Xandrya

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”The Least Of These” - Part 2

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

“China Doll,” Brother Raphael read the boat’s name aloud. He followed his elders and Brother Joseph toward a yawning opening down beneath her front end. Though at seventeen Raphael considered himself a strong young man, his attempt to force a brick laden wheelbarrow up the inclined cargo ramp proved too much for his strength alone. He rushed forward, relying on speed and momentum. He’d only made it halfway up when the effort ground to a halt. The teenager struggled, refusing to yield ground as the weight steadily drained his strength.

“Here…lemme help yah.” The girl threw her weight into the task, taking the right grip with both hands. “On three. One…two..three.” Together, they shoved with all their might. He caught sight of her bicep as it strained into the job…before the wheelbarrow gave way. In unison, the pair wheeled their cargo up onto the expanse of the boat’s inner deck. “Ku,” she said as they eased it onto its’ rests. “Yah got it from here?”

“Yes,” he answered. This girl was so unlike any he’d met on his life’s walk. She was strong, with a wild mane of red hair that reminded him of the Parable of Medusa. Her clothing wasn’t modest, like his sister’s, nor was she a Jezebel who revealed herself to a lustful eye. Her face was pretty, but the eyes in her head betrayed their own buttressing. “Thank you, Sister…”

“Abby,” she give a polite smile. “Call me Abby. Jest push it over there with tha others, an’ then go aft..that way.” She pointed toward tha open hatch where the first mate stood. “That’s Yuri,” she said. “Go see him next.” She watched the fella, makin’ sure he didn’t wander off afore Yuri could code ‘im in.

When she turnt back, Abby’s startled at tha sight of a man…a right tower of a man. He stood there all silent like, a sack ‘o’ bricks draped over a shoulder like he’s carryin’ naught but loaves ‘o’ bread. His clothes was rough, but not all Sunday churchy, like them Anabaptists. Face all wrapped up in a towel or cloth made ‘im look less an’ less like he’s of them they’s sposed tah be carryin’ out. The man didn’t say nothin, jest looked down on ‘er with eyes what made ‘er feel like there’s somethin’ she’s fergettin’...til she conjured what that was. “Uh…yer bricks,” Abby caught ‘erself stammerin’. “Jest put ‘em down on one them wheelbarrows over there. Then go see him,” she pointed toward Yuri.

Elias grunted something between appreciation and acknowledgement of the woman’s words, not bothering to waste time by trying to write something with the piece of chalk and blackboard he kept about his person for communication. Thus he simply lowered what he was carrying with care, if lack of ceremony, and turned to go to the man he was directed to along with Raphael and the others.

An obedient Raphael set his loaded wheelbarrow among the others. His arms trembled slightly from the exertion as he hurried toward the friendly looking Brother. “Blessed Day,” he greeted the man Yuri. “I’m Brother Raphael.”

“Welcome aboard the China Doll, Brother Raphael. I’m Yuri. Please roll up your left sleeve. All the way…that’s right.” He watched as the crewman pointed what looked to be a pistol toward his left bicep. When Raphael flinched instinctively, Yuri’s tone was reassuring. “This won’t hurt. I’m just recording the chip before our doctor takes it out.”

“Takes it out?” he asked. ‘Will that hurt?” After all, it had certainly hurt when the border guard jabbed it into him.

Yuri smiled. “Not a bit. We’ve got the best doctor in the ‘verse. There, finished. Now, kindly step through here,” he directed the teenager into the aft hatch. “More of our crew will help you with new clothes and get you ready for the doctor.”

The spirits of those aboard seemed to be tentatively higher since the Anabaptists reached the China Doll, with every crew member waiting in a line to help from station to the next. Lyen’s part in this chain meant that she would be managing the change of identity between the Anabaptists and the volunteers who had generously agreed to help–mostly students of well-to-do families from the local university, all looking to make a mark and change the world. The first group of volunteers had been ushered in hours before the Anabaptists would arrive, in order to appear less suspicious. Now, the bright-eyed rebels crowded–standing room only– into the passenger berths of the China Doll, awaiting their doppleganger’s clothing. “Peter,” Lyen called to the group, “you’re up first.” The well kept young man stepped forward, eager to take his place.

Lyen waved to the first Anabaptist, a young man who looked just about the same age as Abigail Travis. “This way; let’s get you changed.” Her smile never waned, even as the boy looked unsure. She led him to two passenger rooms side-by-side outfitted as their designated changing rooms. A volunteer would go into one, disrobe, and hand the clothes out the door to Lyen who would pass them to the Anabaptist and vice versa.

“Hey man…I’m Peter.”

A young brother stepped forward at Sister Lyen’s bidding. This fellow seemed to match Raphael in his height and the overall state of his frame. He carried a few extra pounds, merely the result of a regular diet. Raphael’s stomach growled at the thought of food. I wonder if they’ll break bread with us? he pondered, before dashing the sinful thought from his mind. “Blessed day, Brother Peter,” he greeted his counterpart. “I’m Brother Raphael.”

“Shiny,” Pater gestured the thin Anabaptist to follow him. “C’mon, Raphael. We gotta swap clothes.”

Raphael’s eyes sought out Sister Lyen, whose reassuring nod informed him that this, indeed, was part of the plan. He permitted himself to be led to what appeared a guest room for the momentary indignity of undressing in the company of a stranger.

As Peter entered the first room, Lyen and Brother Raphael were left standing outside for a moment. “How are you holding up, Brother Raphael?” she asked, as they waited. This gaunt, young man had possibly traveled thousands of clicks to get to Osiris, and then been met with enslavement and abysmal living conditions inside the Blackout Zone. Sister Lyen regarded him with soft eyes, hoping that their efforts would afford him a new life.

Raphael met the Sister’s question with a brave face. “Blessed day, Sister Lyen,” he smiled over his shoulder as Peter led him away. I’ll be right back!” That much was true; he’d make this “clothing swap” go as quickly as humanly possible, with the Lord’s grace.

For his part, Elias waited patiently behind the… Monk, he supposed, waiting for Yuri’s attention to eventually drift to him once done with Raphael or perhaps as he was processing the man. Regardless, if and when eye contact was made, Elias would make the complicated gestures to sign “Do you know sign-language?” It was a rare talent but the man seemed at least slightly better spoken than the girl he couldn’t stop mentally referring to as a hick, a rural bumpkin of some sort, and there was some slight chance this fellow would be learned in it. Yet, already anticipating the worst he would immediately after start reaching for the chalk and piece of blackboard.

This man was imposing. His height alone would give pause to the much shorter Yuri who met eyes eager to communicate, and hands that made an earnest attempt at the same. He watched the gestures. Certain patterns did emerge, but short of some of the more universal pantomimes, Yuri had to eventually shake his head. “I’m sorry,” he admitted, “but I’m not completely understanding you.” He lifted the RFID scanner. “Please roll up your left sleeve.”

Though Yuri read some frustration in the giant’s eyes, he noted the man’s comprehension was not lacking as a soiled sleeve gave way to a soiled left arm. He brought the scanner to bear, and was rewarded with the ident code of the embedded chip. “All finished,” the first mate offered. “Please step through this hatch. Sister Lyen’s waiting inside. And friend,” the first mate spoke again as the big man turned, “I’ll seek you out later. We’ll talk.”

Elias relented, though annoyed, allowing the process of the scan to complete before he started to write on his little blackboard. “YOU ARE LYING THAT REMOVING THE CHIPS WILL NOT HURT ARE YOU NOT???” Once satisfied that the large letters were legible, he would raise the small cutting of blackboard demonstratively.

Yuri blinked at the accusatory message. “I trust our doctor,” he met the man’s eyes with his own direct gaze, before calling attention to the waiting hatch with a tap of his scanner. “Please step through.”

The man shook his head, crushing the tip of the chalk between thumb and index finger with some annoyance before writing again. “THEY PUT A BIT OF ELECTRONICS BENEATH OUR SKIN IT WILL NOT BE PLEASANT TO GET THAT OUT.” After showing the piece of blackboard and confident the man before him would have read it, he would flip it over, and erase what was there before and replace it with new words. “YOU SHOULD NOT LIE TO PEOPLE EVEN IF IT WILL MAKE THEM FEEL BETTER.”

“I did promise to seek you out for further conversation, friend,” Yuri responded. “But for now,” he cast a glance toward the growing queue of people, “please move along.”

The man yet again shook his head, annoyed. But at the same time it was clear Yuri wasn’t interested in what Elias was saying and regardless of the reasoning he supposed it would be a waste of time trying to get through to him after the insistence that Elias get going. Thus, with a soft exhalation through his face wraps he did indeed step through.

Yuri paused as the towering refugee crouched to enter the hatch. Beyond lay the Medbay patients’ lounge, base of operations for Sister Lyen and her student volunteers. As he watched, a tall, gangly young man unfolded himself from one of the chairs. The nun did a fine job matching body types, he thought before greeting the next guest. “Hello, Sister…Margaret? Sister Margaret. Welcome aboard the China Doll. Please lift your left sleeve…”

...TO BE CONTINUED…

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Healing Arts - Part 2

JP/Collab from @Xandrya and @sail3695

Thank the Buddha. The cast was gone.

Yuri cooperated as Alana positioned his arm on the treatment table. “I’ve got a little money,” the first mate offered to China Doll’s resident medic. “Not sure what a place like this costs, but I’m glad to put some coin down for both Abby and myself.” He smiled at that moment. “She walked out of here pretty as a picture, Alana. Amazing work.”

Shaking off his remark about payment with a smile, Alana placed the device directly over his arm, the small light shining green once it was positioned in the right spot. It took a quick scan of the arm, a 3D rendering materializing on the screen showing the break. “I’m more than happy to help the crew, no coin needed... Benefits of knowing the right kinda people.” She stepped to the side, switching on another setting which would start setting things in motion.

“I’m glad for that.” He craned his neck to view the screen past Alana’s shoulder. The 3 D imagery was remarkable. His arm had been mapped entirely, allowing the doc to delve through layer upon layer until she could view the fracture itself. Even to his untrained eye, the break was obvious. “Then maybe you’ll let Abby and me buy you drinks when we get to Pelorum?” He smiled. “And yes, we’ll let the captain come along…”

"Well who can say no to drinks..." She glanced at him before the machine began its work. Yuri's arm would first be anesthetized, then the fixing would take place. The procedure was nothing overly complicated, it would simply consist of a special type of material being inserted in the correct spot to speed up healing right from the time of insertion. "What about you, you bringing anyone...special?" Alana would see his reaction, whether he’d bring up Edina. She was slightly curious after Abby had mentioned the possibility of them two as a couple.

So Abby’s right, Yuri thought to himself. The rumor mill is up and running... “Got someone in mind?” he teased.

"Just wondering, is all..." Alana shrugged her shoulders, smiling innocently. "Cal and I ain't a secret no more; the cat's outta the bag. But I didn't mean to pry..." she added with cheeks slightly reddened.

“Hey,” he laughed, “if anybody’s got the right, it’d be the woman who pulled me out of the drink and patched this arm.” Yuri gave the doctor a smile. “I could ask Edina, I suppose. Then again,” he yielded a mischievous chuckle, “she’s just as apt to turn me down. After we’re away with our refugees, I’ll work up the courage to ask her.” Alana’s blush hadn’t gone unnoticed. The pleasant smile remained on his face as he added, “What do you think, Doc? Would you put a good word in with her for me?”

Nodding, Alana exchanged glances with Yuri. "She's a pretty one, and personally I think you two would make a great match. But I'll make sure to pass on the message, see how she feels about it." Alana then took a step back, watching the machine. "You'll feel a tingle now and some pressure, but you shouldn't feel much pain." There was a brief glow, then the whirring from the device being set in motion. "You barely escaped the grasp of death, I think you owe it to yourself to at least ask."

The first mate nodded agreement. “She and I were out together last night. It was actually for the current job, but I think we both enjoyed the company.” He could feel the tingle as it spread throughout his arm. Yuri didn’t find it to be overly painful. Instead, the sensation reminded him more of having slept atop the limb overnight. “I can feel it working,” he said. “So, last night, Edina and I were out to learn a few things about getting our new passengers out.” His voice dropped to near whisper, barely discernible above the machine’s whirring. “We found out how they track blackout zone captives.”

As the systems healed his arm, Yuri described both the nature of the tracking system, and the crude method of implanting chips. “Right about here,” he tapped his left bicep, just short of the shoulder. “I saw them implant a little girl.” His face darkened with the memory of the child’s pain. “So here’s our plan, Doctor. Once we get them aboard, we need you to extract the tracking chips from their arms. Captain’s git Sister Lyen rounding up volunteers. They’ll swap clothes with our people, and we’ll tape the chips to their arms to wear back through the scanner.
“The trick,” he hadded, “is to avoid damaging the chips when you extract them.”

Her heart hurt upon hearing about the methodology in dealing with the passengers. It made Alana realize just how needed she and the crew were to these people when they execute this job of theirs. She listened to Yuri as he went on about the idea they had in mind and her eyes were a little saddened after hearing it all. "That's a mighty fine smuggling plan if I ever heard one. I can remove the implants with no issues. As far as the chips, I'll surely do my damn best to get 'em back to you all working and in one piece. As of now, I only foresee a problem if there are complications with the patient. At that point, I'd rather something happen to the chip and not my patient. I'm sure you more than understand."

Complications.

He hadn’t thought at all there might be complications to removing a chip beneath the skin. Then again, he’d only seen a disinterested guard fire it right into that little girl’s arm, and from a distance, at that. “I do…I think I do,” Yuri nodded unconvincingly. Another reason why I should stick to machines, he ruefully considered his options. “The trick to this, doctor,” he responded slowly, “is that each chip has its’ own registration code that gets read by a scanner at the checkpoint. It’s recorded when folk exit the blackout zone, and again when they return. If we don’t show up with an exact match for each chip, that’ll alert the guards.”

His mind raced. It was too late to change the basic plan; as soon as his arm was mended, he and Hook were all set to meet the Sister and a dozen or so Anabaptist workers to begin the day long ruse of collecting and cleaning bricks. The Sister also had her volunteers showing up this afternoon. He thought he had it all worked out. Silly of him not to consider the anomalies of the human organism…

He needed a technological Plan B, and he needed it quick. I should talk with Sam, Yuri silently added to his checklist as he replied, “yes…I do. Just hadn’t factored that into the plan.”

"All fine and dandy, I simply like to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Never quite know what you're dealing with without a proper history...allergies, blood thinners, etc. Highly unlikely, but not impossible."

Smart move with the chips. Of course, that's the route to go with tracking hardware, and were she in their shoes she would have done the same. Alana checked the progress on Yuri's arm, and it looked like the treatment was going quite beautifully. She could tell he had some thoughts going on in his noggin, but of course, with something of this magnitude who wouldn't. "We'll do right by those folks, Yuri. I'm sure everything will turn out alright."

Alana was hopeful; she had to be.

“So,” he thought out loud, “I hadn’t conjured the chance a chip could be destroyed when you remove it.” But there was that truth, plain as day. He knew the doc to be careful and precise. Her treatments were both deliberate and exacting. But now that he thought about it, even cautious hands can slip when holding a scalpel. Durak, he chided himself in his native tongue. He had just a few hours to resolve this.

“it sounds like I need to get a few of those chips for backups...and a way to read or program them…” His brow furrowed ruefully. “Wish I’d thought of that sooner,” he looked up at the doctor. “That one’s tough…I know I could get RFID chips and reading gear from any business supply house…but these? Designed to be forced through the skin? I mean we won’t be doing that…the chips we get from our passengers will just be taped to our volunteers’ arms, but…I don’t know. Dr. Lysanger, have you ever had to deal with tracking chip implants? Any ideas where I could get something like that?”

"Unfortunately, logistically-speaking I'm of–"

The machine beeped, prompting Alana to look down at the screen. Apparently the fixing was going great with progress up to 50%. Good, halfway there. She then cleared her throat.

"Like I was saying, logistics is not my strong point. Sure, I've dealt with tracking chips before and I can perform the job you've described, but that's as far as my knowledge goes..." She then looked pensive, as if trying to remember some piece of information. "I do...I have someone I may reach out to and you know, probably get the answers you're looking for. They're trustworthy enough for me to ask them such a favor, and they owe me one. So tell you what, once I'm done here, I'll grab my cortex and hopefully have some good news for you. How does that sound?"

“Shiny.” For his years of working with ships’ systems, biotracking chips had never entered his study. Yuri knew the basics…RFID was RFID, after all, and any reader/programmer should be able to latch right onto a chip’s registration code. But those chips were simple, designed for parcels and cargo, not to be jammed beneath a person’s skin. Adding the fact that this was a government operation gave chance that one more layer of complexity might be lying in wait. “I’m due for a little cortex time, myself,” he admitted, “but if you’ve got someone who can help, I’d be grateful if they make this little challenge go away.”

"Your challenge is my challenge..." Alana cracked a half-smile, eyeing him momentarily. For a quick second she felt a little helpless being unable to provide him with any type of answer, but the reasonable side of her quieted that down. She couldn't help what she didn't know, after all. "We'll get this sorted out, promise. Just like we'll sort out your arm."

With that, she checked on his progress once more. This last portion would take longer, so naturally the process would slow down.

“And you’ve got no idea how glad I am for that,” the new first mate chuckled. “The mechanic work can be a handful for two good hands, but one?” His expression lightened. “I’ll tell you true, Doctor, if that girl we brought along hadn’t jumped in to help with the wrench turning, I’m not sure I could’ve pulled it off.”

"Well count your lucky stars the timing was perfectly right on that one... One-armed Yuri just doesn't roll off the tongue all that pretty, so you know I'd no choice but to fix ya right on up back to your prior self." She smirked with the statement, looking him in the eye. "And I don't know how the captain would feel with a one-armed mechanic aboard his ship."

He watched the treatment of his arm take place, the warmth accompanied by a mild tingle as the bone within steadily knitted itself back together. “Not sure how he’ll feel without one,” Yuri avoided laughing or movements as he spoke. “He’ll have to give me a new nickname,” he observed.

She chuckled, "He shouldn't have an issue with that...he's Cal after all. I'd be surprised if he doesn't have a nickname for everyone in the Doll."

A low beep broke Alana's attention away from Yuri. The screen display indicated they were entering one of the final phases of the treatment. Good.

They were interrupted by a light tap at the door, soon opened by a fresh faced Abby. “Hey Yuri,” she said, “now I’m fixed an’ all, “I’s wonderin’ if I could go pick up beddin’ an’ stuff fer the folk we’re carryin’?”

“Well, I don’t know,” the first mate cast a sidelong glance toward Alana. “Did you get our doctor’s permission to be out and about?”

“Uh,” the girl’s face kinda deflated, “no. No I didn’t. Powerful sorry, Alana,” she’s near fidgetin’ in tha doorway. “Can I go? Promise I won’t do nothin’ moonbrained.”

Funny man, that one. "It seems as if Yuri loves giving ya a hard time..." Alana smiled at Abby, "I didn't have doctor's orders for ya to stay put after the procedure so technically you're free to roam as you wish...as long as you don't overexert yourself, dohn ma?" The last couple of words were spoken in a slightly more serious tone.

Abby’s smile come roarin’ back. “Yes, ma’am!” she nodded all emphatic like. “Jest pickin’ up some blankets an’ stuff!”

"And you, mister," she turned her attention to Yuri, "it may be karma possibly doin' its job but you won't be as lucky as Abigail. You're gonna be on light duty for quite a bit longer so I hope you're not easily bored."

He couldn’t help but notice a certain mirth in Abby’s eyes as she watched him on the receiving end of a classic “Alana” lecture. “Well that’s perfect, Doctor,” Yuri reacted smoothly. “My part in today’s caper is to wear a nice suit and play the sophisticated client. I won’t be lifting anything heavier than a coin pouch.”

“Nice suit?” The deckhand’s jaw dropped. “Yew mean yah actually boughtcherself some proper clothes?”

“I did.”

“All by yerself?”

“Ms. Wyman helped me.” Yuri pretended not to notice the knowing look in the girl’s eye as she traded glances with the doctor. “Keep receipts for any supplies you get,” he cautioned her. “Captain won’t pay without seeing receipts…copy that?”

“Copy!” She smirked. “See yah back on tha boat!” In an instant, Abby was gone, makin’ tracks fer tha door an’ tha city outside.

The thought of teasing him crossed her mind when he referred to Edina as "Ms. Wyman". It was a little too formal, regardless of whether he was only being polite. But Abby was around and even then, it simply wouldn't be right.

"A suit, huh? Not quite what you'd expect to see on a mechanic but then again, we all gotta clean up once in a while." Another notification. Progress was now at 75% and judging by the looks of it, everything was going smoothly. Were it not, one of the first signs would be Yuri squirming in pain, though that'd more so depend on his tolerance level.

Considering his ragged appearance since coming aboard, Yuri couldn’t help but laugh right along with everyone over the thought of him…him...getting all gussied up in a fine suit. “I tried to convince her that a shirt and tie would look good with my coveralls,” he quipped, “but she was having none of that.”

"We're almost through now, how are ya feeling?"

“Not bad,” he answered. “A little discomfort, but I read that the rapid knitting of bone can be a little off putting…like people whose old fractures might ache with a change in the weather.” The words took him back for a moment, to the time when he’d broken the arm. Funny, Yuri thought to himself, I still can’t remember the exact moment. Though his engineer’s mind had settled on the moment when the dying ‘Mick’ hed ejected him through a ventilation shaft, that particular memory was little more than a blur when compared to the eternity of being lashed to the ship’s crew dining table, soaking and chilled through as the waves towered all around him.

A pensive Yuri possibly reminiscing about the good ole days. What exactly, she wasn't quite sure. Alana simply stared, her head slightly cocked to the side. He was lost in it, his expression not cluing her as to whether the thoughts in his head were good or bad.

As he thought on that calamity and the improbable rescue that had brought him aboard China Doll, Yuri considered again Alana’s use of the word ‘karma.’ He wasn’t one for mysticism, but he could definitely agree with the old assertion “what goes around, comes around.” This boat and crew had gone out of their way to save his life. Now, he had the chance to square the cosmic balance by helping them save forty more. If a ‘weather arm’ was the price of his salvation, Yuri Antonov could still barely comprehend his good fortune. “Good,” the thought escaped his lips. “I actually feel pretty good.”

She grinned. "Good, that's the best outcome we can hope for. I'll be back shortly" Her voice was low, almost as if she were afraid to wake a sleeping baby. Alana then left him to his own devices, walking away and out of sight to get a start on some paperwork prior to their departure. He'd probably appreciate the space to himself, deal with whatever was going on in his head if anything at all.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

The Healing Arts - Part 1

JP/Collab from @Xandrya and @sail3695

“Finished. Now turn over and we’ll get the front.”

Abby rolled onta her back. Tha table’s padded, so it didn’t feel half bad. Nekkid as she was, she thought tha room could use a tad bit more heat, but that thing Alana’s runnin’ over ‘er skin give off a warmth what carried down inta tha muscles underneath. She lifted ‘er head fer a second tah watch the doc workin’ a big bruise on ‘er right thigh. The tool in ‘er hand, a “dermal somethinerother,” looked kinda like an axe handle, ‘cept fer bein’ all white an’ tech-like. It let out a blue light as she pressed it down. Then, she would rub a straight line over the bruised skin. One pass, two passes, three passes later an’ that bruise was gone! “Like it never happened,” Abby said as tha flesh of ‘er thigh got tah lookin’ all normal again. “Thanks fer this, Alana,” she said as tha heat climbed up ‘er body. “Won’t feel so shy ‘bout showin’ muh face, now.”

"Well, your face was always too pretty not to be showed off." Alana's expression was hidden behind a surgical mask and glasses. Not that it was medically necessary, but extra precautions didn't hurt. Her movements in trying to wipe away Abby's bruises—and in turn, the ugly memories that came with it—were meticulous and precise. It might as well had been her own flesh and blood on that table.

The blue flash lit up once more, its reflection on her glasses present just as well. Alana had moved to the next bruise, happy with the results thus far. The efficacy of the treatment was promising, but seeing it work right in front of her eyes was something else. "Feeling alright still?"

“Uh huh,” the girl give a nod, then stopped ‘erself just in case she had tah keep still. “I’s kinda stiff where I got hit alot,” she said, “but that’s makin’ everythin’ loosen up. Feels good.” She’s glad Doc signed off on bringin’ ‘er along with Yuri this mornin’...even took her in first while he’s waitin’ outside for ‘is turn. “Been readin’ ‘bout Pelorum,” she offered. “Cap’n says we might git a few days’ leave. They got beaches there sposed tah be tha finest in tha ‘verse. “Thinkin’ I oughtta git a swimmin’ suit an’ go see for muhself.”

"I'm thinking that's the right choice, evenin' out your tan an' all. You'll have eyes on ya for days..." Having finished up on the lower extremities, Alana moved on to her abdomen. Pretty nasty bruisin going there, seemingly the preferred location when someone's turned into a punching bag. She made sure to be extra gentle, gloved hands softly making contact with the girl's skin only when necessary. "I may just join you for a while, make sure you're getting your R&R without interruptions...whatcha think?"

Abby took that with a smile. “Well, yeah!” she give a light chuckle. “That’d be all kindsa shiny. We could have some real fun,” she smirked, “stead ‘o’ me bein’ patched an’ yew doin’ tha patchin’.” She felt tha good warmth spreadin’ ‘round ‘er belly an’ below ‘er ribs. “An’ I’s wonderin’,” the girl’s brow creased a bit. “What kinda swimmin’ suit should I git? Never had one afore, so I ain’t sure if it should be a onesie or a bikini?”

"Well for that the style depends on you and what you feel most comfortable with. I tend to get a two-piece simply 'cos the more wet fabric on me, the less pleasant it feels. I take it if you do more moving aroun', a one-piece may be better for ya...don't gotta tug and pull pieces of the bikini from your pi gu." Alana imagined themselves laid out on a sandy beach with Abby complaining about the fit of her swimsuit to Cal, and a smile formed behind the mask.

Tha girl listened, shock wrote all over her face. “But…” Abby’d been lookin’ at pitchers. They’s more types ‘o’ swimmin’ suits than she ever conjured. Some she seen sounded like what tha doc’s talkin’ about, with nothin but a skinny strip or a string up tha backside…nothin’ she’d be caught wearin’, sure an’ true. But…even them’s covered over tha whole pi gu? Don’t seem right. She tried putin’ ‘er words together, mouth movin’ silent til she could figger out jest what tah ask. “If’n bikinis are like that, why d’ya wear one? How much time yah spend pullin’ yers out?”

She paused, her hand holding the device hovering over the next bruise looking to get erased. Alana thought on the question for a bit, her head angled slightly as she stared off into nothingness. "Yeah, I remember whenever I wear a bikini, it does tend to get itself wedged in there quite a bit, ya know?" she shrugged her shoulders as she continued. "It happens just 'cos the material covering your behind is narrow so it's easy for it to...get lost. But I wouldn't worry none, it happens to women all the time, but a quick tug later and you're good as new!" The light went off again as Alana resumed her work. "My personal advice? Don't get a string bikini, those are the worst! Get one that has medium to full coverage of your pi gu and you're less likely to be pulling at the material often."

“Oh,” Abby conjured she might be overthinkin’ this a spell. “Yer real pretty, Alana,” she observed. “Knowin’ whatcha know ‘bout wearin’ bikinis, ya think we could go shop fer mine together? I hear they’s all kindsa things tah sus out, like skin tone an’ hair color. Promised I’d send a capture tah Thom…a fella I like, an’ I don’t wanna mess it up.” The smile come back tah her face as she conjured her an’ Alana, spendin’ their day playin’ together in sand an’ waves. “Some pitchers I seen,” she offered as the doc’s work moved to her shoulders, “showed big floppy kinda hats an’ matchin’ sandals. Should I buy them too?”

Genuinely delighted by the news, Alana stopped for a moment to look at Abby. "Oh, so you sending a capture to this Thom guy, eh? Then we no doubt gotta go rummage the stores in search of the perfect bikini! An' I promise, one that's comfortable with matching hat and sandals! I really got a feelin' he'll appreciate the effort..." Sorta feeling "big sister proud", Alana was looking forward to their upcoming outing. She imagined a plain, black piece at first, but then thought about how nice of a match an emerald tone would make with her hair. Yes, there were quite a few options for Abby, and Alana couldn't wait to try them all.

Moving on, Alana got to working on her wrists, the bruises there quite dark from the restraints. "Woulda been nice to double date, maybe next time he's around?"

She woulda blushed, but she durn near give up tha whole thing, anyway. “His name’s Thomas,” Abby said, surprised to how good it felt talkin’ about ‘im. “Met ‘im on New Melbourne. He’s real nice…an’ we been sendin’ waves ever since.” The smile faded as she ‘membered their call yesterday. “He saw me…lookin’ like this,” she said. “I should’na showed him, but he could tell somethin’s wrong. He got powerful mad. Wanted me tah quit tha Doll an’ hop a boat fer New Melbourne. Guess yah could say that’s our first fight,” Abby said. “I’ma call ‘im after yah fix muh face…git things smoothed over.”

"Ah well, I'm more than sure he was only concerned about ya... Some fellas can sometimes be a little overprotective of their lady, and it looks like he ain't any different." Alana moved on to the second to last bruise, glad she had a hand in helping fix Abby back up to her old self, especially now that she had someone to look good for. "Talking it out will do ya good. You know what they say, communication is key. Plus..." she smiled once more, her eyes giving her away if one were to pay attention, "...I believe he'll forget about that argument the moment he sees you in your bikini."

“Yeah.” Abby thought on that a second. “He did tell me I’m pretty on muh worst day, so I conjure I don’t mind sendin’ ‘im a capture from a beach on Pelorum. Weird tah think about,” she said as tha doc took away more of her bruisin’. “Never saw muhself as pretty…most times it seemed fellas’d look right past me. Yew, Ms. Wyman…” she snickered. “I think she an’ Yuri are gettin’ sweet on each other, but she’s way pretty. An’ the new lady? Quill? Honest, I take one look at y’all an’ conjure I’m kinda on tha rough side.”

All kindsa rough if she’s bein’ honest with ‘erself. Beatin’s she took from the Headhunters was one thing. But since bein’ kidnapped…since Lido tried takin’ tha one thing she had was still pure, things just ain’t been right. Yeah, she put tha rapin’ sumbitch on tha deck, but not afore he planted hisself in ‘er head. And there he lives, just waitin’ tah make ‘er relive it all…’bout anytime she closed ‘er eyes. ”Aaaby…”

It’s startin’ tah tell on’er. Mirror showed ‘er tha tired look in ‘er eye when he scared ‘er outta her bed ‘round three A.M. this mornin’...an’ pretty much ever’ night. Kinda worked in a way…makin’ ‘er coffee an’ breakfast at that hour steered ‘er clear ‘o’ Hook.

"Nah, don't sell yourself short...beauty doesn't have a standard, least that's the way I look at it." Her voice was soft and friendly as she addressed her young patient. "I'd kill for your hair, and if it's done up real nice and paired with a dress, it's a done deal!" A moment later, Alana was finished. She placed the tool down beside her and removed her gloves before also pulling off the glasses. "I'd say you're ready enough to send as many captures as you want to your Thomas..."

Abby sat up. “Can I see?” When Alana held up tha mirror, she gasped. Fingers touched ‘round ‘er eye an’ where her jaw had been all swole up. Nothin’...her skin was fair an’ even. She turnt ‘er head, lookin’ all about, an’ seein’ nothin’ but ‘er own skin, plain’ an’ regular as any day without bikers. “Jiminy,” the girl looked down at ‘erself. She twisted ‘er body, even took that mirror tah catch a glimpse of her pi gu. All clear, ‘cept fer a small scar on tha right cheek from that bullet. “Alana,” she smiled big first time in days, “it’s all gone! Thank yew!”

Weren’t a minute later as she’s given’ Alana a big hug that Abby conjured clothes might be a good idea. “Sorry,” she give a sheepish smile as she slipped inta her things. I’ll go git Yuri.”

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”Damages”

Collaborative post with @wanderingwolf

---

"Indulge me with 'nother round if ya will." Imani held up the empty glass, shaking it slightly once the bartender turned his attention to her. He was happy to oblige as he nodded his approval; business was business after all. “Much appreciated.”

The young woman currently sat alone in one of the local bars near the Doll, the name unknown. After a much-needed slumber, Imani figured it’d do her good to get a drink or two in her system. Besides, the ship was slightly too quiet for her taste then, preferring the buzzing voices of the chatter heads in the vicinity. Though her outing wasn’t without risk, she kept a low profile covering 'erself up. And on her way out she’d seen Yuri and had specified she’d be just across the way. Nice fella, that one. If he was any indication as to the remaining crew, then her trip would be quite pleasant. The thought made her smile, also in time to get that second round placed in front of her.

Another first sip that went down smoothly made Imani look forward to this supposed great food onboard her new temporary home.

"I'll claim," Cal said. With his hat resting on the chair back, he eyed the Orange tall card, gauging the reaction of the other two players at the table.

"Strand claims the tall," said the dealer, a large, brutish woman at his right elbow, whose leather smock proclaimed her daytime duty as a butcher.

After a deadpan interrogation of her cards, she chewed on her words, "Dealer folds."

Reclining, Cal's eyes swung to the scrawny man at his left elbow. The man flipped his cards between his palms before slapping them face-down on the table.

"Now I knew you were a smart man!" the Captain said with a grin as he leaned forward to rake the pot.

"Three hands yew claimed, Strand. Three! Ain't nobody that lucky, yew heer?" The scrawny man leveled a finger at Cal's overturned cards: a five of a kind, all Orange suit. "Nobody butta cheeter!"

"And now I gotta eat crow." Cal said, straightening out the bills into a neat pile. "Brains plum weren't in your cards to begin with, was it?"

The resulting blow across the chin knocked the wind out of Cal for a moment, but that was enough for the large butcher woman to enclose his arms in a vice-grip while the scrawny man began his second assault on Cal's stomach.

Some commotion or the other drew her attention enough for Imani to glance over her shoulder, drink in hand simultaneously being placed down on the bartop. Seemed a couple of patrons had overpowered some poor chap who was being pummeled halfway to next week. Imani figured it best to leave as no attention was good attention. She waved over the bartender and paid her tab, unfortunately having to leave the still half full glass behind.

Making her way being more curious than she outta be, Imani glimpsed at the victim, her pace naturally slowing as she walked past towards the exit. No one she recognized, which was good.

"Mind ya business!" Skin and bones doing the beating spat at her, "Nosy gorram bitch!"

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Imani silently nodded. Her blood began to boil from being addressed as such to the extent where she then decided to make it her business too. She crept up behind him and quickly snaked an arm under his neck, pulling with all her might, practically lifting him off his seat. His arms thrashed at her instinctively, but Imani upped her efforts and squeezed tighter. His response came in the form of a sad attempt at verbal communication, though the end result was nothing but gibberish. Shrimp boy could've been turning all forms of blue, yet no one was coming to his aid, least not quick enough. His struggles intensified, and Imani lost her footing as a result. She fell on her side with shrimp boy being dragged down as well, the sudden slack giving him the chance to get a quick breath in. Seemed that was all he needed, though Imani recognized the small advantage he could gain. She ignored his neck and as he was coughing up a storm, she swung her leg to straddle him, using one arm to prop herself up followed by the free hand coming down on his jaw. Her fist made contact, and shrimp boy was out cold. Bit of bloody knuckles aside, Imani gripped his jaw to face him straight. He wasn't responding, his body not the least bit stiff.

To his sputtering surprise, Cal found the beatings had ceased, leaving his ribs aching. The large woman who held him tight from behind like a punching bag loosened her grip, granting the Captain the opportunity for a hail Mary stomp on her instep. Her howl was met with a timely elbow to the chin which landed Cal on his own two feet again.

"Mei Yong Ma Duh Tse Gu Yong!" she bellowed before rearing up and shoving Cal into his would-be savior, Imani. Cal did his best to break his fall against her, but the nail goes where the hammer tells it to…

Just about propping herself upright, Imani was knocked off balance by some weight greater than her own. She gasped, surprised by the sudden force sending her face first onto the floor. Imani managed to prevent some damage by using her hands, though her head still bounced off from the impact like a playground ball, the result being a gash just over her brow. Gathering herself, she turned to face what was keeping her pinned, and come to find out it was the man in need of rescuing. Trouble for him now meant trouble for her, though not if she could help it.

"Tryna make new friends? I believe they want us out..."

"You get that from their genteel tone?" Cal growled, rolling off of the woman. He hadn't taken a beating like this in donkey’s years; lucky the scrawny one didn't keep a tight enough lip, really. A moment later the enormous butcher laid hands on Imani, pulling her to her feet.

Cal noticed the man laid out like a limp fish beside him as he gathered his wits. Whoever Strand's savior was had done a number on his lineaments. As the large woman drew her to height, Cal spat blood on the barroom floor.

Her feet were effortlessly jerked off the ground. Imani had little to no time to react to the beefy woman, and so she instinctively threw a few kicks as she braced herself to be dropped like a bag of potatoes. The woman sure held her strength though, especially when she threw a fist flying towards Imani. The result was none too pretty as Imani's body temporarily went limp prior to her hitting the deck. Conscious nonetheless, and probably with the aid of whatever intervention, she had the time to get her wits about to reach for her top inconspicuous weapon of choice. A large hand was reaching down towards her and Imani put in all her might into stabbing the open palm, the scream that followed a result she had done right by herself.

The women fought viciously, even as his valiant rescuer's face hit wooden planks yet again. Strand saw his moment to intervene as the butcher closed in on Imani. He rose to his feet and picked up a chair to wield against the attacker, but it was all moot.

As Imani produced a lethal weapon, the barkeep racked his shotgun from behind the bar. Cal's weaponized chair paused in midair as he laid eyes on the business end of the weapon, along with the sole warning from the seedy bar's owner: "Leave on yer feet, or leave in a bag." The large butcher woman halted her assault in favor of licking her wounds, her free hand holding pressure on the gaping wound Imani had caused her palm.

"Don't know about you," Cal said to Imani, dropping the chair, his hands raised, "But I'll take option number one."

"It'd be suicide not to follow your lead," Imani shot a dirty look at the barkeep, her hand rubbing the pained jaw in an attempt to soothe the sore away.

"And leave yer cheatin' card money on the bar on yer way out. I'll call it damages," the bartender said, eyes sweeping over the mess their little brawl had wrought.

Cal shook his head, reaching into his breast pocket to retrieve the bills, slapping them on the shined wood surface.

Following the man outside the bar, she hurried up to his side. "That was quite the dramatic encounter, wouldn't you say? Fortunately for you, my presence there saved your rear." Imani "Are you often the troublemaker?"

Cal's face said he was feeling the 'drama' all over his ribs, the shiner on his eye, and his solar-plexus. "Trouble has a--" he coughed, which wracked his chest in a particularly painful wave, "--way of findin' me."

"That surely it does..." her words slowed and so did she, a hand hovered over his back instinctively in a protective manner as he coughed up hell. The consequences from whatever money play he had himself all involved in was evident now, if it wasn't before.

"Ah," Strand said as his hand pressed to his rib, "Doc's not goin' to like this..." He looked up at Imani, stopping to lean on his knees. "Thanks for steppin' in. Reckon I owe you," He coughed again, before asking "You got a name?"

"I got a name, but I ain't too keen on sharing—though I'll make an exception since I reckon you oughta meet your savior... I go by Imani, part-time hero I suppose," she shrugged her shoulders, looking at him as his struggled on. "Hope this doctor of yours is good."

“She’s no slouch, but I don’t reckon she’ll like the story what led to this.” He paused to assess the damage on his counterpart, “Ain’t a scratch on you. Quick thinkin’ with the knife.” He nodded his head before straightening. “Tell you what, Imani, since I owe you, already, might I impose a ways further? My boat’s up ahead, and standin’ upright at this moment feels damn near Bu Kuh Nuhn. Get me there, and I’ll make it worth your while.” Cal’s ribs ached him back into a doubled over position, but he stuck out a hand to shake nonetheless. (trans. impossible)

"Ain't got a scratch yet, but mainly 'cause the damage done was internal."

Imani looked him over when he made his request. She studied the stranger, his looks on par with someone getting theyselves in a ruckus over some winnings. A little arrogant too, from what she gathered, but not particularly a bad thing since he seemed trusting enough.

"I can spare some time, long as you don't get us killed 'fore we get there."

Eventually the two reached their destination, or a destination. The China Doll herself. "I don't even have your name but you happen to know where I stay? Thought I was escorting you back, being all 'gentlemanly' for your sake and all."

Cal stood himself upright and took tender steps toward the Doll, attempting to keep stride with Imani. At her balking he replied, “Where you’re stayin’? Well, I’d be tempted to chalk it up to fate you’d be signed on my boat; Cal Strand, Captain,” he said,offering her a hand to shake. “And far as I can tell, you sure throw a punch like a gentleman, I’ll give you that. You a passenger to Pelorum?” The Captain said, stepping onto the ramp of his home.

"What do you know, quite the coincidence ain't it?" she shook his hand with a gentle touch. So he was a captain...suiting job for a man like him. Imani followed him up the ramp as she didn't see the need to stick around out in the open. "Looks like we're both fighters, though you heavily outrank me as I am indeed but a passenger." She looked behind her for a moment, then turned her attention to Strand once more. "The destination don't matter as much as my need to get outta here," Imani shrugged her shoulders.

“I can handle myself,” he said unconvincingly, working his jaw with the heel of his palm. “Anywhere but here, huh?” That started the cogs to turning in the Captain’s head as he paused toward his inevitable fate of limping past the infirmary. This woman could hold her own. The way she knocked out the scrawny man with a single blow, then ended things quick with the butcher told him she’d scrapped her way a plenty. “Next few hops past Pelorum could see me in a couple more brawls; you lookin’ for work?”

If he had any luck left in the Verse, Alana’d be out and about by now, but seeing how he just got the la shi kicked out of him for cheating at cards, something told him lady luck had passed him by.

"A job you say?" she smirked, her eyes focused forward as her day suddenly took a turn for the better despite the previous incident.. Looks like someone is indeed in need of some rescuin' in the future... Imani kept the last bit to herself, placing a hand on his back. "It never hurts to strike a deal, the legal and fair kind I mean... Let's talk details over some painkillers, shall we?"

Firefly - Second 'Verse

“Welcome Aboard!”

Collaborative post with @sail3695

---

"The little critters givin' ya some work, aren't they?"

"They sure are," Jadaline smiled nostalgically, glancing back at her two sons playing with some toys before shutting close the front door to her modest home. "With Zane gone on this new contract he managed to snatch up, it's a damn miracle I ain't driven myself crazy just yet."

"You'll be alright, J, children'll be children," Imani chimed in, herself reminiscing the olden days. There were some fond memories here and there between the heartache and struggles she came to know from such a young age. But despite Imani's past, Jadaline was that one friend who proved to be beyond loyal. Her heart o' gold always made everything alright, and Imani never took her worth for granted.

"They'll be grown 'fore you know it, so enjoy this time prior to them leaving the nest."

Jadaline sighed as if the statement had saddened her. No reason why, the now and then was still a long ways away. That's what Imani figured.

"Ya sure you can't stay? There's plenty to discuss. I can make ya that supper you like."

Imani shook her head, patting her friend's shoulder. "Messy business if I stay; it's best I go, and the sooner the better."

The two hugged it out for a moment before saying their goodbyes and parting ways, Jadaline watching her friend's departure before going back inside to tend to her sons.

******

Having purchased a scarf to conceal some of her features, Imani kept a low profile as she navigated the horde currently going about their day. Having her head angled down some, she mistakenly bumped a tall, large man dressed for business. He turned his head to shoot her a deathly glare before two more look-alikes bumped her out of her path, moving him along to whatever destination. In different circumstances, she would've said something, but Imani figured it best to not bring about any trouble onto herself. She looked off to the side, ignoring the unpleasantry that had just presented itself, and noticed a Firefly class seemingly open for business.

What's to lose? she concluded, starting to make her way towards the ship ​​and its welcoming host comfortably positioned on a lawn chair.

Thus far, Yuri’s attempts to hawk China Doll’s services seemed to draw naught but oddities and parasites. The oddity’s business card lay in his pocket. The parasite stood before him, gesturing grandly as he ran a well polished spiel. “Tell ya true, son,” the man waved toward the Doll’s hull. “Your burn coat’s nigh on shot to hell. At best you got one, mayhaps two burn in’s left.” He broke from his scrutiny to fix Yuri with a narrow eye. “Where ya say you’re goin’ next?”

“Pelorum.”

“Pelorum?” The salesman spat on the ground. “That’s some thick air. Hit this old hull like a sand blaster. I take it back. You gotta recoat now.”

“You don’t think she’ll take it?” he asked.

The shyster wiped his brow. “Hoo, doggy! She might. She might not. You’re really rollin’ the dice to burn into Pelorum with this old girl in such a sorry state.”

“But you can help me out.” Yuri tried not to smile as he offered the man an opening.

“I sure can! Son…”

“Yuri…”

“Yuri…pleased to meetcha! I can set you up with the last bottom coat you’ll ever need.” The salesman jammed a screen before the 1st mate. “Feast yer eyes on that!” he grinned. “Duraburn ProMax Plus Undercoat! It’s the latest thing! Alliance been puttin’ it on their ships for five years, but now we can sell it at a discount to hard workin’ folk like you! Got a special runnin’ today only,” the salesman’s eye swept across the hull. “Class three Firefly rate’s thirty-five hundred, but today only? Nineteen ninety-nine!”

“No.” Yuri shook his head.

The salesman’s viewscreen glowed with a capture vid. A smiling young woman in a short skirt and polo shirt sprayed a thick black coating onto a gleaming shuttle. “Tell yah what I’m gonna do,” the salesman whisked the image away. “I’ll get in trouble for this, but I swear I couldn’t sleep knowin” I letcha fly off unprotected. Give you the full bottom coat, and I’ll throw in some touch up on your name header up there. Seventeen hundred…out the door.” He awaited Yuri’s reaction, his face projecting the classic “you’d be crazy to turn this down” expression.

The new Mate took to his feet. “Tell me,” Yuri lifted his eyes toward the hull, “can you spray that Duraburn ProMax Plus all over me?”

“Why you want a thing like that?”

“Because,” Yuri smiled, “if my captain learned I’d blown seventeen hundred of his credits he’d burn me right to ash. But thanks for your time.”

“You’re makin’ a big mistake, son,” the salesman shook his head as he wandered off. “A big mistake…”

With a quiet chuckle, Yuri settled into the lawn chair, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, fingers of both hands twined upon his stomach. I wonder how much of this Abby puts up with? he mused.

Having caught the end of the sales pitch, an impressive one at that going by persistence alone, Imani chuckled as she approached the ship. With a smile, she walked up to its occupant she figured to be responsible for letting folks aboard the aircraft.

"Mighty fine way to start the day, staving off his services and whatnot." She eyeballed the man up and down, noting the cast on his arm. Looks like he did more than charge for admittance and then some. "Name's Imani, promise I'm not selling a thing," she held out her hand introducing herself. Politeness went a long way, especially when favors were needed. "I'm looking for a way off this rock, is that a possibility with you?"

Being a wanderer on and off, sometimes without choice, meant she knew what she was asking for.

“So you’re not selling anything?” the 1st mate smiled as he rose. “Then you just made my day already. Yuri,” he took her hand for an introductory shake. “Nice to meet you, Imani. And China Doll is definitely a way to get off Osiris, if Pelorum’s where you’re bound.”

"Trust my word, were I selling you sumthin, you'd be havin' a word with your captain," Imani smirked. "Pelorum sounds as good as any," she added, glancing past him at the China Doll. Not a bad one at all... "Standard fare I take it?" Imani reached for some coin tucked away in her bag's side pocket, her jacket inching back, partly displaying the black grip of her sidearm.

“Yes ma’am,” Yuri nodded. “That’ll get you a single berth. We do have a double left for an additional fee, if you like.” The sidearm’s grip did catch the corner of his eye, an observation the Mate felt no need to advertise as he addressed a potential customer. “I don’t have a hard departure time yet. Captain’s making arrangements, but it’s likely to be two or three days from now. You’re welcome to come aboard when you like, though.”

She was gathering her coin accordingly as Yuri explained the workings. "A single berth's all I need. I carry light, and the added luxury's not sumthin I'm seeking." Once she had enough, Imani reached out her hand with a smile, handing over her payment to him. "I sure do hope the food is up to standard. Last transport I spent half my time locked up and sick, tryna avoid that same now. Help a girl out here, am I safe or should I stock up prior to the China Doll's departure?"

Yuri accepted her coin, tucking it into his pocket before he set to work on a receipt. “I try not to exaggerate, so I feel at ease telling you that I think our cook’s a wonder.” His eyes rose to meet hers as he said, “the man knows how to use seasoning, and somehow he scrounges up some pretty amazing stuff for our table. I’d say you’re safe, Imani,” he shrugged, “but you’ll get a couple chances to conjure that for yourself before we break atmo.”

The stylus halted its’ movement. “Imani, can I have your last name for the manifest?”

"Well then, can't wait to meet this wondrous cook o' yours." Relief visibly washed over her face as she stole a quick glance towards the entrance once more. Looked like her first round pick was a winner, lucky her. "Name's Ozuka, Imani Ozuka. I-M-A-N-I O-Z-U-K-A. Sumtimes the good folk don' get it right," she shrugged, placing her hands on her hips as she watched Yuri secure her spot in the manifest. She'd at last be able to let her guard down for a little.

“Imani Ozuka,” Yuri repeated as he added her to the passenger manifest. Next, having completed her receipt, he offered the document. “That’s a nice name. Welcome aboard the China Doll.” He folded the clipboard beneath his cast as he gestured toward the cargo ramp. “Allow me to show you to your quarters?”

"Kindly appreciate that," she motioned with the receipt in hand before tucking it away out of sight. Yuri offered the subtle compliment and Imani smiled a little in response, looking up the cargo bay once a walk-through was up for grabs. "Please, show the way. Not my first rodeo onboard a Firefly but it be best I not walk into a stranger's room doin' whatever strangers do dockside." Her expression was vague; possibly a joke, possibly not.

“Yeah,” he chuckled as they crossed the empty cargo bay. “My last ship didn’t have locking doors. One mistake was all I needed.” He spent the next few minutes relaying the captain’s rules and the ‘go-no go’ places aboard the boat. “And here,” Yuri slid open a cabin door, “is your berth. Usually there’s a deckhand named Abby who looks after passengers, but she’s got a couple days off. ‘Til she’s back, If you need anything, you can find me, or Joe Hooker, the cook.”

There was something quite likable about this Imani Ozuka. She was obviously attractive, but it was the easy confidence in her demeanor that drew his interest. He had a feeling that such a nature came with a number of engaging stories. Hopefully there might be time for us to swap a few, he conjured. “Speaking of,” he pointed toward the stairway, “Hook’s got a coffee cake and fresh coffee up in the galley. Feel free to enjoy.”

"Sounds lovely, though I ain't one of them caffeine fiends looking to get their hands on that next fix." Imanie stepped through the hatch, glancing around her birthing which'd be home for the foreseeable future. "I much prefer a good plate at my disposal." Her tired shoulders were just about done. Imani set her rucksack down on the deck and turned to face him. "Well you're as nice as they come, and you've been of great help. I'll be seeing ya later, Yuri."

And with that, Imani was off to sleep away the insomnia from the previous night.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

“Ever’body good?”

Collaborative post with @sail3695

---

There she stood, perfectly unscathed as she glanced over the bruises scattered about on the face of her 18-year-old patient. In the short time Alana had known Abigail, the girl had been shot and brutally beaten, and she couldn't help but feel pity for her. It's as if she was being handed one misfortune after the next. Despite her strength and resilience, such young soul shouldn't have to go through these harrowing events, and it pained Alana to once more have to tend to her wounds.

Once satisfied with the vitals check, Alana was about to head back out of the infirmary when the young girl stirred herself awake, the grogginess evident from her expression a sure tell the cocktail of meds had done its job. "Hey there, Abby, I hope you're feeling better." Her condition could have been worse, but the scan that was conducted upon their immediate return to the ship the night prior showed no internal bleeding nor damage. Overall the prognosis was good, and she just had to reduce the swelling as well as the pain and keep monitoring. "Your swelling has gone down some but since you're gonna be mighty sore for the foreseeable future, I'll let the captain know you'll be on bedrest until further notice. Don't need him trying to prod you to get back out on that ramp."

Most times she woke, Abby conjured she’d been dreamin’, even when she couldn’t recollect no part of the dream. Not this time. Doc’s voice come onta her mind like the first star in an empty black sky. She blinked, lifted a hand tah rub tha sleep from ‘er eyes…that’s when she found she could see outta her right eye agin…an’ seen the Doc, lookin’ down on her. She always knew Alana’s pretty, but the care and kindness in her eyes proved that fact beyond all doubt.

When she spoke, ‘er voice come thick as molasses an’ jest as hard fer her tongue tah navigate. “How long?” Abby slurred like she had three Vodka Boom-Booms. “How long I been here?”

Poor girl was straining to speak. Alana placed the palm of her hand on Abby's shoulder as reassurance. "You ain't been out long, just overnight." She walked away from Abby for a moment, intending on providing additional comfort. "Let me get some water for ya, and if you want I can always ask one of the crew to cook up something for you." She reached inside the cold storage unit to pull out a bottle before walking right back. "Alternatively, if you're having a hard time swallowing, I can always put in an IV to help. All your choice, of course."

“Naw,” her voice come out sleepy. “I’m good. Thank yew,” Abby took tha water. She pressed an elbow inta tha paddin’ tah rise up. As she did, tha sheet tumbled down ‘round her. “Huh.” the girl said at first sight of them bruises on ‘er body. “I near plumb forgot.” The first swallow ‘o’ water was a cool revival. She swished it about inside ‘er mouth afore sendin’ it down. “We all copasetic?” she asked the Doc. “Ever’body good?”

Alana took a step to help, but Abby was already propping up all on her own. Instead, she degloved and leaned forward to put her weight on the handrails. "Not a scratch on their pretty little heads, so you needn't worry..." She paused for a moment, then looked the girl in the eyes. "Abby, I was thinking, do you want me to go talk to Cal about possibly having someone on the ramp with you when eventually you get back to working?"

She’d been thinkin’ ‘bout them’s she ain’t seen last night. Hook weren’t about, but Cap/n had spoke with ‘im on a walkie, so the girl conjured he musta been near. But Pen. She ain’t seen hide nor hair. Still, if Doc says all souls was well then she got no reason tah question that.

Abby’s ‘bout tah ask when she could git back tah work when Doc’s question knocked pins right out from under. Shook as she was, that water bottle come close tah slippin’ from ‘er fingers. Her mind raced tah figger out a answer what come across as ‘well reasoned and mature,’ while a part ‘o’ her recoiled at notion of bein’ babysat.

She took a minute on it, stretchin’ time by addin’ a swig from her water afore answerin’. “Doc,” Abby finally spoke, “if I cain’t do muh job on muh own I ain’t much use tah tha Cap’n. Don’t got a proper education. What I know best is what I learnt on boats, an’ there’s precious little ‘o’ that. Most girls dealt my cards got three choices in this life, husband, housekeepin’, or whorin’. Cap’n gave me a diff’rent road, an’ I don’t aim tah place burden on ‘im fer ‘is wisdom.” She straightened her backbone an’ met Doc’s eye. “I fought them as took me. Didn’t win, but I didn’t stop fightin’ ‘em…got most these bruises tah show fer it. Kinda shows me what I need learnin’ on next,” she said. “Gettin’ faster on muh draw an’ smarter with muh fists.”

She wasn't too receptive of Alana's suggestion, that much obvious given Abby's sudden shift in body language. It was a touchy subject, and since Alana was no psychologist, she didn't want to press the matter beyond what needed pressing. "I get your concerns, believe me. It ain't an easy road to walk on for some." Abby was the individualistic type, and maybe a pinch stubborn as a result. But at the least, Alana wanted to get the message across as she was trying to do right by her younger crewmate. "What you went through, and the aftermath, isn't at all a sign of weakness. You're resilient, and brave, and honestly stronger than some of them on this ship. I'm simply concerned, that's why I suggested having a partner out there with ya, if only for a little while post recovery." Alana straightened up, turning to toss the used gloves on the bin behind her. "If you give it further thought, you can come straight to me and I'm sure Cal will be more than happy to consider it."

Alana ended her statement with a smile before changing the subject.

"By the way, I took some lessons in massage therapy way back then, they help make those nasty little bruises go away faster. Can't do it right away, but can be done further along in recovery."

“Massage sounds mighty nice,” the girl worked up a smile. Abby had a good think on what the Doc had tah say. Chances were she’s so pent up ‘bout twice fallin’ on Cap’n’s good will by gettin’ ‘erself inta medbay that mayhaps she weren’t listenin’ afore her mouth run off. “I dunno,” the girl finally give up. “Doc, what scares me most is Cap’n doin’ tha math an’ conjurin’ I put ‘im inta red ink.” She folded ‘er arms about ‘erself, “When them bikers took me? I had a hunnerd fifty credits in muh pocket…money paid fer haulin’ cargo. They took it. Way I see it, that’s on me.”

“Abby, 'tween you and me, I have a very strong feeling that the captain would much prefer them bikers return you in one piece rather than the credits. Those blows to the head must have left you unconscious at some point, so what were you supposed to do?” Alana shrugged her shoulders, thinking it, but not saying it. In all honesty, the girl wasn’t the one to blame here. The gang was looking to retaliate and Abby just so happened to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Listen, along with the painkillers I’ll give ya, I’m also mandating you be stress free for the next couple of days, and that includes avoid overthinking the finance dealings with the captain. Think you up for it?"

“A couple days?” Abby looked up. “And then I can git back tah work?”

The question made Alana laugh a little. "Yes, a couple of days...given you're back to full health by then. Otherwise, I'm afraid you'll be on some additional sick leave. And Abby, I don't want you to go on hiding one ailment or the other from me, dohn mah? I don't care how long we're down by one, we can make it work..."

Her statement had concluded with a more serious tone, hopefully getting the girl to understand the severity of the situation.

What tha Doc said had a little sting to it, but them shenanigans Abby pulled on New Melbourne made Alana’s words more’n fair. “Got muh word, Doc,” she said all solemn like. “I’ll stick to muh room…’less I’m gettin’ food or hittin’ tha lav. Somethin’ don’t feel right I’ll come see you, pronto.”

Despite her being fiercely independent, at least Abby had her wits involving her own health so as to not be reckless as she pleased. Alana nodded with a smile, her mind at ease after being reassured by her patient.

Thought ‘o’ bein’ laid up with naught but what she’s carryin’ inside ‘er head fer two whole days felt pert near tah her own brand ‘o’ hell. Still, Abby knew Alana was in tha right. She’s lucky just tah be all banged up, but one look at ‘er face was like tah scare away any passenger. She ‘membered when Ms. Wyman come aboard, face all swole up from ‘er husband’s thrashin’. All she wanted tah do was sleep, an’ Abby watched over ‘er fer some odd days while she did. If she’s bein’ true about it, she did feel a might hangdog.

“I always conjure workin’ makes ever’thin’ better,” Abby said, “but I’ll stick tah restin’. Can I git a proper shower, first?” she asked.

"Shower away, you'll feel tons better once you've properly cleaned up. Take the device with you," Alana motioned towards the small electronic sitting within Abby's reach, "You know what to do in case you need help while washing yourself. I'll go ahead and update the captain as to your condition; and as of right now you are no longer confined to these four walls. Come on, let's see how well you do on your feet."

Alana reached out a hand to help Abby stand, hoping her balance wouldn't fail her.

Abby eased down, one hand takin’ Alana’s as t’other held onta tha table. “Yer right,” she said as feet landed on tha cold deck, “I’m feelin’ a might stiff.” Tha girl stood fer a second, hands out tah test ‘er balance. When all felt right, she give ths Doc a nod. “Think I’m good.”

The gown was one of them what hung open in tha back. She weren’t too partial ta walkin’ outta here with her pi gu seein’ daylight, but lookin’ on them denims and unders she wore last three days settled that bite ‘o’ hash right quick. An’ that vest…tha bikers’ cut…lookin’ at it now’s like tah turn ‘er stomach.

As Doc watched, Abby collected all ‘er things one one arm. The little blinky Doc give her was scooped up in ‘er free hand. “Much obliged, Doc,” tha deckhand said as she made tracks fer the door.

Once it’s open, she stepped through…and suddenly stopped. Abby turned about, walked on stiff legs right up tah tha Doc, and thowed an arm around her. “Thank yew,” her voice cracked as she whispered, huggin’ Alana tight. “Fer what yah did last night. Thank yew.”

Alana embraced her in return, gently settling her chin atop the girl’s head and smiling to herself. “You’ve got nothing to thank me for, you know I’ll always be here for you.” In that moment, their relationship didn’t feel like one of a doctor and her patient, but rather, a bond close to what sisters may share. If Abby would decide to confide in her from that point forward, then she would have more than enough done her job.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Name:
Imani Ozuka

Age:
33

Appearance:
5’8 in stature with a feminine build. But her physique is deceiving as in actuality she’s stronger than she appears, even though to the naked eye it isn’t evident right away. Imani’s fashion choices are practical, fitted pieces and comfortable shoes making up just about her entire wardrobe. More often than not, her hair is pulled back and held in place by a hair stick which she can use in her defense in the absence of conventional weaponry.

Skills:
The ability to deceive with the right combinations of words. Imani can sway a conversation in her favor with ease if she chooses to, her carefree demeanor an indication she’s picked up more than her fair share of lessons from the streets. Equipped with the basic hand-to-hand combat knowledge, Imani has won a number of battles where just about anyone would bet on the other guy. Additionally, years of weapons handling under her belt makes her a candidate suitable enough for the likes of an enforcer role.

Personality:
She can do no wrong, or so she believes. Imani is usually outspoken save for the moments she knows to bite her tongue. She tends to shy away from difficult circumstances beyond her control, burying her emotions to come across as thick-skinned.

History:
With no sign of any blood relatives during her childhood years, Imani came to know many homes and many families since an early age, often seen off due to her own troubling behavior. The story passed down from the lips of officials to her ears was that her mother had sadly passed away due to complications during her birth and her father was estranged. No other living relative ever came forward to claim her, the damage only cementing as she grew older.

It wasn’t until adolescence where Imani came to know some form of stability. The small family of three who took her in were the ones responsible for schooling her on various survival methods, refining what she’d previously learned through discipline and even the occasional punishment. Even so, for the first time in her life, Imani felt truly happy, and she took it upon herself to let it be known to them.

The years passed and Imani eventually decided to go off on her own. It was an emotional moment, but no one was was left in the dark. She found her way making a living as a gun for hire, that and the occasional gambling she partakes in.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

”These ain’t diet pills..."

Collab between @wanderingwolf & @Xandrya

_{JP takes place some time after the Doll leaves for Osiris...}

As Captain Strand descended the cargo bay scaffold stairs two at a time, he didn’t hear the rhythmic thrum of the Doll’s core engine, nor the comforting cold of the black. The sobering effect of the boat’s unified purpose, thanks to its crew and passengers, propelled him to seek the answers they all needed. The cargo bay was full with twelve large, steel cases what clinked slightly when Hook and he double strapped them into place for takeoff. ‘You stole two things from us,’ the biker leader had proclaimed, and Cal was keen to know just what it was Hafez had strapped them with. From what he could suss it weren’t just tonics and tinctures bound for the little soldiers of Osiris; no, whatever clung to cloth in these cases was somethin’ worth spilling blood for.

As his foot struck the deck, he caught sight of Alana and planted a hand on the infirmary door frame, “Doc, you got what you need to see what we’re saddled with?” His brow furrowed even as his jaw clenched in anticipation for the situation they burned sky toward on the surface of Osiris.

Her gaze fell on him, a solemn, silent nod in his direction being her only response to the inquiry. Alana momentarily tapped the sides of the testing kit box with her fingertips, which was not so much induced by the anxiety of what lay ahead for them, but purely out of worry for Abby's well-being. Having had some time to delve in the current predicament, she had been saddened by the troubling "what if' thoughts. Abby's life clung to the hope that they could manage a successful rescue, and no doubt there were some odds stacked against them too. With a sigh, she followed Cal out into the cargo bay, ready enough to do what was needed of her.

Strand drew the good doctor’s attention to a crate beside the one they’d kept from the deep sea of New Melbourne–even though it was laden with lucky cats. As his hands unfastened the straps to crate seven of twelve he added over his shoulder, “I ain’t no expert, but my gut tells me these ain’t diet pills or little blue pills.” As he hoisted the lid, rows of cleanly vacuum sealed paper boxes shone in the fluorescent bank lights.

“Schuler’s Hair Restoration Tonic,” he read aloud with a “Huh,” that came part and parcel with Cal’s frown as he plucked one out of the neat packaging and handed it to Alana.

"It sure don't look like it." Alana examined the package he'd handed her, then placed the kit down beside her and opened it to reach inside. Once equipped with a small blade, she made a cut across the top of the box, eventually revealing what was inside: small, clear bottles filled with green liquid capsules. "I'm afraid the shiny-headed are going to be disappointed," she added, meant as a joke but with her tone, coming off as anything but. Alana knelt down on the deck to open one of the bottles, unable to recognize its contents merely by sight. She wasn't the knowledgeable type when it came to pharmaceuticals, taking a class or two during the course of her studies but never learning beyond the basics. After reaching for a small device, she turned it on and it whirred to life. A moment later, she pulled open its side tray and spilled the contents of one of the capsules onto it before closing it shut again and pressing a button. The screen then read Analyzing...

"It shouldn't take long now," Alana looked up at Cal to let him know.

While the doc started her work in earnest, Cal had drifted toward another crate, removed the strap and followed Alana’s lead, flipping a pocket knife open to extract what was inside a slender box. His brow arched in unbelief as he held the bottle up against the bulkhead lights, shaking the contents lightly.

“Wo Bu Shin Wo Dah Yan Jing, somethin’ tells me these little blue pills ain’t for musterin’ courage.” (I don’t believe my eyes), he jeered, meeting her eyes. He placed the container beside Alana and her instruments with a wink as he craned his neck to watch the screen’s output.

It wasn't long before the blank screen was replaced by descriptive imagery of some chemical structure, and right below, its name: Trypoxin.

“Oh... Have you heard of this one?” she turned to Cal after reading the screen. "A stimulant with incredible analgesic properties. That’s why many claim it to be a favorite.” Alana pressed a button to reset, pulling out the tray to wipe its contents with a cleaning cloth tucked away in the back of the device.

“Time to confirm whether they’re loyal to the Pox.” She reached for the bottle that had been placed down in order to repeat the process again.

Cal leaned in to read the word 'Trypoxin' on the screen. "Can't say I have" came his stern reply, "But I ain't bewildered," he added crossing his arms behind her.

Stroking his chin, Strand's eyes fell over the rest of the cargo, then came to rest on Alana's crouched form. The doc just confirmed two things he'd suspected: Hafez's toothy grin had hid the particulars for the job, and this Huen Dahn Root was the consequence. (bastard)

The Captain tapped his foot impatiently as the Doc did her work.

"I figured as much," she motioned towards the screen when it showed the same results. "Up to you whether we run a third test, but I believe we got a shipment full o' Trypoxin." Alana pulled herself to her feet, looking over at Cal. "People have killed for this, we gotta be careful."

“Thanks Doc,” Cal was rubbing his chin, “‘cuz of you we know just how careful to be.” He nodded, meeting her eyes. “No tellin’ what we’ll find on Osiris, and I need every barrel we got. You got a gun, Alana?” His expression pulled down as he looked up into her eyes.

"Can't say I do," she shook her head with an almost guilty expression. "Got a spare? I'm not too bad of a shot, and Abby could use whatever help comes her way.”

“S’long as you don’t shoot me in the back, I could use the backup. Heard Hook is givin’ lessons if you’re keen.” He tucked his hat around his ears, shooting a glance toward the fore of the China Doll. “Here,” he pulled his pistol, flipping the handle toward Alana before handing it to her. “I’ll want this back now, y’hear?”

Her expression finally softened as she reached for the pistol. "I won't shoot you in the back, I'd do it while you watch," was her failed comedic attempt at a comeback, though she was quick to change the pace. "I can aim and pull a trigger, but I'll see what else Hook can teach me. I'm sure he has plenty tips to turn me into a somewhat decent marksman."

Cal gave a nod to the doc before ascending the stairs toward the cockpit.

Alana tucked the pistol into her waistline as she watched Cal walk off before also turning away. She would tidy up the area and put up the small clutter that was left out from the tests.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Bad News to Come

Wide awake as she was, Alana was looking to rest a little while longer. Not that she’d get any sleep as she was more interested in putting her feet up before handling any more responsibilities. At least, that was the plan prior to being called down to the galley. Her curiosity piqued, she wondered what type of pressing matters had Rex sounding all serious and authoritative. She supposed she’d find out soon enough.

With a small groan, the woman rolled onto her side and propped herself up into a sitting position. She then bent down to pick up one shoe with as much enthusiasm as a child walking into their least favorite class. She’d had plenty of water up to that point—which usually got the job done—yet the looming sense of sickness which came in waves every so often was still driving her mad. Alana had somehow managed to avoid that panicked rush to the nearest waste receptacle up to that point, but that was probably due to her being distracted from finding Hook all banged up. What better time than now though to take her own advice and fight fire with fire. She had 15 minutes, so a pit stop to the infirmary would almost make her brand new, especially since she had enough of the supply in stock.

Once the left shoe was on, she grabbed the right one to repeat the process before she was heading out her quarters. The moment she stepped outside, Alana’s eyes darted back and forth. It was quiet, unusually so, especially after such an announcement. She stood in place for a moment then made her way to the infirmary, coming to the conclusion that they were moving slow as sloth, and rightfully so given the events from the previous evening.

Once behind closed doors, for the sake of her own privacy, she sat down and rubbed her eyes, her head angled back to be supported by the bulkhead. Alana was getting a little worried now. She hadn’t yet seen Cal and usually he was the one to make one of these all-hands calls, unless he had busied himself with something so early in the morning but then again, whatever matter had prompted the urgent request would have taken precedence. The young woman sighed, opening the small packaging before gulping down the two tablets with some more water and then proceeding to leave again.

On the way, Alana heard some clanking noise or the other, but it might as well have fallen on deaf ears. Such noises weren’t the least bit uncommon given the ship life, so it certainly didn’t interest her. She did however perk up when the smell of bacon finally hit her as she entered the galley. Quite inviting, yet sadly enough it sat unattended for whatever reason. Alana decided to instead grab a granola bar before finding a seat opposite the stove, the smell of bacon still lingering in the air.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Stitch in Time

Day 2 Morning

Collaborative post with @sail3695

---

Good day, so far.

She slept like a babe in arms. This mornin’ she give Cap’n the news Ms. Wyman decided to stay on fer the next run. In return, Cap’n paid out her share from the fish haul, a nice lump ‘o’ coin jinglin’ in ‘er pocket. Abby promised herself she’d put some aside this time…start savin’ up…fer what, she didn’t know. Aunt Lupe weren’t no help on that’n. Jest the same, she’d git in the habit.

Mornin’ chores was done, light work since it’s just laundry an’ cleanin’ the room what the Perfessor used. She couldn’t ride the chair yet, seein’s they didn’t know where they’s goin’. Rumor said Cap’n had a line on a job. He an’ Pen was gon’ scope it out this afternoon. Perfect time fer Abby tah slip off tah find a pair ‘o’ them Wailin’ Yutes Isaac spoke well of.

Well, mebbe after she mopped the upper deck…first thing’s first. Time fer her stitches tah be pulled. Abby’s all kindsa careful with ’em, keepin’ tha area dry an’ clean, takin’ sink baths an’ only stickin’ ‘er head ‘neath the shower jets tah wash ‘er hair. She weren’t sore no more, an’ the limpin’ done ceased altogether. But them stitches give ‘er a powerful itch now and agin. She kep ‘er hands off, but sometimes when folk weren’t lookin, she’d run ‘er backside up an’ down a wall, trick she learned from a capture showin’ a bear backscratchin’ on a tree trunk.

She went by the passenger lounge on her way to medbay, an’ her orchid drawin’. Think I’ll leave it fer a spell, Abby smiled tah herself as she stopped to knock. “Mornin, Doc?” she asked. Think I can get muh stitches yanked out tahday?”

Alana peered over her shoulder with an arched brow at the unexpected visitor. She swiveled around to face Abby once the face matched the voice as she had been too distracted to recognize her initially. "Morning, Abby. Come on in and let's have a look," she added with a smile as she got to her feet to gather some supplies. Alana figured given the number of days and the size of the wound, there shouldn't be any concerns removing the stitches.

"Let's have you changed up, shall we?" She handed a paper gown to the girl, then started heading for the exit. "I'll be just outside, let me know when you're done."

Abby never conjured doctors an’ their ways. She figgered her denims an’ unders was like tah drop round her ankles as she bent over tha exam table tah get them stitches snipped. But now she’s strippin’ everthin’ off fer one ‘o’ them open backed gowns. Uncle Bob used tah say “they do all kindsa stuff tah raise tha bill,” but that didn’t make no sense now. With a shrug, the girl yanked it all off.

Somethin else she found funny was ‘er own modesty. The ‘buck nekkid’ part didn’t ruffle her a’tall. Doc already seen ‘er an they both had girl parts. But when she caught herself tuckin’ her unders away, Abby chuckled over such foolishness. After all, she’s perty certain the doc seen them afore, too.

Soon’s she got the gown on proper, Abby called out fer Alana. “All ready, Doc!”

"All ready you are," Alana announced reentering the infirmary. "Thought you might be a tinge more comfortable despite the already simple procedure. Up you go, same spot as before."

After locking the med bay doors to allow their privacy, Alana went on to ease the girl's mind in case she held any concerns for whatever reason. "You'll be in and out quick, and you'll be itching a lot less if that was bothering you before. I trust you kept warm for most of the ride?" The doctor went on to collect a suture removal kit as well as some additional gauze reserved for possible bleeding. Sometimes the wound site wasn't closed all the way despite looking otherwise. After placing the items within arm's reach near Abby, she began gloving up.

Abby hopped onta the table, lyin’ on ‘er stomach an’ propped up on ‘er elbows. “Spot did itch a might, but I kept from scratchin’ at it,” she said. The deckhand give a nod tah the doc’s next question. “Spent part ‘o’ tha night in the Skyes’ shuttle. Rest ‘o’ the time I’s down here with the passengers. Got tah help that scientist…Perfessor Marquina? Kept warm by keepin’ muhself movin’ all night.” She glanced over her shoulder. “How bout yew?”

“Oh you know, just looking after our patient. The shuttle was warm so I was warm,” she smiled, working her hand into each latex glove and flexing her fingers in to get the comfortable, tight fit. “Ain’t done much other than that, but the warm clothes sure worked wonders.” Alana then shone a light over Abby’s behind, examining the stitches. “This is looking good, I say we can proceed with no issue. The captain didn’t work you too hard, right? I’ll get on his case if he didn’t let you get the proper amount of rest."

The girl shook ‘er head. “Cap’n always treats me right,” she said. “Got plenty rest….’cept fer tha cold run. Made up fer it last night…I’s out like a light afore twenty-one hunnerd.”

"Happy to hear, looks like I won't have to chastise him after all..." As Alana went on, she reached for the solution to clean the wound prior to the suture removal. "But ya know, I did hear from a little birdie—and it wasn't Rex's—that you snuck off on one of those nights you were supposed to be resting." Despite no distinctive tone behind the statement, Alana was smiling slightly as she was going about teasing Abby.

When she might ruminate on this sometime later, Abby’d conjure it was good she’s layin’ on ‘er stomach so the Doc couldn’t see her face go all flushy. “Um….uh,” she stammered, her mouth hung open. Who’s the birdie? Pen? Most like, no. She conjured the pilot’s a good one fer keepin’ secrets. The Cap’n? Yeah, that one had a ring. Word’s floatin’ ‘round that the Cap’n an’ the Doc was thick as thieves of late. Pillow talk? she pondered. Didn’t matter now. Her super spy sensei said perty much same’s she’s thinkin’.

”Honesty is the best policy, but only when served in bite sized chunks.”

Cap’n knew ever’thin’, and he knocked her house ‘o’ cards right down. Question was, how much did ‘e tell the doc? She’s gon’ have tah white knuckle ‘er way through this’un…

Abby took a breath, tryin’ tah stop herself from tensin’ up. “Wouldn’t call it…well…um…yes, ma’am,” she finally give in.

The poor girl...Abby was all but shaking right where she lay, stuttering her words as if she'd been caught red-handed, which in a way she had. Alana opened the package containing the smaller pair of forceps and scissors, setting those up to remove the first suture.

"The way I conjured, you either went out for business or pleasure. Seeing as the mighty captain refrained from assigning you any labor as to not disturb the most critical phase of your recovery, then it's safe to assume you were out for pleasure..."

Alana was mostly speaking the truth with her statement, though Abby could have been out for any one number of reasons. Of course, the fun was in dragging a confession out of her.

“It sorta become both,” the teenager ‘fessed up. “But I’s off muh feet jest ‘bout tha whole night…’cept fer when I’s puttin’ on clothes…” She stopped. Don’t think that coulda sounded no worse, Abby chided ‘erself. “Needed new denims…an’ unders…” she stammered. This is why Cap’n makes air quotes when he says I’m goin’ clothes shoppin’, she thought.

The sharp edges practically hugged either side of the suture prior to her actually cutting it. Alana turned to stare at Abby, mildly shocked by her bold statement. Of course, the excuse which followed was none the better. “Hey, I’m no one to question how you spend your time off. We all get the same urge...that’s what makes us human.” Alana resumed her work, pulling the thread aside before moving on the next. “I took some courses in women’s health, if ya ever have one of those questions...”

Alana went about the conversation casually, but inside she was beaming with pride as if Abby was her own blood. No girl at such a young age as hers should work away their youth without a little bit of fun here and there.

Questions was all Abby had. She’s positive ‘er face had tah be beat red jest now. Girl near bit ‘er tongue tah keep from blurtin’ out the truth she ain’ never done…it. Now they’s more folk think she’s out sewin’ oats ain’t yet growed…but wait. Mebbe…mebbe…

”Let them leap to their own conclusions. When you’re a spy, the misperceptions of those around you can be your greatest asset.”

But she weren’t no spy. Might never cross paths with Browncoats agin’. And the only fella she conjured bein’ with in that way was back on New Melbourne with jest one ‘o’ her kisses on his lips. Could make a body right frustrated, it could.

“Um…” she swallowed. “Thank yew, doc.” Best not tah keep runnin’ her mouth, afore she talks ‘erself right inta trouble.

"Anytime, Abby. I'm only looking out for you is all...us girls gotta stick together in the big nothingness out there." She cut another suture, and was just about done clearing them out at that point. Of course, the most critical lesson had yet to be communicated, despite it piling on to her patient's embarrassment. "Just remember next time you've got an itch to scratch, don't go sneaking out of the Doll while you've been given the order to rest. Promise?"

“Promise,” Abby nodded. She turned ‘er head tah look back over her shoulder. “An’ I’m powerful sorry. Truly I am.”

“No need to go feeling sorry for a thing...I was simply making sure you’d heal up nicely. Judging by how easy these are coming off, I’d say the mission was achieved.”

Alana cut and removed the last small piece, pausing for a second to look at the result. Sure, her bum was a bit red, but that was normal.

No pain. Abby felt the doc’s touch. Her fingers was warm enough, but the snippers she used raised goosebumps as they worked. A few tugs, an’ suddenly it was all over. “I feel fine,” she agreed. “Stopped limpin’ an’ feelin’ sore that night in tha black.”

It’s then tha question come. She pondered askin’ it. Ain’t never one tah tip ‘er hat tah vanity afore, but…things changed since New Melbourne. Still, with folk thinkin’ she’s out tomcattin’ ever’ Thomas, Dick’ an’ Harry while they’s in port, she worried that just askin’ might spark more knowin’ smiles an’ air quotes ‘bout her doin’s. The spy game was fun, but now she’s…

”Sometimes, a bad reputation can be a good thing.”

That give ‘er somethin’ new tah chew on, not tah mention conjurin’ jest how silly she’s bein’ over such a little worry. A smile crept onta her face as a song she liked just kinda locked ruth inta part ‘o’ her brain.

Hider

With them two votes behind ‘er, Abby cleared ‘er throat an’ spoke up. “Hey doc,” she said. “Cap’n says I might have a scar. Will it stop me wearin’ a bikini?”

She let escape an involuntarily chuckle at the girl’s question. “The captain says a lot of things...” Alana added with a subtle eye roll and head shake, that which was accompanied with a half-smile knowing Cal was the type to say such things. “You’ll be fine wearing a bikini... In fact, a scar will draw the attention of the boys to your pi gu, and now you have an awesome story to tell!”

Her enthusiasm carried over into giving Abby's cheek one last wipe to make it free of sutures or debris. "You're all set... Now you're ready to finally get that tan."

Abby thought on that fer a spell. She ain’t ever wore a bikini. Never had much call to. But she never knew when Cap’n might land ‘em a run back tah New Melbourne. Thomas…she didn’t even know if he’d wanna see her done up like that. But it weren’t til she commenced thinkin’ ‘bout him that she ever give much thought tah her looks. “Shiny,” the girl furrowed ‘er brow as new thoughts crossed. “Thank yew, Doc. Might git out an’ get tha tan right while we’re here.” She sat up on tha table afore droppin’ tah her feet. “But first? I’m takin’ a long, hot shower!”

Looks like Abby wasn't all work and no play after all. Alana was glad for the girl, getting herself a little R & R would do her good, whenever that was to happen. Maybe she would tag along too and keep her company. "Well, go on and wash up now, I'll leave you to change then come back and tidy up later. See you around!"

And with that, she left Abby to her own devices as she went off to the galley to grab a snack, tossing the gloves on the way out and closing the door behind her.