[center][h2]”We’re Gonna Need A Bigger Galley.” - Part 3[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/NDubquz.jpg[/img] [/center] Part 3 of a JP/collab from [@Xandrya], [@Herald], [@PatientBean], [@Gunther], [@Theyra], and [[@sail3695] Quill sat down, letting her hand fall. She observed the young girl, Abby was her name. She was very young. Quill wondered how long she had been on this ship. She couldn’t be more than 20, possibly younger. That left a weird feeling in her gut. “Pleasure to meet you Abby. Been on this ship long?” Quill acknowledged that her appearance was…different than most of the others she had come across. She mentally chastised herself for not dressing a different way. If she was going to be on this ship, she would have to look differently. It wasn’t like she was working on this vessel. “Any idea what the meeting is for?” Quill assumed meetings like this were standard and that the others would be more aware of what is to be expected. “Bout a year, give or take,” the deckhand answered. “She’s a good boat. Hope yah like ‘er, ma’am.” Abby weren’t one tah go readin’ inta folk’s mannerisms, but she could tell sight ‘o’ her done set off somethin’ behind tha perty lady’s eyes. [i]Shoulda put muh robe on,[i] she looked over both arms an’ legs. [i]I look like a gorram dalmatian…[/i] Next question come, an’ she conjured it tah be a good place fer explainin’ ‘erself. “No ma’am,” she shook ‘her head. “I been in muh bunk. Our doc…that’s her, right there,” she pointed toward Alana’s blond hair, “done put me on a couple days’ bed rest. Nothin’ serious,” Abby waved a hand at ‘er bruises. “Jest got banged up a skosh.” Conversation fell silent as Yuri Antonov entered the galley. “Thanks for coming,” his glance swept over those seated at the table and the outliers standing about. “Captain’s on a long wave. He’ll join us soon as he can. In the meantime, he wanted me to fill you all in on a few things.” The first mate took a seat next to the captain’s chair in the hopes that the last few passengers might join the table. “Long story short,” he began, “we received a little help last night from a nun, Sister Lyen Giu. I think her sect is called the Order of the Interverse, but don’t quote me.” He glanced about the table, eyes pausing upon Edina and the teenager sitting next to her. “She did us a great favor,” he resumed, “and now, the captain is more than happy to pay her back in kind. So here’s how it is.” He rested his elbows upon the table, leaning forward to get to the heart of the matter. “Not certain if you know anything about Capital City’s blackout zone. If you do, sing out if I make a mistake. It’s a rough place,” Yuri continued, “a dumping ground for the poor, the physically or mentally challenged, former convicts…and even folk who make their prayers differently. Conditions inside are very harsh. The place is a ghetto. Disease, hunger, drugs, human trafficking…it’s all running wild in the blackout zone. Short of manning checkpoints to control day laborers coming and going, the Alliance pays it no heed beyond tossing in anyone who doesn’t fit the mold.” The first mate dug inside one end of his cast, combatting an itch as he spoke. “The prime export of the Capital City blackout zone is slaves. Sister Lyen,” he spoke to a silent room, “does all she can to combat the practice, but since the slave trade is legal in the Alliance, she doesn’t get much support. And that,” he nodded his head, eyes moving to meet each person as he spoke, “is where we come in.” He cleared his throat. “Sister’s been shepherding a group of folk who all share the same religious sect...Anabaptists, I think they’re called, but I could be wrong. I’m not a religious man,” he said. “These Anabaptists take “turn the other cheek” to a whole new level. They will not raise a hand in anger, and I’m told they view any servitude as fair and just. Knowing that, it’s pretty easy to conjure how that would make them perfect slaves. We know,” he continued, “that slavers are looking to scoop up the whole lot of ‘em…which doesn’t sit right with the captain. So we’re gonna help Sister Lyen get ‘em out.” Edina’s eyes hadn’t left Yuri since he entered the galley. “Do we know how?” she asked. He offered her a half smile. “We’ve got an idea,” the first mate replied, “but still have one or two kinks to work out.” Quill took her eyes off of Abby as the first mate started speaking. She would address the young girl later. As Yuri spoke up about their future plans Quill grew concerned. She didn’t expect that in joining a Firefly she would be tasked with taking down slave traders. She wasn’t against those types getting what they deserved, but Quill glanced around the room they were in. Did they really expect this ragtag group of people to be able to provide help? Granted, Quill knew very little about her fellow shipmates. “I can only speak for myself, but you lot on this ship know very little about me and the other passengers on here, at least the new ones. There’s also going to be a lot of work involved. I guess my question is…do you believe in this whole team being able to do this job?” She wasn’t sure if the Captain shared with Yuri what Quill did for a living. She could handle herself, but did they really trust a ship full of friends and strangers to suddenly all work together? [i]Doing right by her...only fair after last night.[/i] Alana knew the drill, as much as she wouldn't like to admit. Quill, she believed her name to be, was right. A shipful composed of old and new faces would have to look past any differences to successfully make this work. Thus far she knew that wouldn't be an issue for the current crew, and Alana was hoping the same could be said of these strangers. "I take it as long as there's a plan, there's a way." Alana wanted to be optimistic, if for no other reason than to make herself believe her own words. Joe pondered the words the first officer was saying. He gave it some thought, but had too many questions. It did strike him as a futile endeavor or at the very least an endeavor that would bring some unnecessary heat down upon the China Doll. “Is there anythin’ we can do to these slavers, tah discourage them from pursuin’ this group of Anabaptists?” Joe Hooker asked aloud. “If not, what kin we do tah protect them if the slavers decide they want to pursue us?” She scratched the side of her head, right above the ear, then leaned on the counter to rest her chin on her open palm. The first mate had brought up unfamiliar business, business that seemed to be quite troublesome. But who was Imani if not someone used to being in the face of danger. "A whole lotta plannin'. We run some of the most likely scenarios and prepare accordingly." She wasn't addressing the bald man, but merely thinking out loud. [i][b]...to be continued…[/b][/i]