Day Six

Strangers in the Night

"So can you do it?" asked Inara, peering over Cullen's shoulder so she could see the terminal he sat at. The young man nodded assuredly, starting to key into the computer rapidly.

"Of course I can. I graduated third in my class in this subject. It might take a little time, but I'm sure it won't provide much of a challenge. As soon as we graduated, the Alliance employed a number of my classmates to write this operating system, and since the two people ranked above me had no part in its construction then theoretically I shouldn't have a problem…" The terminal beeped, and he frowned at it. Mal shot him an amused glance.

"Third, y'say? I guess even the best run into problems."

"It's done," said Cullen.

"What?" asked Inara, and Mal squinted at the screen, although it was all gibberish to his eyes.

Cullen shrugged. "It's finished. I've never done it that fast before…I guess I am that good." He smiled then; taking the credit for his work after the surprise had faded away. "I mean, I always knew, but…"

Mal tapped him out of the way, interrupting his self-congratulatory monologue. The boy vacated the seat and the Captain slid into it.

"Rod…er…ick…" said Inara, reading out what Mal started to type into the terminal. She frowned. "What about looking into Cullen's history?"

"I'll do that in a second," said Mal distractedly. He began to leaf through the search results as Inara gave a placating look to Cullen, smiling at the boy reassuringly.

"Don't worry. We'll get right on it," she assured him. He did not look convinced.

"What I don't understand is how it took such a small amount of time to break the database," the Package said. "If I didn't know it was a secure Alliance archive on one of their troop transports, I'd say that the encryption method was amateur at best." He thought about it a second longer. "Then again, I did receive the best education available in the system. Maybe I'm just that much better than my peers. My tutor, Mr Ferro, said that we were being taught the latest in encryption technology that was available at the time. He said…"

"He's dead," said Mal.

"Who? Cullen's tutor?" Inara frowned.

"No. Roderick Myers. He's been dead for twelve years."

"Who is…Roderick Myers?" asked Cullen. Mal dismissed the question by standing away from the terminal.

"No one. Why dontcha start lookin' for any info they have on Cullen in there?" he said to Inara. As the Companion took the seat at the terminal, he allowed his thoughts to consume him.

Why would the Alliance send him the name of a man who had been dead for twelve years? And if it was true what they had said, that they were actively seeking Myers, then their intelligence was a little lacking.

He shot a look at the back of Cullen's head. At first he had been suspicious about the boy's sudden revival occurring at exactly the same time as he had received the transmission. After all, he was an expert in computer encryption and the transmission required that Mal hack into the Alliance database. However, as the Package had said, the encryption protecting the database was laughably pathetic. That increased the chances that the boy was a part of something else entirely – that the database's encryption had been weakened so that he or Inara or one of the others was capable of accessing it. That meant he had to worry more about Cullen, because now his purpose there became more ambiguous, but in a way he was reassured. Maybe the boy wasn't as great a threat as Mal had first assumed.

But that left the question of what the Alliance wanted by sending him the name of a dead man. According to his personnel file, Roderick Myers had worked for the Alliance Intelligence Service until his death thirty years ago. He had left no family behind, and most of his file had been purged on account of his occupation, including any images of the man. The only interesting thing was an address on Londinium that was supposedly his last place of residence. But that was doubtlessly a trap, because if it were true then someone else would have been living there for the past thirty years.

He shook his head slightly, tired from analysing all of that information. He returned to the present and glanced over at Inara and Cullen, who sat poring through the information on the terminal screen.

"Anything?" Mal asked, wandering over. Cullen looked up at him, shaking his head.

"Nothing new. Everything we've found so far is exactly as I told you in the mess hall. Nothing to indicate why the Alliance would be interested in kidnapping me."

Mal nodded. That was about as much as he had expected. The thing he was more interested to learn was why it had been so easy to learn about Myers but that there was nothing incriminating on the system about Sheridan. He remained convinced that he was missing something about both of them.

An alarm bleated on the terminal to signify that there was an internal communication waiting to be responded to. Inara keyed the switch that would answer it. Zoe's voice floated from the speakers.

"Andrews says we're close to his base," she said. Mal nodded and started to walk away from the console, indicating that Inara stay with Cullen. He was sure she would take care of him accordingly.

.:-:.:-:.:-:.

"That it?" he asked upon entering the cockpit. Andrews nodded at Mal as he continued altering the approach vector of the transport they were flying in.

"That's it," he confirmed. A large asteroid hung in the forward port of the cockpit, surrounded by large shards of rock that spun slowly in the gravity of the object. Mal squinted at it, trying to make out where they might access the hidden base of the New Independents. He couldn't immediately notice anything.

"…Are you sure?" he asked. Andrews shot him a harsh look.

"Yes. It might not look like much, but that's kinda the point. There are some docking bays on the dark side."

"Don't you run into trouble with all the debris hangin' around out there?"

"Not really. We don't recruit idiots into the movement, and everyone but an idiot can manage to navigate a bunch of rocks."

Mal bit back one of his infamous comments and remained silent. Distracting their temporary pilot might end in some kind of explosion, and Mal didn't really want to have one of those on his hands. Not yet, anyway.

"Do we have to communicate with 'em?" he asked. "You said approachin' the base was part of the process, but we are in an Alliance boat."

The New Independent shook his head. "Naw. Shouldn't be necessary. Though we'll likely have a large welcoming committee when we land. This ship is largely unarmed, so it's not much of a threat until we actually land and pop open the hatch."

"Good enough. How long should we take?"

"Five minutes to make the approach, and another five to access the bay."

"Zoe, make an announcement when we're about to touch down and then bring our boy here down to the unloading bay to meet with our generous hosts." He turned to exit the cockpit, but Zoe's voice stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

He turned to address her. "To make sure Oaty doesn't make mincemeat out of any visitors we get."

.:-:.:-:.:-:.

"Now," said Mal cautiously. "You stay here." He pointed at Oaty, and then to the deck. "I'm gonna go off the ship." He pointed to himself and then off into the distance. "Okay?"

The Hunter directed a dangerous look at the Captain, and Mal wasn't sure if it meant he was getting through to the creature or was just provoking it. He gave a helpless look to Simon, who had accompanied him, who could only shrug.

"I'm not sure he understands you," said the doctor. Mal sighed and returned his gaze to the being crouched in the corner of one of the smaller docking bays. This was the first time he had seen its den, and though he and Jayne had searched for it fruitlessly a couple of days earlier, he only had to follow his nose once he reached the lower reaches of the ship. The foul smell was later revealed to the two men to be the decaying remains of the Hunter Oaty had vanquished back on the moon they had been exiled on. Its severed head and spine had been mounted on one of the bulkheads by a spare steel bolt, and Mal had to marvel at the creature's strength again. To penetrate the bulkhead with such an instrument was further demonstration of Oaty's awesome might. Though the grisly ornament was more than a bit icky.

"We could seal him in here," suggested Mal.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," said Simon slowly.

"Why?"

"Well, because it might make him angry. And if he's strong enough to break the seal, then we would be the first thing he would come looking for."

"What I don't understand is why he's so obedient to me," said Mal in perplexity. "What'd I do?"

Simon pursed his lips. "I might be wrong, so don't take this explanation as a given. But I think that when you killed his last remaining pack member, you unofficially adopted him into your pack. That is, us."

"But I didn't kill his pack member."

"From what you told me about our escape, it sounds like you did. While Oaty was the one to deliver the killing blow, you allowed him the victory by shooting his adversary and distracting it. Thus, Oaty has the trophy of his kill, and you have his obedience."

"That's a mighty leap in logic, Doctor."

"Not really. What other explanation is there? He hasn't eaten the remains of his kill, and if it meant nothing he wouldn't have taken the skull and spine in the first place. The fact that it's displayed so prominently in what looks like his living habitat indicates that it is a trophy of the event."

"And you're saying he's a member of…my pack, now?"

Simon nodded. "It would seem that way. He was the only survivor of his pack that we saw, and he has shown submission to you since his time here. I'm sure that eventually he will challenge you for leadership of the pack, but maybe he hasn't yet because we all confuse him. I'm sure we aren't like any pack he will have encountered before now."

Mal shook his head. "That's interesting and all, but it doesn't explain what we're gonna do with him now." He sighed, analysing the creature who still crouched before them, unmoving and unblinking. "I don't think there's anythin' for it. We'll lock him in here and hope that he understands that I want him to stay put."

He kicked the box he had carried from the mess hall further into the cargo bay.

"I'm not sure it's healthy for him to be eating Oaty Bars exclusively," commented Simon of the contents of the box, mildly disapprovingly. "If I knew more about his physiology I could suggest a better diet."

"Now seems the perfect time to be learning more about his species," suggested Mal, and Simon directed an incredulous look in the Captain's direction.

"Do you want to take him to the infirmary and try to conduct tests on him?" he asked pointedly. Mal conceded.

"I guess not. Well, either he understood me, or we'll know about it soon." He indicated that Simon exit the cargo bay, and after the doctor had hobbled out on his crutches he stepped out of the room. Oaty was still directing that unnerving glare at him, and the expression was the last he saw of the creature before the hatch swung closed.

As he was locking the bay, Zoe's voice was broadcast over the ship announcing their imminent arrival at Home Base as the deck vibrated beneath their feet, indicating they had set down. Mal started to walk in the direction of the unloading bay, and Simon kept pace beside him.

"The New Independents, hmm? I thought you were fundamentally opposed to their organisation and everything they do," observed Simon.

"Oh, I am," said Mal. "But you know how that old saying goes. The enemy of my enemy…"

"Well don't count on them to hold out on their end of any agreement you make," said Simon, ducking under a particularly low doorway in the corridor. "Remember that a week ago they tried to kill all of us just to get their hands on that crate we were carrying. I'd hardly say they were trustworthy."

"Who said anythin' about trust?" asked Mal. "We just need a place to lay low for a couple of days, try and figure out what we're gonna do 'bout this whole mess."

"You mean the famous Malcolm Reynolds, Lord and Master of breaking free of trouble, has sought out a plan and found himself lacking?"

"C'mon, Doc. No one's perfect. But if you must know, I do have a plan. It's just lackin' a few details as of this moment."

"Ah, I suspected as much. Always scheming – that's the Mal I've come to know."

Mal's eyebrow rose. "Scheming? Doctor, I'm hurt."

The two men entered the unloading bay just ahead of Zoe and Andrews. Inara and Jayne were already present in the room. Mal nodded a greeting to his assembled crew.

"Don't expect anyone to be too happy to see us, but don't give anyone an excuse to ask us to vacate the premises. Now I'm not namin' names. Jayne. But I need everyone's best behaviour. Got it?"

Jayne muttered something under his breath, and the others indicated that they understood Mal's instructions. He waved to Zoe who stood by the exit to the ship, and she keyed the control that would lower the disembarking ramp. The hatch popped open with a hiss of air, and the first mate withdrew to the relative collective safety of her crew.

Harsh light flooded in through the expanding gap of the exit, and Mal had to shield his eyes with his hand against its intensity. In that moment of weakness, a dozen sets of feet started to march up the ramp as it hit the surface of Home Base to surround them.

"No sudden movements," warned a mechanical, androgynous voice from beyond the ship. The newcomers to the ship moved forward and removed the weapons from the crew's holsters, and Andrews was jostled forward and off the ship ahead of them. Mal spread his arms to indicate that he wouldn't offer any resistance, and once he had been patted down again the hands withdrew back to the ramp of the vessel.

"We're not here for trouble," announced Mal, hoping to appeal to the one in charge of the force beyond the ship. Silence greeted his words. After a few moments he tried again. "Look, 'stead of us just standin' around here, why don't we all go somewhere more comfortable and have a good old fashioned chinwag? We ain't gonna cause any trouble if you aren't, so let's just skip this whole mistrust thing and go to the next stage?"

After a few more moments of silence the floodlight snapped off, revealing the view beyond the ship. Several dozen soldiers lay scattered before the exit hatch with their weapons casually aimed at the assembled crew. A man in an officer's uniform stood among them. He carried no weapon and Andrews stood beside him, speaking urgently into his ear. After a tense moment the officer waved off the soldiers and they retreated to a more reasonable distance from the ship.

"Captain Reynolds," called the officer. "Your words are reassuring to me, because we have no desire to cause trouble; especially with a hero of Serenity Valley. You and your crew are free to disembark – in a slow and careful manner, of course. You will encounter no unwarranted resistance from us."

Mal nodded reassuringly to the people stood around him, and he was the first to step off the Alliance ship and onto the ground of Home Base.

Once his vision was unimpaired by the presence of the bulkheads of the ship, he could take in the impressive view of the New Independent base. They stood in what essentially amounted to a large cavern, but skilful engineering work had converted the natural formation of rock into a fully functioning hangar bay. They stood roughly in the centre of a vertical shaft of free space that expanded fifty metres in every direction. Above them was the shaft that fed up through the asteroid, and lining the sides of the tunnel were squadrons of fighters that, when released, would fall with gravity to the platform. Once they achieved this state, another passage fed out horizontally to an enormous airlock that presumably allowed access to the vacuum of space beyond it. Larger vessels such as the troop transport they had until recently occupied could land on the platform they stood on, and far above them Mal could make out another platform in the distance. He assumed that there was a similar hangar bay sitting above them, and that might mean there was yet another beneath his feet.

Above all else he was surprised at the magnitude of the New Independent's operation. When Andrews had spoken of their Home Base, he envisioned a field on a backwater planet with a few friendly mechanics servicing a scant few vessels. This proved to him that the movement Andrews, Jacob and Harvey belonged to had a scope beyond his reckoning, and despite himself a newfound respect for these people surfaced within him. The first Independent army he had volunteered for was a valid entity, with no need for sneaking around space like terrorists. These New Independents had accumulated this power under the nose of the Alliance, and the set up of the base did much to change Mal's point of view towards the group.

A terrorist cell would operate with a few members operating in secrecy to other cells, and would typically be a group of citizens working from an apartment in a city, making home made explosives and blowing up coffee shops. This was a completely different operation. This indicated the presence of a centralised command structure of officers, supported by a network of pilots, engineers and troops. In other words, a force that went considerably beyond the typical portrayal of a terrorist organisation.

The man standing next to Andrews waved them forward, and Mal started to close the gap between them. Already some of the gathered troops were beginning to disperse, and Mal scrutinised them as he passed by. Similar to the Independents he had belonged to, the volunteers had no strict uniform. Men and women wore all manner of garments accompanied by similarly varied armaments, however Mal noticed a few of the trademark brown coats that had been distributed back when he had fought in the war. He could only assume there were a few veterans among the other recruits.

A quick check over his shoulder revealed the others were coming along behind him unimpeded, and then he had reached the officer. The man extended a hand and after a moment Mal grasped it with his own.

"Major Stanley Graham," he said, enveloping Mal's hand in an iron grip and squeezing. He lifted the handshake up, snapped it back down and then released the new arrival's hand. Mal's first thought was that the New Independent officer was trying to intimidate him through the minute display of force, but he didn't detect any aggression in the man's face. He determined that his manner was more a symptom of his personality – no nonsense, precise and solidly reliable. Before he could even help it he found himself respecting the Major.

"Malcolm Reynolds," he said to return the greeting. "But I guess you already knew that."

"That's correct." Graham had a voice of steel and a jaw line to match. It was like his body had been sculpted from lead and then given life. His face looked as though it had never smiled, and his cold blue eyes, set below a short-cropped bristle of grey hair, seemed as though they saw everything that happened before them; that nothing could get past this man. "I apologise for the manner of your welcome, but I'm sure you understand that we have to take every precaution. These are troubled times."

"You're not wrong," replied Mal. "Well, uh…I guess we should sit down and hammer this thing out?"

Andrews put himself forward. "Captain Reynolds has expressed his desire that we formalise our relationship. I assumed that we might follow the regular procedures of recruiting former Independent officers back into the fold."

Graham's expression revealed nothing. "Not a bad assumption, Captain Andrews. However, I think we all know that this situation is a little more complicated than that. If you'll follow me, Captain Reynolds, we can retire to a more secure location to discuss the matter. Your crew will be taken care of in your absence."

Mal cast an uneasy glance back at his crew. "Taken care of…how?"

"They will have limited access to our facilities here. The mess hall, the barracks and the recreational quarters will all be available. Captain Andrews will personally see to their wellbeing."

"And personally accountable, I hope," said Mal, narrowing his eyes at Andrews.

"Actually Major…I was hoping to sit in on the negotiations with Captain Reynolds," said Andrews slowly. Graham's eyebrow rose a fraction of a centimetre.

"Were you now? I'm afraid I have to make void your hopes, Captain. You have your orders."

Andrews backed away from the confrontation, nodding feebly. He gestured that the others follow him, but all of their eyes were on Mal. Zoe stepped forward and muttered to the Captain.

"I don't like this. Sir," she said.

"I don't have much fondness for the situation either," he replied. He chewed at his bottom lip for a moment, and then nodded, reaching a decision in his head. "Go with Andrews. It'll be okay. If they were gonna try anything, they'd have already done it."

"Okay," she muttered. "But let the record state that I said this was a bad idea right from the beginning."

She joined Andrews, and following her example, the others fell in behind her. Andrews started to lead them away from the hangar deck, and that was when Graham motioned that Mal join him. The two men started to walk away in the opposite direction, towards a checkpoint carved into the rock of the asteroid.

"Impressive set up you got here," commented Mal.

"Thank you," replied the Major. "It wasn't easy to construct such a large scale operation so close to the system, but the background radiation from the asteroid field hides us from any long range scans the Alliance might carry out. And this far out, accidents happen. If any ships come too close, we have a series of deterrents available."

Graham waved away the soldiers gathered at the checkpoint, and they passed through it unmolested. The cavernous hangar bay gave way to a corridor tunnelled through the asteroid. Lights hung from the ceiling at regular intervals, and the only comfort the passage provided was a steel walkway built into the floor.

"I take it that you understand it won't be as simple as signing up," said Graham after a pregnant pause. "After all, you killed several of our men when Hera was attacked, and you were wanted for questioning for numerous other incidents leading up to that event. Not to mention the acts we have perpetrated against your crew."

Mal nodded. "You take it correct. Andrews is a good kid, but he's a little naïve. He seemed to think we could just trade a few words and we would all be on our way."

"It surprises me to hear you say that, Captain. Mr Andrews seemed to think that you held him in great contempt, and went so far as to openly question his motives on board your ship."

"Well, that's true. But can you blame me? You hijacked my cargo, attacked my ship and my people, and then tried to blow me out of the sky when we were flyin' from the mess on Hera. How did that turn out for you, anyhow?"

"That's classified. But needless to say, the outcome was…unfavourable. It was a doomed operation before it began."

"Were you there?"

"No. I was on another assignment."

He gestured to a doorway leading from the corridor, and after activating a control the door swept open, revealing another passageway. After they had stepped through, the hatch swung closed behind them.

"So what's the plan?"

"Ordinarily we would review your record and give you an appropriate assignment if we consider it prudent to allow you to return to the fold. However there are unique circumstances that we must take into account. For example, that you are the most wanted man alive."

"I imagine that would hamper certain activities I might carry out," said Mal dryly.

"That is something else we must consider – the nature of your alleged crimes against the Alliance, and why they want you so badly. I assume that it has something to do with the circumstances that led you to Hera?"

"No," said Mal. "I think they just don't like me." Graham stopped walking, giving him a steely gaze. Mal matched his expression. "That was a joke, Major."

"I'm sorry, Captain. You must have mistaken me for someone with a sense of humour."

"I'll be sure to take that into consideration once our negotiations begin."

"Please do."

They started walking again, but Mal couldn't resist a sigh and a shake of his head. This was going to feel like an eternity.

.:-:.:-:.:-:.

After they had been settled in to their new climate, the crew went their separate ways to facilitate their personal feelings. For Inara, that meant staying in the mess hall. While Zoe and Jayne had slipped away to explore, and Simon was visiting the medical bay on the station to offer his expertise, Inara found it more relaxing to simply stay in one place and observe the motion of life move around her.

It was her business to interact with people, and to make them feel comfortable – more than comfortable, a lot of the time. Her job was to offer an experience so sensually intense that whoever she was with could feel as though that was the only time that would ever matter in their lives. She was good at her job, but it had the drawback of meaning that every time she needed someone to connect with, unless they were another Companion, she found the experience lacking. And even if she did speak with a Companion, then she would aware of the likelihood that the experience was false – or rather, that the other Companion was simply falling back to their training to take care of her.

So instead, she had developed an innate survival mechanism – that she did not need anyone to connect with. She could take care of her own spiritual wellbeing perfectly well on her own. Even when sometimes she felt that she couldn't.

Picking idly at her tray of food, she was observing a group of younger pilots enjoying each other's company – the ebb and flow of social contact – when a hand hesitantly tapped her on the shoulder. Almost startled, she looked up and around.

"Mind if I join you?" asked the newcomer standing beside her. She was tall, with a long flow of dark hair cascading over the neckline of her mechanic overalls. Inara was surprised at her forthrightness, because as far as she was aware she and her crew were being treating with some suspicion by the New Independents.

Her manners overcame her surprise, and she pulled her own tray back to make room on the table. "Not at all."

The woman sat down opposite Inara and started to eat the food she had brought with her. She seemed to notice that Inara was regarding her with some reservation and smiled, evaporating whatever tension existed between them. "Don't worry. I'm not here to interrogate you. I just want to talk."

Inara returned the smile and began to eat again. "Good. I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about whatever the New Independents have planned for us. If you believe what the newscasts say, they are little more than a fringe terrorist group. Ah – no offence intended."

The woman waved her hand, dismissing the comment. "I assure you, none taken. I assume you have revised your opinion of the New Independent movement since your arrival?"

"Yes, absolutely. Your operation here is very advanced – much more than I would have first suspected."

The woman smirked. "'My operation'. I don't exactly run things around here."

Inara smiled again, realising how defunct her previous statement must have sounded to the newcomer. "I suppose not."

"So, what brings you to Home Base?"

"Trouble with the Alliance. Quite unreasonably, they seem to want us all dead because we stumbled across what appears to be a vast conspiracy to cover up one of their operations."

"Unreasonable?"

"That's how I'd describe trying to kill us just to protect themselves from political fallout."

The woman pursed her lips. "I suppose so. But surely there must be some justification behind their attacks on you? Maybe it is a case where the needs of the many outweigh those of the few."

Inara's eyes narrowed. "In some cases yes, I would agree with you, but the Alliance operation doesn't appear to be worth anything to more than a select few. In which case, I would say that those people would be acting in their own best interests – putting their needs before those of the many."

The woman started playing idly with a chunk of meat on her tray with a fork. "I suppose to make a correct judgement you would have to be aware of the larger picture."

Inara could feel something unwelcome gestating in her gut – the feeling that something was wrong here. She set down her fork. She was no longer hungry. "The larger picture?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"Well…alright then. Imagine a power that exceeds you in every way. A power that can look at you and deem what is best for you and your life. Sometimes that means that you have to trust in the judgement of the power, even if the things it wants you to do seem wrong, or that they will hurt you. Even if the power wants you to die."

"You're talking about the Alliance," said Inara through the chill in her stomach.

The woman's dark eyes seemed to glint in the light. "What if the needs of the few reflect the needs of the many? What if the selfish individuals in your story are in reality doing what is best for the many…and in fact it is you who is selfish for not submitting to your fate? What if, for the good of millions of people, it would be better if you simply disappeared…Inara?"

"I think we've reached the stage where we can stop using analogies," said Inara. "You didn't tell me your name. But then, I suppose it's because you don't have one."

The woman smiled again, but the expression held much more danger in it this time. "Your report doesn't do you justice, Inara. You catch on quick."

"I'm flattered. But just to clarify, you are an Operative of the Alliance."

"Is there any need to clarify what we both now know?"

"That was clarification enough, thank you."

The Operative directed a calculating stare towards the Companion. "Again, I am impressed. Someone else's first reaction would be to call for help from those pilots." She indicated the group with a tilt of her head.

"That's because I assume you wouldn't be talking to me without some kind of precaution, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"You're right. You'd be dead before you drew the breath to shout, and it would look enough like an accident for me to simply look shocked and slip away unnoticed moments later, after the inevitable crowd gathers."

"I'm more interested to find out how you managed to infiltrate this asteroid, considering how its existence is meant to be top secret. And presumably the Alliance at large doesn't know about it, otherwise the navy would be bombarding the site right now."

With a long, delicate finger the Operative scratched the tip of her nose elegantly. "Let's just say that I have certain technology at my disposal that allows me to…circumvent the usual security procedures of this facility. As for its continued existence, I have no interest in the survival or defeat of this group. My priority right now is you, Inara."

"What do you want?"

The Operative sat back in her seat, abandoning her food. Inara was amazed at how composed she felt. By her reckoning, this was the woman who had been chasing them, had shot Simon with a tracking pellet and was largely responsible for subjecting Kaylee to that…thing. By all rights she should feel a healthy combination of unholy rage and scared witless, but she was keeping her composure remarkably well. Hopefully she would keep it long enough to get through this.

"I've come to be honest with you, Inara," she said finally, with the hint of a troubled frown creasing her flawless brow. "I have sat analysing your report for hours and I cannot find a weakness. The Academy has taught you well; you are a well-rounded, healthily minded individual with no buttons to press. At least, that the Alliance knows about."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that for the last three days I have been actively subverting the members of your crew. And that they have been co-operating with me without much resistance."

Shock hit Inara as if a brick had instead. "What?"

The Alliance agent nodded. "Oh yes. And you were going to be next, but like I said…I found great difficulty in revealing a weak spot in your defences. Ordinarily it might have weakened my overall plan, but fortunately there is an alternative to blackmail. And that is, negotiation."

"I have nothing to say to you," hissed Inara. "You and your Alliance have destroyed my life – our lives. I'll likely never practice Companionship again, because of the warrant out on us. What do you have that I could possibly want?"

The Operative smirked, a wry smile that revealed the conversation was playing out as she had anticipated. "I have nothing to hold against you – and that's the problem. That's why I sit before you now. Instead of coercion, I have to make you an offer. And that's where I do have something you want."

"I think I'm done talking to you." She grabbed the edges of her tray and tensed to stand, but the Operative's voice lashed into her mind, stilling her motion.

"If you stand up from this table, you will die."

The words were enough to make Inara pause, and that moment of hesitation was enough to prove to the Companion that she wasn't going anywhere. She remained seated.

"Well then, let me hear your so-called 'offer'."

The woman sat opposite her picked up her fork again, and resumed playing with the stew steaming on the tray. "You have to understand, Inara, that it's not about killing you any more. Ultimately, of course, you are all going to die, but for now my immediate priority is not killing you and your friends. I have a plan for you to carry out, which is why I made contact with members of your crew and began to bend them to my will."

"So I take it that River's coma is your doing?" asked Inara, but she knew the answer already. Simon would do anything for his sister; that was how the Operative was manipulating him. She felt her consciousness start to drift from her body; so unreal was the conversation she was having. It was as though she was listening to someone else when she heard her own voice. The person calmly discussing the reality that the people she lived with and trusted were being forced into acting as double agents for their common enemy couldn't be her. There was no way she could process that information rationally.

"Of course I'm responsible for that. Zoe told you that I was when she returned to the ship with River."

"Zoe…and you know that because you told Zoe to inform us that River's condition was a result of your actions."

"Correct."

Inara's mind raced, and though she could easily place the source of Simon's coercion, she couldn't think of a single thing that might force Zoe's hand into acting against her crew and her Captain. Zoe appeared to be incorruptible in the eyes of the Companion, and even more so since Wash had died – whatever the Operative was forcing Zoe to do, there was something behind it unbeknownst to Inara. Maybe there was something in Zoe's past that Inara wasn't aware of. And no doubt Jayne was co-operating on the basis of a bribe and the offer of a clean slate.

"What is your plan for us?" asked Inara finally. Another of those affable smiles came from the Operative.

"I'm not going to tell you that. I'll give you a hint, though. My plan for you is intrinsically linked with the goals of Project Nightmare."

Inara's eyebrow rose infinitesimally. "Project Nightmare?"

"Yes. You didn't think the Alliance is breeding the xenomorphs you encountered without any express purpose, did you? No. Project Nightmare has an ultimate goal, and everything has its place in it. The xenomorphs, me, and, of course, you and your crew."

"So that explains the sudden change in your attitude," said Inara. "Why you're not just trying to kill us. You've re-evaluated our value to whatever the end goal of Nightmare is."

"To be honest, it was more because you were proving far too difficult to simply eradicate. But yes, in a manner of speaking, your value to my assignment has increased."

Inara's thoughts were scanning everything she could remember about Project Nightmare. "So…you aren't in command of the Project, but your assignment is to bring about its end goal. And your predecessor's assignment was to find wherever the missing crate we picked up came from."

The Operative snorted. "He was a newly trained Operative, and we were testing his field worth. He failed miserably."

"But your concern isn't where the crate came from anymore," said Inara insightfully. "It's us. Why is that?"

"Very good, Inara," said the Operative with approval. "It's because there was no missing crate. Do you remember being told that there are two installations operating under the jurisdiction of Project Nightmare?"

Inara nodded. "Yes. One was located on the cruiser that was chasing us. The other is unknown to me."

She spread her hands slightly as she spoke, as if she was imparting some memorised lecture she had spoken dozens of times. "In short, the new Operative's mission was an elaborate stage for him to act out the correct performance. We 'lost' a shipment, and his task was to find it. We are very careful with our secrets, Inara – we would not entrust such a task to an unproven agent. However, the difficulty lies in finding assignments ideal for testing new Operatives that do not pose a security risk to the Alliance. Of course by nature our missions are highly classified. Over time the result has been to simply invent assignments, allowing the illusion of control." Her hands clasped then, and she broke from whatever memory she was following.

"That's all very interesting, but I still don't know why you are here," prompted Inara, fighting the anger that was stirring inside of her to hear that the reason their lives had been devastated was a fake assignment for a newly pledged Operative.

"I've come to make you an offer," she said. "And I know you're going to accept it."

"We'll see," said the Companion primly.

"I've been tracking your ship since you left the moon through a number of covert communication devices built into the vessel's hull. The difficulty is that now I suspect you are about to be given a new place of residence; one I won't be able to follow or contact. I want you to make it possible for me to open a direct comms link to whatever vessel the New Independents give to you."

Inara started to laugh, though she did not find the situation very amusing. "Are you being serious?"

"Deadly." The woman's expression matched her words.

"In the first instance, why would I help you? From what you have said, if I cut off your ability to contact the others then your entire plan will fail."

"Which is exactly why you will help me." Inara's laughter failed, and a sense of unease grew about her. The Operative nodded. "That's right. If my plan fails, then you cease to be useful to me. I will kill you all. And I assure you, I am much better at it than my predecessor."

Ignoring the chill running down her spine, Inara challenged the Operative's statement. "If you've read my file then you should know that I don't respond well to threats."

Some of the tension in the Operative dissolved, and she sat back in her seat. "Of course. Like I said, I am not here to coerce, I am here to bargain. I was merely informing you of what my course of action must be in that situation. Considering your penchant for evading the fate the Alliance has decided for you, there would be no guarantee that my attempts to neutralise you would succeed."

"I'm glad you understand that."

"My offer to you is this. If you do not help me, then the game ends for you here at this table. You will spend the rest of your days running, with no clue as to the reason. You will know that the Alliance has destroyed you, but not why. And before you go on the defensive again, I am not trying to appeal to your curiosity – to find out what the end aim of Project Nightmare is. I am appealing to your survival instinct. If you assist me and allow the game to continue, then there will exist the chance you can win the game."

"Win?"

"Well…maybe not win. Escape the game with a favourable outcome."

Inara sat quietly for a few moments, contemplating. The Operative's face betrayed nothing. "I'm sorry, but that's not a good enough offer. And frankly, I don't think that there is a price you can pay me that would make me betray my friends."

The Operative snorted. "'Friends'? Victims of the same circumstance, you mean. Your so-called friends have already betrayed you, Inara."

Inara's eyes narrowed. "You haven't shown me any proof that they have. Everything you have said is circumstantial."

With a great sigh and a roll of her eyes, the Operative responded. "We both know that particular train of thought could go on for days, Inara. Am I lying? Am I telling the truth? Well, you're the trained Companion – you tell me if I'm lying."

"You don't appear to be. But you've clearly had a great deal of training which could allow you to mask your deception."

"Inara, I'm going to let you in on a secret. I don't lie. That's what makes me so dangerous. I may bend the truth from time to time, or not reveal the entire reality of a situation to someone, but I do not lie. Everything I have said to you is true, the same as everything I have told the other members of your crew. Of course, what I am saying to you now might be a lie, but I think you understand my point. There is a limited amount of time for you Inara, and you shouldn't waste it trying to second guess the situation."

After a moment's thought, the Companion began to talk. "I'll do it if you tell me your plan. The whole thing, including what has happened before now, as well as the names of everyone involved in Project Nightmare."

The Operative tutted. "You know I can't do that."

"Then our conversation is over," said Inara, tensing to stand.

"Wait," snapped the Alliance agent. Inara paused. Gnawing at her lower lip, she looked almost distressed before continuing. "Alright. I'll make you a better offer."

Inara lowered herself to her seat, trying to hide the smirk lurking below the surface of her emotionless expression. The Operative's words had ultimately worked against her. There is a limited amount of time for you, Inara. Whatever her plan was, the Operative was working against the clock, and if Inara refused her offer then she would have to groom another crew for whatever end she was working towards – which would likely take more time than she had remaining to fulfil her objectives. Though Inara and the others would be killed, the Alliance agent would also lose out and likely her plan would fail. And considering how full of disdain her voice was when she talked about the fallen novice Operative, failure for her was not an option.

"I'm listening."

But then a strange thing happened. The Operative leaned forward, her eyes intent, drawing a breath to begin to speak – but the words stayed within her as she absorbed the look on Inara's face. Her lips, which had parted slightly, snapped closed as she rested back into her seat. With a shrewd expression, and after moments of silence, she finally began to talk.

"No. You're not going to co-operate with me. This has been a waste of time."

Before Inara could begin to argue her case, the Operative had stood up from her seat, leaving her tray of steaming stew behind. While the Companion had no intention of going along with whatever the Operative's plan was, she would like very much to learn what exactly it was.

"If you decide to change your mind, you can contact me by directing a narrow-band transmission at the third moon of Paquin, on channel seventy six, and enquire about medical supplies. Though I doubt I will be hearing from you."

With no further social graces, the Operative had walked gracefully away from the table and out of Inara's sight in less than five seconds. The Companion leapt up, intent on following the Alliance agent to wherever she was headed, but rounding the same corner only moments later revealed that the woman had vanished. Any of a dozen exits along the corridor could have provided her with an escape route, and Inara had no time to check even one of them, because at exactly that moment Simon, Zoe and Jayne appeared from around a bend at the far end of the passageway.

The trio saw and began to move towards her. Inara affected a calm outward composure and waved to her approaching crewmates, but inwardly she could feel her guts start to freeze when she thought of the implications of what the Operative had told her. Any or all of the three could be acting under the direct influence of the engineer of their destruction.

As Inara went to sit with the three, and as they discussed what Mal might be talking about with the heads of the New Independents and how that would effect their futures, only one thing swam through Inara's mind – how she was going to root out those of the crew being coerced and what they might do for the things being held against them.

.:-:.:-:.:-:.

The female Operative strode through the corridors of Home Base, only once glancing down at the overalls she had clad herself in with the slightest trace of distaste.

Her conversation with Inara had had the desired effect. She doubted that the Companion would realise it was all an elaborate ploy to cover her real objective – to place a small tracking device on the woman when she had first asked to sit down. The small tap of her shoulder was all the contact she had needed to fulfil this task. Even if she discovered the tracker, she would likely not think to check for the Operative's secondary method – lacing her food with the same isotope the Alliance had tracked Simon Tam with. A few minutes in the kitchen of the mess hall had been enough to allow her this victory.

The conversation that took place afterwards was not entirely irrelevant; if the Operative had managed to talk Inara around to her way of thinking, then she would be one less obstacle to consider on board the ship. But as suspected, Inara Serra was immune to any kind of bribe or threat the Operative could think of.

She smirked faintly. It was a shame the Companion wasn't immune to electronic or chemical bugging. Then she would have truly been without a course of action to follow.

She approached her ship, docked in the main hangar bay, rendered invisible to sight and conventional sensors by stolen alien technology, her objectives here completed. It was almost pitiful, she thought, how easy it had been.

If this was any indication of how simple the next stage of her task would be, then it would all be over within a few days. The Operative felt a kind of satisfied calm descend upon her. She liked it when things were going her way.

A/N:

The endless talking is nearly over - I promise. There's some major action coming your way in a few chapters for those of you sick and tired of the yap-yap-yapping.

Thanks to MAndrews for your review.