sail3695

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Cap’n’s Work Is Never Done

Part 3 of a JP/collab from @Xandrya, @Gunther, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

Joe looked at his crew, “Anyone interested in a game of Billiards? They have a table upstairs.”

"I'm game," she responded with a slight shrug, her eyes still straight ahead. Alana smirked before taking another sip, remembering the game against Cal. "Anyone else want in? We can always make it a doubles match.”

“Ah haven’t played in awhile. Ah recall when ah worked on that luxury liner we stopped here for a few days. Ah spent some time in this here club. Played many games upstairs.” Joe was trying to sell the game to his crewmates.

Hook’s admission raised Cal’s eyebrows a might. “Well,” he cocked his head to one side, “I conjure that’s a sight better’n you sayin’ this is your first time with a cue stick.” After watching that joke fail to land, the captain changed course. “Go rack ‘em up,” he agreed. “I’ll be along soon’s I ‘persuade’ our deckhand to join in.”

Joe nodded toward the captain and made his way up one level where the pool tables could be found. He found an open table, placed his beer on a side table and called for the balls to rack. It was a virtual game. One could pass his or her hand through the balls, but the special attachment to the cue enabled the balls to react as though they had been struck with the proper force and angle.

The captain’s eye followed the pair as they struck off for a distant ladderway. While his gaze might’ve lingered on the comely doctor, Cal found that only reasonable. “Good captain knows his crew…from all sides,” he reckoned. “Noblesse Oblige.” He was a little fuzzy on where he’d picked that one up. Mayhaps a book, or some fancypants passenger along the way. Still, it sounded good as he stepped toward the Great Arm Wrestling Match at the back corner of the bar.

Drink was maybe a quarter of the way done, and Alana looked down at all that was left. Maybe she ought to slow down if didn't want to blow the game for herself and whatever unfortunate soul happened to be paired up with her in her semi-inebriated state. She watched Hook set up, leaning on the table as if guarding his drink, her own next to his.

A small crowd had gathered round, laughing and hollering as Yuri Antonov tried to hold his own against a man at least twice his size. “Like a python wrestlin’ a fishin’ worm!” one patron chuckled as he placed his bet. “This gon’ end real quick now!”

Cal nudged his way through. “Hey, One-Arm. Just lettin’ you know we’re all gonna be upstairs for a friendly game of pool.”

Yuri’s concentration didn’t shift. He was locked, hand in hand, eye to eye against his opponent. The greeter stared right back, eyes mirthful and a tree trunk arm that hadn’t yet budged. “Upstairs?” the mechanic asked. “This place has an upstairs?”

“So says Hook. I reckon a treehouse can have an upstairs, leastways til you run out of tree,” the captain observed. Don’t go breakin’ anything…dohn mah?”

“Ku.”

Cal turned away from the contest. “Beg pardon…thank you,” he spoke as he worked his way out, eyes sweeping the main deck for tousled strawberry curls. When he finally caught sight of young Abigail, the captain frowned and quickened his pace.

Trouble with vodka boom booms was they just went down reeeeaaall easy like. Abby done had herself one afore that “See How I Miss Yew” song ended. Now the band was playin’ somethin’ jest had her movin’ an’ swayin’.

Be With Me

They’s couples all about, dancin’ soft an’ slow. Abby held ‘er drink glass up tah her chin, sippin’ out ice cubes and melt as the beat took ‘er away. The vodka an’ rum was dancin’ inside ‘er, an’ fer a second, Aunt Lupe was there, in ‘er ear. ‘This is how to make your backbone slip…’

She opened ‘er eyes. They’s a fella there, movin’ in close. “Hi,” he give ‘er a smile. “I just love this song. Dance with me?” He held out a hand an’ pushed ‘is hips like he’s ruttin’ in the backwoods.

“Looks like we already are,” she laughed an’ sideslipped from his touch.

He followed. “What’s your name, honey?”

Abby slow twirled, then eased away from a hand brushin’ against ‘er hip. “Not’cher honey.”

“You could be,” he grinned. “My name’s Brad. And this Yi Dwei Da Buen Chuo Roh is Max.”

Tha second fella waded right in, eyes walkin’ ever’ inch ‘o’ her as he offered a glass. “Hey, Beautiful! I brought you a drink. Vodka and Boom Boom, right?”

“Yeaaah,” she answered kinda slow, afore smilin’. First fella had ‘er playin’ the dodge, but now they’s two, an’ friends tah boot. They’s an alarm ringin’ way down deep inside ‘er, but what could happen here? She had crew in the room, an’ hell, all these folk about? Abby’s still strapped, Colt on ‘er hip fer all tha world tah gander. Them two fellas…Brad an’ Max…was gittin’ in sorta too close fer her likin’, but fer tha most part was playin’ hands off. She conjured she could keep ‘em evened out. And she wouldn’t mind another drink…

The situation unfolding around Abigail could have brought a lesser man to swoop in, wave iron, and grizzly stand any man who’s eyeing just so, but the Captain? No miss. He felt sorry for any fella asking to be handled roughly by the blossoming deckhand, and he said as much as he approached the fellas from behind, parting the pair with one hand on each of their shoulders.

“Abigail! You playin’ nice? She tell you the one where she broadsided a reaver–big as a barn–straight through the noggin’ with that there Colt on her hip? Yep, that one right there. Twixt that and the róudào, this here’s the prettiest lethal weapon you’ll lay eyes on this side of White Sun,” Cal tipped his hat in her direction with a wink. (Judo)

And now she’s stone sober. Weren’t Cap’n’s tone. She knowed that tah be his “tall tales” voice. Didn’t read it in his stance none, showin’ hisself all relaxed an’ such. No, she conjured as that alarm inside had ‘er lower that fresh drink from ‘er lips, the eyes. Sure’n it’s in tha eyes. Eyes what carried a warnin’, and as she studied the man, she picked up on somethin’ else, a signal. Play along…

“Aww, Cap’n,” Abby give an eye roll an’ kinda flounced herself afore his lecture. “I’s only havin’ a little fun’s all. Weren’t gonna hurt ‘em or nothin’...”

The captain stepped through the now confused looking pair of ne'er-do-wells to stand at the buzzing deckhand’s side. In a deft movement, he plucked the drink from her hand, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and addressed the pair, “She says that now, but trust me, gentlemen, I’m intervenin’ on behalf of blackouts and sore heads come morn.” His eye narrowed just a mite, “One way or another.”

“But…Cap’n,” she let ‘er voice go all singsong whiny, “I was...yessir,” she dropped her eyes all surrender like.

“Let’s go Da Jeh Da, I hear there’s a pool table, and I feel a powerful need to take you down a few notches. Boys” Strand tipped his hat to the sore looking pair as their eyes cast around the dance floor for some other quarry.

Last they seen ‘o’ her was Cap’n ridin’ herd, arm about her shoulders as he pushed ‘em both off tha dance floor. “I’m sorry,” Abby mouthed over her shoulder toward them boys, afore givin’ Cap’n tha side-eye. “Why I feel like yah jest rescued me from somethin’ I didn’t even know what?”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Best Bad Decisions

Part 2 of a JP/Collab from @Xandrya, @Gunther, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

Lights along the path were few and far between, but some cautious navigating eventually landed the party at the foot of a venerable oak tree. Above them, held as a babe in arms by the tree’s muscular limbs, hung a ramshackle wooden structure. The numerous tiers and open air decks had been built with an eye toward respecting the ancient tree who lifted the entire contraption aloft. Colored lanterns were strung from overhead branches, casting a carnival sense of festivity upon the bars and tables beneath.

Another sign greeted their arrival.

WELCOME TO BUNGALOW BILL’s!

House Rules:

Shoes and shirts are optional. Pants ain’t.
Nancy boys use the steps.
Bwanas use the knotted rope.
Drink up.
Laugh.
Don’t be a Yīnjīng. Pumas get them first.

When Joe saw the word, Yinjing on the sign, he bent over laughing. He laughed so hard he thought he would split his side. That was one word he’d heard before. “Mebee there be some young ladies named Puma inside?” Joe laughed at his own attempt at humor.

“Ain’t touchin’ that,” Abby smirked. “No…really. Ain’t touchin’ it.”

Yuri conjured pulling off his boots, but changed his mind at the thought of what might be waiting inside one upon his return. Done up in a cast as he was, he felt surely that if he chose to climb the ‘Townie’ steps, none inside would hold it against him, least of all, Dr. Lysanger. But there was the old adage ‘When in (insert location here)’ to be observed. With a devilish grin and a flex of his good arm, the mechanic advanced toward the rope. “Abby, spot me, would you?”

“Aw, c’mon, Yuri,” the girl protested. “Yah jest got tha gig. Don’t go breakin’ somethin’ else!”

"I think not." Alana walked up beside Yuri, giving him that look which warned him not to follow through with what he had in mind. Scolding her patients publicly was always a more effective way of getting her point across, and this time was no exception. "I'd rather not have to haul you off to the infirmary before the night even starts...up the steps you go."

The mischief in Yuri’s eyes gave way to a good natured chuckle. “Yes, Doctor,” he replied, his steps taking him obediently up the rough wooden staircase.

No sooner had the crew of China Doll lost sight of their newest member than an eruption of shouts came from the bar above. “Nancy! We got a Nancy boy here!”

Abby’s face lifted towards tha upstairs racket. “Well that tears it,” she looked ‘round tha group. “I’ma try this rope.” She put ‘er foot on tha bottom knot tah anchor it. “Anybody else? I’ll spot yah if yah show me how I’m sposed tah climb it.”

“That-a-girl,” came Captain Strand’s boisterous baritone. “Now, Doc, don’t get in a huff; you ought to scramble up, too. I conjure you can be a mite graceful, when the mood strikes.” Cal moseyed up to the knotted rope, placing one hand eye-level. “You hold it here, see, and just above. Then, tighten your grip, pinch your heels together and wedge in over the next knot. Lift yourself up again, with your legs, but don’t grab the knots with your hands, just the bare rope. See? You got it.” Cal patted the girl on the shoulder, tipping his hat back. “I’ll spot you from here, just try not to fall on account of I got a feelin’ the Doc might order you under permanent bedrest.”

What she lacks in experience you sure make up for it in age... Alana would have loved to follow up with the thought up response, but she held her tongue instead.

“Shiny.” She worked ‘er bootheels round a knot as her arms pulled ‘er up. Weren’t so big a test, long as Cap’n kept his foot down to hold the rope taut. Climbin’ this rope made Abby think of inchworms as she scooched her way to tha top.

She watched Abby as she climbed farther off the ground. The girl made it look easy, though Alana was certain it was more of a struggle than it let on.

“Got us a girl Bwana!” a voice cried out.

Afore she could say ‘boo,” a glass ‘o’ somethin’ kinda thick an’ creamy white was shoved inta her hands by a man all done up in khaki. “What is it?” she eyed the drink all suspicious like.


"Please, will you be so kind as to spot me as well? Can't afford me getting injured and all..." Alana then leaned a little closer to Cal so whatever was said was only heard by them two. "Someone has to be there to listen to you go on about whatever." An unavoidable smile later, Alana turned to the rope and test pulled it--more so out of habit than a safety measure--once Abby had cleared free. Being only a quick climb away from a night of drinking and whatever else they were met with, Alana began her ascent to the ruckus above.

Joe climbed up the rope in the same manner as the Captain and Miss Abby. He had no significant difficulties. He understood the new guy not wanting to climb the rope with the doc here and all. It seemed natural. Upon landing at the opening in the club, someone handed him a drink of some sort, which he tossed back and swallowed immediately. He didn’t even ask what it was. He didn’t care. He was going to have fun.

See How I Miss You

“Soursop juice and rum…on the house. Welcome to Bungalow Bill’s!” The treehouse bar looked to be several different tiers, all connected by ladders and steps. The main floor held the bar itself, plus a broad open space most fit for either dancin’ or whatever sport folk might get up to. This was surrounded by a bunch of little platforms for tables and chairs. The entire place was open to the night sky, but each spot lay under its own thatch roof, with strands of brightly colored lanterns strung between. The more experienced members of China Doll’s crew conjured it for the tourist trap it was…but the eighteen year old was knocked right off her pins.

“Ain’t never seen tha like,” Abby’s eyes was all a-wonder as she downed tha drink. “Like a whole village up in here!” They’s a band playin a song she ain’t never heard, but tha rum hittin’ ‘er all of a sudden made her hips wanna move.

“Another girl bwana!” the host shouted as Alana emerged from the rope well. “Don’t know what you’re doin’, but way it looks it’s the womenfolk who’re wearin’ the pants in your group! He cast a glance toward Yuri, forced to drink a triple serving of the concoction for his stair climb. “Y’all ladies think you can carry that one home?"

"It's quite some baggage but we've dealt with worse." Alana smiled, knowing the double meaning would be lost on him. However, having just caught a glance at what Yuri would have to drink, he'd surely need the help unless his sailor ways held strong.

The triple high soursop rum was already bludgeoning it’s way into the mechanic’s bloodstream before he’d managed to chug halfway down. As the glass tilted slowly upward, Yuri gauged reactions from patrons and crew alike. The teenager was already buzzed; he’d keep watch to steer her from trouble. The doctor had just been handed her single. From the corner of his eye he noticed three guys huddled at the bar, a growing pile of coin before them. As he drank, they watched, mumbled among themselves, and slapped more cash into the kitty.

Abby’d caught on. She fixed him with a lopsided grin. He responded with a wink, tilted his head back as the glass completely inverted, and then slapped it down on the host’s serving table. “That was shiny!” he exclaimed. “Can I have another?”

After welcoming Hook with a single, the greeter laughed at Yuri. “Is there a doctor in the house?”

The shot had gone down smooth, and that was a problem because now she was wantin' more. "No, there isn't a doctor here," Alana shook her head in a slightly exaggerated manner as if he'd posed a ridiculous question, though the smirk gave her away. Excusing herself, Alana went to fetch some of what Yuri was having and then a little something more.

Abby nudged Hook. “I conjure our new gearhead’s lookin’ tah run a con, or you an’ me’s gonna end up carryin’ his drunk pi gu back t’tha boat.”

Joe chuckled, “you’s proly right, Miss Abby. I dunno if he kin keep up. That shot went down smooth. It was jus what the doctor ordered. I might need another one ah them.”

Yuri smiled as his good elbow landed on the table. “One throw,” he challenged the greeter. “Loser drinks the triple.”

“Son, I don’t wanna break the other arm.”

“That’s fair,” the mechanic countered. “How about this? Set up two glasses, one near my arm, one near yours. First one touches has to drink the triple.”

The big man thought on that as he poured for the captain. “So you got a doctor. You look like a wrench turner. Y’all some kinda boat crew?”

The mechanic was finding his way with the crew. Joe liked the trip out to the club. This is just right. He went to the bar and ordered another shot of rum and a local brew to chase it down with. He flipped the coin to the barkeep, tossed the shot glass back and began sipping the beer. He then returned to the crew.

Alana fell in beside Hook who'd just made his way back moments before. She'd downed two shots before returning with some fruity little gem since she was looking to pace herself at that point. Might be a tad late for that, might not. She figured she would talk to Cal later, maybe when everyone was doing their own thing for the night.

The greeter met Yuri’s challenge with a wolfish grin. “Yeah…yeah. Tell you what, kid. Your captain there gives the nod, I’ll take you up.”

As all eyes landed upon him, Cal answered with a casual shrug. “Long’s my mechanic’s on the job come first light, I got no qualms on how he gets his giggles off the clock.”

“Shiny.” The big man smiled as he moved to pour two of the ‘Nancy Boy’ triples. “It’s a slow night. Let’s do this.”

- to be continued -

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Uninvited Guests

Edina had opted to spend the night in.

The lower deck passenger lounge was the perfect spot for the evening. She sat on the couch beneath Abby’s orchid drawing, legs crossed ‘lotus style,’ a book open upon her lap. The story was amusing, but hardly one to demand her full attention. Instead, her greater pleasures were derived from the tactile delights of pages beneath her fingers.

For all she knew, she was alone on China Doll. At the urging of ‘Hook the Cook,’ Captain Strand had led a shore party off in search of drinks and diversions for their last night on Greenleaf. She’d been invited, but Edina felt that this hardworking crew needed its’ liberty from paying passengers now and again…not to mention the allure of a quiet night was just too great.

She conjured the pilot was off on her own. Rumor had it she was a native. As for the Skye family, Edina had no idea. They kept the hours of club kids the ‘verse over, and seemed otherwise to keep to themselves…a trait she’d emulated all too well since rushing aboard on New Melbourne.

However, the urge to hide herself away had faded with her bruises. China Doll possessed a vibe, an easy, no nonsense familiarity that flowed from the captain throughout his crew. Cal Strand seemed at ease with the idiosyncrasies of his people, and they in kind with him and each other. Abby’d mentioned that most of the group had first arrived on Persephone. Edina quietly marveled at the growing rapport among them, and the way they’d welcomed their newest member, the mechanic. She’d only met Yuri in passing, but had sensed the polite confusion of all ‘new guys’ sussing their place among a fresh band of shipmates. He sported scars and bruises of his own. If nothing else, that was a bond they shared at once.

She’d almost forgotten Rex. Edina wasn’t quite clear on his function. To her eyes he’d taken China Doll as his personal shuttle from one brothel to the next…but she couldn’t rule out her own prejudices in that assessment. Abby seemed to veer between grudging humor and outright disgust at his antics, but the older members of the crew appeared unfazed. To each, his own, she’d ultimately decided.

They would all soon return, and China Doll would reverberate with the pleasant hum of a boat preparing for space. But for now, she was at her ease, save for the occasional tick and pop of the old hull casting off the day’s heat, or the hiss of her climate system. The boat was at peace. Edina was worlds away from her abuser, among good folk. Like China Doll, she could feel the tension draining off her bones. They shared in the comfort together.

A loud metallic banging suddenly echoed through the open cargo bay hatch. She recognized the sound at once, an old wrench that dangled on a piece of twine next to the personnel entry. Back so soon? the woman mused as she rose from the sofa. Another series of clangs greeted her as she stepped into the hold. “Coming!” Edina shouted, unsure if she could be heard at all as she padded on bare feet across the empty deck.

Hook had taught her the art of ‘cracking’ the personnel hatch so that its’ locking shafts would only permit a narrow opening. As she took in the sight of three rough looking characters on the ramp, Edina was profoundly grateful for the lesson. “Yes?” she asked.

Two men. One woman. All three wore combinations of weatherbeaten denim, heavy engineers’ boots, and matching black leather vests. The point man looked to be in his forties. A grizzled face hung gaunt beneath shoulder length hair. One blue eye met her in a fierce scowl. The other was concealed behind a black patch. “We’re lookin’ for a Shepherd. Goes by ‘Collins.’ Heard he’s here.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. Just a passenger.”

“Then go ask,” the woman stepped forward, her dusky voice the result of one too many ciggies.

“I’m really sorry. The crew’s all out right now. If you come back in the morning…”

“Why don’t you let us in and we’ll have a look?” The leader cupped his hand, fingers pressed into the gap to test the door.

Now the fear in her belly rose along her spine. “Can’t do that,” her voice cracked slightly as she answered. “Captain says…”

The sound of her fear raised three toothy grins. Like sharks smelling blood in the water, the three pressed forward. “You see Collins,” the leader’s voice growled, “tell ‘im he’s late for his meeting at the Twirling Rabbit. And we got long memories.”

“Um…” Edina stammered, “if I see him…okay?”

The ruffian gave the door a deliberate shove, its’ inward swing abruptly halted by the lock shafts striking the inner bulkhead. With a decisive jerk, he removed his hand, fingers splayed as he fixed her with a predatory smile. “Toodle-oo,” he waved goodbye.

The machines they rode had just coughed to life as Edina resealed the personnel hatch. Fright cascaded through her body as she hurried to her room. There, her hands trembled as she tapped out a message on her cortex.

We got shepherd aboard? Collins?

After pressing ‘send,’ Edina listened for a soft answering buzz from Abby’s room just up the hall. When none came, she returned to the lounge, drew herself into a ball, and watched her own reader for any sign of a response. She didn’t have to wait long.

Yes. #2, port side. Everything shiny?

Edina knew that the truth would have Cal and his whole crew back here in minutes. No matter how reassuring that sounded, she didn’t want to squelch their big night together over her jangled nerves.

Just got a msg. I’ll deliver. Have fun!

Doc & Yuri gonna teach me dance moves. Cap says I got 2 left feet. Come join!

Despite herself, she giggled. The toughs had worked up that old fear within her, but as she made her way toward the Shepherd’s room, Edina Wyman found herself beginning to feel better. “Shepherd?” she knocked upon his door. “Shepherd Collins?”

<tag Collins>

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”Pumas and Pythons and Drop-Bears, Oh My!”

Part 1 of a JP/Collab from @xandrya, @Gunther, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695

The visit to Greenleaf had been a leisurely break for Joe Hooker. Compared to other stops, this was a relaxing visit. He enjoyed his time on the range with Abby Oakley. He had fun shooting with her, but she won their shooting competition and Joe was stuck cleaning the head while they were planetside. He didn’t mind cleaning the commodes and shower stalls. He performed tasks like this on other ships and even as a child on the farm on Hera. He thought he caught Abby cleaning up one day after him. He said nothing to her. Maybe he missed something? It did bring a smile to his face.

The rest of the time, on planet, he spent taking walks, reading books and inventorying the cold storage in the galley. There were plenty of leftovers including Beef Stew and Chile. He still had a few cakes, pies and cookies remaining from the Skye’s night in their shuttlecraft. Aside from having the gaming table upended and all the buttons scattered over him, while sprawled backwards across the floor, it was a fun night. Joe had been thinking about that night for the last few days.

An observation he made about the ship’s pilot was her textured clothing. Personally he preferred mostly cottons, but her clothing was different, more colorful. It made him curious. He never asked her about her outfits, but they were admirable.

The New Engineer seemed to be fitting in well. He hadn’t yet taken time to get to know him…sure he would be a great addition to the family.

The captain said the ship would be leaving around noon on the fourth day. It was already the third. They had one last night on Greenleaf before they had to leave. ‘I know, let’s get everyone together and go out. Have a night on the town,’ Joe thought to himself. He remembered the night playing cards with the Skyes and how they all went out to a Rave with Miss Penny a few nights ago.

On this, the third day of their stop on Greenleafe, everytime Joe ran into someone on the ship, he would stop them and say, “Hey, we are leavin’ tomorrow. Let’s git everyone together and go out tahnight. Miss Penny can choose the spot since she knows the area best.”

A mighty fine plan, ‘cept for when the time came, everybody thought everybody else did the askin’...so nobody had answers an’ the pilot was in the wind. They tried a couple ideas. Cap’n led ‘em to Cafe Al-Baz, but there’s a line all the way down the block. Abby come up with Hap’s La Frontera. After all, she’s sposed to pay a visit there anyway. Sounded fair an’ such, til they got there an’ found the place shuttered an’ dark.

They stood for awhile, thirsty souls on the corner, huddled over a cortex. In the end, as was usual, it was the Doc saved their big night with her idea ‘bout “someplace in the jungle?”

That set right with China Doll’s crew. With smiles an’ nods all around, they set off for the nearest jungle waterin’ hole, a safari lookin’ advert given’ ‘em their bearings….

“I dunno, Cap’n.” Abby’s followin’ along, but her eyes was on her cortex. “Map don’t show nothin’ but a big blob ‘o’ green where this road ends.”

Cal went for his cigarette case. “Well, color me all kindsa bemused,” he lifted one of the smokes to his lips. “Here I was, conjurin’ you only used that thing to send nekkid pictures.”

The deckhand didn’t rile none. “Gotta pay fer college somehow, sir.”

Yuri listened to the exchange. Surely, he thought, that has to be a joke? Next to the idiosyncrasies of people, machines were so much simpler to make acquaintances. Better now to keep his word hole shut; there’d be plenty of opportunities to play the fool.

Joe had grown accustomed to the banter between the captain and Miss Abby. He smiled at their discussion on naked photographs and funding higher education. He glanced at Yuri, The New Guy. He knew he didn’t have a clue. Joe garnered a bit of amusement from the Engineer’s facial expression. In a low volume, Joe Hooker muttered to Yuri, “you git used to it. They’s havin’ fun is all.”

The mechanic grinned. “Was I that obvious?”

The rivalry between those two never ceased to amaze her. Alana stifled a giggle and were it not for the fact that she was walking towards the back of the pack, that much would have been noticeable. And to think she couldn't name a more entertaining duo unless some coin was involved.

By and by, the pavement ‘neath their feet gave way to the thick, moist soil of the approaching jungle. Even under a bright moon, the thick tree line put up a wall of darkness to rattle the nerves. The little knot of China Doll crew strode forward to find a weatherbeaten sign, hand painted and lit by a naked bulb.

BUNGALOW BILL’s JUNGLE TREEHOUSE

-follow the lights-

Welcome to the jungle. Stuff to know:

BEWARE THE PUMA!
Stick to the path. Great big snakes. Dohn mah?
Pumas hunt at night. You look mighty tasty.
If something lands on you, brush it off. They get pissed off if you try to crush them.
Don’t feed the pumas. Intentionally, that is.

Have fun!

Not as big of a fan for certain wildlife, Alana shrugged her shoulders casually. "I ain't volunteering myself as the sacrificial lamb. Hell, I'd probably only be a snack, so maybe it's best I give the honors to one of the fellas more suited for the job," she gazed at Cal with a smirk. Maybe he'd read between the lines, maybe not.

Abby laughed an’ snapped a pic. “I wanna see one ‘o’ them great big snakes,” she said. “Perfesser Marquina? That flower science guy? He promised tah send me a capture…no, Cap’n,” her tone went all droll, “that weren’t no double intendry.”

Cal lowered his raised finger in exclamation before the deckhand shot down his lightbulb moment. Instead, he countered with a gust of smoke and a few choice words under his breath about big snakes and captures. “This way kids,” Captain Strand corralled, picking out the dirt path amidst the ferns.

“Pumas?” Joe said as he read the sign. “Mmm. Miss Abby we didn’ see no Pumas when we went shootin’ mebee our boom booms scared ‘em away.” Joe knows he would have shot one if it did come close. He was always carrying the Ruger RedHawk. He knew enough when not to use it.

“I ain’t too bright,” the girl fell into line as Cap’n led tha way, “but I conjure that sign jest let us in on a runnin’ gag. Fella I met once on Harvest warned me ‘bout ‘drop-bears,” she wiggled ‘er fingers in the air fer quotes. "Had me all wide eyed an’ fearful of walkin’ under trees till I seen folk laughin’.”

Yuri laughed as he followed the group. “Me too,” he chortled. “My father told me stories of the Rat King who lived in the bowels of our skyplex. ‘Big as a man, with huge teeth and claws!’ It backfired on him, though, when my older brother Ivan and I snuck down to kill the monster. Papa had to explain why his two sons were covered head to toe in sludge oil from the traps.”

“Ah, to be young and gullible.” He waved a broad hand in their direction, “I mean you two, seein’ as I ain’t never fell for drop-bears nor Rat Kings,” However, Cal scanned the darkening underbrush with a wary eye before returning to the road ahead, “Mark my words, pumas ain’t fairy tales; they’re cats twice as big as Abigail and with just as many pointy teeth, to boot.” He glanced to the back of the pack with a wink in Alana’s direction, “But don’t you worry, one of us should satisfy.”

...to be continued…

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Happy Friday from the cargo bay!

With the weekend looming ahead in just a few hours, we're glad to move the game toward Day 3 Evening.

Here's what I'm aware of happening:

Abby's getting the 4-1-1 on some family history from Hap at his place.
Gunther's Pub Crawl/Family Gathering is happening as a crew wide JP/collab.

A little bird told me that there's a JP in the works for Pen and Cyd. Not sure if that's a Day 3 night thing or not.

We'll be dropping the link for the pub crawl into your chats by either tonight or early tomorrow. All crew and passengers are invited to join in!

WWIF,

sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

So You Want A Job… - Greenleaf Day 3 Afternoon

JP/Collab from @wanderingwolf and @sail3695

Once inside the engine room Yuri waited as the Captain closed the door. “If I did something wrong, I’m sorry,” he began. “The girl was excited to get the problem fixed and…I feel like I owe you all.”

Strand let the man stew for a moment before his reply. "So..." he began, collecting a wrench from the side wall and shaking it for emphasis, "You're sayin' all it took was a few turns of a wrench to fix our shore power blip? That thing's been driving me fēngkuáng de since we landed on Greenleaf. Reckon the storm mighta knocked somethin' loose while hoisting your soggy self aboard." (Crazy)

Yuri answered with a smile. “Just Abby’s oscillations, sir. Nothing unusual about a boat with wrench tightened connections coming loose over time.”

The Captain paused to look Yuri over in earnest. The man had a glint in his eye, and aside from the sling around his shoulder, appeared in good health--probably thanks to their Doc. Damn if she didn't have the brains to match that smile. He rubbed his chin again: made no lick of sense to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thinkin' I ought to thank you for fixin' our little problem. And seein' as you feel you owe us, how about we call it square?"

The mechanic’s smile dipped ever so slightly. “That’s kind of you. I think I came out way ahead on that deal. So…Captain Strand, I was wondering. Abby mentioned you might be looking to hire?”

At the man's query, Cal turned toward the engine itself, "You know, she's a beautiful thing; never let me down." He placed an affectionate hand on the dormant casing, "Always points the way; keeps us flyin'. No spot in my sky too far for her to carry us, but only if she's taken care of. Me, see, I've been less than nurturing. I've let her corrode, pass from mechanic to mechanic like she's the town whore. Hell, I even let Badger's men fiddle with her when my back was against the wall. She deserves more, and I know that."

He faced Yuri, hand still on the China Doll's sleeping heart. "I am lookin', but I got a few mechanics lined up for the job. Why? You lookin' to make a change from sea to stars?"

The mechanic had come to this moment with a host of prearranged lines, all intended to sell his skill set and general reliability. But as he watched the captain’s stern facade melt with a simple touch and prosaic words for this boat, Yuri dashed those out of hand. The honest truth, ”my Niska appointed lawyer suggested I take to the black,” would paint him as just another running man in a ‘verse full of them…a liability he felt certain Captain Strand would shun straight away. In fact, there were other points, all equally true, to be made, but a mechanic with a broken wing and a known litany of other injuries was clearly the least appealing candidate.

In the end, he kept it simple. “The black is where I started, on an orbital skyplex. I’ve been listening to machines talk ever since my father put me to work,” Yuri answered. “If you’d asked me that question five days ago I wouldn’t have heard you, ‘cause my old ship was hurting and I was doing everything I could to bring her home. In the end,” he paused as a shadow crossed his eyes, “it wasn’t enough. I was half delirious when China Doll lifted me out of the ocean, but even then I could hear what she told me plain as day. Portside atmo engine’s thrust director needs a minor adjustment. Your pilot compensated for it on hover and landing, and she takes pains to avoid undue stress on the spaceframe and hydraulics.” He looked about the engine room. “This girl’s had plenty of hands on her, but from what I see, most have been good as conditions allow.”

He patted his cast. “That goes for the hands that tended me, too. I know there’s better choices than a one armed mechanic for certain. It’s true I’d have to lean on your deckhands for anything strenuous for a few weeks. For that, I’d take whatever pay you thought was fair.”

Strand saw Yuri's heartfelt yearning for a machine to nurture weave its yarn through the vibrations he'd already picked up on concerning the Doll. He saw, too, the reverence with which he spoke when he mentioned his past and last station which lay at the bottom of some sea on New Melbourne. There was a fire in this man's belly; something propelling him to go all in here, with the China Doll. Maybe he was mighty grateful. Maybe he had nowhere's else to be now that his old life was dead and gone. Cal could somewhat empathize.

"Well, I'll tell you what: I see goin' down with the ship as indicative of a body's loyalties, and, son, your number's already been called there. If past is prologue, I could see a place for you on board." Cal looked the man over again, then patted the China Doll's engine. "If you and my pilot can get on the same page on what's what, and Abigail can lend you a hand here twixt moppin', I'd consider you for the post."

Captain Strand held out his hand to the man's non-casted arm. "Shiny?"

Yuri gripped the outstretched hand. “Shiny,” he smiled as he gave the captain a formal nod. “Glad to be aboard, sir.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Cap’n Bein’ Cap’n - Greenleaf Day 3 Afternoon

JP/Collab from @wanderingwolf and @sail3695

Cal made his way up the rungs of his quarters to the main gangway still feeling perturbed. But, there was business to be conducted, and with the clipboard under arm, the Captain made his way to the bridge to take readings and check shore power. When he met the gauge for shore power whining away under constant load, he tapped it a time or two to confirm the reading.

"Well I'll be; the jitter's gone." he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sam's voice echoed from the com, "You'll find a few improvements aboard, Cal. Your crew has been hard at work."

"'Improvements?' Since when could Hook or Abigail rewire a thing? Don't tell me Rex..." A grim expression crossed Cal's face.

"Don't worry, Abigail's hands did all the work." There was a cheer in Sam's voice, as if she were holding back.

"Am I goin' to have to start payin' her more? Wait, just her hands?" His brow knit as he cottoned there was more to the story than she let on.

The com was silent for a moment as Cal continued, "Intergalactic woman's day comes along and I can't get a straight answer from not one of 'em." The Captain turned toward the aft of the ship and disappeared through the passage toward the Galley.

"Abigail!"

The sound of all conversation in the galley came to an abrupt halt.

“Cap’n?” Abby leaned ‘round the corner. She’s in coveralls, holdin’ a bottle ‘o’ Cap’n Bob’s Cola as she eyed Cal pacin’ tha corridor. “Need somethin’?”

"Yes'm I do, Travis shao jeh. Now, what's goin' on with shore power all a-sudden workin' right--" he held a hand up to quiet her, "and don't mistake my tone or volume for me not bein' pleased, though I am a might tetchy on account of I like to know what's goin' on with my boat before it happens."

He squared up to the Deck, crossing his arms while awaiting her reply.

They’s somethin’ here she’s missin’ tah be sure. Abby looked up inta the Cap’n’s face all uncomprehendin’ like. Fer a tick she pondered tryna be careful with her words, but hell, what words was gon’ be tha right ones, anyway? “Uh,” she near stammered, “we fixed it?”

From calculating eyes, Captain Strand let his gaze fall over her companion: the man they'd pulled from the roaring ocean--Yuri was his given name, if he remembered proper. He took in her coveralls smeared with grease, the streaks on her face and hands, and the lack thereof on him what was seated beside her. So that's what Sam meant by 'Abigail's hands did all the work.'

"This the 'we' you mean? You and this fella?" Strand uncrossed his arms, placing the clipboard on the galley table. He rested his palm there, too, meeting Yuri's eye.

Yuri offered a solemn nod as Abby answered the question. “Yessir,” her eyes was cautious as she spoke. “Yuri here done the lookin’ an’ thinkin, an’ I turned wrenches. Turned out tah be jest a loose term-in-a-shun on our transformer. Did yew know,” she started gettin’ excited, “they’s a thing call oss…..oss..”

“Oscillation,” Yuri gave her a fond smile.

“Yeah, what he said,” Abby looked from one t’other. “Once yah know tha frequency of a thing, yah can durned near pick tha date tah check yer connect…”

Cal's brow rose slightly as he watched the two back and forth. Seemed he got along well with Abby, and that was an indicator for certain. As his first gut feeling proved true on the kid, he reckoned it might extend to her sussing as well. The talk of transformers and oscillation, even from the kid's mouth, got his brain pan to working on this Yuri fellow.

"Sounds like you know your boats." Strand said, interrupting Abby's waxing mirth on all things oscillation. "Was it your idea to go messin'?"

“I know systems pretty well, sir,” the young man answered. “We were talking about the power flicker, and I conjured it to be something simple. Told Abby I’d be happy to look things over…yes,” he cut himself off. “I guess it was my idea.”

The Captain stroked his chin for a moment before replying, "Uh-huh. Let's you and I have a chat in the engine bay; just you," he added, with a glance at Abby. Straightening, Cal scooted the clipboard in front of the deckhand, which had updated figures and signatures in all the right places, along with instructions for their last day on Greenleaf.

"I conjure you know the way," he said, gesturing for Yuri to lead.

Yuri left the half empty soda on the table as he rose to make his quiet way aft toward the engine room. All the way, the strike of the much larger man’s bootheels from behind told that he might’ve done some overstepping.

Abby watched tha pair of ‘em go. Fer tha life ‘o’ her, sometimes she couldn’t read twixt tha Cap’n’s lines. One thing she did conjure was when he pushed tha clipboard her way, she’d do well tah study it. After cleanin’ up tha soda bottles, she carried it below tah her quarters. Mebbe he’n tha doc didn’t have quite so good a time’s we all supposed? she wondered as she bounced down the stairs.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Hey folks,

I've been summoned to the corporate mothership for just over a week of "on call" duty. Will be leaving Monday, and returning Wednesday the following week. While my office days are going to be typical, it'll be the evenings and the weekend that are in question. Will write and chat as I can.

There's no reason to slow the plot down if the deckhand and the potential mechanic can't play along. Please push into Day 3 night and Hook's Bar Hop with the crew!

Sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

My Friend Flicker…

There it was again.

The overhead lights flickered. This time, Yuri could also hear the tripping of relays, forcing the boat’s air handlers to cut and then spin up once more. He turned away from the crew dining table that served as his waiting area to view the devices in the galley. Sure enough, anything with an onboard timer or clock was flashing 00:00, the fresh start of a twenty-four hour day.

He’d been here, waiting for a moment of the captain’s time to apply for the mechanic’s post. He now saw the wait as foolhardy, given whispered comments from the crew about a possible tryst between the captain and the boat’s lovely doctor. Though he assumed she’d order him back to a bunk for rest, Yuri couldn’t abide the thought of all this empty time. He craved movement; his mind was parched for stimulation…and his demons required a good tamping down.

There it was again.

The girl, Abby, bounded up the steps and into the galley, wearing shorts and a tee shirt that revealed her time out in the rising tropical humidity. “Hey Yuri,” she greeted him. “Ya doin’ alright?”

“I am, thanks,” he smiled as the girl slipped into the galley. “Have you seen Captain Strand?”

“He ain’t showed?” She stepped back from the open refrigerator, her brows knitted. He could read the sudden transformation upon her face, the merge from curiosity to a sort of conspiratorial humor flashing just behind the eyes. “I cotton that makes sense,” Abby shrugged before resuming her search. “Ain’t seen tha doc nowheres this mornin’, neither." The lights flickered once more, darkening the refrigerator before the compressor restarted. “Yew seein’ that?” the deckhand asked as she pulled a bottle of Capt. Bob’s Cola.

Yuri chuckled. “Yes. It’s been bothering the daylights out of me.”

”Playin’ Merry Hob with muh washin’,” she said. “Conjure I might jest have tah find a good rock down by tha creekbank.” She popped the soda’s top. “What yah figger it tah be?”

“Can’t be certain without tracking the circuit path,” the mechanic observed, “but my first guess is a faulty shore power coupling.” He could see the girl’s mind working as she sipped at her drink. “Abby,” Yuri offered, “while I’m sure the captain wouldn’t appreciate me putting hands to his boat without permission, I’d be glad to look over your shoulder as you did the work.”

The girl’s brows lifted. “I think that’s shiny,” she nodded his way. “Chance I’m gonna come away from this dirty?”

“Most like,” he grinned. “I’d put on coveralls. Expect a smudge or two on your face, to boot. That’s your badge of office..”

“I been dirtier,” she agreed. “Got coveralls in tha engine room. We goin’ there first?”

“Yup,” Antonov pulled himself to his feet. “We’ll backtrack connections, from distro to the transformer first,” he said as they moved aft. “Need to double check the batteries and autorelays before we pull any power.” Though something as simple as a power hiccup didn’t rate high on his personal challenge scale, Yuri found instant gratitude in both the opportunity, and more important, the distraction. Surprising to think that something so simple might once again make him comfortable within his own skin.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”In Memoriam…”

Seein’ the chase lights an’ neon of Tampico Royale screamin’ ‘DRINK SPECIALS!’, ‘GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS’, and ‘LADIES DRINK FREE!’, t’weren’t no challenge tah conjure how nothin’ else on tha block would catch even a stray glance from folk passin’ by. With all that flash ‘n trash goin’ on, the peelin’ paint an’ weathered grey boards of Hap’s La Frontera jest didn’t stand a chance…less you’s lookin’ fer it.

Abby was, an’ despite ‘erself she near walked right past. She stepped through them swingin’ doors an’ stopped, sizin’ up tha place.

Despite the crumbling exterior, Hap’s La Frontera offered a careworn charm to those few who might cause its’ rusty door springs to creak. A broad mahogany bar swept the left wall, behind which numerous shelves told of a once robust selection of bottles. The walls held ornate tapestries which had begun to sag under their own weight and the daunting humidity. There were graceful fans suspended from a high ceiling, but the absence of clientele negated their use. The girl’s eye caught vacant Faeroe and poker tables. A staircase mounted the saloon’s right wall, leading up to a traditional whores’ balcony that cut across the barroom’s innermost wall.

An old piano sat untouched on the stairwell wall. Like every other piece of wood in the place, it revealed its’ exposure through a warp in its’ top. The final clue as to the old saloon’s former grandeur lay in its’ stage. A compact deck which held dented clamshell footlights, the little stage looked to be a variety space that might accommodate solo and small group performances. But, as the empty poster case outside would attest, those boards hadn’t been trodden in a very long time.

A tabletop fan shuddered at one end of the bar, it’s roar pushing a bit of air upon the handful of regulars. A rotund man in shirtsleeves soaked through with his sweat moved about, pouring shots. At sight of the teenager’s entrance, he ambled toward the foot. “What can I do ye for?”

Abby come aware of the half dozen sets ‘o’ eyes turned tah look her up an’ down. Fer a minute, she wished she’d changed outta them denim cutoffs and added layers tah her top. “Yew Hap?” she asked as she stepped up tah tha bar.

“Ever’ day,” he replied. “You drinkin’?”

She looked across tah them bottles on display. Ever’thin’ looked brown an’ prob’ly taste like kerosene goin’ down. Most like, she weren’t gettin’ no ‘Boom-Boom an’ vodka in this place….so whiskey it was. But that’s why she’s here, she had tah remind ‘erself as a familiar bottle hove inta view. “Yeah,” she answered tha old barkeep. “I’ll take a shot ‘o’ Blue Ribbon.”

“You sure, little lady?” The bartender give her the curious eye, an’ she could feel all them old fellas watchin’ ‘er.

Abby give a solemn nod. “My Uncle Bob used tah drink it. Told me about this place, so I thought tah come here an’ raise a glass in ‘is mem’ry.”

Hap wiped a shotglass with his rag, an’ reached fer tha bottle. “You’re the doctor.”

Abby studied the brimming glass he set afore her. Uncle Bob used tah warn ‘er ‘bout drinkin’ whiskey…his kinda whiskey in particaler. ”A good whiskey’s fer sippin’, Chick Pea. But this?” he’d waved tha bottle at ‘er, ”is pure-dee rotgut. Only one reason tah drink it…so’s yah best knock it back in one swalla.”

She smiled at tha mem’ry. Uncle Bob tole her lotsa stories an’…anec…anecdotes… ‘bout life, workin’, gunfightin’ and such, most times when he’s drunk. She always hadta clean up after, but afore he passed out he could be right funny. She lifted tha glass. “Uncle Bob,” Abby said, then lowered glass tah tap on tha bar afore she took tha shot. Fire burned all the way down. She choked, then doubled over, coughin’ an’ gaspin’ fer air as all them fellas started laughin’.

A hand slapped ‘er back as a voice chuckled “don’t pay them rubes no mind. Ain’t one of ‘em started any different.”

After one-two more coughs, Abby straightened back up. “Whew!” she gasped as her eyes watered. “Y’all like drinkin’ that?”

That set tha whole bar tah laughin’ again. Hap give ‘er a glass ‘o’ water an’ said, “long’s it does the job, young’un. Pardon me for askin’, but your uncle used to come here? Can I have his name?”

Abby gulped the water. It sorta helped with her blazin innards, but didn’t do nothin’ against the freight train ‘o’ that alcohol hittin’ ‘er. “Yeah, Uncle Bob said he come here sev’ral times. Tole me he had tah shoot a man out front once…”

“Blackjack Bob!” Hap’s eyes done gone wide. “You’re Blackjack Bob’s niece?”

“Sure’n I am. Name’s Abby Travis.”

“Travis. Your daddy was Jim? Yolanda’s your momma?”

“Yessir,” she weren’t sure if it was this surprise connection knockin’ ‘er off balance or that glass ‘o’ booze. But when them words landed, her jaw dropped right open. "Yew knew muh folk?"

“Yup,” Hap nodded afore his smile faded. “Did you say Bob passed?”

“He did,” she nodded. “Few weeks back.”

“Blackjack Bob O’Halleran,” Hap's eyes seemed th wander far off fer a spell. “Wǒ huì diào jìn shǐ lǐ de. And gorramed if you don’t take right after your daddy…’cept of course you’re lots purtier.” After things fell quiet, he spoke again. “I’m powerful sorry to hear about Bob,” the old man reached for the bottle. He laid a row ‘o’ shot glasses down, pourin’ each one full up. After dolin’ em out tah all them’s at tha bar, he raised his. “This here’s Abby. She’s Blackjack Bob O’Halleran’s niece, an’ she come here tah drink to her uncle’s memory. To Blackjack Bob,” he said, “Gunfighter, boat cap’n, and an old friend.”

“Blackjack Bob!” all them fellas roared.

“Uncle Bob,” Abby tapped 'er glass, an' swallowed that whiskey right down 'thout chokin'.

As tha second drink’s burnin’ it’s way through ‘er, he leaned forward. “You got some time tomorrah? They’s things I should show yah. Pictures and such.”

“Yeah…yeah!” she said. “Got work durin’ tha day, but I could be about near supper.”

Hap smiled. “Shiny. That’ll gimme time for to dig it all out. Your drinks're free tonight,” he reached toward the bottle. “Want another?”

Abby shook ‘er head. “Best not. Had two an’ I’m liable tah start singin'. Should git back tah my boat.” She collected her buckets and what she’d packed inside. “Thank yew, Mr. Hap,” she lifted ‘er free hand. “See yah tomorrah.”

Hap’s eyes followed the young woman through the swinging doors. “Jim and Yolanda’s girl,” he muttered to himself. “I’da never seen that comin’.”