sail3695

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Slow Boat To Larceny, Part 2 - (Day 3, Evening)

Joint post by @Xandrya, @Bugman, and @sail3695

Abby come over tha rail, heavy buckled sea boots clompin’ down on deck an’ a plasticky sword in ‘er hand. She wore tha same ‘boost-ee-yay’ as she had last night and a pair ‘o’ stripey tights. Din’ pick no hat nor doo rag. Instead, she let ‘er red hair fly all wild an’ went buck crazy on some face paint. After a good laugh, ‘twas Lorraine give ‘er her pirate name, ‘Tiger Lily.’ It was fun dressin’ like this, but far an’ away her fav’rite part was tha brown coat, jest like them as her ma an’ pa was wearin’ in tha captures on her wall. She had a mind tah keep it after tahnight.

Her first job was butt simple. Once she conjured tha boats was tied tahgether proper, she had tah look tah them as was Antonia’s crew. “Y’all two!” she barked at deckhands what had name badges Cassie an’ Jake, “we’s goin’ below. No fussin’ now!” Fer effect, she nudged Jake’s back with tha tip ‘o’ her toy cutlass. “Y’ALL MAKE WAY!” Abby/Tiger Lily shouted at them rich folk. Figgered they weren’t no good at listenin’...

“Miss,” one swell caught ‘er by tha arm, “are we supposed to give you our coin?”

“Uh….sure,” she swung tha toy blade tah threaten tha stuffed shirt an’ his wife. “Hand it over,” she made tah sound all menacin’ as folk commenced tah passin’ ‘er heaps ‘o’ cashy money. “And them earrings!” she commanded. “I’ll have them pears, too!”

This sorta struck her crazy, but it’s just like Lorraine said. She’s stuffin’ ‘er pockets when a nervous little fella come sidlin’ up, coin purse clutched in ‘is hand. “Ma’am,” he stammered from behind a smudged pair of glasses, “here’s all my coin.”

Abby clapped onta tha money pouch. As she did, her eye caught a flash ‘o’ gold across the lil’ man’s belly. “That too!” she barked, tip of ‘er cutlas nudgin’ tha chain. “Fork it over.”

His face went completely pale. “Please,” he stammered. “Please…” he hefted the pocketwatch into the light, before timidly placing it in the pirate girl’s outstretched palm. “This was my father’s…the last thing I have to remember him by.”

“What in hell yah tink’s gon’ happen here tahnight?” Abby/Tiger Lilly growled, sound ‘o’ her voice seemin’ tah shrink the little man inta a ball of fear. She give ‘im a shove, pressin’ tha heirloom inta his chest. “Tuck that down inside yah drawers,” she whispered, “so’s none of my shipmates get ideas. Dohn mah? She din’ wait fer no answer. They’s work needed doin’. But first…”Aiight y’all two,” Abby ordered them deckhands, “Git tah steppin’!”

Imani, aka Joli Rouge, planned to woon some men (and ladies) and she dressed for the role. Wearing a white crop top blouse, black corset mini-dress, knee-length boots, and a red bandana, Imani effortlessly climbed over the railing and into view of the esteemed guests.

"I'm here for yer booty...and yer rum!" she announced, raising her toy cutlass in the air and walking towards the cheering crowd with the intention of having a drink in hand. Some hotshot with piercing blue eyes placed one arm around her, walking side by side and matching her step. He guided her towards a suited fellow moving about the crowd with one arm resting on his lower back and the other hand holding a silver tray with a few remaining beverages.

“WE BE TAKIN’ YER SHIP!” Lorraine roared as she lept atop the capstan. As with her counterparts, she wore the brown coat, its’ folds hanging loosely to reveal a black “Jolly Roger” emblazoned bikini and ankle boots. She swung her head, the tricorner hat and eye patch nodding toward each guest as her gaze swept the deck. The pirate captain slipped the coat over her right hip to reveal the scabbard from which she unsheathed her sword. “LADS AND LASSES!” she shouted, “YER GRACED TONIGHT BY THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN KIDD, THE MOST FEARSOME PIRATE SHIP IN THESE WATERS! FEAST YER EYES, MATIES!” Her cutlass pointed out the decrepit wreck of a fishing trawler now tied alongside. As a low chuckle wafted through the crowd, she swept the blade in a threatening arc. “I’M YER NEW CAP’N!” Lorraine’s voice carried across the deck. “FLO’S THE NAME. CRIMSON FLO!”

She grinned at the ripple of laughter. It was all working so far. Abby had returned from securing the two deckhands. Her shipmate from CHina Doll, Imani something, was vamping it up, the ring of men she’d drawn now in some competition of wallet size. The parrot’s a great touch, she couldn’t help but snicker to herself. The other, Elias, didn’t even have to work at it. She decided the man could be fierce just reading a dictionary….though there was some intrigue in the eyes of the ladies who removed their jewelry as he passed by, a skull and crossbones festooned pillow case held out for their booty.

“NOW SOME ‘O’ YE,” the captain shouted, “GOT THE RIGHT MIND, AND WE THANK YE FER YER GENEROSITY. BUT THERE’S ALWAYS ONE AMONG YE…ONE BE THINKIN’ HE HAS THE NERVE TO FACE ME AND MINE.” She waved the plastic weapon. “WHO BE THAT? WHO BE THE WOLF AMONG THIS FLOCK?”

“HERE!” Reg shouted as he nudged Candidate Nate Howard through the crowd. “GOT HIM RIGHT HERE, CAP’N!”

She could see the sour expression as the guest of honor was presented before the capstan that had become her stage. “I’LL HAVE YER NAME!” she demanded.

“NATHAN HOWARD, SENATE CANDIDATE!” he replied, playing along for the crowd while a very real sense of murder danced in his eyes. “YOU BROWNCOAT SCUM HAVEE NO RIGHT!!” Lorraine dropped to one knee before him, the toy blad pressing his throat. “You’re early!” Howard whispered harshly. “I’m supposed to make a speech!”

Captain Flo’s answering grin was rueful. “A SPEECH, YE SAY?” With a quick nod toward the towering Elias and Reg, she rose to her feet again. “A FINE NIGHT FOR A SPEECH IT IS! LONG’S YOU CAN DO YER SPEAKIN’...” she paused, her sword swinging toward the portside rail, “FROM THE PLANK!”

...to be continued…

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Slow Boat To Larceny, Part 1 - (Day 3, Evening)

Joint post by @Xandrya, @Bugman, and @sail3695

For anyone who knew her history, the current state of the SV Antonia would most certainly seem a shadow of her former self. She’d been built seventy-three years ago to traditional specifications. In those days, she was a proud four masted schooner, a floating home to billionaire J.T. Slocum and a series of disposable wives. The graceful yacht was the first private vessel to roam the seas of Pelorum, a floating refuge for her owner and his guests beneath the mild tropical heavens.

After Slocum’s death and the inevitable family squabbling over his fortune, the Antonia was left to decay in her berth for nearly two decades. By the time Ocean Amusements Co. won her at auction, the venerable schooner was in a decrepit state. Her new owners wasted no time in effecting the necessary repairs and refits to convert the once proud vessel to daily service as a seagoing party palace. Of the four proud masts, only two remained, her main and mizzen having been excised to clear the deck for paying customers and cash bars.

She no longer used sail power; the fabric stretched between her few remaining spars served only to reflect the colored lights now anchored to her masts. Below deck hummed two electric motors to push the boat quietly through the gentle waves. Where once she required a crew of twelve to handle sails and helm, the Antonia now plied her trade with three, plus a small army of caterers, waitstaff, and bartenders.

From his place in the wheelhouse, Captain Jim Gilliam surveyed the night’s gathering, a crowd of upper crust types who were dressed to the nines for some politician’s private fund raiser. “Those penguins gotta be suffocating,” the lanky twenty-three year old snickered into his comm.

Cassie Lopez, the starboard rail watch, offered a thumb’s up. “That’s a rog. Not a puff of breeze on deck,” she whispered. “Only the two knots we’re making. Bars are going through ice like crazy.”

He checked his helm. Antonia was right on her course, the autohelm computer running the programmed route without a hitch. In fact, so much of the vessel’s operation was handled by AI that it really didn’t take more to avoid a code violation than an underpaid college kid to stand her bridge. But while the job didn’t pay la shi, it had it’s perks. Pretty easy work, his own cabin, and maybe a chance with Cassie…

The radar caught Jim’s eye. He had a contact, closing from astern. His brow furrowed as he checked his watch. “Hey guys,” he keyed the comm mic again, “our party crashers are early. Drop the starboard fenders. We’re about to stop.”

“Sounds good.” Jake Mitchell’s voice crackled as he detached himself from the port rail. “On my way, Cassie.”

As the crew of SS Antonia set about preparing for the evening’s entertainment, their captain fulfilled his own responsibilities with two keystrokes. COURSE INTERRUPT ceased her forward motion altogether. STATION KEEPING placed all her engines, including bow and stern thrusters, under the computer’s satellite directed positioning control. Regardless of wind or waves, the Antonia would now doggedly hold her place. Seeing that she’d obeyed his commands, Jim checked his notes, then switched radio channels. “Captain Kidd, this is Antonia. I see you a half kilometer to my stern, copy?”

After a few seconds’ pause, a slightly garbled voice echoed in the wheelhouse. “Captain Kidd copies.”

“I am hove to. Raft up on my starboard. My deckhands are standing by.” Jim turned, his eyes peering into the darkness behind the schooner. A ghostly shape began to take form, moonlight adding some detail to the approaching vessel.

The radio crackled to life once more. “Captain Kidd copies. See you in two ticks. We’re about to make some noise. Out.”

Jim turned in his chair to see both deckhands busily hanging fat rubber fenders over the starboard rail. “Stand by to take their lines,” he ordered over the comm. “It’s showtime.”

*************************************************
Candidate Nathan “Nate” Howard, the man of the hour, was quietly fuming. “Look at this. Just look!” he whispered angrily to a cowering assistant. “These folk are melting…gorram melting! And so’s their coin! What…what…[i]báichī[i]**...decided formal wear for a night on a friggin’ boat?”
(**moron)

“I’m sorry, sir,” the timid lackey flinched beneath his boss’ withering eye. Actually none other than Mrs. Candidate Nathan “Nate” Howard had made the ill fated call for dress code, but there was no way on Buddha’s green Pelorum that he’d be stupid enough to point that finger. “I’ve talked to the planner,” his voice quivered. We’re trying to find fans or something…”

Howard leaned in, his towering height and girth threatening as he prodded the young aid’s chest. “Try…harder,” his fingers poked rudely with each syllable. “While you’re at it,” he glowered, “get those overpaid fiddlers to play something doesn’t sound like a gorram funeral…”

BOOM!

The harsh report echoed across the Antonia’s crowded deck, silencing a hundred murmured conversations. This time, Howard took the frightened aid’s collar. “They’re EARLY!” he whispered harshly.

BOOM! This time, the roar was accompanied by a visible flash, the muzzle burst lighting the darkness. “HEAVE TO!” a woman’s voice shouted over a loudspeaker, “AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!” The pirate vessel, Captain Kidd, came alongside the Antonia. The ramshackle fishing trawler was crudely decorated, with shreds of sail dangling from her mast, a comical row of homemade cannons at the rail, and the obligatory Jolly Roger flag hanging limp in the still night air. “AWAY, ME HEARTIES, AWAY!” the woman’s voice screeched.

A number of figures came over the rail, toy cutlasses waving as they rushed to take the Antonia. One, a tall, roguishly handsome man with brown skin and dreadlocks, swung aboard on a rope, a plastic dagger clinched in his teeth. He landed among party guests who laughed and cheered his arrival, bare feet touching down soundlessly on the teak decking. “WHO BE ‘DE FOUNDER OF DIS FEAST?” his musical island accent demanded of the crowd.

...to be continued…

Firefly - Second 'Verse

STORY NOTE:

The third and final day of the crew's shore leave passes into night. Abby hightailed it off the boat, this time in company with Elias and Imani. That's an odd group, Yuri thought to himself as he made ready to spend his own evening off and away with Edina.

OOC: We're now slipping into the final night, folks. My apologies for the delay in dropping a JP some of us worked on. I'll make up for that with the first installment, sight after a word from our sponsors...

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Shore Leave Day 3 - Early Morning

With a terrifying roar, the huge bear pummeled its’ way down the sloping ridge. Mei Lin felt her legs go to rubber at the sound, but still she ran, crashing down through snow laden boughs as the giant closed the distance. “Run,” her father’s voice filled her mind. “Fast as you can.”

He was close. Too close. Right behind her. She could hear the heavy thump thump thump of his paws in the snow, and the growling rumble of each breath taken. The fleeing child ran downward, her little legs no match for the locomotive barreling in hot pursuit. Ahead lay the pike, it’s bottom rising up from the log on which she’d propped it. Mei Lin fought the urge to look behind her. This was it. This was how she’d die.

The bear roared again, this time lunging forward, it’s gigantic body taking flight. Mei Lin also sprung, her tiny frame landing atop the pike which gave way, dropping her face first into the snow. The weapon’s fire hardened tip rose into the air, its’ lethal point straight and true as the predator’s immense bulk…

“Hey. Look who’s back!”

Abby lifted eyes from ‘er book to see Yuri, bath robed an’ bare footed, headin’ fer tha showers. ”Ni hao,” she answered.

He stopped, his bundle of fresh clothes and toiletries tucked under one arm. “No more waitressing antics?” the first mate offered a smile. “I was gonna bring Edina by.”

“Nope,” the girl shook ‘er head. “Vic’s closed tahday. Somethin’ ‘bout his religion, and he cain’t do no work nor even switch on a light.” She’s sittin’ in the galley, Injun style on a chair, still wearin’ them boxers an’ tee shirt she liked sleepin’ in. “Don’t rightly think I could tolerate such a thing,” she offered.

“It’s called Shabbos,” he replied, “the day of rest. So, since your little friend’s off today, do you two have plans…or was it just a one night stand?”, he teased.

“Swear tah Buddha,” Abby groused, “if y’all’d spend more time gettin’ us work an’ less time worryin’ ‘bout who’s at my nethers we’d all be a sight better off.”

Yuri laughed. “Sorry, we can’t help ourselves,” he chuckled. “Our little girl, all grown up. Makes us proud.”

“Makes yah bunch ‘o’ pervs is what it does,” the deckhand give a snort. “But since yer keepin’ such a watch, tha answer’s no. Ain’t havin’ no tumble with Lorraine. Jest lotsa laughs, is all. So,” she changed subject, “yah see that mule Cap’n brought back?”

China Doll’s first mate nodded. “Just from a distance. Edina and I had just gotten back from a big to-do at the museum. Looked a little rough around the edges.”

“True that.” Abby laid ‘er open book down on tha table. “Looked like she had tha ever lovin’ la shi run outta ‘er. Can’t wait tah know what Elias thinks.” Her expression shifted, eyes gone all knowin’ as a crooked smile lifted ‘er cheeks. “So, you an’ Edina, huh?” she asked as that smile sprouted into a grin. “An’ did y’all…grow up? Did’ja make me proud?”

“Oooh, touche,” Yuri laughed and shook his head. “I will say we might’ve gotten the boat a plum job. If Cap’n signs off, we could be covered for the next three months.”

“Doin’ what?” Word ‘o’ such charter had ‘er ears pricked up proper.

“Ever run a jackhammer in an EV suit?”

Her eyes widened. “Fer true? We got salvage? In tha black? I git tah work outside? What’re we goin’ after?”

The girl can sure put two and two together, he thought as his lifted hand stifled a barrage of questions. “Hold on, you know Cap’n likes to tell the crew about our jobs,” he smirked. “Lat’s not steal his thunder, dohn mah?”

“C’mon!” she whined. “I ain’t gon’ tell. An’ I promise tah act all surprised when he fills us in.”

Yuri wanted to laugh at the excited girlchild before him. “I promise,” he answered, “you’ll get all the four-one-one no later than tomorrow. In the meantime, you’ve still got a day of shore leave. Use it. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Abby done said all reluctant. “Hear anythin’ from Alana?”

“Not a peep,” he said. “I did get a wave from Tommy. He’s leavin’ the boat.” At her unvoiced question, Yuri continued, “turns out the dude ranch he’s staying at needs a head wrangler and all around cowboy. Not to mention his childhood sweetheart is working there, so he wants to give that a shot.”

Abby’s ‘bout tah speak up on lookin’ fer a new pilot til all of a sudden Edina showed up. Difference was she din’ come upstairs from ‘er passenger room. This time, she come from tha forward passage…crew quarters.

“Hi, Abby!” the boat’s cook greeted her deckhand. Edina wore an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of cut off sweatpants. “I’ll get some coffee going. You up for breakfast?”

Abby didn’ answer with nothin’ but a cheshire cat grin an’ a look what screamed ‘BUSTED’ at Yuri. “I’m so proud. Our lil’ boy done growed up,” she said afore laughin’ out loud.

Edina stopped, her eyes darting from one to the other. “Did I miss something?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Yuri said before hastily retreating below deck.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Strolling Home - Day 2 Late Night

“Well,” Yuri sighed as they stepped into the night air. “That was…an evening.” He led Edina to a boardwalk facing the beach. “Sorry.”

She fell in at his side. “It wasn’t so bad,” she shrugged. “I mean…the period dance lessons were kinda fun…weren’t they?”

“Yeah,” he quipped. “At least until I learned I have no sense of rhythm.”

“Oh, that’s not true!” Edina gave his shoulder a playful nudge. “You got the beat alright. More important?” She stopped, turning toward him. “You didn’t drop me, Yuri!”

He shook his head with a rueful laugh. “Oh, that poor woman. Her husband’s on the couch tonight, I’ll wager.”

“My money’s on the back porch,” she snickered. The couple set off again, their shoes clicking softly on the weathered planking. The moment’s silence between them was companionable. When it happened, Edina’s hand slipping into Yuri’s seemed the most natural thing in the ‘verse. “So,” she spoke up, “you think Captain will take the job?”

“Hard to say,” he tried to sound casual as her fingers twined with his. “This one’s a long way from our stock in trade. Still,” the first mate thought out loud, “the notion of keeping the crew fed and working for three whole months? Even if the coin’s not great, that’s a thing to ponder.”

“But an asteroid,” Edina countered. “Well outside the ‘verse. That’s a cause for some nerves, to be sure.”

Yuri gave her hand a gentle squeeze. It seemed funny, a grown man like himself finding thrill in the simplest act of affection. “We’ll have what we need. Plenty of fuel, enough food. On the up side, out there as we’d be, it’ll be hard for any claim jumpers to slip up on us unannounced. But again,” he chuckled. “Not my call. So,” he paused near a stairway the led down to the sand,, “I know a lot of nights like this include a walk on the beach.” As their eyes met, he asked, “what do you think?”

She glanced down the wooden steps. Beyond, the beach was lit by a glowing moon which chased clouds across a brilliant night sky. It was the picture postcard view of a traditional romantic moment… “How about,” she countered, “we save this for tomorrow night? I’m feeling like shorts and barefoot is the way to do that…not to mention I’m ready to be out of these heels.”

“Shiny,” he turned toward the street. “Wouldn’t mind ditching the suit, myself.”

“I mean,” she backtracked, “I’m good for a walk on the beach, if that’s what you want.”

The grip of his hand was encouraging. “Believe me,” he said as they made for the spaceport, “Tomorrow night’s perfect. After my time aboard The Mick I take the ocean in small doses.”

She nodded slowly as they walked together. “I used to walk the beach at night on New Melbourne…mainly when my husband was at sea. Folk I know thought that was so romantic of me…the sailor’s wife and all, walking the shoreline until his return. But it wasn’t like that,” Edina’s tone darkened as they strolled the darkened street. “Not at all. I was trapped, in that town, in that awful apartment, in that marriage. Terrified of what he’d do when his fishing boat returned. What part of me or my housekeeping he’d find fault with,” she muttered. “Just what type of drunk he’d be when he decided to come home. Happy drunk? That was okay. Horn-dog drunk?” she raised an eyebrow. “Tolerable. Usually quick and then he was out like a light. But angry drunk,” she stifled a shiver at the memory of those black nights. “I could just see it in his face when he came through the door. No amount of kindness, no amount of seduction…none of it worked when he turned up with a set jaw and a balled up fist.” Sensing Yuri’s dutiful silence, she concluded, “so walks on the beach sorta became a refuge. The last place I felt like I had a choice. I guess,” she concluded, “they lost their romantic appeal for me. Sad, I conjure. Maybe I should give that another go.”

She left him struggling for words. Everything that came to Yuri’s mind, from overblown pronouncements of the kindness Edina deserved to hot bluster about her abusive husband, just felt ridiculous. She didn’t need his assurances; he understood that on a deeper level. Yet still, her shared pain should be met with something. In the end, he finally opted for the simplest words of all. “I’m sorry, Edina,” he shook his head as they walked past darkened storefronts. “You didn’t deserve any of that.” He could’ve left it there…should have, his reasoning mind protested, but in that moment, Yuri’s emotions held sway over his mouth. “If I could make it better…”

“You already have.” Her fingers tightened their hold, as he felt their electricity course through his chest. “So listen,” her tone brightened, “I did a little meandering on the cortex today.”

“What’dja find?” he asked.

“Just the place we’re gonna wrap up our shore leave,” she swung their entwined hands as they walked. “It’s called Joy’s Mooring. Just your basic shack built on an old pier. Fresh seafood, tall drinks, and,” Edina nudged him with a playful hip, “reggae music to dance to.”

She’d changed the subject. He couldn’t find fault in that, nor would he press her to open up the book of her life until she was good and ready. He’d heard about Edina’s first days aboard China Doll. Abby’d shared the tale of the wounded, bruised woman who locked herself into her cabin for days. “Took ‘er food an’ drink,” the girl had shared. “She’s jest grateful tah git some space without folk botherin’ ‘er.” Comparing the Edina who strolled hand in hand with him to the damaged woman in Abby’s tale was a difficult leap for him, especially having witnessed her blossoming into both shipboard life and earning her place among China Doll’s crew. That face, he thought of her lively eyes, teasing smile, and the smooth mocha skin he longed to touch, how does anyone decide to hurt her? “Sounds like I’m picking up a pair of shorts tomorrow,” Yuri answered with a pleasant chuckle. “Didn’t know you knew what reggae music was.”

“Lived in a seaside town,” she replied. “Reggae, ska, calypso…they never get old.”

“Mmmm,” he smiled. “Can’t wait to begin your jazz education.” Without thinking, Yuri lifted Edina’s hand, pressing his lips to the back. “Sorry,” he stammered. “I had no idea I was gonna do that.”

“Yuri Antonov,” Edina stopped to face him. “Did you just apologize for kissing me?”

“Um…yes? I conjure I did.”

In response, her hands came up, rising to cradle the back of his neck. Edina’s face lifted toward his, her eyes fixed upon his as they moved together. “Now you have to make it up to me.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”Time and Tide” Shore Leave Day 2 - Evening

The museum’s Aviation Pavilion had been transformed for the gala. Lights swung and whirled from the ceiling above, their colorful beams painting the host of white linen table tops to set a glow in the overall space. The tables shared the floor with a number of aircraft replicas, museum built facsimiles to represent the propeller and piston engine warplanes from one of the darkest periods in human history, the early nineteen forties.

As they were shown to their table, Yuri took it all in as a matter of vague interest. He recognized the planes from his reading…the Mustang, the Messerschmitt, the Spitfire. Above him, a P-40 with Chinese markings pursued a nimble Japanese Zero, the aerial ballet another work of the museum’s holographic projectors. “Flying Tigers,” he muttered absently.

“What?” Edina turned, and Yuri found himself bedazzled once again. The dress she’d chosen was a simple thing, its’ neckline and short sleeves a modest cut. But fiery red color and knee length hemline combined with her mocha skin to take the breath right out of him. “You’re doing it again,” she teased at his gaping.

“I’m not the only one,” Yuri managed a chuckle. The museum’s fund raising event had drawn the typical “gala” crowd, well dressed men and women whose grey and silver hair, should hair remain, was on display. Edina wasn’t the only pretty young woman in the room, but she’d nonetheless managed to turn a number of heads. “Flying Tigers,” he answered her question. “A great story from history…”

“It is.” Ms. Cornwall, the museum’s curator, greeted the couple. After ushering them to chairs and alerting a waiter for drinks, she offered, “so lovely that you could come. What do you think of our little get together?”

Edina responded with a broad smile. “It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’ve seen a few captures from this period, but to look at those…planes…in person? They’re so much bigger than I Imagined!”

The older woman accepted the compliment with a polite nod. “Our builders attempted to recreate them as exact, working replicas of the originals. There are some disparities. Aluminum of the era is not cost effectively produced, nor is the rubber used for the tires. Likewise, the leather of the pilot’s seats. Otherwise,” she offered the couple a contented smile, “our aircraft reproductions are completely faithful to their forbears. I’m particularly happy with the Ford Trimotor.” She raised a slender arm, drawing their attention to the band stand. There, suspended above a projected orchestra,, the larger museum piece looked down on the festivities, propellers spinning lazily.

“Shiny,” Yuri managed to conceal his disappointment that tonight’s big band was, like the aircraft wheeling and darting above, a bit of holographic trickery. “Love the musical choices,” he offered a smile as ‘Take The A Train’ filled the room.

The museum curator lifted a hand, a casual gesture that summoned a waiter and a bottle of champagne. “We’ve also hired a dance coach for the evening,” she offered as three flutes were filled with the bubbling, golden vintage. “From what I’ve seen of nineteen forties big band swing dancing, it’s energetic enough to remain the premise of the young. Endeavors,” she hoisted her glass.

“Endeavors,” the China Doll crewpeople joined their host, the fine crystal glasses ringing softly as they touched. Though he’d never developed a taste for champagne, Yuri had to agree that this particular bottle was actually very pleasing. “That’s nice,” he observed. “Hardly sweet, and a nice tang.”

Henrietta Cornwall’s ever present smile remained. “I, too, enjoy this one’s subtleties. Take a sip. This time, don’t roll it around your mouth. Just let it sit upon your tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.”

Edina was no connoisseur herself, but with Ms. Cornwall’s patient tutelage to guide her, she found appreciation for something she only managed to choke down once each New Year’s party. “Wow,” she grinned excitedly. “That really is something.”

“Indeed.” Cornwell’s eyes danced from one young person to the next, before her face restored its’ placid, businesslike countenance. “Tell me,” she asked as the waiter poured refills, “this vessel of yours…China Doll. I understand her to be a Class three Firefly?”

Yuri nodded as the glass met his lips. “That’s right,” he answered. “And she’s in great shape for a girl of her years.”

The old woman chuckled. “An enviable claim. If it’s not too rude of me, might I ask about your bookings? Are you busy?” she asked. “Or do your contracts come on more of a catch-as-catch-can basis?”

It seemed a bit off putting, sharing details of the rough and tumble that was life in the black with a Grande Dame of Pelorum society. Despite the woman’s flawless veneer, Yuri found no condescension in the question…but the mild gleam in her eyes was its’ own tell. Business was about to be discussed. “As most of our trade involves hauling cargo or passengers,” he replied, “contracts are typically a series of one-offs.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t leave us much leeway for longterm planning.”

“Time and tide wait for no man,” the curator smiled. “And what of your current prospects?”

This time, Edina spoke. “Normally, we base our destinations upon the largest cargo we’re booked to ship.” As Yuri nodded agreement, she continued, “as Pelorum’s chief export appears to be fun, I conjure that we’ll probably just be hauling passengers on the next run.”

“Mmmm,” Henrietta pursed her lips. “And therefore, not such a profitable voyage.”

Yuri’s time with Cal Strand had taught him a few lessons about people and the way they liked to deal. Here, Ms. Cornwall’s insinuation was setting the stage for an offer on her terms. ‘Don’t let ‘em fence you in,’ the captain warned about such maneuvers. ‘Change the narrative. Put yourself on better ground.’ "Actually,” he spoke up, “with so many folk coming and going from Pelorum on their own schedules, we stand to make good bank on the next run.”

“Have you booked anyone thus far?”

“Not yet,” he smiled toward Edina. “Captain gave the crew some shore leave. We’ll be chasing that work the day after tomorrow.”

“What if you didn’t have to chase?” the elder woman posed her question with a half empty flute held before her lips.

“We’re listening,” Edina said.

“That we are,” Yuri agreed.

A look of satisfaction crossed the old woman’s features as she sipped from her glass. “We’ve got a job,” she leaned toward the young couple, her voice low. “Artifact recovery. Your recent care of the items we entrusted to your handling and interest have had me thinking that China Doll might be the correct vessel for the job.”

“What artifacts?” Edina asked.

“That’s a discussion for a different setting,” Cornwall parried. “Suffice to say that to perform the job, you’d have to effectively double the operational range of a Class Three Firefly, while tripling your cargo capacity.”

“An exoskeleton,” Yuri caught the woman’s drift. “Strapped with extra fuel, oxygen, and water for the trip, plus freight containers. Can be done,” he nodded. “But building that out isn’t a quick and easy job. Gonna require time…and coin.”

The curator met this with a genuine smile. “This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you that coin is no object. I won’t do that,” she chuckled, “but I will make what I consider to be a very fair offer for your services. What we don’t have in abundance is time,” her expression grew serious. “Our window opens in about two months. China Doll would have to be onsite by then. From there, you’d only have about three days to search and recover, before you’d be compelled to return.”

The gravity in Edina’s eyes was palpable. “What happens if we take longer than three days?”

“You’d be stranded,” Cornwall replied directly. “For about the next three hundred years.” At the lift of her hand, a second waiter appeared. He fastidiously placed a silver serving tray before the two China Doll crew. “My offer,” she said as the gleaming cover was lifted to reveal a plain envelope on the dish. “We’ve taken the liberty of calculating your hard costs for the refit, the journey, and return. Total estimated time is three months.”

Yuri lifted the envelope, tucking it into his breast pocket. “I’ll need to show this to the Captain,” he replied.

“Of course. I think you’ll find that in addition to your operating costs I’ve added a generous markup for services. But ‘time and tide,” she smiled. “I’d like a meeting with your Captain…Calvin Strand, I’m told…to convey the details and cement an agreement. My private link is included with that offer. Please offer my invitation to set a meeting tomorrow?”

“At my earliest chance,” the first mate replied.

Henrietta Cornwall pressed her hands together, a prayerful gesture of gratitude as she rose from her seat. ‘Splendid,” she said. “But now, I must see to my other guests. Their donations will finance your expedition,” she smirked. “Do enjoy yourselves tonight. Oh! There’s Benjamin!” She waved toward the Period Dance Instructor. “I leave you in good hands.” With a gracious nod, the museum curator swept away, her sights set on a table festooned with the grandl;y dressed representatives of the Upper Crust.

“Wow,” Edina breathed as the older woman left them. “What do we do now?”

“She called the tune,” Yuri felt the weight of the envelope pressing upon his heart. “Looks like we could be dancing.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Happy Sunday from the cargo bay!

As you're aware, Wolf and I are both spending this Sunday near Paris. (He's in France; I'm in Texas.)

With our travel schedules in mind, we're taking our time with Shore Leave for China Doll's crew. Official ship time is Day 2 evening. We'll get to see Edina and Yuri cut a rug at the Museum shindig...it's in my head. Now I just have to write it.

The Day 3 evening shenanigans JP is off and running! If you don't already have adventures in store for your characters' final night of shore leave, feel free to come aboard! Everyone's got the link, but I can supply if you need. NOTE: As I think the episode climax happens Day 3 night as well, we promise to have everyone back in plenty of time to join in.

I've learned a bit during this episode. Abby has been pretty much out of her comfort zone the entire time. Having the rambunctious Lorraine take her under wing has offered me interesting reflections on the character. I've always known her to carry damage, as well as social and educational gaps, but getting the chance to look at her through Lorraine's eyes is revelatory. Character growth is one of the great joys I take away from RPG. Abby's struggle to find her place in the 'verse is thought provoking fun, and I'm grateful to all of your for both input and leeway.

You've all seen the ideas we have for the next episode. I think that once Wolf and I are back on our respective home fronts we should all get together to put some flesh on those bones. In the meantime, I hope the rest of your weekend is great!

WWIF,

sail

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Las Bandidas Bikini

The beach at Las Palmas Resort was picture perfect, an idyllic setting frequently used in the adverts for the tourist trade. An amiable sun chased feather whiffs of cloud above a glistening sea. Waves crashed onto the beach, a broad swath of sugar white sand dotted with pastel colored cabanas, pink, green, and sky blue. In the center towered a lifeguard stand, its’ occupant bronzed and fit, his sunglasses focused on the graceful red haired girl and her companion, Elvis the dog, playing together in the surf.

From a lounger in their own second row cabana, Lorraine couldn’t help the smirk over her new friend’s transformation. At first, Abby had resisted the bikini, her deep seeded modesty aghast at the diminutive bits of fabric. Her protests were short lived, however, faded away beneath the age old siren’s call of the waves and sand. The girl nicknamed ‘Cornflakes’ was truly dazzled, all self awareness dashed aside as she entered the water for the first time. Now, she cavorted with the big dog, romping and playing with the abandon of a child. Despite herself, Lorraine couldn’t help but be charmed at the sight.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone have so much fun.” Reg had appeared, crisp in his hotel cabana uniform of pale blue polo, white knee shorts and socks. He laid the serving tray upon the wicker table, depositing four fresh drinks.

“Her first ever day at the beach,” Lorraine offered. “I conjure Elvis there’s also the first dog she’s ever had chance to play with, too.”

He collected the empty glasses. “Gotta say she’s good for business,” he observed. “Send her around those four cabanas there. They’re all buying your drinks.”

“We’ll both be charming as fuck,” she grinned beneath her shades. “Heard from Brinker this morning. The job’s been put off til tomorrow night.”

He frowned. “Tomorrow? Why?”

“Turns out there’s a shindig at the Earth-That-Was Museum tonight. Most of our marks are on the guest list,” she lifted a glass to her lips. “Mmmm, Bobby’s pouring ‘em strong. You should drink one of these.”

“Can’t.” Reg gave a shake of his head which sent the neat dreadlocks flying. “If a guest saw that, there’d be hell to pay.”

“They’re too busy watching Cornflakes’ little pi gu. Drink one, before you have to carry us both off this beach.” Her argument carried weight, as Reg complied with a surreptitious downing of one drink. Lorraine continued, “The trawler’s ours. We got the clothes, and we got the boat’s course. What we’re short is hands.”

This news was met with a furrowed brow. “How short?”

“Two, mayhaps three.” Lorraine proffered a bottle of sunscreen. “Do my back?”

“Sure.” The serving tray touched down in the sand as Reg set to work. “Now, how we gonna pull this off if we’re short?”

“Mmmm,” she murmured her approval as his fingers massaged lotion onto her shoulders. “I might know one or two reliable folk.”

“Like who?”

“Like her.” She pointed toward Abby just as Elvis sent her sprawling into the surf.

“HER?” His questing fingers halted just above the strap of her swimsuit top. “What’s she gonna do? Get drunk and start kissing folk again?”

“Two birds, one stone,” Lorraine encouraged him with a nudge. “We’re s’posed to be looking out for her, so we’ll bring her along…put her to work. Badda boom, badda bing.” As he resumed with somewhat more reticent hands, she continued. “Believe me, Reg, Abby’s shiny. Doc gave me the four-one-one on her last night.”

He squirted a thick dollop of lotion along her lower back. “Go on,” he replied. “Make me confident.”

“She knows her way around triggers. Man who raised her was some kinda hotshot gunslinger. She’s quick.”

Reg was unimpressed. “I thought we weren’t going in strapped this time,” he replied.

“We always need a couple. Remember Moab?”

“Do I have to? Anyway,” he persisted, “how do we know she’s steady when it counts?”

“That girl,” she folded an arm to hold her top in place as Reg undid the strap, “was shanghai’d by a bike gang on Greenleaf. Word is that til her crew could get her back, those bikers kicked the ever lovin’ la shi out of her for a name she wouldn’t give up.”

“Greenleaf?” Reg asked. “Was it the Headhunters? Heard about them,” he muttered. “So what happened?”

Lorraine snorted. “She kicked back. Doc tells me Cornflakes there broke one biker’s nose and dislocated another one’s jaw. Third fella tried raping her. Word is he’s still unwrapping his gāowán** from ‘round his neck,” she laughed. “After that, the gang decided they liked her. They patched her in!”
**testicles

Reg worked lotion down into the muscles of her lower back. “Okay,” he gazed out toward Abby, who for the life of him looked every bit a delighted child as she tossed a driftwood stick for a happily barking Elvis. “She can take a beating. But can she do the job?”

“Doc seems to think so,” Lorraine flexed her back beneath his probing fingers. “She took care of some business on New Melbourne for his boss. That was right after she caught a bullet in the ass.”

“So she’s been shot,” He studied the distant girl’s hindquarters. “She got a scar?”

“Bet you’d like to find out.”

The partners in crime shared laughter before Reg shrugged and said, “well you’re the boss. When you gonna feel her out about it?”

“How about now?” With fingers raised to her lips, Lorraine’s high, piercing whistle carried down to the surf. Elvis’ head bolted up, ears perked at the signal, before an answering sweep of his master’s arm summoned his return. Abby was quick to follow, trotting through the sand, her hair running rivulets down fair skin colored by the sun.

“Well hey, Reg!” she give ‘im a big smile. Gorram, but he’s good lookin’ in his uniform, she reckoned. Way he’s smilin’ back coulda melted ‘er right there, til she conjured jest how little ‘er bikini was coverin’. Good tha sun done pinked ‘er up, she thunk. Mayhaps he wouldn’t see ‘er blushin’.

“Obby,” Reg’s Charming Island Accent was now deployed. ‘Tank ya for comin’ out dis ofternoon. Always nice hovin’ such a pretty girl like you playin’ on dis beach.”

“Down, boy!” Lorraine commanded. “Rehook my strap, wouldja? Don’t wanna talk business with my mimi’s hangin’ out, dohn mah? Cornflakes,” she gestured toward the adjacent lounge. “Take a load off. Grab one of those drinks.”

Abby done so, but not afore drapin’ a towel over herself. “Yah said business?” she asked. “What kinda business?”

Lorraine turned, her slender legs slipping over the edge of her lounge. “We got a little job for tomorrow night,” she smiled, her eyes alight as she leaned close. “Reg and I conjure cutting you in, if you’re not too shy about coloring outside the lines?”

Abby knowed tha lingo. She done heard it aplenty when Uncle Bob’s too likkered up tah set tha terms. Likewise, once-twice when Cap’n brought ‘er along fer a sit down. “Depends,” she took a pull from ‘er glass, playin’ it all cool like she seen Cap’n do. “How far outside we colorin’?”

After trading glances with Reg, Lorraine plunged ahead, her expression building delight as she unfolded the tale. “Bunch of rich swells,” her excitement translated into nervous fidgeting of her legs. “At a party. They’ll be loaded with cash and jewels. We’re gonna take it all.”

Abby heard some Tomfool schemes afore, but this’n put a look in ‘er eyes Lorraine done gone flat mental. “Whole passel ‘o’ rich folk,” she said even like. “At a party. Loaded down with cash an’ jewels. An’ we’re jest gon’ walk right in an’ lift it off ‘em?”

“Uh huh!” Lorraine nodded enthusiastically.

Now Abby’s sure Lorraine been out in tha sun a tad bit much. “Ain’t never seen no rich sumbitch without some muscle lookin’ out for ‘em…’specially a whole bunch in one place?”

Now Lorraine was beaming. “Oh, they’ll be there. Wanna know the best part? THEY KNOW WE’RE COMING, CORNFLAKES!” she chortled. “AIN’T THAT THE SHIT?”

Abby give Reg a cautious eye. “Yah got a doctor nearabouts?”

“No no no!” Lorraine belted a laugh as her hands flew up. “Here’s how it is.” In the minutes to follow, she could gauge the impact her plan had upon Abby, as the girl’s face transitioned from alarmed to dubious. Eventually, the slight crack of a smile appeared, accompanied by a spark of humor in Abby’s eyes. “We got the boat,” she concluded, “we got the togs, and we’re set to go tomorrow night. “Only thing we’re short is a couple more reliable folk to pitch in. So,” her grin was lopsided as she took Abby’s hands. “Whattya think?”

Abby could bare keep from bustin’ out loud in ‘er friend’s face. “I think,” she fought ‘er humors fer control, “that is nigh on tha most wackadoo scheme I ever did hear.” She seen disappointment flower in Lorraine’s eyes afore given’ ‘er hands a squeeze. “Course I’m in!” she laughed out this time. “Whole thing’s so bughouse I gotta see it now!”

“SHINY!” Lorraine vaulted from her lounge to land in a startled Abby’s lap. “Mmmmmmwah!” she pressed a kiss to the girl’s forehead, along with a firm hug. “This is gonna be huge!” she exclaimed, “but tell me, Cornflakes. Might you have one-two other folk on your China Doll who could lend a hand?”

Ain’t no holdin’ back now. “Mayhaps,” Abby smiled back as she hugged Lorraine. “Mayhaps.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

On The Menu - Shore Leave Day 2 Mid Day

Cornflakes sure could hustle.

Even though they’d started behind the eight ball, Lorraine and Abby wasted no time in getting the job done. The countrified girl from the black just fell into the work like she’d been here every day, attacking dirty dishes and delivering hot food while Lorraine kept on top of orders and drinks. By lunch rush, the pair had their routine down pat, serving up all of Vic’s menu items fresh from his griddle, along with a side dish of spirited banter that kept the diner’s patrons laughing. “HEY CORNFLAKES!!” Lorraine shouted across the crowded room.

“WHAT?” Abby come out with plates balanced on one arm.

“FELLA HERE WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU’RE ON THE MENU?”

“TELL ‘IM I’M THA HOUSE SPECIAL!”

“HE WANTS TO KNOW HOW MUCH!” Lorraine grinned.

“WHAT’S THA OLD SAYIN’, BUGSY? IF’N YA GOTTA ASK…” Abby quipped as she laid orders before customers.

The two women honed their lively repartee as wave after wave of workers on lunch hour rolled through the tables and counter. “ORDER UP!” Vic shouted as two overflowing pastrami sandwiches hit the stainless steel shelf. “Cornflakes,” he glanced up from the half dozen burgers he was flipping, “I’m swamped here. Couldja put chips and pickle spears on each of those plates?”

“Yeah, it’s all shiny,” tha deckhand cum waitress give a nod. She’s jest finishin’ up when Lorraine nudged ‘er shoulder.

“Sweet Jaysus,” she muttered. “Feast your eyes on the slice of pretty just walked in.”

Abby looked up an’ gasped all surprised like tah see Yuri comin’ through tha front door. “I’ll be gorramed,” she said ‘neath ‘er breath.

“Dibs,” Lorraine whispered.

“Knock yerself out, girl!” Abby giggled afore dartin’ off with them sandwiches fer table twelve. Weren’t more’n a tick or so til she winced at a whistle like tah sawed ‘er ears right off. Her head whipped round tah find Lorraine, sittin’ next tah Yuri an’ wavin’ ‘er over. Sight ‘o’ his expression near ‘bout had ‘er laughin’ by time she made it across tha room. “Well howdy!” she greeted ‘er boss. “Whatcha doin’ in these parts?”

The spiky haired waitress’ attentions had him feeling more like fresh prey at the moment. “Making good on my reputation,” Yuri replied. “Out buying some galley supplies. So this is what you do when Captain and I give you three days’ shore leave? Pick up a side job?”

Abby shrugged. “It’s all her fault,” she pointed a finger at her friend. “She’s Lorraine. He’s Yuri, first mate on muh boat.”

“That’s how I’d rate him, too, Cornflakes,” Lorraine purred. “Hi Yuri. You know whatcha want, or should I warm up something special?”

“Um,” he shifted away in his chair, “can I get a Cap’n Bob’s while I look over the menu?”

Lorraine’s eyes held a predatory gleam as she rose to her feet. “You can have whatever you want, baby. I’ll be right back.” After a mischievous wink for Abby, she made her way behind the lunch counter.

“Well,” Yuri cleared his throat, “she seems nice.”

“Lorraine’s jest messin’ with yew,” the girl come out with a chuckle. “I seen ‘er do tha same last night tah two-three diff’rent fellas she caught lookin’.”

“What’s with the side hustle, though?” he asked.

“Helpin’ ‘er git tha job done. We’s out til wee hours last night an’ woke up late..”

“Not to mention,” Lorraine returned with Yuri’s soft drink, “my friends and I are takin’ your girl here to the beach after work. Wanna come?” she asked, puppy dog eyes on display. “We’ve got killer bikinis.”

“We do?” Abby’s wide eyed over that’n. “Uh, yeah,” she recovered. “We do.” Course, thought ‘o’ wearin’ such in front ‘o’ tha likes ‘o’ Yuri…or worse, Cap’n…struck ‘er uneasy like.

Yuri hoisted the menu as a shield, stifling the mild flush rising from his neck. “Sounds like fun, but Edina and I have invitations for a big to-do at the Earth-That-Was Museum tonight.”

A broad grin sprouted across Abby’s face. “Well lookit yew!” she laid a hand on ‘er hip. “Finally takin’ her out on a date?”

“No, it’s not a…yes,” he gave in. “I conjure you’re right. And they might have a job for us…”

Lorraine was not to be put off. “I got a job for ya,” she cooed. “You figuring out lunch, or you gonna keep hiding that pretty face behind your menu?”

Abby rolled ‘er eyes. “Leave ‘im be, Bugsy.”

“How about,” Yuri dropped the menu, “grilled cheese and tomato soup?”

The waitress jotted his order. “I’m all over it,” she turned, nudging a hip to his shoulder before hurrying off to the kitchen. “HEY VIC!” she shouted on the way. “GRILLED CHEESE, EXTRA CHEESY, and TOMATO SOUP!”

This time, Yuri turned to watch her as she sped away. “She’s a proper carouser, huh?” he observed.

“We did have a full on blast last night,” Abby smiled. “Hey,” her face an’ tone went serious. “Heard from Alana?”

“I was all set to ask you the same.”

“Nary a word. Left ‘er a few waves. Stopped afore she might reckon it’s creepifyin’,” the girl said.

Yuri sipped at his cola. “Captain left early yesterday,” he offered. “Nothing from him, either. We haven’t asked Sam to track their cortexes, but we’re hoping they worked things out.”

“Me too,” Abby nodded. “I care lots fer Alana. Cap’n too. Wait. That how yah found me?” she asked as ‘er eyes hardened.. “Sam checkin’ up on me?”

“That’s my culp,” he raised a hand. “Sorry, Abby. My mouth outran my brain. Wasn’t until Sam gave me the word that I conjured I was stepping on your privacy.” After a tick’s silence, he added, “We lost you once before, mei mei. I couldn’t abide a second time.”

She thought on that a skosh. While Sam trackin’ ‘er about did raise hackles a might, she couldn’t deny how folk might be feelin’ if one ‘o’ their own was missin’. Same way they all felt ‘bout Alana right now, she reckoned. In tha end, Abby came tah understand. “I ‘preciate that,” she said in quiet. “If it helps, I’ll send a wave ever’ day I’m off tha boat?”

The first mate shook his head. “Only if you want to,” he said. “You know the ‘Hey Rube’ signal if things go sideways.”

“That I do,” she nodded ‘er head. “Just tha same, I’ll letcha know tahnight if I’m headin’ back or stayin’ out.”

Yuri smiled. “All us old folk will be in your debt.”

“ORDER UP!”

“That’s me,” Abby smiled with a nudge towards tha kitchen. “I wager Lorraine’ll be all over yew like white on rice. Gotta bounce.”

“Sure thing…Cornflakes.” Yuri teased.

“That’s gon’ folla me back tah tha boat, ain’t it?”

“Most like.”

Abby run off fer her next order. Things got ponderous busy, what with Lorraine takin’ time tah fawn over Yuri. Mighta twisted ‘er hair a bit, ‘cept fer how funny it was watchin’ him squirm. Soon enough, she answered the first mate’s wave as he paid up an’ made fer the door.

The two women watched him go. “He’s a really nice guy,” Lorraine observed.

“Fer true,” Abby agreed.

“Who’s this Edina?”

“Part ‘o’ tha crew,” the deckhand said. “Yuri’s been sweet on her fer a spell.”

“Mmmm,” she slowly nodded. “Think I got a shot?”

“Nope.”

“Way to kill my dreams, bitch.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Art of Awakening (Shore Leave, Day 2 Morning)

05:32

Edina yawned, arching her back as fingers and toes stretched her extremities to their furthest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually slept in; her habit of “beating the clock” was an old one, born of the years spent cowering at the sound of father’s heavy footfalls stopping outside her door. The grim history was only doomed to repeat itself through her marriage to Andres, another decade spent ensnared within the insidious cycle.

China Doll had been a random choice, the first boat to get her off New Melbourne before her husband conjured she’d high tailed it. How could she know that after all this time she’d still be aboard? With friends who looked out for her, and now had come to include her among the crew? As she lay here in the dark of a room she’d kept for over a year, Edina could still marvel at her good fortune.

Though sometimes her motivation for an early awakening came in the form of old nightmares, the hauntings were steadily becoming ever more scarce. This new life she’d discovered was filled with purpose. Though she wasn’t a die hard black dog like Cal or Abby, Edina had soon conjured that a going concern like China Doll could provide plenty of work, even for a dirtsider like herself. All she had to do was keep her eyes open and her hands at the ready. Soon enough, a regular crew berth would offer itself up…in her case, the galley.

Joe Hooker’s departure was bittersweet, a farewell to a much loved shipmate gone to a better life. Though he’d been outwardly kind to all of the crew, it wasn’t until Edina volunteered for galley duty that she began to understand the man’s personal demons. Her inventory of the pantry had unearthed no less than three bottles of rotgut whiskey, all hidden by a practiced hand. Under any other circumstance, their presence alone would’ve told a disturbing tale. It was the etchings…crude knife scrapes in both the glass and labels of each bottle…that painted a stark picture of the daily torment in which the cook was trapped. He’d carved out a single word, again and again.

NO!

Brokenhearted over her discovery, Edina was loathe to simply throw them out with the trash. Nor could she bring herself to share the find with any of the crew, even though she held certain that Captain and Yuri must’ve been aware of his struggle. Alana, too, for that matter. But Abby’s love for Joe was that of a child, a sweetness she saw no good in tarnishing. And so, she kept them, hidden once more in the recesses of the pantry. Into each bottle she’d tucked a note, her own wishes for his healing. With luck, she’d find a place to set them free. Edina pondered this, the power of her words wrapped in a vessel of his pain. Perhaps she should ask Sister Lyen about what might be fitting…

She heard water rushing through the pipes. A few seconds later, the change in its’ tone told her that hot water was now flowing into the lav, a sure sign that one of her shipmates was grabbing an early shower. No bother; she had a good twenty-five minutes before her wakeup. And her bunk was awfully comfortable this morning. As she found herself doing more frequently these days, Edina thought of Yuri.

Though uncertain if tonight’s outing at the museum gala could be called ‘a date,’ she nonetheless found a personal delight at the prospect. They’d both come aboard within a day of each other, the battered woman and the shipwrecked survivor. While all of the crew had taken them in without hesitation, the two damaged souls had found mutual recognition and respect, developing a closeness born of both loss and a need for a patient kindness. Through happenstance and shared purpose during some of China Doll’s darker adventures their bond had deepened, regardless of efforts on both their parts to foster an easy familiarity. Despite her caution, Edina’s feelings were triggered through the most innocuous events. A smile shared, the twinkle of mirth in his eyes, a simple touch…all could now inject a sort of giddy pleasure that she hadn’t allowed herself for many a year. She’d watched him find his place, settling comfortably as Cal’s first mate, and getting the job done without harshness or disrespect toward those he’d command, especially the women. After years spent under the cruel mercies of her father and husband, Edina was well aware of the red flags. In Yuri, she’d found none.

Tonight, they’d be dancing in each other’s arms. She had no idea of the outcome, but lying here in her bunk, Edina found herself ready to throw caution to the wind.