[center][h1]”Fish Story”[/h1][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ERisSuP.jpg[/img][/center] JP/collab from [@Aalakrys], [@wanderingwolf], and [@sail3695] Narrator: (Sam Elliott voice) “China Doll rode the black in as sweet and clean an arc as her pilot’s mittened hands could muster. The boat’s still mighty cold, what with a hold full of fresh seafood and folk takin’ turns at the few warmup spots tucked here an’ about. Rumor has it the Skyes kept the good times goin’ all night, despite Penelope’s latest rescue sittin’ in for a hand of poker. Speakin’ of rescues, that new fella, Yuri, passed the night quiet, but whether you can sleep after somethin’ like he been through is tough to conjure. Lucky done did his first engine room watch like a champeen. Rex come outta hidin’ to look in on his friend an’ wound up slingin’ a hammock. Somethin’ happened in the lower deck passenger lounge. Place was all put to rights, but there’s a mighty big chalk drawin’ of an orchid blossom on the bulkhead above the sofa. Ain’t no one to ask yet, as Abby an’ them two passengers is all tucked in their rooms with space heaters goin’. Then there’s Doc an’ the Cap’n...but that ain’t our business. Man’s got a spring in his step today that’s just as like to the payday now growin’ in the Doll’s forward ports as to anythin’ else mighta happened...I ain’t sayin’. Hook the cook gave ever’one a boost with a good hot breakfast. Some folk opted past the tabasco for sriracha’s extra fire. Now, Greenleaf’s just a couple hours out, an’ gettin’ bigger all the time. Just ‘tween you and me, I conjure that while nobody favored the cold, ain’t a soul aboard won’t think on this run without raisin’ a smile. Even our pilot, who’s got some mixed feelin’s about this stop as she an’ Sam point the Doll toward home.” [hr] Penelope returned to the galley all wrapped up in her multi-layers of blankets once more, rested from a long nap after the antics in the Skye shuttle a few hours previous. The little mouse rescued and named Maurice was tucked away in a re-repurposed plastic bucket in the engine room with Lucky, keeping warm. From where she sat in her pilot’s seat, all looked shiny, even if she weren’t quite sure how she felt as she looked on at the approaching planet that was her home. Greenleaf grew nearer, and every bone in Cal’s cold body cried out for the warmth that touching down would bring, even if he still maintained the genius of his plan to freeze the four-thousand pounds of King Tuna they were hauling. As he entered the bridge, his rainbow-colored mittens joined the matching set with Pen’s beanie, and the captain slipped them off with numb fingers. It was with a silent tap that Pen felt the pair pinned to her shoulder, a haggard look on the Captain’s face. Breathing in deeply, Strand took in the growing sight of Greenleaf through the Doll’s eyes. He rested a palm against the frigid console, and tapped the wave dial to wake it up. It was time to hail his contact regarding their arrival. “You look rested,” came the cranky declaration from Captain Strand. Penelope had left her mountain of blankets back in the engine room with Maurice and Lucky to watch over. She’d warned them both of blanket bandits, namely Rex, before setting off towards the engine room. So, when the captain dropped her mittens on her shoulder, she actually felt the thump. “Oh yeah, Cap’n - best place around for a nap was with the critters in the engine room.” She grinned as she pulled her palms from under her thighs to tuck into the mittens. “Got all caught up for the landing. Reckon folks who didn’t tuck in are ready to warm up, huh?” “Reckon so; I know I am.” Cal input coords on the console for Dupree, his contact, before looking up at Penelope, “Critter-s? Last I checked Rex didn’t qualify, just the parrot.” After a few short moments, Cal was all queued up to turn on the capture. He was ready to make an easy payday on a [i]shi[/i]-ton of Tuna; a smirk threatened to break through the perma-frown frozen to Cal’s face. Penelope flashed him a grin of her own at the comment, but kept the secret of Maurice to herself. No need to be bringing up a mouse when her captain was concerned about their cargo. “Sam, how are things lookin’ in the cargo bay? Our trip long enough to freeze our haul through? Tell me we’ll have an hour or two ‘fore a thaw, [i]sheh[/i].” After a pause in which Sam was no doubt inputting data and factoring out equations, she reported: "According to planetary temperature and the humidity index combined with reentry hull heat, maintaining a frigid internal temperature seems less than optimal, Cal. When factoring in the size of the cargo against rising heat, approximately three percent of the exterior stored lifeforms may expire within the first hour after reentry." Cal nodded, since it wasn’t his problem after the bid changed hands, “Let’s hope Dupree’s men don’t dawdle.” The screen switched, offering a view of the drab office space at the heart of Dupree’s Ocean Delicacies. The man himself was hunched over a desk piled high with heaps of unfiled paperwork. He wore a blue striped coverall over his shirt and tie at half mast. The stark overhead lighting reflected upon a head nearly devoid of hair. In the background stood a plate glass window through which the proprietor could watch the goings on in his freezers and fresh catch tanks. “Dupree’s,” he responded without glancing up. “Dupree, lookin’ fine as usual, if I don’t say so.” Cal paused to scratch his chin nonchalantly, silently wondering if he’d end up looking just as wretched when he hit whatever age it was Dupree staked claim over. “Everythin’s lookin’ good on my end and we’re a couple clicks out from the rendezvous spot. ‘Preciate the expediency of our dealin’ here.” Strand fixed the capture with what he would have called a friendly look, despite the slight shiver running up his spine. “Sounds good,” Dupree gave a single nod. “Let me know when the dockmaster assigns your berth number and I’ll have my truck there when you land.” His eyes dipped to the clipboard in his hand. “My guys will have your payment…two credits a pound. Did you manage to get me the full four hundred?” Cal’s jaw hinged open, “Four hundred? Four hundred what now? The last we talked you called for four-thousand pounds of King Tuna--” He shot a glance at Penelope, who had returned her mittens hands under her legs and shrugged. She was never privy to the job details to say one way or another, and didn’t seem to mind at all as her eyes drifted back up to the viewport to see her homeworld getting closer by the second. The fishmonger kept a rigid poker face. “Sounds like a typo…most like a signal skip. Sorry, friend, I ordered four [i]hundred[/i] pounds of King Tuna. Four hundred’s what I’m paying for.” “A typo? Listen, Dupree, the bill said four-thousand pounds, so we’re haulin’ four-thousand pounds. I got the whole lot on ice here to deliver up to you on the total fare for two creds a unit. Now, are we goin’ to deal on original terms?” Cal’s smirk was gone, his tone hardening as he watched the shiny bald man’s head reflect back at him. Dupree shook his head, then lifted a hand to still the next protest. “Wait…tell you what, Captain. It’s mighty hot down here today. After you burn in, the clock’ll start ticking on that fish. I conjure you’ll have a good hour before it starts to spoil. Hate to see that happen over something stupid as a data hiccup, so how’s this? I’ll pay you for the four hundred at our set price. The rest? I’ll take it off your hands before it starts to smell for…say twenty P a pound? Sound fair?” “Fair!” Cal’s temper was rising, “You take me for one-tenth the price on the ton of catch I’ve got here? I ain’t gonna [i]G’en Ho Tze Bi Dio se[/i], while you sit there like a [i]Go Neong Yung Duh[/i].” Strand’s palm beat the wave’s termination button, his arms still anchored to the spot over the pilot’s console. (engage a monkey in a feces-hurling contest and son of a bitch, respectively) "Cap'n," Penelope spoke up in that soft way of hers when he’d disconnected the wave, distracted still by her thoughts, but not enough to miss out on the clear robbery. "Usually when a fella gives ya the run-around in the market, you take the goods to another stall. Greenleaf ain't got no big salt-water, so this sort of delicacy wouldn't be too hard to hawk elsewhere. Plenty’a fences, too." As he put the pieces of what she was saying together as a native, Cal turned where he stood, no longer shivering of cold thanks to his exchange with Dupree. “Plenty o’ fences?” His brows, though sternly fixed, arched just enough to beg her to continue her thought behind crossed arms.. “Greenleaf ain’t no stranger to unloading cargo that didn’t quite go through Alliance inspection,” Her eyes returned from the viewport to focus on her captain when he’d fallen silent, seeing that he’d wanted more information. “There’s a few places of reentry where the sensors aren’t as… thorough. Paid off folks that monitor, usually from the black market higher-ups. There’s a whole underground. Bunkers ‘round the jungle. I’m sure one of them are likely to take on the haul - it’d make ‘em rich to sell off to the Alliance upper class in the city.” "Uh-huh," he intoned, his eyes were focused elsewhere, reasoning out a new plan factoring in the data his pilot supplied. "And do you happen to know who might be keen on what [i]we're[/i] sellin'?" Having a barefoot onboard could be just the break he needed to get out of this fix. "I ain't lookin' to take a loss, here. We need every cred promised us on this run to keep flyin'." Penelope was clearly thinking, but whether it was a list of old contacts she knew or her willingness to get in touch with them, that was anyone’s guess. Finally, she stopped chewing absently at her lip and said, “Maybe Hafez Nadal - it's been a long time since I've been in contact with him, but he's the sort to tread light just enough not to get caught up in'a snare, so I bet he's still around..” A crackle preceded the cool, clear accent of S.A.M.N.T.H.A. on the bridge, “Hafez Nadal, Alliance intelligence claims, is the head of a syndicate here on Greenleaf known for shady dealing without crossing the line of legality. This distinction, it seems, has thwarted enough attempts to indict him that the authorities now vet any further allegations of illegality through a local task force that reports no real leads according to the digital files they keep in their precinct.” A burgeoning smile could almost be heard through the comm, “I don’t see your name in any of the collated list of his associates, Penelope. Though now, I admit, I am curious.” "I reckon it's on account of my being presumed dead…" The pilot said it was if was her best guess after a moment of thinking about it. "Hafez must've kept it that way." She seemed surprised, in that her eyes went a little wide at the idea. That meant … well, that'd be dealt with later. "I guess I'm comin' back from the beyond to load a lap full of tuna on him, Cap'n?" Cal, scratching his chin absently, finally met Pen’s eyes. “Sounds like a charmer. Well, we got no choice. Can you call him?” Penelope nodded and pulled one hand from beneath a leg, reaching over to send a wave to Nadal. There was only a bit of anxiety that touched her, given it’d been so long and all, but she hid it well as anything. A luminescent title, [i][b]Nadal Enterprises,[/b][/i] glowed and pulsed on the screen. The image switched to reveal a large, overly ornate cafe space. Ceiling fans turned lazily above intricate tapestries adorning the walls. Tables and chairs, all richly burnished wood, cast a gloss which was augmented by the golden brass fittings. The garish opulence of the scene appeared an apt match for the man himself. Hafez Nadal wore richly embroidered robes. Chains about his neck and the rings upon his fingers glowed lustrous gold in compliment to the robust hue of skin well cared for. The breezy cafe, the clothing, the perfectly coiffed hair all told their tale. Here was a man who took appearances to extremes. As his gaze zeroed in, the professional smile burst open to a dazzling grin. “Why, Penelope Randell!” Hafez nearly chortled in delight. “It brings me joy to see your lovely face again!” “Nice compliment for the long departed,” Penelope’s easy smile came at seeing an old familiar sight. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine - exuberant as ever, Hafez.” “I’ve been warned never to accept flattery from a beautiful woman,” Hafez’s grin held beneath eyes sparkling with wit. “But I’ll make an exception in your case, Dear One. Tell me, what are you up to these days? Something involving stick and rudder?” “More or less,” Penelope answered, her teeth starting to chatter slightly at the hiss of the word. “Right now, I’m cold storage while we try to figure out a fishy situation. Literally sittin’ on my hands. Told my new Cap’n here that I might know someone who had a soft spot for me that’d help us puzzle it out.” It was more difficult to hold her grin only account of the cold, but she’d motioned to Cal just by her with a nod of her head. “This is Cal Strand, Cap’n of the China Doll I’ve just recently started flyin’ - Firefly.” She gave a wink, thrilled by the ship itself all the same as when she first wandered on by. But that was all she’d say on it, mostly because her lips were probably turning blue so the sooner they worked something out, the better. Maybe she should’ve brought at least [i]one[/i] of her blankets… The professional smile restored. “A pleasure, Captain Strand,” Hafez offered a courteous nod. “In such a moment as this, the old adage ‘any friend of Penelope’s is a friend of mine’ should go without saying. And so, my friends, to what do I owe such a wonderful surprise?” “Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Nadal,” Cal’s eyes sought out the myriad ostentatious flourishes of which Nadal himself must have relished in his appearance and space. Truth be told, he wasn’t quite sure how to pin such a man who looked a little closer to Rex, if he’d had an enterprising bone in his body. “Penelope here tells me you may have trade in salt water fish; King Tuna to be exact.” “King Tuna,” the crime lord offered a wistful smile. “Quickly delivered, given yesterday was the start of the season.” He cast a knowing smile toward Cal. “My compliments on an efficiently run operation, Captain. Yet, I can’t help but wonder that such well planned beginnings weren’t accompanied by an equally determined conclusion? Might there be a complication?” “Some hucksters might call it a ‘typo’ but, seems there were only call for four-hundred pounds of catch with a generous offer at one-tenth for the rest.” Captain Strand shook his head, “Said offer came by a fella by the name of Dupree.” His jaw tightened slightly as his mind ran over the brief exchange for the nth time. “I told the Cap’n we ain’t got much of a trade in sea critters, and beings it’s a delicacy, man would be a fool to go turnin’ his nose up at the haul - think he’s playin’ on a desperation to unload ‘fore they turn.” Penelope chattered through a frown. “Dupree, of course,” A pained smirk crossed the immaculate face. “In the circus that is Greenleaf, the man is our proverbial ‘one trick pony,’ Hafez chuckled. “Having said that, when it comes to moving seafood among the reputable dining and market establishments, I’m sorry to report that his is the only game in town. Still,” the silk rustled as he folded his arms, “a man of his limited...vision...doesn’t achieve such status without the good will of others.” His face softened again as his gaze turned toward the pilot. “If it pleases you, I shall remind our friend Dupree that honoring one’s agreements pays a rich dividend, both in cash profit and my good will. Would that be satisfactory?” His eye travelled between the two faces on his screen. A man who could wield his ‘good will’ in such a manner definitely got Cal’s attention. The wheels in his head began to turn, imganing just who this Hafez could be, and what sort of history could be colored between the lines twixt him and Penelope. His brief sidelong glance at his pilot looked to her for reassurance that such a promise was within this seemingly friendly face. Even then, someone who could ‘remind’ Dupree to honor his agreement triggered his Badger-o-meter; keen as he was to move this frozen haul, keener was he to keep things on even ground, which meant there was a quid pro quo in the offing. While Hafez had been speaking, Penelope had busied herself with pulling her shawl over the lower half of her face, but when she caught the captain’s sideways glance, the creases in her eyes matched the reassuring smile beneath. “I’d be mighty pleased to hear that change of tune,” Cal nodded steadily, trying not to be too visibly pleased. Hafez brought his hands together in a single clap. [i]”Tama,”[/i] he nodded. “It is done. You may expect Mr. Dupree to meet with you in person upon landing. He’ll pay your agreed price, as well as apologizing for such an unfortunate misunderstanding.” “[i]Jahn sheh[/i],” the Captain said, a little stunned. From where he was standing, Penelope appeared to have friends in all sorts of stations. As he considered just how far the reach of her ‘friends’ extended, his brows knit somewhere between concern and interest. Penelope didn’t think that sounded too good for Dupree, leaving her feeling a little mixed up on the matter, but there wasn’t much that could be done on that end. Even if the situation was an innocent error, which she had doubts about, he still had gone a bit far on a swindle opportunity. If she hadn’t known Hafez, likely Cap’n would be knee-deep in rotted fish, and Abby would be stuck with the clean up. That didn’t sit well with her at all, so she ended up grateful things had turned out this way. “Don’t reckon Dupree will be pleased to see us, but an apology goes a long way. Thank you, Hafez. You’ve saved me from a situation once again, my friend.” Hafez grinned. “The vision of your loveliness is its’ own reward, Penelope.” The crime boss’ features brightened as a fresh idea seemed to strike. “Tomorrow, my humble establishment is closed. I’m hosting a birthday celebration for my nephew. It would do me great honor if you both were to come and enjoy our hospitality? Captain,” he continued before they could answer, “I do admire a man who conducts his business so efficiently. To that end, during your time with us tomorrow I should appreciate a few moments to discuss an opportunity.” And there it was, Cal released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I ain’t one to turn down hospitality. Send us the details—well, I suppose you know thereabouts, don’t you, Penelope?” Strand turned to his pilot, a foreboding look on his face. “I do,” She nodded, retreating back into her thoughts on that some for a moment before returning to give her controlled chattering cheer: “We’ll be there, Hafez.” [i]”Tama![/i] Hafez clapped his hands once more, grin widening in obvious delight. “Such a fortuitous day! I shall look forward to your arrival. The festivities begin at two o’clock,” his expression shifted into a wry smile, “but fashionable lateness might get you past the more ‘juvenile’ proceedings. Until tomorrow, my friends.” The onscreen image reverted to the glowing [i][b]Nadal Enterprises[/b][/i] title. As the capture dissolved on screen, Cal sat back against the console, his face toward his pilot. “Reckon we’re goin’ to a shindig tomorrow.” A frown materialized on his face, “And I reckon we’ve got ourselves another job.” He scooted a little closer to her, suddenly reminded of the frigid cold of space. “Tell me, how well do you know this Nadal?” Penelope hummed a bit, considering as she did everything asked of her personal life. She’d been forthcoming with the captain so far, and there wasn’t really anything suspect on her end involved with answering the question. “As well as anyone can know Hafez Nadal, I reckon, but I also think I already owe him if that’s what you’re askin’.” Cal thought for a moment, “So, you owe him.” His finger extended in her direction, “And now I owe him…” He retrieved his finger, contemplating for a minute. “Well, that’s how a fella like him works, isn’t it?” She speculated aloud as a visible tremor went through her, but only due to the cold. “Spiders don’t go gettin’ stuck in their own web, an’ all.” Cal nodded officially, “That they don’t, and quick-thinkin’ finches always get their worm. Well I say add it to the list, ‘cause after this I owe you.” Just looking at how the cold was setting her teeth to rattling started to become contagious. “Weren’t for your shady blackmarket deals, Abigail would have quite the work to do with that mop, [i]pi gu[/i] shot, or not.” “Aw, Cap’n, ya don’t owe me nothin’ so long as you say I can take the Doll in and get us outta this cold ‘fore my toes freeze off,” She puffed beneath her shawl-made-scarf. “For Buddha’s-sake woman, take us in before the Doc comes for all our toes-ss.” He bit down to keep that pesky ‘s’ from hissing along from the cold. “Ain’t got issue with that at all,” Penelope shuddered again just before taking her hands from beneath her thighs where she’d stored them once again to get the coordinates for entry in. As she worked and shivered, she poked one last bit of fun before it was time to get serious. “Sam, can you tell who’d lose their toes first - Cap’n or me? I think me, on account of I ain’t got the desire for shoes no-how, but I’m pretty fond of my toes.” It only took just a moment before Sam started to whirl off her rationale with data-driven facts on temperature and what she discovered about human frostbite while Penelope pulled the manual flight controls in to get ready for the take-over.