening.

She'd supported unification, had assumed that a single government would ensure equality for all.  How wrong she'd been.  Her experience trying to help the whores on Sihnon and her eye-opening time aboard Serenity were nothing compared to watching the Alliance railroad its political enemies.

Still, the long, tiresome search had turned up no one River recognized as her mollymawk, which led them to their working theory that the mysterious prisoner was being held in jail awaiting his farce of a trial.  

Intransigent man he was, Mal pointed out that River seemed to be regressing to her fragmentary, confusing speech patterns, suggesting that the girl just hadn't been able to articulate it when they showed her the mollymawk.  Inara, who'd spent large portions of her life attuned to the shifting moods of others, was confident that River hadn't seen her mollymawk.  The girl had watched all of the footage with the same fitful disinterest, Simon hovering worriedly at her back, asking her questions in soothing tones.  Finally, she'd upended a tea service and stormed out, Simon trailing worriedly along.

Exhausted, Inara had chosen to nap in her shuttle while Zoe and Mal retired to the bridge to discuss strategy.  Sometime while Inara was asleep, River had crept into her shuttle and curled up beside Inara, sleeping the deep sleep of an exhausted child.  Inara hadn't the heart to wake her, gently pulling a blanket over the girl's shoulders and slipping out of her shuttle instead, intent on brewing a stronger medicinal tea.

She reached the kitchen before she registered Simon's presence, sitting at the large table, poking at a bowl of rice with marked disinterest.

"Good evening," she greeted, attempting to gauge his mood.  He'd been short with her this entire journey, and Inara wasn't sure whether it was his general stress or the role she'd played in Kaylee's excursion to Eunomia.

Simon spared her an uncharitable look, then turned his attention back to his food, bringing his chopsticks to his mouth and chewing with a slight grimace.

Apparently, his anger was about Kaylee.  Inara reached into her small cabinet, pulling out a serving of sauce and moving to the table.  "Here," she said, placing the small packet on the scarred wood near his bowl.

"No, thanks," Simon answered, his tone hostile.  He didn't bother to look at her.

She watched him for a moment, then nodded and retrieved the sauce, returning it to its rightful place as the uncomfortable silence spooled out.  Simon was in a dark place -- angry and fearful all at once.  "Your sister's in my shuttle, if you're looking for her."

"Why is she there?" Simon demanded, his tone accusatory, as if he suspected Inara of luring the girl with the promise of ice planets.

"I don't know," Inara admitted, adding a pinch of feverfew to her small teabag to help with her headache.  "I was asleep when she came in, so I couldn't ask her."

Simon's chair scraped against the floor.  "I'll get her."

"No," Inara turned to find him standing, rice bowl in hand, his face averted.  "She's asleep.  I think she could use the rest."

"She can sleep in her own quarters."  Simon sounded unmoved.

"Why disturb her?"  Inara poured hot water into her mug, watching it darken as it filtered through the teabag.  "She's fine where she is."

"I disagree," he countered primly.

Sighing, Inara took a seat on the other side of the table, gesturing for him to sit back down.  He stood stubbornly, but didn't immediately leave, which she decided to take as a small victory.  Wrapping her fingers around the warm mug, she said, "I'm sorry you're angry with me, Simon, but--"

"You took her to Eunomia," Simon interrupted angrily, his knuckles sickly white where he clutched his bowl.

The change of subject didn't surprise Inara; she'd expected Simon to bring up Kaylee.  "Actually, I took her to the other side of Themis to catch a shuttle to Eunomia," Inara corrected gently.

"Splitting hairs," Simon spat, finally looking at her again.  "She wouldn't have gone if you hadn't encouraged her."

Inara was worried for Kaylee, loved her as a sister, and she wasn't much enjoying being the target of Simon's wrath.  She was just as worried about Kaylee as Simon, and as much as she hated to admit it, she felt some guilt for agreeing to bring Kaylee to the docks.  At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do since Mal was being so unreasonable and Kaylee swore her plan was relatively safe.  Now, Inara wasn't quite as sure as she should be that she'd made the right choice, and she couldn't quite blame Simon for being agree at her.  And all things considered, his sniping at her was preferable to fisticuffs with Mal.  "I didn't encourage her," she told Simon, not expecting him to believe her when the alternative was to blame Kaylee for her actions.

"You told Mal she would be the perfect choice to whore herself," Simon accused, jabbing the air with his chopsticks to emphasize his point.

Stung, Inara paused, wondering if he was even capable of hearing reason when he was so upset for so many different reasons.  "I said that, of the three women on Serenity, Kaylee was the most likely to pass on Eunomia as a small-planet girl down on her luck and desperate enough to turn to whoring.  I certainly didn't come up with this plan in the first place, nor did I urge Kaylee on."

Simon lifted his eyebrows, not bothering to answer aloud.

"When Kaylee came to me asking for a ride to the docks," Inara continued, "we argued for quite a while."

"I'm sure you did your best to dissuade her," Simon shot back, rounding the table and bringing his bowl to the small sink to wash it.

Inara turned in her seat, following his progress.  "Simon," she said, her tone more commanding now.  "You don't have to believe me, but I did try to talk her out of it.  Kaylee is very dear to me, and I know she's not trained for--"

"And yet you still flew her to the docks," he shot back, scrubbing angrily at the bowl, the sponge squeaking in protest.

Inara'd had this fight with Mal already, and she really didn't have the energy for another round, especially not with the way her head was throbbing.  "Kaylee made a decision--"

"Mal made a decision that Zoe's idea was too dangerous," Simon interrupted, slamming the bowl down and heading for the door.  "But you ignored that.  You and Kaylee both.  And now she's in danger, and we're millions of kilometers away if she gets into trouble.  If anything happens to her--"  He broke off, shaking his head.

Inara watched the emotions flit across his face, but before she could respond, he stormed out of the kitchen and disappeared.  Inara took a deep breath, closing her eyes to center herself.  Her guilt and fear wouldn't help Kaylee, and it would only serve to cloud Inara's ability to help resolve the situation.  She reached for her tea, surprised to find that her fingers were trembling.

"Simon doesn't blame you," River said from the doorway, one hand on the jamb.

Startled, Inara nearly upended her teacup.  "River.  You're awake."

"He blames me," River said, her tone sad.  Resigned, even, as she entered the room and crossed behind Inara, heading for the bridge with her awkward grace.

Puzzled, Inara turned in her chair and touched the girl's arm as she passed by.  "River, honey, I'm sure that's not true."

But River never stopped moving.  "Kaylee did this to help me, because she thought it would make him feel better," she explained, reaching the stairs on the other side of the kitchen.  "Simon shouldn't be stuck with a broken sister who complicates everything."

Dumbstruck, Inara shook her head.  "River, no--"

"Yes," River interrupted, turning away, chin tilted down until her hair obscured her face.  "But I don't need to be first and Simon won't let me be second."  She paused, glancing back from the shadows of the passageway.  "Impasse," she said, then continued on her way.

*****

Weren't for lack of trying on the Shepherd's part, but Jayne never did learn the proper words for prayer more complicated than blessing food or rememberin' the dead.  Still, right before lyin' his way into an Alliance prison seemed good a time as any to pray, so he jus' muttered, "Keep a good thought for me, Shepherd," and moved toward the imposing gate.  Thing was made of some real shiny metal, tall and wide, with a small guardhouse off to the left.

Kaylee'd done good gettin' him proper Alliance duds, but Huang weren't close to Jayne's size, and the stolen pants were barely long enough to tuck into his boots.  At the front gate of the main prison, Jayne paused, adjusting his gorram purple vest one last time, hopin' it covered the pins holding Huang's regulation shirt together, since the buttons tore clean off.  The guardhouse door opened and a suspicious little man peered out at Jayne from behind the barrel of a gun near as fancy as Vera.  "Who's there?"

"Ted Huang."  Jayne moved into the light, hands held high, doing his best impression of a zôugôu Alliance type.  Went against his nature, but he forced a smile.  "Reporting for duty, sir."

"Huang?" the little man repeated, still training his weapon on Jayne as he glanced down at his handheld timepiece.  "Shift started nearly an hour ago."

"Sorry, sir," Jayne answered, all but battin' his eyelashes.  "Got tied up."  Were a truer statement than the little colonel suspected, since Huang was hogtied in Kaylee's trunk back at the whorehouse.  Before the little fascist could get too worked up, Jayne added, sweet as cherry pie, "Couple o' girls at Xi He's had a little transportation problem, so I got them to safety and came right here to report."

The little man still looked a mite suspicious, but tilted the business end of his gun just to the left of Jayne's head, tucking his timepiece away before demanding, "Ident card."

"Yes, sir," Jayne answered, handing it over and watching, a little twitchy, as the little man disappeared into the guardhouse, the door closing behind him with an authoritative click.
Jayne and Kaylee'd spent considerable time back on the shuttle altering the photo on Huang's card.  Weren't a perfect mockup job, but it would pass all but an electronic examination.  Soon enough, the little man reappeared, holding the guardhouse door open.

"Come on," he ordered, impatient.  "You get border patrol tonight, since you're late without an excuse."

Jayne's eyes narrowed as he accepted his ident card, tucking it back into his pocket.  "I got an excuse.  Told you--"

"Helping ladies of the night is not an accepted reason to miss work," the little man answered, adding a mannered sniff said he disapproved of whorin' of all sorts.

With a shrug, Jayne let the argument go, not wanting to chase danger pressing the issue.  Sooner he was out of this man's sight the better.

The little man pointed to the guard desk just inside the prison entrance.  "They'll tell you where you're assigned."

Jayne tipped his cap.  "Much obliged, sir," he answered, heading across the small prison yard, his breath visible in the crisp air.  Jayne greeted the two guards behind the desk with a cheerful, "Evenin'."

They were less friendly than the little liúmáng in the guardhouse, giving Jayne his assignment in clipped words.  Probably for the best that he was to spend his shift outside marching in circles 'stead of behind a desk makin' ruttin' small talk with Alliance types.  Weren't that he was all political like Mal.  Jayne didn't take no theoretical approach to right and wrong and unification and such -- he just found those tight Alliance types grating.

So Jayne tipped his cap and took up his post clear on the other side of the place, walking slowly up and down along the southern perimeter.

Pointless task for someone like him what could just track down anyone who escaped inside of an hour, but Jayne kept up his mindless task for nearly his whole shift.  Saw naught but a few rats, skitterin' in and out of the light.  By 2300, he knew the location of every surveillance screen in his area, and made note of what kind o' nooks and crannies they used to hide 'em.

Jayne made a show of glancing around real furtive-like, then backed up to the wall, leaning against it for a rest.  Crossing his boots, he lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, watching the doors.  Nothing.  Jayne smiled.  

When his cigarette was near down to the filter, he shifted his feet and slid down the wall, sittin' down within view of the cameras.  Still no one came out barkin' orders and reprimands.  Jayne pretended to notice something unsavory on the ground beside him and scooted sideways, far enough to be just outside camera range.

Moving quickly now, Jayne lit another cigarette and placed it on the ground beside him, hoping some of the smoke would be visible to the screens.  Then he crab-walked toward the door, skirting the surveillance, and opened the door slowly.  Hat pulled low over his eyes, Jayne ducked his chin and moved purposefully into screen-range inside the hallways, knowing they could see a guard, but couldn't identify him from above.

He rounded a corner, heading for the cellblocks.  He began to jog, hearing voices behind him, hearing his fake name called out.

"Theodorius Jehosephat Huang!" shrieked an all-too-familiar voice.  "You get yourself over here right now!"

Jayne stopped short then very, very slowly, he turned to face her, his jaw hanging open in shock.

She stood there in the brightly lit hallway with guards on either side, her dark hair hanging in listless, messy waves around her dirt-smudged face.  Her ugly, ill-fitting clothes obscured her curvy figure and she was glaring at him with a frightful scowl.

Feeling his mouth drop open in shock, Jayne blinked.  Then he shook his head, trying to dislodge the image, but it weren't workin'.  He took a step towards her and said, "Ina--"

"Don't you dare say my name," she interrupted furiously.  "After all I've put up with from you!  I've given you seven children and this is how you repay me?"

Jayne stared at Inara, completely dumbfounded, and muttered, "Tāmāde."

*****

Mal loitered just outside the service entrance, taking nips of whiskey to ward off the chill of Eunomia's weeks-long night.  Frigid moon, perfect place for a prison like this one -- guards equaling almost half the population of prisoners, quadruple-check entry systems, and near universal surveillance inside.

Not the easiest place to get a person out of if the guards were doing their jobs, which was where Jayne came in.  Mal still wasn't sure the details of how Jayne was planning to distract the guards, and he half-suspected that they'd have to plan a second prison break once Jayne got himself pinched, but that was a problem for another day.

When Mal heard amused hoots inside, he tucked the flask into his vest pocket and waved Simon over from the small hovercraft.  "It's time."

Simon looked a little pale and shaky, and Mal cursed under his breath.  Hearing this, Simon straightened his spine and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his nondescript grey jumpsuit.  "I'm ready," he declared with the diction of a proper central planet boy.

Taking a wanted man into an Alliance prison to participate in a jailbreak -- not the best plan ever, but it weren't like they had a lot of options.  Zoe would've been a better choice in all respects 'cept where the jail didn't allow female workers near the male prisoners.  Simon had been Mal's second choice only for his medical skills.  He jerked a nod and opened the door, holding it while Simon pulled the laundry cart into the small guard station.  Leaning close as Simon passed by, Mal ordered, "Don't talk.  At all."

A withering look was Simon's only answer, and Mal decided to consider that a small victory.  He followed Simon inside, not liking the sound of the lock engaging behind them or the sight of so many guards wearing purple vests and weaponry.

"Evenin'," Mal greeted, favoring the distracted guards with a smile.  They were smirking down at the surveillance screens, and there were five of them behind the desk instead of the required two, which meant things were going their way so far.  Mal knew better than to expect that to continue.  "Problems?"

One of the guards spared him a brief, amused glance.  "Not at all.  Ident card?"  Simon and Mal obediently handed them over, waiting as the guard swiped them quickly.  The guard waved them through the biometric scanner and then handed back the ident cards.  He created a passkey for the cellblocks and opened the first gate for them. "Go on in."

"Many thanks," Mal answered, accepting the passkey with one hand and pulling the cart with the other.  

Simon brought up the rear, inhaling sharply as the heavy barred door clanged shut behind them.  After a moment, the cellblock gate rolled open and they stepped inside.  Typical Alliance construction, all rigid lines and hard metal, with individual cells ringing a sparsely furnished common area.  Furniture was purple, of course.  "Nice place," Simon commented softly, his mouth all pinched-like.

"Keep quiet 'less you want a good long time to take in the décor," Mal warned.  "Laundry," he announced loudly, hearing the rustling of stirring prisoners as they emerged into the cellblock.

Simon pressed close.  "Do you really think it was a good idea to announce our presence?" he muttered.

Mal shrugged.  "In prison, word gets around pretty fast."  Simon stared at him, and Mal grinned.  "Speaking of pretty, you might want to keep your head down, boy."  With that, he turned to the first door and lifted the keycard.

Simon's hand landed on his arm.  "What are you doing?"  Even at a whisper his voice sounded squeaky and panicked.

Mal widened his eyes in mock surprise.  "What, you don't think facilitating a prison riot is the way to go?"

Simon's eyes went wide.  "I really--"

"Relax," Mal ordered, leaning in close to avoid being overheard by the prisoners.  "We have to go in APP-whosit's cell, so we have to go in at least a couple others first.  What we outlaw types like to call a cover."

"Oh," Simon answered.  "That makes sense."

"Thank you kindly," Mal retorted.  "Now how's about you be quiet and do as you're told 'till we're safely out of here?"  Turning back to the first cell, Mal noticed the prisoner numbers fastened to the door and smiled.  "Well, ain't that convenient."

Simon made a skeptical sound, but didn't comment further.

"Against the wall," Mal ordered the two prisoners, holding up the keycard.  Reluctantly, they complied.  "Random inspection day," he explained.  "We're making sure you don't have any contraband anti-Alliance propaganda tucked underneath your mattress.  Porn we don't care about."

Mal couldn't see Simon, but he could feel the disapproving gaze.  Glancing over his shoulder, Mal said, "Why don't you stay with the cart?"  Swiping the lock, he held the keycard out for Simon before opening the heavy door and stepping inside.  Wouldn't do to get shivved and left to bleed himself dead in someone else's prison cell if some prisoner got to thinkin' 'bout a prison break.

Stepping into the dark, putrid cell, Mal couldn't quite block out memories of that hellhole where he and Zoe and the others had been held after the war.  Probably he'd decided to live in the black during those long, stifling months, penned up in 'bout four square meters for two men.  These cells were just a bit bigger, and had small, barred windows, but seein' as they were on Themis' lone moon, weren't any moonlight to help illuminate anything.  Mal made quick work of the prisoners' beds, complimenting them on their choice of girlie screens before he retreated to the hallway and slammed the door closed.

"One down," he muttered, giving Simon a cocky smirk.  Simon turned without a word and moved the cart down the aisle, staying as far away from the cells as possible without clipping the rail separating them from the common area.

As they made their way down the cellblock, Simon accepted bundles of dirty sheets and Mal handed neatly folded sets of fresh sheets through the small opening meant for food trays.  The prisoner numbers on the cells didn't seem to follow any logical order, so Mal simply entered three more cells chosen at random, ignoring the obscenity-laden comments from the prisoners.  They moved quickly, knowing their time was limited; they were nearly around the entire cellblock when Mal read the prisoner number three times and then glanced at Simon.

Simon scanned the small plaque and whispered, "APP3500658."  Reflexively, he patted his vest pocket.  Mal watched warily, hoping Simon would remember his precise duties -- weren't like he was a particular talented conman if it came down to talking their way out of this.  They couldn't take much longer than a minute in this cell, or the other prisoners would notice.  Not to mention the guards, distracted or no.

Do or die time, and Mal wasn't in the mood for any of that pesky being-killed business.  "Well," he said, brushing Simon's elbow with his arm as he moved to the bars of the cell.  "This here's your lucky day, fellows."

Only one prisoner seemed to be paying any attention to them at all, arms crossed as he glared at the intruders from the depths of the small cell.  On the lower bunk, a man lay with his face turned to the wall, either ignoring them or asleep.  Hard to tell.

The other man sneered at Mal.  "Goody."

Mal fastened the keycard to the inside of his jumpsuit and reached for a stack of clean linens.  He met Simon's gaze and tried to look reassuring and commanding, all at once.  Turning to the cell, he explained, "Random inspection day.  Move against the far wall, back to us, and place your palms against the wall."

Glancing at Simon, who took a breath and nodded, Mal reached up and swiped the key through the lock.

*****

"It was bad enough," Inara ranted, her hands on her hips, "when I thought you were just coming down here to go whoring."  Jayne opened his mouth to speak, and she flung up a hand to stay his words.  "Don't even try it.  I know all about your little chippy!"

Jayne blinked.  "My chippy?" he asked, sounding honestly confused.

"Your backplanet whore," Inara spat, moving closer to Jayne, willing him to go along with her and not endanger them both.  She'd gone all out for this, spending more coin trying to look horrid than she ever did to look beautiful.  The least he could do was keep quiet and let her play this out.  Unfortunately, Jayne was not a particularly quick study, nor did he take kindly to perceived rescue.  Male honor and all of that other gôu pì that Mal believed in too, but claimed he didn't.  

Shaking his head, Jayne said, "My what?"

Inara squeezed out another milligram of melodrama and demanded, "What does she have that I don't?"

Jayne's mouth opened and closed soundlessly as behind Inara, the guards snickered openly.  Good, she thought, letting her hips sway as she walked.  "What does she do that I won't do for you?"

Jayne shook his head a bit, then shrugged silently.  Inara sent up a silent thank you to her ancestors.  At least Jayne hadn't given them away yet.  She and Zoe hadn't been able to warn Jayne about their modification of the plan.  Since things relied heavily on Jayne keeping the guards distracted long enough for Mal and Simon to sneak a prisoner out of prison, Inara had persuaded Zoe that a shrieking fishwife would serve their purposes far better than an angry Jayne getting himself tossed in a cell for insubordination.

"Nothing!" Inara shrieked, letting tears well in her eyes as she turned away from Jayne, imploring the gathering crowd of guards with wide eyes.  "Why does he stray?" she asked them, her voice catching, her lower lip trembling.  "Is this body so repulsive?" she demanded, tugging her neckline down a bit, smoothing the rough-hewn skirt against her thigh.  "Is this face too hideous to gaze upon?"  Inara pulled her matted hair back with one hand, angling her face to the light for maximum effect as two perfect tears rolled down her cheeks.

The amassed guards shuffled their feet, avoiding her gaze now and looking ill at ease.  She certainly didn't want to scare them off, so she whirled back to Jayne, flinging her hands out.  "What more do you want me to do, Teddy Bear?  I've done everything you've asked.  I brought my sister into our bed, and I even did that thing with the--"  She made odd motions with her hands, "--the device you brought home."

"Gorram it, girl," Jayne managed, eyes still wide with shock.  "You're embarrassin' me."

"No," she accused.  "You have embarrassed yourself, Teddy Bear, while I wait at home, faithful and taking care of your children!"

"Stop callin' me that," he whispered loudly, leaning closer in a vain attempt to keep the guards from hearing.

"Oh," Inara practically shouted, "you're embarrassed by my endearments, but not by your infidelity?  What will the children think?   What will I tell little Teddy-kins?"

"Little..."  Jayne shrugged, looking utterly pole-axed.  Inara could see the exact moment he gave up trying to figure out her game and just decided to go with it.  "I don't know," he said, his tone near insolent now.

The guard in charge of Huang's section of the prison stepped forward a bit timidly.  "Excuse me, Ma'am?"

Inara lifted her chin haughtily.  "That's Mrs. Huang to you."

"Right.  Mrs. Huang," he corrected himself, seemingly unsure whether to treat her with the respect a married Alliance citizen deserved, or the contempt her muddled appearance dictated.  "Your husband is on duty right now, and we can't have--"

"But you don't understand!"  Inara interrupted before she lost control of the conversation.  She needed to keep this distraction going, not get summarily booted from the prison.  Turning on the waterworks, she implored, "Do you have a wife?"  

"Yes," the guard answered, clearly taken aback by this sudden interrogation.

"And is she kind to you?  Has she given you children?" Inara pressed, needing to keep him off balance.

"Yes."

"Would you ever treat her the way my Teddy has treated me?  Would you ever cavort with a lowly whore when you had a loving, sexually adventurous wife at home?"

Blushing, the guard shook his head and backed off.  Inara waved her hands in the air near her cheeks, sniffling loudly.  "Oh, this is so humiliating.  For my beloved husband to shame me this way, to--"

"To what?" Jayne demanded, clamping one giant hand around her wrist and turning her back to face him.  "What'd I do, honeylips?" he asked, invading her personal space.

"You took this job just to be closer to her!" Inara accused, flinging one melodramatic hand over her face.

Jayne blinked, looking honestly befuddled.  "Her who?"

"Your whore is who," Inara shouted.  "At Xi He's brothel!"

"Oh."  Jayne brightened, nodding now.  "That whore."

Zhē yĭndào năr? Inara wondered.  She narrowed her eyes at him, but Jayne had a really scary smirk playing about his lips, and she knew this was going no place good.  She couldn't allow Jayne to take this over, or he would--

"You got it all wrong," Jayne said, arrogance replacing uncertainty as he shifted his weight and cocked one hip.  "I was just doing good for those girls, tryin' to bring them to God like the good Shepherd told me to."

--screw it all up.  It was Inara's turn to stare at him in open-mouthed shock.  What was he doing?

"That whore ain't nothin' to me, baby, but a soul to save," Jayne said, moving closer.  Inara forced herself not to give ground as wrapped his arms around her waist.  

"You're saving her?" Inara spluttered, unable to keep the indignation and disbelief from her voice.  She braced her forearms against his chest and managed to hold him off a bit.

"I am," Jayne answered, letting his hands roam her backside.  "We give ourselves to the ministry of the word," he continued, mangling the quote nearly beyond recognition.  "What better place to bring the word o' God than a prison and a whorehouse?"

It was only by virtue of biting her tongue very, very hard that Inara managed to swallow her first response to his huāngmiù statement.  The guards, when she spared them a glance, were all grinning vacuously and looking proud; Inara knew that somehow Jayne had wrested control over the situation from her.  And that probably she was going to regret agreeing to this stupid plan.

Jayne patted her on the ass.  "I'm just a God-fearin' man, baby.  You know I'd never stray, 'specially since you agreed to try that--"

"Teddy!" Inara interrupted, glaring up at him.  She rushed on before he could continue, forcing herself to sound excited as she flung her arms around his neck and squeezed as hard as she could.  "I'm so relieved."

"I know," he answered, his tone patronizing.  "Now what say you give Big Teddy a kiss and we forget all about that whore?" he suggested.

Furious, Inara realized she had no choice but to go along with this reconciliation.  At the very least, it would give them a good reason to hightail it out of the prison.  Steeling herself, Inara lifted her chin and promised herself she would visit revenge upon him the likes of which he'd never known.

Jayne leaned closer, threading his hands into her hair to hold her still.

Inara jerked away from him and his infuriating smirk.  Dropping her voice to a whisper, she warned, "No tongue."

Jayne snickered.  "C'mon, baby.  They're gonna think you don't really love me."  He tugged lightly on her hair and lowered his voice.  "Gotta make it look real."

Inara took a deep breath and resigned herself to her fate.  "I'm going to repay you for this," she warned.

"Can't wait," Jayne answered, and then he kissed her.  With tongue.

*****

Inside the dim cell, Simon moved behind the prisoners as Mal went to work on the bunk beds, tossing the dirty sheets into a pile on the ground.  Simon had been nervous on Ariel, and terrified during the hellish Miranda debacle.  But this attempt to smuggle a prisoner out of prison -- well, the whole situation set his teeth on edge.  His hands were shaking, and he worried that he wouldn't be able to complete his task.  "Identify yourselves," Simon ordered quietly, one hand inside his jumpsuit scrabbling for the vials.

"To the dirty laundry xìngbiàntài," one of the prisoners answered sarcastically.  He was a tall, thin man, dark haired and bitter.  Simon wondered absently if either prisoner had killed anyone, then realized that train of thought wouldn't help him get through the next few minutes.

He really could use a smoother about now.  His breathing was too shallow and he felt a bit lightheaded.  Nerves, he knew, what with compounding the crimes to be listed on his outstanding warrant.  Simon wondered if busting a political prisoner out of jail was better or worse than rescuing his sister from Torture Academy.  Or boosting meds from an Alliance hospital.  Or any one of the other crimes he'd participated in, at least by patching up the actual participants.

Somewhere along the line, his life had taken a very strange turn.

"Uh, Simon?" Mal prompted.

Simon glanced over at Mal, who had the top bunk stripped and was watching him expectantly.

Right.  Simon turned back to the prisoners.  "Identify yourself," he demanded, his tone cool, keeping his gaze on the two prisoners as he assembled a syringe.  The sarcastic prisoner kept glancing at his cellmate, who stood silent, head bowed, seemingly unaware of the conversation going on around him.  Before they'd come into the cell, the first man had pulled his silent cellmate from his bunk and marched him to the wall; now sarcastic prisoner was reacting angrily to the intruders, drawing attention away from his silent cellmate.

"Identify this," the first prisoner answered, turning his attention back to Simon.  Without turning fully around, he made rude gestures with his hand.

Simon stepped forward, pressing one forearm against the man's back and pushing him hard against the wall.  Then Simon touched the tip of the syringe to the prisoner's neck.  "Name and number."

"Fernando Gonzalez," he answered, stiff and quiet now.  "APP3501794.  Jailed for the high political crime of calling the Alliance what they are: a collection of fascists."

"Thank you," Simon said, then plunged the syringe into Gonzalez' neck, feeling the man go rigid with surprise.

"Hey!" Gonzalez protested, already wobbly as the sedative coursed through his system.  He tried to fight anyway, flailing at Simon ineffectually.

Behind Simon, Mal said, "Ready."

Simon supported Gonzalez' considerable weight and turned, handing the unconscious man off to Mal, who lifted him with a stifled groan and tucked him into the freshly changed bunk.  Simon stepped behind the other prisoner, modulating his voice.  "What's your name?" he asked.

The silent prisoner didn't speak, simply leaned his forehead against the wall and moaned quietly.

"Please, we're not going to hurt you," Simon coaxed, whispering now as he moved to stand next to the traumatized prisoner.  "Just tell me your name."

"The roaches come in pairs," he muttered, rocking back and forth now.  "Pairs of death."  His eyes were unfocused, staring past Simon.

Simon glanced at Mal.  "He's in shock."

Mal looked undecided for a moment, then checked his watch.  "Okay," he said, clearly frustrated.  "Let's hope your sister was right about his number."

Simon glanced at the cell door and raised an eyebrow.  "Let's hope the Alliance labeled the cells correctly."

"Death in pairs," mumbled the prisoner, grinning up at the ceiling now.

Mal grimaced.  "We don't have the time to be wrong about this," he said, moving to the prisoner's other side.  Nodding, Mal ordered, "Kill him."

Taking a deep breath, Simon lifted the syringe to the man's neck and administered the drug.  Almost immediately, the prisoner's body went slack, and Mal gently lowered him to the bundle of sheets on the floor.  As Mal moved back to cover the man's body, he jerked to a halt, staring at the prisoner's face.

Simon stepped closer.  "Is something wrong?" he hissed.

Mal shook his head.  "No."  He tossed the sheet across the man's face and lifted him from the floor.

*****

Zoe eased Shuttle 2 toward its berth, flipping on the comm to break her radio silence.  "Two birds in the bush," she reported, hoping like hell her voice didn't sound as shaky as she felt.  "And I'm docking now."

Immediately, Kaylee answered with a question, "Why isn't anyone back yet?"

Zoe concentrated on flying, since she lacked her husband's easy, sure hands.  Ignoring the riptide of grief, she waited for the reassuring lock as the shuttle achieved stable docking before powering down.

"No one's checked in?" Zoe asked, unbuckling her safety harness as the shuttle began recharging.

"No one!"  Kaylee answered, throwing open the shuttle door and leaning her upper body through the portal.  "Where are they?"

"Don't rightly know," Zoe answered, checking the time.  Weren't late enough to start worrying, but the Captain's plan had too many moving parts and too many potential snags for Zoe to feel comfortable until they were all safe and sound out in the black.

Nodding, Kaylee watched Zoe approach, asking brightly, "How'd your mission go?"

Zoe's stomach lurched at the mention of what she'd been doing, but years of training allowed her to hide her unease.  "Two laundry workers duly drugged and dumped in the alley behind a bar," Zoe reported with a grim smile.  She hated subterfuge, preferring to disable her opponents with a well-placed punch or bullet.  Using her feminine wiles felt wrong, like a betrayal of her husband, but Zoe had done her job and ignored the ache in her gut.  She couldn't really remember what it was like to enjoy male attention -- Wash's death had burned that feeling right out of her.

Kaylee's hand touched Zoe's forearm as they moved out into the cargo bay.  "You okay?"

"Fine," Zoe answered with a tight smile.  She surveyed the cargo bay, where River stood, swaying gently side-to-side, head tilted up toward the ceiling, oblivious to their presence.  Zoe was used to the girl lying about in strange places -- atop cargo, tucked into secret compartments -- but standing stock still in the middle of the cargo bay?  That was new.  And worrisome.

"What if Jayne and Inara--?"

"Don't," Zoe warned.

Kaylee turned wide, worried eyes to Zoe.  "But what if the Cap'n and Simon--?"

"Kaylee," Zoe interrupted, putting a restraining hand on Kaylee's shoulder.  First lesson of war was you can't control the outcome for anyone else, and didn't do no one a lick of good to worry 'bout something out of your control.  "Really, don't.  Worrying won't do anything but drive you crazy.  Won't help Simon or Inara or the Captain."

"Or Jayne," Kaylee added, her tone resigned.  "I hate waiting."

"I'm not too fond of it myself," Zoe admitted.  "But--"

The sound of Inara's shuttle docking interrupted their conversation, and Zoe and Kaylee crossed the walkway, waiting impatiently at the foot of the staircase for the occupants to emerge.  Zoe'd been to battle with Jayne enough times to know he made something of a habit of throwing wrenches into carefully laid plans.

The door was wrenched open, and Jayne came hurtling through the portal, laughing as he stumbled down the stairs.  Inara stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, looking furious.

Raising an eyebrow, Zoe asked, "Problems?"

"'Nara don't like my methods," Jayne answered, smirking.

Zoe bit the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling.  Inara likely had good reason to be angry.  Jayne wasn't the smartest man Zoe'd ever met, but he had a knack for figuring the best way to use any situation to his advantage.  Maybe she should've warned Inara.  

Still glaring at him, Inara swept down the staircase and moved to Kaylee and Zoe.  Pointedly ignoring Jayne, she asked, "Any word from the others?"

"Nothing yet," Zoe answered, scanning Inara's ill-fitting clothes.  "You look great."

"Tastes great, too," Jayne interjected.

"Jayne!" Inara snapped, whirling to glare at him.  "What did I tell you?"

Smirking mightily, Jayne sauntered over to them and answered, "That if I told anyone I had my hand on your--"

"Jayne!"

Eyebrows raised, Zoe looked back and forth between the two of them, wondering just where Inara's simple plan had gone off the rails.  Leaning closer to the incensed woman, Zoe asked,  "Hands, huh?"

Beside Zoe, Kaylee looked troubled, her gaze shifting between Jayne and Inara.  "You mean you two--"

"Kissed and made up," Jayne confirmed.  "Put on quite a show."

Arms crossed, Inara lifted her chin and asked haughtily, and "You haven't even a passing familiarity with the concept of discretion, do you?"

"Wouldn't have done much in the way of distracting the guards from Mal's cunning plan," Jayne answered, a bit sour.

Before the conversation veered completely off the point, Zoe held up a hand.  "So you got out without blowing your cover?"

Still glaring at Jayne, Inara nodded.  "Yes.  The guards were only too willing to let Teddy-Bear here off duty a half hour early so he could bed his wife proper."

Laughing, Kaylee turned her gaze to Jayne.  "Teddy-bear?"  She stepped closer and pretended to inspect him.  "You do look a bit cuddlier without the beard."

It was Jayne's turn to glower.  "Did I mention that my hand was--?"

"Henry!"  River's exclamation caught everyone's attention.  Zoe moved to the railing, noting that River had turned to stare intently at the cargo bay door.

Zoe opened her mouth to ask who in the 'verse Henry was when the comm beeped.  She took three quick strides to the nearest control panel and opened the connection.  "Sir?"

Mal's voice answered, "Fire her up.  We're 'bout two minutes out."

Kaylee headed for the bridge while Zoe and Jayne jogged down the stairs and across the cargo bay.  Zoe flipped on the comm and asked, "You got the mollymawk?"

"Hope so," Mal answered.  "Open up."

"Hope so?" Jayne echoed, moving to open the hatch.  "The hell does that mean?"

*****

Mal told Simon to ditch the stolen laundry craft a good distance from Serenity, while he struggled to wrap River's mollymawk in some clean sheets.  They'd left the small craft in deep cover, good 100 meters past the middle of nowhere.  Would've been nice to have the mule 'bout now, Mal thought caustically, breathing hard with the exertion.

As they approached the ship, the bay opened and Jayne met them a few meters away to help bring the shrouded body up onto the ship.  "This the guy?" Jayne asked.

Mal slapped the bay door button as they passed it, nodding at Zoe and ordering, "Let's get her in the air."  River stood stock in the middle of the bay, grinning at them as they entered, but Mal didn't have the energy for more than a puzzled look in her direction.  She spun, her skirt flaring out, and glided toward the medbay.

"Kaylee's got the bridge," Zoe answered, taking hold of the bundle and joining the procession toward the infirmary.  "Everything go okay?"

"In a manner of speaking," Mal answered, dreading what was about to come.  Inara appeared on the catwalk above, taking the stairs quickly to join them.  She looked like she was trying to look ugly, dressed in rags with her hair a mess, but he was pretty sure lookin' unappealing was a goal she'd never reach.  Still, he raised his eyebrows at her.  "Nice dress."

Inara rolled her eyes and trailed them into the infirmary.  "Nice uniform."

Mal wasn't in the mood, turning to Zoe after they deposited the prisoner's body onto the table.  "You're going to recognize him."

Simon paused in preparing the byphodine antidote.  "Wait -- you know him?"

Jayne perked up, tugging at the sheets covering the man until Mal slapped his hand.  "Well, who is it?"

Zoe covered her surprise fairly well.  "Good or bad?"

"Don't rightly know," Mal answered.  "Where's River?"  Inara touched his arm and indicated the window.  River was crouched on the landing outside, arms wrapped tight 'round her knees, looking down at them intently.  Mal looked to Inara, "Ask her to come in."  Turning back to Zoe, Mal lifted his eyebrows in question.  

Zoe dipped her chin and reached for the sheet, carefully unwrapping the dead man on the table.  The ship shook a bit breaking atmo, but Zoe's hands were steady while she pulled back enough fabric to reveal the man's face.  She stilled, then looked to Mal, who shrugged and said, "I don't know either."

"Don't know what?" Jayne demanded, brow furrowed.  "Who is it?"

"Specialist Henry Leung, Independents," Zoe answered, sounding troubled.  "I thought he got killed at Yeng-Wang-Yeh."

Jayne looked at the man, then back at Mal, trying to make sense of this turn of events.  "He's one of your soldiers?"  Head tilted a bit, Jayne reached out and poked Leung's shoulder.

"No, he wasn't one of mine," Mal answered, watching Simon inject Leung with the antidote.  Arms crossed, Mal didn't bother to look to Zoe when he added, "And he didn't get killed, he got extracted."

Zoe glanced over sharply.  "Extracted?  That explosion was cover?"

"Yeah," Mal confirmed, stepping closer and peering down at the man on the table.  "He was an Alliance spy."

"Spy!" Jayne yelped, retreating to the far side of the room.  "What the ruttin' hell you doin' bringing an Alliance spy on board?"

Mal didn't bother to answer, as River appeared in the doorway, looking worried.  Inara encouraged her to move forward, but River edged along to the counter, keeping her distance.  "Mollymawk," she sighed.

Simon was watching his sister closely.  "So this is your mollymawk, River?"

Nodding, she didn't take her gaze off Leung.  "One foot in each boot," she murmured as he jerked back to life, coughing himself sick.  Simon was prepared, deftly placing a basin in just the right spot, then taking care of its contents while a wide-eyed Leung frantically scanned his new surroundings.

"Sunburst," he muttered, squinting against the harsh overhead lights.  "Cockroaches scatter."  Simon angled the light away, but Leung brought his hands up to cover his face, whispering incomprehensible words to himself as he rocked back and forth.

"Specialist Leung," Mal said in his best captain voice, hoping some remnant of the military man he'd known remained.  "This is Sergeant Reynolds."

"Swarms.  Desert swarms," Leung answered, peering through his fingers at Mal.  He gave no indication of recognizing anyone, glancing frantically about, eyes wide and wild.

"Specialist, I want you to report," Mal ordered, trying to reach the man he'd known and disliked back at Yeng-Wang-Yeh.  "You've been AWOL, and I require a report."

"Beetles," Leung answered, sounding urgent now as he dropped his hands and wrapped surprisingly strong fingers around Mal's forearm.  "You have to warn the twenties.  That arsenal will fall.  West-north-west and on."

Mal blinked, letting the words rattle around for a bit, but even allowing for the man's trauma, nothing he said made a lick of sense.  Mal looked to Zoe, who shrugged, then turned his attention to River.  "Can you try--"  Mal stopped himself before he suggested she translate crazy-to-English, opting instead for-- "talking to him?"

The girl seemed to understand what Mal wanted, stepping closer to her mollymawk.  She placed a hand on Leung's arm, and he immediately switched his fierce grip from Mal to River.  "Hello," River said.  "We--"

"Girls in dresses," he interrupted, staring intently at River, "metal at their ankles.  Writing with knives.  Mice strike at dawn."

River tilted her head slightly, concentrating on Leung.  "You were at the Academy.  Is that why they arrested you?"

Leung began to laugh, a rusty, unsettling sound.  "Arrested," he echoed.  "All in a row, sharp and light.  But you can't tell the cockroaches."

"Okay," River soothed, patting Leung's hand until he settled down enough to release her.  She took two steps back and turned to the others, her posture strong and certain for the first time in days.

Mal gave her an expectant look, hoping she'd understood at least a little of what Leung had said and would be able to offer some sort of explanation.  "Well?"

River shrugged.  "He's crazy."

*****

Glossary | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | End Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

Firefly fic