Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews! Questions, comments, and good persecutions are always welcome. :D I have to give some thanks and credit to the writers of the Serenity RPG core rulebook. They included a marvelous "Gorram Chinese" glossary that has been a TREMENDOUS help.
Thanks again, and enjoy!
"Jayne says we're gonna heist an alien." Kaylee slid into the chair across from Mal. "That true, Cap'n?"
Mal rubbed his forehead. Barely broke atmo an hour ago, and already he was wishin' he'd never heard of this shiang jing ping job. "That's the story, little Kaylee."
"You think it might really be an alien?"
"I seriously doubt it," interrupted Simon, busy in the kitchen. From the smell of it, he was doing something criminal to foodstuffs again. Mal'd always thought a doctor had to know chemistry to do his job–and wasn't cooking chemistry? "Aliens don't exist."
Ma"Frankly, I don't care if it's a pickled cow. Badger's offerin' good coin for us to bring it back, and we sorely need the work. And it's better than Jayne's idea of a job."
Kaylee frowned. "But, Cap'n–what if it is an alien?"
"What if it is?"
"Well...wouldn't we be, sorta, kidnappin' it?" She wrapped a lock of brown-gold hair around one finger. "An' even if it ain't, whatever it is, it's alive, ain't it?"
"What're you gettin' at, meimei?" Mal had a fairly good idea where she was going with this, and he didn't like the look of it.
"It ain't right to steal it just so's some rich huen dahn can stick it in a cage for folks to stare at. What if it was human?"
"What if it isn't?"
They all jumped. The Doctor stood in the galley door. He'd shed the long brown overcoat and loosened his tie and had made a futile attempt to smooth down his hair.
Mal scowled. "What're you doin' up here?"
"Well, I was feeling a bit peckish..." The Doctor half-smiled. "I'm very curious, though–what if it really was an alien, alive and clever as you and me?" He considered. "Well, clever as you, anyway. What would you do then? Would you steal it from one 'collector' just to turn it over to another? Just because it isn't human? Or would that matter?"
Mal folded his arms and leaned the chair back. He couldn't deny he'd wrestled with that same question–well, maybe not the 'what if it's real' part, that was ridiculous–but if it were a sideshow freak or somethin'. A person, not a pickled cow.
What he didn't like was this over-curious stranger strollin' in and asking the same questions. "Job's crew business," he said. "Not yours."
"Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear. Couldn't really avoid it. This isn't all that big a ship." The Doctor moved to pull a chair out from the table and slouch carelessly into it. "Call it a...philosophical interest."
"Well, I ain't interested," Mal snapped, getting up. "There's a job to be done." He fixed Kaylee with a stern look. "Right?"
"Sure, Cap'n," she said reluctantly.
He sighed. "Look–'til I know better, I'm gonna operate on the idea that the 'verse didn't suddenly turn upside down on us. Aliens ain't real–and the one we've been hired to 'pick up'" he shot a look at the Doctor, "ain't nothin' but a hoax. If it turns out it ain't, or if it's some poor soul–well, we'll face that when we get there. Dohn ma?"
She nodded, looking somewhat happier.
"And don't go blabbin' everything to our nosy guest, huh? He don't need to know everything."
"Oi! I'm sitting right here," the Doctor protested.
Mal ignored him and ducked through the door into the fore deck, making for the stairs leading up to the bridge.
River was curled up in the pilot's seat, watching the black. "You shouldn't be rude," she remarked.
"That's my job. Well, all right, it's Jayne's job, but he's elsewhere right now." Mal sank into the other chair. "I don't like him, River. The Doctor, I mean. He's..."
"Unsettling, I know."
"You know why that is, River?"
She smiled at him over her updrawn knees. "Yes."
"But you ain't gonna tell me, are you?"
"He'll tell you himself, when you're ready. When he's ready."
"I really don't like mysteries, darlin'."
"Reading the last page spoils the story," said River, with what Mal felt was exaggerated patience. "You'll just have to wait and see."
"Yeah, figured it'd be somethin' like that." Mal stretched. "I suppose I ought to go see what 'Nara has to say about him. 'Nother hour or so, and you can get Jayne or someone to relieve you up here, grab some dinner. I mean it–I want you to eat. You're too thin, darlin'."
River nodded, and turned her eyes back to the stars outside. Mal watched her for a moment. He never was sure what to think around her. She was part of his crew, and she was family, and she followed his orders (most of the time)–but he was never certain just why. Girl with her abilities, followin' a washed up old soldier like him...
Didn't bear fussin' over. Not right now, anyway. "Stay awake, little albatross," he told her, ignored her offended glare, and turned to go back down the stairs.
Back in the galley he found Kaylee giggling over something the Doctor had said. Simon was scowling something fierce and poking at his food. The Doctor seemed completely at ease, jacket unbuttoned, tie dangling loosely around his thin neck, grinning like a loon. Mal couldn't help smiling a bit at Simon's obvious jealousy. It was clear Kaylee'd taken a real shine to the newcomer, and Simon was very not-happy about it. Understandable, really: the Doctor, though odd, was smart, funny, good looking (in a skinny, geeky sort of way), and not so much older than they. What was more, he was damned charming–something Simon surely was not. Best Simon could manage was smart and good looking–and Mal had his reservations about the smart. And, of course, add insult to injury and the man claimed the title "Doctor" which, until now, had been Simon's sole property aboard Serenity. Little wonder he felt threatened.
Mal gave some thought to taking the young(er) doctor aside and offering him some reassurance about his place in little Kaylee's life–but decided against it. For one thing, he wasn't at all sure Kaylee wouldn't throw Simon over for someone who could get through a conversation without stuffing his foot in his mouth; he'd never been entirely sure if Kaylee's feelings for Simon were genuine love, or simply a desire for something not run on batteries.
For another, it was entirely too funny watching the boy squirm.
Kaylee looked up as Mal re-entered the galley. "Cap'n! The Doctor says he knows all sorts of stuff 'bout aliens."
"Yeah?" Mal didn't bother to hide the skepticism in his voice. "That include ways of doctorin' mutated farm animals to look like somethin' from the depths of space?"
"We weren't discussing that, though I do know some tricks there, too," said the Doctor, unruffled. "You might say aliens are a bit of a hobby for me."
"Read a lot of science fiction, do you?"
"Read a lot of things," the Doctor replied, smiling broadly. "Though I prefer Dickens to Asimov. Both are brilliant but Dickens–now there was a man with backbone. I like backbone."
Mal tried to look as though he recognized the names. Dickens sounded vaguely familiar–somethin' his mama probably tried to make him read when he was a kid. "Yeah, well, if you don't mind, I'd like to chat with my crew without an eavesdropper." He glanced pointedly at the door.
Kaylee stirred. "Aw, c'mon, Cap'n–maybe he can help!"
Mal gritted his teeth. "No ruttin' way. He ain't a part of this crew, Kaylee, he's a gorram passenger. And way too nosy a one at that."
"I'm still sitting right here," the Doctor remarked. "Not deaf, either."
"There's work to be done," Mal said. "D'you mind?" He looked at the door again.
The Doctor didn't budge. "Not really." He eyed Mal's darkening face. "Look, Captain–as I said before, this isn't that big a ship. I'm sure to find out all about it anyway, at some point." His eyes shifted briefly to Kaylee, and Mal thought several very rude things about easily-charmed mechanics. "And you never know–maybe I can help." Laugh-lines at the corners of his eyes put in a brief appearance. "I've been known to commit theft a time or two myself."
Mal snorted. 'Long time.' Man wasn't that old, maybe only a year or two younger than Mal himself. "What, you steal candy as a kid or something?"
"Something a bit...bigger, but you get the idea."
"Don't need your help, Doctor. But if you want to listen in on a lot of boring talk, I suppose I got no reason to stop you, long as you keep your mouth shut." He turned back to Kaylee. "I need to go speak with 'Nara. Badger gave us what information he had on the target; it's up on the bridge. Want you to have a look, see what might need doin' on the technical side of things."
"Chr ah." She tilted her head slyly at him. "Whatcha goin' to talk to 'Nara about?"
It was ridiculous, but Mal felt his ears get hot. "None of your gorram business, Kaylee. You got work to do, so get movin'."
She rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. She shot a parting smile at the Doctor as she left. Simon's scowl turned positively thunderous. It did not improve when the Doctor leaned over to eye his plate. "What is that?" he asked. "It smells dreadful."
The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and hummed under his breath as he picked his way across the catwalk suspended over Serenity's cargo bay. It really was a beautiful ship, full of character and promise that more than made up for its lack of smooth lines or decor. And the crew! He'd met a lot of crews of varying shapes and sizes over his long life. Starship crews and submarine crews, happy crews and crazy crews...There'd been this one bunch of bloodthirsty pirate robots on a steam-driven spaceship that he would never forget. He had the feeling he'd never forget this lot, either (though, he hoped devoutly, for reasons other than trying to shove him out an airlock).
Why was he here, though? He hadn't seen anything overtly wrong yet. Usually the screaming started minutes after he landed the TARDIS. This all seemed a bit...well, boring. The crew of Serenity was a fascinating lot, to be sure–but when all was said and done they were pretty ordinary humans. The only odd note was the young pilot, River, who kept saying things that she shouldn't know. Or seemed to. She struck the Doctor as being a bit nuts, and crazy people often appeared to exhibit unusual insight by simple virtue that they spouted nonsense more or less constantly and were bound to hit the nail on the head sometimes. He really couldn't be sure.
Raised voices caught his wandering attention, and he stopped, propping one shoulder on a support, eavesdropping shamelessly. Mal and the "counselor," sounded like. They were somewhere close–probably through the door a few feet away from where he stood. One of the shuttles, he guessed.
"All I'm saying, 'Nara, is that it ain't exactly specific."
"Reading body language isn't like reading a map, Mal. All I can give you is my impressions, my interpretations. And those are telling me that he's had serious control training of some kind."
Oh, they were talking about him! The Doctor grinned and leaned more fully on the railing. Discussions about him when he was supposedly not around were always so entertaining.
"Control like how?" demanded Mal.
"It's hard to pinpoint...he seems so open–but at the same time he was giving next to nothing away. Nothing he didn't want me to see, anyway. That requires a lot of training."
Or, thought the Doctor, merely a lot of practice. Almost a millennium worth, in fact. And he had been considered pathetically easy to read compared to most of his kind...
"Training? You mean, as in Companion?" There was a note in Mal's voice that intrigued the Doctor. Wariness, revulsion...something in between?
"I...can't say."
"Why? He not pretty enough to be a Companion?" Oh, that was definite hostility. The Doctor wondered what a Companion was–well, he had some ideas, but preferred not to indulge in gutter-speculation without more information. He might be rude, but he did try to stay a gentleman...
"Beauty isn't the only thing that defines a Companion, Mal," said Inara severely. "And there's nothing wrong with his looks. He just doesn't have the right grace of manner. He's too...volatile. But that doesn't mean he hasn't had Academy training. I can't be sure."
"I don't want another Saffron on board, 'Nara."
"Neither do I." Her voice heated with frustration. "I just can't get a good read on him. I got close–but he slipped away. I think he caught on to what I was doing. And he just didn't react to me like he should have."
"Hang on–are you upset because he might have had Academy training, or are you just mad 'cause he didn't fall at your feet?"
The Doctor winced.
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Inara, her own voice frosty.
"Oh, come on. You're upset because he proved immune to your wiles."
Any minute now, she was going to hit him. Had there been someone around taking bets, the Doctor would have put ten quid on it.
"My wiles? I was doing you a favor, you chwen joo!"
The Doctor's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't expected a lady like Inara to come out with something like that. Bit rude, that.
Inara's voice was edging toward shrill. "And can I remind you just who it was who fell for Saffron's wiles? Or were you looking for a repeat performance?"
"Whoa, now, Inara, I didn't mean–"
"Get out."
Oh, that was his cue to move along. The Doctor didn't fancy being on the receiving end of Mal's reaction should the captain come out and find his unsettling guest loitering. It would almost certainly involve a fist. Possibly two. He'd already been hit once today, thank you so much. (And he had the feeling that Mal could hit a whole lot harder than the woman at the pub.)
Moving silently on his sneakers (wonderful choice of footwear; he couldn't imagine why he hadn't used them before) the Doctor hurried toward the stairs leading down to the cargo hold. The captain would probably be unhappy to find him down there, but it was better than getting caught outside the shuttle.
He reached the bottom just as the shuttle door hissed open. The Doctor resisted the urge to look up, instead strolling casually toward the TARDIS, hands back in his pockets, whistling merrily. He heard Mal's heavy boots clang as he stomped away from the shuttle, then stop midway across the catwalk.
The Doctor reached out to lay a hand on his ship. The wood was rough and warm beneath his hand. He sent an inquiry, and received a quiet murmur of contentment. The TARDIS was entering a recharge cycle, drawing on the background radiation outside Serenity to boost her power. The extrapolator was the ship's main source of power these days, but the Doctor disliked letting it run when he wasn't about to keep an eye on it. It wasn't the most reliable piece of tech in the universe...
"You got business down there?" a harsh voice demanded.
The Doctor pasted an innocent smile on his face and turned around to look up at Mal. "Just checking," he said. "It's all right I'm down here, isn't it?"
"Passengers ain't allowed in the hold without one of the crew," snapped Mal.
"Oh, so sorry." The Doctor patted the TARDIS one last time and headed up the stairs once more. As he drew level with Mal he paused. "Look, I know we haven't quite gotten off on the right foot, but I just wanted–"
"I really ain't interested," Mal said flatly. "You just stay out from underfoot on the ride to Paquin, dohn ma?"
"Ah...understood." Now was not the time to argue, judging from the look in the captain's eye. If ever a man was spoiling for a fight... "I'll just go to my quarters, shall I?" The Doctor gave Mal a half-smile and made good on his word, hoping it didn't look too much like a retreat.
Chinese Translations for Chapter 8:
Shiang jing ping : Nuts, crazy
Meimei: Little sister
Huen dahn: Jerk, bastard