~21~ to ~31~

    ~21a~

        "No. I'm staying with you."

        "Shah muh? (What?)" the captain uttered. "Are ya outta yer blazin' brain? Yer gonna get yerself hurt!"

        "Look, Uncle Jake," the girl stood defiantly. "If you hadn't noticed, I've grown up. I can take care of myself."

        Loosening his grip on her shoulders, the captain took a deep breath and looked into her large auburn eyes. "Miriam, I'm gonna tell ya one more time--"

        "You're not my father."

        Like a shot through his heart, Jayman staggered at her slicing words, let her go, and turned away. "Yeah, 'cuz he's dead."

        After a guilty pause, Miriam muttered, "I-I'm sorry, Uncle Jake. I didn't mean--"

        "Forgit it, git outta 'ere." Moving to the sink, Jayman washed his hands, opened the mirrored cabinet door, pulled out an optical cartridge replacement, and closed the cabinet. "I says git!"

        Silently, Miriam left the money pouch on the bed, climbed up the ladder, and disappeared.

        Tossing his old black cap in the sink and staring blankly into the mirror, the captain sighed once more before focussing on his left eye. Inching closer at his reflection, he pressed the emerald-green iris twice with his fingertip, and as the deactivated cartridge released, he carefully slid the shiny cylinder out of his optical mechanism. Taking the recharged replacement between his fingers, he slid it into the empty slot until he heard the distinct click. Click. Tapping the green iris twice with his fingertip, he felt his biomechanical eye come back to life. Flickering momentarily. Flickering. And then clarity. Blinking at his reflection, he took another breath, this time a sigh of relief, as he welcomed the full-range return of his central vision, peripheral vision and depth perception.

        Jayman blinked once more. "That's bett'r."

        ~~~

        The officer waited several moments, before speaking again. "Zacharias Rubick! You have three seconds to come out peacefully! Or we will come in by force!"

        "1!...." The armored figures readied their sonic rifles.

        "2!...." The saloon customers pressed closer to the walls and floors.

    ~21b~

        Rubick fell to his knees and did a quick search of the nearest thug, thankfully coming up with a gun. He looked out the side window as the officer started counting and realized there were soldiers there too. He also realized that two was better than the four out front. Just after the count of two, he put three rounds in the closest man's forehead and a fourth through the second guard's teeth, then he grabbed the doc and jumped through the window, which reformed after their exit. He hauled the man up and they ran down behind the buildings as Rubick took out the guards who were approaching from that direction. Meanwhile, the rest of them, looked like eight more, charged around from the front with guns a blazin', but unfocused aim. One of them glanced his shoulder but he rolled through the fall and came up running. The two men tore off down an alley. Rubick shoved the Doc forward.

        "Go that way. I'm still alive in a few minutes, we can talk somemore."

        He pulled a thin wire out of his pocket and quickly set it up between the two buildings beside him, then dropped his beret just where it would be visible to the men chasing him. He grabbed onto the low edge of the nearest roof and thanked the merciful Buddha in the sky for old-style chinese architecture in the small-scale. He hauled himself up and stayed as low to the roof as possible to wait for the troops to show.

    ~22a~

        With two of his Alliance officers down in the afternoon sun, Squad Leader Vanderson was now in the middle of a highly dangerous situation. What started as a oddly mysterious yet simple accusation of grand larceny now turned into a full-blown charge of not only homicide, but multiple counts of homicide committed against federal officers. One of the highest crimes in the land. That stupid bastard Zacharias Rubick was going to pay and pay with his life.

        Assigning two officers to stay with him to secure the saloon area, he then instructed the remaining seven to hunt the perpetrator down. A slow death if possible, a quick death if necessary.

        ~~~

        "That's bett'r."

        Grabbing his cap and refastening it over his damp stubbly head, Captain Jayman turned, "Ain't that bett'r?" But he quickly remembered that he'd sent the teenaged girl away. On his bed, he noticed the coin bag left unopened and untaken. Gos se.

        Snatching the bag, he clambered up the ladder, down the hall, and down to the upper catwalk level.

        "Miriam!" his holler echoed across the cargo bay, despite his lack of breath. "Take yer cash!"

        But down below, the nineteen-year-old in red just ignored him as she slipped through the inner doors and headed down the ramp.

        ~~~

        As her soft bright eyes began to water, she hurried away from the old transport and down the same dusty roadway from which she came. In the growing distance and commotion behind her, she could barely hear Uncle Jake calling her.

        "Miriam! I'm sorry! Miriam!"

        But she kept her pace focussed and forward. Perhaps she wanted him to chase her. Perhaps she wanted to know that he cared. Cared for her not just as a little helpless girl but as a young woman as strong and stubborn as her late father, his best friend Kan-chiang.

        For a moment, she couldn't hear the small-sized shuttles or the mid-sized transports roaring through the atmo. For a moment, she couldn't hear the pedestrians chatting or the shoppers haggling or the beggars begging. For a moment, things seemed to blur.

        As she floated forward, everything seemed to fall quiet, to slow down, move in slow motion. Then suddenly--

        "Excuse me, miss. This area is temporarily restricted."

        Blinking away her tears, Miriam looked up. An Alliance officer.

        "Oh, uh, sorry..." And then she noticed the crowd that was gathering around the saloon. The saloon where she'd worked for months before Uncle Jake surprised her with an unexpected visit. "What's going on?"

        "There was a shooting incident."

        "But I work here!" Miriam blurted. Was her co-workers hurt? Her nice old boss? She frantically scanned the area, and through the crowd, she found what looked like two people on the ground, a tablecloth covering each body. "Run-tse duh FWO-tzoo! (Merciful buddha!) Are they dead?"

        ~~~

        In the dusty wind-blown alley, Officers Tanaka and Bradley followed the smaller figure down a narrow corridor between buildings. Closing in, Officer Petrovich closed the opposite end of the path, ahead of the figure.

        "Freeze!" Petrovich yelled as the three officers surrounded the man-in-green, their sonic rifles aimed. "Get down!"

        ~~~

        Along another littered alleyway, Officers Nichols and Wang stopped as they spotted a small black bag in the center of the small clearing. They approached the dark bag cautiously, sonic weapons ready. Was it a bag? A piece of cloth? A hat?

        With glances ahead and behind, nothing but the bag seemed out of place. In the mid-afternoon shadows between the buildings, they inched closer to the odd black cloth.

        With a nod from Wang, Nichols reached for the beret.

    ~22b~

        Releasing a satisfied grunt under his breath, the Doc pressed himself further into the dark corner he'd found. Watching the feds being very careful around the poor guy in another green coat elicited a small feeling of guilt, but he figured they'd release him (eventually) if he was innocent, and if he was guilty of something, then it was his fault that they caught him.

        Peering round the dustbins and other assorted garbage, he saw Rubick's beret lying in the middle of the alley. Not having seen what Rubick had set up, but assuming it was something spectacular, he made sure he was in some reasonable cover, then found a hole to peer through.

        Two feds, an asian and a caucasian, moved carefully down the alley. One of them, the caucasian, reached towards the beret...

    ~22c~

        Rubick waited for both feds' eyes to lock onto his beret, then, as the one in front reached for it, he grabbed a shingle and cast it down the alley where it shattered against the side of a building. Both men flattened against the wall, then, believing Rubick had just moved father down, started after him, almost immediately hitting the trip wire. He was about to open fire when his tripwire actually ripped out section of the opposite wall, which caused several higher sections to fall on the two soldiers. Silently he laughed at the shotty construction and stayed in his perch waiting for the rest to arrive.

    ~23a~

        "Yes... They're dead." With a grave nod at the girl, the officer softly added, "Two of the best men I've ever worked with."

        "I-I'm sorry." Eerily, the same words took Miriam back to her Uncle Jake's cabin only a few minutes ago. And she felt her brown eyes begin to water once more, this time with the weight and shadow of two dead officers. "I'm so sorry."

        Feeling herself about to cry, the girl welcomed the comforting arm that draped over her shoulders and the familiar voice that filtered into her ears.

        "Miriam," Uncle Jake breathed then turned to the officer. "Constable. Wha's wit' th' ruckus?"

        "A shooting incident."

        "Is tha' a fact?" the captain gasped, both eyes widening. "Mind if I asks ya who?"

        "Zacharias Rubick. And an accomplice, a smaller man in a shiny green coat. Would you happen to know them? Any information would be appreciated."

        As flabbergasted as chickens without their heads, the teenaged girl and her pseudo-uncle just stared at each other. His tongue stumbling, Jayman answered first. "Oh, ah, no-no. Nev'r 'eard of 'em. Are ya meanin' t' say them Rubick an' th' greencoat slay'd yer 'lliance buddies?"

        "Yes, sir."

        With considerable and purposeful effort, the captain held back his laughter and joy beneath a face of smiling composure. "Will ya be placin' any shiny bounties on their ruttin' 'eads?"

        With a suspicious eye, the officer replied, "Don't worry. We'll catch 'em first."

        ~~~

        "Please, people!" Vanderson called out as he set another ground flare around the saloon perimeter. "This area is restricted until further notice! Please, keep back!" Bystanders continued to chatter and stare at the pair of table-clothed bodies.

        As his blue-eyed glance fell upon one of his officers, then an attractive young brunette in a flowery red dress, then an odd Asian in a dusty black cap and jacket, the squad leader straightened up at the crackling sound of his radio communicator. Holding the little black box to his dark-bearded jaw, he thumbed the button down. "Vanderson here. Whattaya got?"

        A voice came through the static. "Sir, this is Petrovich. We have someone in custody. He may be the smaller man."

        "Very good. Escort him here." With his radio request, the ASREV or Alliance Short Range Enforcement Vessel would arrive shortly. "Anyone with you?"

        "Tanaka here," the communicator rattled. "And Bradley."

        Vanderson nodded. "Chen-Yi. Jackson. Find anything?"

        Another crackle. "Negative, sir. We're on the main street. Rubick may have hidden himself in the crowd."

        "Gorram gos se!" Vanderson hissed. "Nichols! Wang! Please tell me you have Rubick!"

        Nothing but static.

        "Nichols! Wang!"

    ~23b~

        "Rubick..."

        "Rubick, you there?"

        The Doc called out once more

        "Rubick, are you hurt?"

        "No, but he will be as soon as we get our hands on him. Now geddup"

        The Doc followed the command, and turned to see three scruffily dressed goons with an assortment of weapons pointed at his chest. He recognised one as some sort of pump-action shotgun, and the other two looked to be sub-machineguns.

        "Who the guay are you?"

        "Not the sort of people to be using language like that with. Where's Rubick?" As he said this, the smaller of the three men pulled the action on his gun, loading the chamber with what he probably thought was a threatening snick-snick.

        "Who?" said the Doc, feigning innocence. "I don't know anyone who goes by that name"

        The biggest of the three, the one with the shotgun, laughed oaffishly. "Den 'ow come you was callin' for 'im jus' now? I'm not stoopid, we all 'eard you."

        "Calm down, Bruiser" said the smaller one, who was looking increasing like the leader of the trio. "We're.. representatives... of a businesnman on this moon. Your friend Rubick has something that my employer desires."

        "So you've decided to try and take it from him again? I'd have thought you'd have got the message after he dealt with five of your buddies in the bar."

        "Ah no, my friend, you are mistaken. If I am correct, those were under the employ of Wei Fu-she's rival on this moon, Mr. Williams. He was the one who originally hired Mr. Rubick to retrieve this package, but my employer has decided that it would be less than beneficial if Mr Williams were to receive it. You will come with us, and tell us everything you know about Rubick and the package he was carrying." Turning to the two other goons, he gestured for them to pick him up.

        Bruiser and the other goon grabbed the Doc by his arms and started to haul him off. Deciding that his profession might be more usefully kept secret, he decided to remain quiet for now.

        As they dragged him off, an unsettling thought crossed his mind. Rubick had seemed nice enough, and he certainly owed the Doc for stitching up that head wound, but would he care? Would he try anything? Or would he do what the goon (Now named 'Little' in the Docs mind, the second was 'Large' and Bruiser completed the trio) had sneeringly suggested? The Doc fervently hoped that Rubick would do something, but on the other hand, some rescue plans wouldn't hurt...

    ~23c~

        Rubick slowly climbed down off the roof and checked the alley for more feds, but he seemed alone for the moment. He bent down and tried to find his beret, but it was buried somewhere under the rubble with the officer who picked it up. Suddenly he heard several men approaching from the direction of the saloon.

        "Tzao-gao! Yu bun duh huh choo-shung huh tza-jiao duh tzang-huo!"

        He quickly moved away from the site, careful to stay low and silent. As he got farther away from the saloon he began to look around for the doctor, but the man was nowhere to be found. He felt fairly sure the feds hadn't taken the man anywhere, which left only one possibility as far as he knew: Williams. Up ahead of him he saw the building Mr. Williams headquartered and he smiled.

    ~24a~

        "Don't worry. We'll catch 'em first."

        The captain raised a black eyebrow at the young Alliance officer. "Ya rightly sure 'bout that, Constable? This 'ere dirtball town ain't leapin' large but it gots lots o' li'l nooks an' crannies."

        "We'll catch him." The officer glanced at the teenaged girl then back at the Asian, before heading off to keep back the sea of onlookers. "Please, folks. Nothing to see here."

        ~~~

        Jayman turned to Miriam. "Come on. Ya 'eard th' man. Let's git."

        "But--"

        "Come on." Hobbling off with his near-limping stride, Jayman headed away as quickly as he could from the Rollin' River saloon, towards the center of town, this town called Winding Valley. When he didn't see Miriam beside him, he stopped to look back. "Ya ain't left any o' yer things back there, did ya?"

        Miriam shook her head.

        "Well, then. Let's git."

        "Where are we going?"

        "Yer flat," Jayman replied, his emerald biomechanical eye glinting in the warm afternoon sunlight. "We're pickin' up yer things b'fore we jet off this ruttin' moon. It's too bleedin' dangerous 'round 'ere."

        "We?" the girl gasped. "But I thought you didn't want--"

        "No mo' arguin'! Yer stayin' wi' me!"

        Miriam smiled brightly. She knew this would probably be the closest thing to "I love you" that her pseudo-uncle would ever tell her. But that was okay. After all, he was as close as a real family. And she loved him as much as any real uncle. Grasping her skirt hem once more, she chased after her Uncle Jake down the dirty street.

        ~~~

        Shiny! Jayman smiled quietly to himself as he hobbled along the roadway with Miriam by his side. Could be two blazin' bounties 'ere!

        True enough, while the captain was overjoyed with the possibility of grabbing two bounties -- an enlarged bounty for Lun-kuai and a whopping full-blown bounty for Rubick -- there were still a bunch of bumps along the way.

        First, his bounties assumed that the Alliance feds couldn't find and catch the criminals before he did. Second, even if the feds couldn't catch them, it could well be several days before the new and updated bounties would be issued. Third, he couldn't wait around this dirtball moon for several days. It was too bleeding dangerous. Not for himself necessarily, but for a teenaged girl.

        He quickly glanced at Miriam then turned his mismatched eyes toward the busy path ahead.

        ~~~

        "Nichols! Wang!"

        "Gorram gos se!" Cursing yet again, Squad Leader Vanderson had now lost a total of four officers -- two dead and another two out-of-contact. Leaving him with fewer and fewer options, the bearded blue-eyed leader formulated a new plan of attack and grabbed his radio. "Petrovich! Bring your captive here pronto! Tanaka. Bradley. Chen-Yi. Jackson. Head for the spaceport. If that ruttin' gorilla had any brains, he'll try to leave the moon before our reinforcements get here!"

        All four voices crackled back through the static. "Yes, sir!"

        Vanderson jammed the radio back in his outer pocket. The ASREV and its secondary squad would have already left the nearby planet by now and would get here in minutes. He doubted Rubick would leave in time to escape this moon. And stuck here, Rubick would have to face the full wrath of two squads and a fully-armed ASREV.

        Unless Rubick had other friends around here. Very good friends.

    ~25a~

        "Petrovich! Bring your captive here pronto! Tanaka. Bradley. Chen-Yi. Jackson. Head for the spaceport. If that ruttin' gorilla had any brains, he'll try to leave the moon before our reinforcements get here!"

        All four voices crackled back through the static. "Yes, sir!"

        "Hahahahaha!" the emaciated crime boss guffawed as he clicked off his dusty and staticky personal radio receiver. Besides a peaceful afternoon in his comfortable leather chair, reading his motion-active newspaper and sipping his cup of green tea, Mr. Williams loved three things. First, his long-distance daughter who lived somewhere in the Core Systems. Second, his nefarious little collection of hand-picked ruffians. And third, the rickety radio receiver that sat on his desk, almost always tuned to the amusing local sheriff or Alliance communications within this little town.

        After all, information was part of his business. And to that end, armed with the crumbs of valuable information that happened to drop into his fingers, Mr. Williams had hired the mercenary Zacharias Rubick as an occasional smuggler and messenger. But that was several jobs ago. More recently, Rubick had become a rutting nuisance and a liability.

        Early on, the mercenary made it clear that he didn't care about the size of his payment. Now, all of a sudden, he insisted on 40 credits (about $1000 USD) for the delivery rather than a more rightly 25 credits (about $625 USD). Why suddenly did he care? Something wasn't right. Something that changed Rubick's mind. Sure, Mr. Williams also changed his mind, but he was the boss. And if you weren't the boss, well, changing your mind was dangerous. Deadly dangerous.

        With a few exaggerated words in the right boredom-bogged ears, a federal squad came knocking on Rubick's door with Othello's fabricated accusation of grand larceny and the ratlike Weasel's full description of Rubick. Mr. Williams gambled that Rubick had a darker past than he revealed. And lo and behold, he won that gamble! Not only did he run, but Rubick publicly added two counts of homicide against federal officers!

        "Hahahahaha!" he laughed again, enjoying the beauty of this new twist. Rubick was a gorilla on the run. Not only from the feds, but in a matter of days, his bounty could be broad-waved throughout the cortex, bringing every in-bred bounty hunter with half-a-nut out of the woodworks after him.

        "Oh my, Othello!" the boss calmed down. "You did very well indeed!"

        "Yes, Mr. Williams."

        And yet a darkness passed over the gang leader's wrinkled face. He didn't forget his package. No, he didn't forget it at all.

        And one more thing. Who was Rubick's little partner?

        ~~~

        "Is this him, then?" the squad leader eyed the little figure in the dusty green coat.

        Petrovich nodded. "Yes, sir. We found him scurrying down one of the alleys. Seems to be the greencoat that--"

        But Vanderson raised a hand to cut off his officer. He was skeptical. Cowering before him, the scuffy bearded bum didn't seem like one to jump out of a saloon window. On top of that, his gray eyes seemed oddly blank while his flea-ridden head turned to and fro, back and forth, as sure as a clock's pendulum.

        "State your name!" Vanderson ordered the bum.

        "Uh, state, sir? Oh, uh, um, state o' Nebraska, eh? Did me gets it right?"

        "What the--?" Vanderson looked at Petrovich then suddenly realized. Raising an index finger, the leader swung it back and forth past the pendulum bum's staring blank eyes. And his suspicions were confirmed. This sorry bum was blind or damn near blind. Probably hard of harding to boot. This pathetic soul was dealt a bad hand in life and probably didn't even realize he got accidentally caught up in this manhunt.

        "Nebraska!" the leader raised his voice. "You're right, sir! You're free to go! Sorry to bother you!"

        "Wha? Me's right? Thanky, sir! Never wons nothin' b'fore!"

        Vanderson whispered to Petrovich. "This ain't the greencoat. Just some bum. Now get to the port with the others."

        "Yes, sir."

        As the officer dashed down the roadway, the leader cursed to himself. Gos se. Gonna be one of them blasted gorram days.

    ~25b~

        Rubick backed into an alley as he saw four men exit the building and head across town to the spaceport. After they had gone he walked over to the entrance and quickly slipped inside. He stopped as he saw a man look at him in a rather annoyed manner.

        "This architecture is just fantastic," he said casually. "Don't you just adore the style?"

        The goon rolled his eyes and stepped up to put an arm on Rubick's shoulder just as Rubick turned and smiled allowing the man to see his scars for the first time. His eyes widened in recognition as Rubick decked him flat with a single punch. He quickly dragged the limp thug into a dark corner and moved farther into the building.

        "Mr. Williams, my friend," he whispered under his breath, "you shouldn't have sent so many of your men away from home."

    ~26a~

        Captain Jayman stood up, fastened up his pants, belt, and gunbelt, then flushed the dinky toilet that accompanied his pseudo-niece's just-as-dinky one-room flat. Washing his hands in the yellowish slow-flow sink, he gazed at his reflection in the cracked mirror and blinked several times. The green eye was working fine so far. Thank th' 'verse fer tiny miracles!

        Unsticking the stuck wooden door and finally opening it, he uttered in his distinct Aussie twang, "Got yer b'longings?"

        "Almost, Uncle Jake."

        Kneeling by her weathered-and-worn mattress on the floor, Miriam had already changed out of her flowery-red waitress' dress, and looked spit-shiny in her blazing brown leather outfit: skirt-like shorts, knee-high boots, and a mid-length jacket. Her shoulder-length brown hair was tied up in a fetching ponytail. The sight struck him. Kan-chiang's little girl was dressed to fly, dressed to fight, maybe even dressed to kill.

        Packing and zipping up her last batch of belongings, she stood up with both fully-loaded backpacks, and handed one to Jayman. "Here. That's everything."

        "Ya sure?" the captain throw the pack over his shoulder and glanced around the flat one more time. The mattress, the tiny desk and chair, the tiny lamp and dirty doormat. "How 'bout th' lamp an' mat?"

        "Naaah," she shook her head, shouldering her own pack. "They came with the place. Don't care for 'em."

        "Right, then," he nodded to her.

        She smiled, "Let's jet!"

        ~~~

        WHOOSH!

        Squad Leader Vanderson glanced up at the signature roar of the Alliance Short Range Enforcement Vessel as it shot through the atmo, decelerated into view, and began its landing procedure at the spaceport several blocks away. If the Christobal station down on Columbia was smart, it would've loaded a four-wheeled all-terrian bike or two onto the ASREV. But out here, smarts seemed to be few and far between.

        "Petrovich! Tanaka!" he barked into his radio. "Anything?"

        The crackle of static. "No, sir."

        So far, no sign of Rubick. Including himself, he still had eight man up and about. Another dozen men was better than nothing. And an ASREV was even better than that. Maybe, just maybe, he could do his job after all.

        As his blue eyes scanned and sifted for signs beyond this crowd, he scratched the itch beneath his beard.

        ~~~

        The first Asian smiled at his fellow guard.

        The second Asian guard scratched his chin in thought.

        Outside Mr. Williams' private office, in the long but low run-down warehouse, the pair of long-haired Asians sat on small crates as they played six-way Chinese Checkers on an even larger crate. The second one finally made his move.

        "Ai ya! (Damn!)" the first one blurted.

        The second one laughed. "Thank you very much!"

        Meanwhile, the little rat man named Weasel had tired of the Asians and their childish games. He walked down the length of the long warehouse to the other end. With a single door, he left the warehouse and returned to his beloved antique shop. In fact, Weasel's antique shop not only served as the literal front of Mr. Williams' property, but also as the legitimate front of Mr. Williams' less-than-legitimate business.

        Weasel paused. With one more door, he could leave the shop's back office and enter the main shop and storefront. But instead, he stared at the shut door, sat down at his own cluttered desk and fell into pitiful depression. How did he ever get involved with Mr. Williams? How? Oh yeah, the property.

        Through his gloom, he vaguely heard a customer enter his little shop.

        At first, the voice was muffled. Then, "... fantasic. Don't you just adore the style?"

        Suddenly, Weasel shook at the terrifying sound of a scuffle -- Smack! Thud! -- just outside his office.

        "Oh Buddha!" the tiny man whimpered, crawled under his desk, and pulled the chair against himself. Hiding like a gutter rat in his rathole, he whispered, "Buddha, save me!"

    ~26b~

        Rubick was about to head farther back into the building when he realized there was a small noise coming from somewhere just behind the main store. Quietly, he set his ear against the door. From inside he heard someone whispering to Buddha. He put on his most terrifying grin and opened the door, but he didn't see anyone at first. He stepped in, softly shutting the door behind him and walked slowly to the desk. Then in one fast movement he reached around from the side of the desk and dragged a small man out from under it, quickly recognizing him.

        "Well if it isn't the weasel who started all this crap. What's your name, weasel?"

    ~27a~

        "Yeee-hawww!" hollered the twenty-six-year-old "Lucky" Yoshikawa as she floored her aluminum-framed sand buggy and soared through the air over the sand dunes. KER-THUNK! The big-wheeled buggy landed bouncily as the wind swept across her dusty goggles and whipped her black red-streaked pigtails. Through the exhilaration, she grunted in her unheard British accent, "Ouch."

        Streaking along the bumpy desert, Lucky gazed through her goggles at the awesome sight in the atmo. Two of the three moons of the planet Columbia. The smallest one, Nina to her left and the largest one, Santa Maria higher to her right, hanging like huge pearls in the sky-blue ocean.

        Quickly, her slender eyes spotted the small grouping of cacti approaching and swerved hard to meet them. Testing her reflexes, she weaved through them, taking a left around the first -- Swoosh! -- a right around the second -- Swish! -- and another left around the third -- Swoosh!

        "Ha-ha!" she laughed.

        As her buggy sped around, away from the barren expanse towards the outskirts of Christobal, kicking a high arc of sand behind her, her eyes suddenly caught a new object above the horizon.

        WHOOSH!

        "Wow," Lucky gasped in warm reminiscence as the object roared and rocketed skyward from the spaceport and then disappeared into the atmo. "A bonafide enforcement vessel. I'd give almost anything to fly those again."

        And her memory was interrupted by another speeding dune. "Wooo-hooo!"

        ~~~

        Static. "Petrovich! Tanaka!" Crackle. "Anything?" More static. "No, sir."

        Slowly and groggily, Alliance Officer Wang then Nichols emerged from the pile of building debris.

        "You alright?" The former helped the latter to his feet.

        "Yeah," Nichols shook the cobwebs from his brain. "Yeah, I'm okay."

        Nodding, Wang dusted himself off, pulled the radio box from his upper pocket, and thumbed the button down. "Sergeant, this is Wang."

        Static, then Vanderson's voice crackled through, "Wang! What happened to you and Nichols?"

        "Me and Nichols seemed to have stumbled into a little prank..."

        Sergeant Vanderson blurted, "Did you say 'prank'?"

        Sweeping the dirt off his uniform, Nichols paused, picked up the odd dust-covered cloth, and held it up to Wang. Wang recognized it and realized. Rubick's beret!

        "Yes, sir. A prank set by the killer. We found his beret, but we've lost Rubick."

        "Forget it!" the sergeant barked. "Bring the evidence back to the saloon. You and Nichols will cover the area while the local sheriff investigates the situation."

        "Yes, sir."

        ~~~

        "Well if it isn't the weasel who started all this crap. What's your name, weasel?"

        "Oh my Buddha!" the little man squeaked as he was pulled from under the desk. Then with a glance at the bigger man, his eyes shot wide open. "Rubick! Oh no! Please no! NO! HELP! HELP ME!"

        As Weasel's yelps carried through the door, over the few randomly scattered crates, to the other end of the long warehouse, the two long-haired guards looked at each other then spun their heads toward the antique shop's office.

    ~27b~

        Taking a deep drag from the cigar that rested between his chapped lips, Ethan Mance turned from his shop and prepared to begin his ritual. He took a moment before stepping off the small porch where he sat most of the day and hooked most of his customers from the passing school of pedestrians.

        As he moved onto the road to start the short journey to the spacedocks, the pain flared in his left knee. He shrugged it off. Pain he could tolerate. It was as much a part of the ritual as the yellow-orange glare of the sun, making him squint as it set just in front of him.

        He limped down the dusty road, thankful for the considerably reduced crowd of travelers. Things always quieted down as evening set in. Most shops were closing and people were either settled in their homes or boarding their ships and preparing to leave this moon for grander pastures. Regardless of the reduced crowd, Ethan still realized with humility how he must look to those he passed.

        A man in his early 30's, he was certain he looked significantly older. Though his muscles were toned, his frame was thin, almost scrawny. His eyes were a pale blue. Crows feet were evident at their edges. A scraggly beard covered the rest of his face.

        He had spent everyday of the last several years sitting in the sun on his shop's porch, peddling to passersby. The harsh rays had hardened his skin and darkened it to a deep tan. The sun had also managed to bleach his shaggy brown hair to a lighter color. The bulletwound in his knee kept him at a constant limp and the dusty cargo pants and jacket completed the picture. To all those who saw him, he was a beaten old veteran; a man who had never recovered from the War for Unification.

        S'pose that ain't far from the truth. He thought bitterly.

        Ethan considered this for a moment, then quickened his pace, making firmer steps with his wounded left leg.

        But, gorramit, I ain't gonna be helpless. I won't let them see my weakness. He bit his tongue to stifle a reaction to the throbbing pain in his knee. Ain't gonna be helpless!

       

    ~27c~

        "Rubick! Oh no! Please no! NO! HELP! HELP ME!"

        Rubick gave the minion a disapproving frown which might actually have been more disturbing than his smile.

        "Aw, come on, now, weasle. You should know this game. You want to survive, you don't make noise."

        A quick backhand knocked the little man unconscious as Rubick took up a position to wait for the remaining guards who would be arriving soon to find a comatose weasle in a seemingly empty room.

    ~28a~

        Passing the Rollin' River saloon, Miriam felt a pang of guilt at leaving her customers, coworkers, and friends for the past several (maybe half dozen) months, yet she also breathed a sigh of relief at fleeing from a scene of dead bodies, town investigators, curious onlookers, and federal eyes.

        "Come on," Uncle Jake urged. "Forgit 'em."

        Just a step behind in the descending sunlight, the teenaged girl nodded and strode onward with him down the roadway.

        ~~~

        The spaceport.

        "Hey, watch it!" Honk-honk! "How much is that?" Swoosh! "It's over here, honey!"

        The occasional hustle and bustle of Santa Maria moon's only spaceport, located along the edge of Winding Valley. A spaceport loosely organized into parallel docking layers, the first docking lot held a scattered row of smaller transports, including public atmo-cabbies and ferries to the planet below. The next lot further down held even fewer mid-sized transports. And the farthest, currently-empty lot held the larger and rarer transports, for terraform-maintenance shipments and the like. Of course, Alliance enforcement vessels, although mid-sized, could park wherever they found it convenient.

        Sweeping past the rivers of pedestrians, bicyclists and horseriders, past the riverbanks of spaceport storefronts, and past the occasionally drifting Alliance trooper, Captain Jayman and Miriam shouldered their full packs and waded their way to the mid-sized Firefly-class transport.

        The Rose. Of the 40,000 some odd Firefly-class transports roaming the verse, the Rose was an Aught-Three Model, the third and last Firefly production design. Some of the Aught-Three design improvements over earlier models included extenders for its twin rotating ion jets, two shuttle bays, as well as a longer neck and body structure. Personal modifications made by the late Kan-chiang (with Jayman's help) included an airlocked and ladder-accessible gun turret built into the dorsal hull, cutting the size of the dining area but providing an advantageous onboard weapon.

        As the Asian captain lumbered up the ramp, his young pseudo-niece took one last look behind her. Her moon. Her town. Her home for a good chunk of her life. But like her pseudo-uncle said, it was "too bleedin' dangerous 'round 'ere."

        She shook her head and smiled. Yeah, right. As if tagging along with her bounty-hunting uncle was any safer.

        The captain keyed in his multi-digit security code, punched the big green 'Open' button, and stood in thought as the humming inner doors slid apart. He looked up at her, "Sumthin' funny?"

        "Nope," Miriam replied as the same offensive odor drifted out from the cargo bay. "Well, now that you mention it..." And holding her nose, she slipped through the doors.

        With momentary confusion across his mismatched eyes, the captain sniffed nothing unusual, blinked and followed her inside.

        ~~~

        Like acrobatic cats, the Asian guards leapt from their peaceful game, their long hair fluttering through the air. One retreated to Mr. Williams' private office to knock a quick pattern on the door, while the other grabbed his weapon and proceeded swiftly through the warehouse towards the antique shop. When the first one stepped quietly within a half-dozen feet of the antique office door, the second one soon joined him with his own weapon, hanging back another half-dozen feet behind a random crate.

        Assuming that the now-silent Weasel was either unconscious or dead, the just-as-silent guards waited with hardly a breath, for the intruder to continue his way inside...

    ~28b~

        Ethan made his way into the first of the three lots at the spaceport and stopped. He stood for a moment and breathed deeply, taking in the sights, the sounds, even the smells of Winding Valley Docks. He truly loved it here.

        It wasn't the hustling travelers, the mangy vendors, or the ever-watchful Alliance officers. What drew him hear night after night, what made him make the ritual walk after his store was closed and the sun began to set was simply the ships. They always reminded him of a better time. A time before the war when he had traveled between systems and been part of a family.

        This was his favorite time of day to be at the docks also. When visitors had completed their business and were on their way out (so as not to have to spend the night on this God-forsaken moon). People everywhere were loading up and taking off in their various vessels. When their engines fired up, the warm air that passed through them carressed Ethan's skin, passed through his nostrils, and filled his heart with the sweet sadness known as nostalgia.

        For the most part, though, his favorite activity was naming the type of ships he saw, all the while looking for one type in particular. Not in the first lot though, where he now stood. Here there were only atmo-ships and small ferries. The latter he often used himself when making a supply run to Columbia. He passed through this lot and into the next. The real treats were always here. As they came into sight, he named the mid-sized ships in his head.

        Then he came to one that made his heart race. The type of ship he always kept his eye out for but seldom ever saw. A Firefly. He quickened his pace to bring himself closer to it. As he drew nearer, he observed that it was an Aught-Three. Just like ours. He also observed two people climbing the platform into the airlock. A burly man and a younger woman. They seemed to be deep in conversation as they boarded.

        Ethan watched as the man opened the inner door and the woman stepped into the cargo bay almost out of sight. The man hung back for a moment before stepping through the doors himself. Ethan realized that these two were the Firefly's only current passengers. Both stood for a moment at the front of the cargo bay, seeming to still be engaged in conversation. In a moment, Ethan knew the man would close the doors to his ship and begin his ascent into the air, leaving him to witness the majesty of a Firefly take-off. He knew that it would be a sweet sight indeed, but all of a sudden he knew he didn't care to see it. In a moment, those doors would close and the Firefly would be gone forever. He couldn't let that happen.

        "Hey!" he heard a voice shout. He was surprised when he realized it was his own.

        "Hey folks!" He shouted to the man and woman as he actually began to run towards their ship, his arms waving, his leg somehow not pained.

        The hell am I doing? He had time to think before arriving at the loading platform of the Firefly.

    ~28c~

        With a groan of protest, Dr Andrew Lun-Kuai awoke. He tried to lift his head, but no sooner than it had started to move, the room span round and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

        With a groan of protest, Dr Andrew Lun-Kuai awoke. Slightly more wary this time, he slowly moved his eyes around the room, taking in his surroundings. He was lying on a dirt floor in a dusty room. What little light there was seemed to be coming from a small window set high up in one of the walls. Feeling slightly better, he slowly tried to lift himself up. This time, his head only swam slightly, and he was able to lean himself against the side of the bed that was in the corner.

        "Now, why couldn't they have dumped me on the bed?" He asked the air. Thinking over what had happened, he tried to peice together how he had got into his current situation.

        He remembered Rubick's trap with his beret, and remembered getting caught by Little, Large and Bruiser. After that, they had taken him to a largish-looking building a few blocks away. There he had been introduced to Wei Fu-She, Mr William's enigmatic rival. On the surface he was a genial man, with a dry sense of humour. He was also very intelligent, and had a good idea about what was going on almost everywhere on 'his moon.

        After a relatively pleasant introduction, however, things had turned a bit nasty. Littl had stayed with Fu-She, while Large and Bruiser had taken him into the back of the building. There they had asked him questions about Rubick and his mysterious package. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to believe that the doc had only met the mercenary that very day, so they had decided to confirm it. True to his nature, Wei Fu-She had not bothered with pain or the other traditional methods of torture. Instead, he had injected the doc with a more effective derivative of Sodium Pentathol, more commonly known as a truth serum. That, however, was a misnomer. It does not force someone to tell the truth. It just gives them no reason to lie.

        Presumably, he had confrmed under the pentathol what he had said earlier. Now he recognised his spinning, aching head as an after-effect of the drug. Remembering back to his text-books, he recalled that common after effects included nauseas and vomitting (thankfully, none of that yet...), headache (yes, definately), drowsyness (perhaps, but it was wearing off) and dizzyness (most certainly). He shook his head again experimentally. Still a bit groggy, but not nearly as bad as when he woke up.

        Right, now onto more important things... What am I going to do?

        He Picked himself up and had another look at his cell. One bed, no toilet, one small window, one door. He tried the door handle. It rattled, but did not open. Next he tried the window. Dragging the bed over, he stood on it and looked out of the window. It looked onto an alleyway much like the one he had been captured in. There were two children a bit further down, playing with a ball. He tested the bars in the windows. Firm. He wasn't getting out that way any time soon...

        The lock in the door suddenly snicked and in came Bruiser

        "Oi, don't be finkin' about gettin' out froo dat window"

        "Don't worry about that, I have no plans for escaping. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. I was just admiring the view"

        Acepting the sarcasm at face value Bruiser motioned to the door.

        "The boss wants a word with you."

        Walking own the corridor,the Doc kept his eyes open for any possible escape route. None sprang to mind.

        "Ah, Doctor, come in. Have a seat"

        Deciding that no harm came from being polite, the Doc accepted the seat, and a mug of strong coffee.

        "It seems you were telling the truth. My apologies that my associates were forced to go to such lengths to determine that."

        "Well, I guess most of your 'guests' are a bit more secretive."

        "Indeed they are. Now, on to more important matters. I have a proposition for you, Doctor. As you are aware, I am very interested in obtaining a package that is currently in the hands of Mr Rubick. I am willing to let you go if, at the first opportunity, you find Mr Rubick and get me that package."

        "And if I don't want to do that?"

        "Well," replied Wei Fu-She, "you would remain my guest indefinately. Or, I could choose to make a quick profit and hand you over to the Federal Squad that is currently lurking in my town. There's quite a bounty out on you, Doctor."

        The doc thought about it quickly, his head spinning. Bounty? What had he done that deserved a bounty? Confused, he took a sip of his coffee to cover the pause. As he saw it, there were three options. One, he stays here. Not good. Two, he takes up the offer. Possible, but it would involve betraying someone who, although he'd only just met, he'd come to like. Besides, the doc frowned on betrayal of any sort. Three, he pretends to take up the offer, and gets out of town as soon as possible, with or without Rubick. Yes, that would be betraying Wei Fu-She, but the docs scruples went only as far as his patients, not gang bosses who kidnapped and tortured for fun.

        "I have no idea where this bounty came from, but I'm not willing to risk it. I'll take you up on your offer. How will I contact you?"

        Wei Fu-She gave him the details of a secure comline and graciously helped the doc back into his dusty dark green coat.

        "Good luck" he said. "Oh, and in case you're thinking of running, I added a little something into the mix of the truth serum. If you don't return in five days to receive the antidote, you will spend the following three days dying in agony. Just a thought..."

        "Fine," replied the doc "Not a problem"

        As he walked away, looking for the spaceport, he found himself amazed at the gang boss's shortsightedness. He'd told the doc almoat exactly what the poison was. Five days to come into effect, yet reversable quickly. Three days to die in agony pointed towards acute liver failure, and in combination with sodium pentathol. There were only two drugs that could fit the profile, and both of them had the same antidote. It was expensive, but relatively easy to get hold of.

        As he turned onto the spaceport, he saw (or rather, heard) a man hollering at a firefly-class ship. The doc picked up the pace. Perhaps, he thought, they were taking on passengers... Jogging up towards the ship, he waited to see if the occupants would emerge...

    ~28d~

        Rubick waited in the room for the men to investigate their flunkies cries, but after several minutes he had to admit, much to his annoyance, that they weren't dumb enough to charge in after him. He could picture them now at the far end of the building waiting for him, right between him and his objective.

        "Well," he muttered under his breath, "if one of us doesn't rutting move soon the building'll decay around our ears."

        He stood slowly and crept to the door of the office. He pressed his ear against it, but heard nothing. Finally, he stepped to the side and reached down to the handle, slowly turning it. He felt the latch open and the door slid slowly away from him.

    ~29a~

        ~Planet Columbia~

        Parking her sand buggy on one of the higher dunes, Lucky enjoyed the high-noon view overlooking the hazy sprawl of Christobal, the largest town on the planet. Her dark eyes protected by her mirrored goggles, she unfastened her vest, sprayed herself with a generic sunscreen, and reclined her seat to stretch her bare legs, rest her boots out on the dashboard, and let the Desertina sunlight soak into her smooth Japanese features.

        "Ah," she sighed peacefully, arms folded behind her high pigtails. "If it could always be like this..."

        Before the Universal Civil War began, Lucky had been a bright-eyed student at one of the best private high schools in the Core Planets, pursuing her dream of aeronautical and astronautical design. Her mom Motoko Yoshikawa had been a software tech manager for one of the more respected corporations in the Alliance; its biggest client was the ubiquitous Blue Sun company. Meanwhile, her dad Noboru Yoshikawa had been a lieutenant then captain in the OPPF (Osiris Planetary Police Force) before leaving and starting up his own private security business. With their solid positions and credentials and reputations, her family lived quite well.

        Then the war began. She was only fifteen.

        While her mom understandably wanted Lucky to receive the best education the Alliance could offer, her dad understandably wanted her to attend a lesser but safer school closer to home. Then amidst the wartime anxiety, the domestic conflict magnified other conflicts and together it began to grow. Her parents fought over her, through her, in front of her. They fought over her future, about which she had very little say. They fought over every little thing, as if it was their future. As if one war wasn't enough.

        That was the beginning of the end.

        After the first year of Civil War, her dad finally gave up and left. Almost a year later, while her mom looked after her, something in her mom gave up and left, something in her broken heart. The day the divorce became official. Shortly thereafter, her mom was terminated from her software position, for declining performance and serious emotional issues. With rapidly dwindling funds plus her mom's unusually fragile state, Lucky had to make the toughest decision of her young life. Pursue her dream as her mom always taught her, or sacrifice her future to be with and care for her heartbroken mom.

        At age seventeen, Lucky took a gamble and chose the latter. She sacrificed her dream.

        For the next several years until the Civil War finally ended, as well as the next couple years after the war, Lucky was a girl without a diploma or degree or even a university to attend. Seeing school as a waste of time and money in her difficult situation, she struggled and sweated and found ways to earn some income while she urged her mom to stand up and fight back to regain and rebuild her broken life. And during those five years, she found other ways to fulfill her old adolescent dream, or versions of that dream.

        Sticking close to home, Lucky hung around the local spaceport, offering her dishwashing or shopkeeping or bookkeeping services to the docking-lot shops and vendors, anything close to the endless varieties of aeronautical and astronauticals designs that swooshed in and out of port. A few weeks at one shop, a few months at a diner. Meeting new people, learning new skills, seeing new ships. Another few weeks here, another few months somewhere else. More people, more skills, more ships. Until weeks and months turned into years. And over that time, she grew to admire and emulate and love the explorers and travellers from the far frontier.

        Eventually, at age twenty-two, her gamble began to pay off.

        Recovering from her five-year struggle with a devastating divorce and profound depression, Motoko Yoshikawa began to rebuild her life. She found a new software position in a smaller but rising company eager to tap into her skills and experience. She found the sense of self, strength and humor that she had lost. She found a new purpose in life without her husband. And she finally accepted it. Soon, Motoko was strong enough to realize that it was finally her daughter's turn to find a new purpose in her own life. After her loving sacrifice, Lucky finally deserved to follow a new dream.

        Within the next year, Lucky tearfully kissed her mom goodbye and with the little money and advice her mom could give her, she returned to the local spaceport. Exploiting her girlish looks and eccentric charm, she hitchhitched onboard the first decent transport she could find. And over the next three years, she hitchhiked from port to port, moon to moon, planet to planet, onboard as many different transports as she could, taking on odd maintenance jobs, seductively earning chances to flight-train on, even fly, many of them. During more desperate times with fewer choices, she stowed away onboard the larger ships wandering the farther regions of the Alliance. Other wilder times, she stole smaller atmo-transports to test her passionately growing flight skills.

        One unforgettable time, she was lucky enough to hook up with a cute Alliance pilot out on one of the desolate frontier worlds. Her best catch yet! The best year of her life! In fact, her proudest moment was flying his bonafide ASREV (Alliance Short Range Enforcement Vessel). Such speed and grace and power! Then sadly, he was transferred to the other side of the known verse.

        But now at age twenty-six, Lucky was as content as she had ever known. Always flying. And if she wasn't flying, she was driving. And if she wasn't driving, she was running on her own two feet.

        "Hmmm," she sighed once more, relaxing in her big-wheeled aluminum-framed dune buggy. Big-wheeled. Aluminum-framed. But stolen. By her. Should I return it? she thought briefly then grinned. "Naaah!"

        ~Moon Santa Maria~

        Officer Chen-Yi yawned as the surveyed the mid-sized docking lot of the Winding Valley spaceport. Not too long ago, the ASREV arrived and unloaded its squad of reinforcements. As the squad dispersed into town, he stuck to his orders and scanned the area for the killer fugitives: Zacharias Rubick. And an accomplice, a smaller man in a fancy green coat.

        Some 100 feet or so to his right, in the small-sized docking lot, his partner Jackson likewise surveyed the area. One group of people here, another group there.

        Suddenly, among the scattered pockets of pedestrians, maybe 100 or 150 feet away, he noticed a scrawny bearded man in cargo clothes running, waving and shouting "Hey!" after some old ship. Chen-Yi chuckled. Looks like someone forgot something!

        Then his radio crackled. "Chen-Yi, it's Jackson. Take a look at this."

        Chen-Yi looked up, saw his partner pointing, and turned to another running figure, maybe 200 or 250 feet away, rushing into the spaceport. A smaller, shorter, and thinner man in a long dark-green coat! With a signal, the two officers dashed toward the greencoat and in moments, they surrounded him.

        Jackson aimed his weapon first. "Freeze, greencoat! Identify yourself!"

        ~~~

        Following Miriam into the cargo bay, Captain Jayman smacked the big red 'Close' button on the interior controls.

        A distant shout drifted in from the outside, "Hey!"

        While the captain seemed to ignore it, the teenaged girl paused halfway up the steps.

        "Did you hear that?" she asked.

        The captain shook his head. "Nope."

        Then another closer and louder shout filtered in, "Hey folks!"

        Following her gut instincts, the girl dashed down the steps and headed for the doors. "I think they're calling for us. Keep it open."

        With a curious look, the captain pressed the big yellow "Pause" button. The doors froze at about three feet apart.

        With a hand leaning on each door, the youngster poked her head outside and quickly found a thin man with scraggly facial hair, approaching and waving at her.

        Smiling confusedly, Miriam put on her best waitressing face, "Can I help you?"

        ~~~

        Witnessing the door handle turn and the door open ever-so-slowly, the nearer guard stepped silently back and motioned to the second guard to stay low behind the crate and be prepared for anything.

        The first guard wanted to wait until the optimum moment. Besides, he wanted to know. Who would be so brave, or stupid, to attack Mr. Williams' lair?

    ~29b~

        Rubick held his breath as the door opened farther and farther, until, finally, it stopped. For several seconds nothing happened. There was no noise, no movement. These guards were good, certainly better than anything else Williams had. At least if there were guards there, they were good, but as he hadn't actually ever seen them, he could just be hugging the wall hiding from thin atmo like an idiot. He was reasonably certain they were there, though, so he wouldn't let that image bother him too much. But that still left the problem of what to do about them. Whoever made the first move was almost certainly dead, and despite all his attempts at provocation, they refused to move. He fingered his hunting knife in one hand, and the stolen gun in the other.

        "Rutting hell," He muttered, and swung himself into the doorway, immediately seeing two asians with a crossfire on him. "Go se!"

        He dropped to his knee and opened fire on the nearest one, flipping his blade to try and launch it at the furthest.

    ~29c~

        "Freeze, greencoat! Identify yourself!"

        Very carefully, the Doc raised his hands.

        "I'm a doctor, about to leave on..." He quickly looked around for inspiration, is eyes falling on a modified firefly "... that firefly over there. I'm starting a six-month attachment on a deep-space cruise ship, then a tour of duty with an Alliance Cruiser."

        "Yeah, right. Save it. Ident please!"

        "Ok, I'm going to get my ID out of my pocket"

        Very slowly, very carefully, he reached into an inside pocket. Retrieving his Ident card, he carefully pulled out his hand, and returned it to its raised position, still holding the ID. One of the feds moved forward, grabbed the card, and ran it through a scanner. Gambling that this bounty was either a figment of Wei Fu-She's imagination, or, more likely, a new thing that the feds hadn't caught on to yet, he listened closely for the strident beep that would ruin his day...

    ~29d~

        "Can I help you?" came the friendly voice of the girl.

        Ethan looked up at her smiling face, and was stunned at the good-nature of her expression. It was a kindof thing he didn't see often from people round here. He was also embarassed though, as he realized he didn't have a clue how to answer.

        "I--" He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come to him. How the hell was he supposed to explain why he had come running to them, screaming for their attention when he himself didn't know why he had done it.

        "I own a store with supplies." He finally managed weakly. "I think I can help you."

        The girl looked at him with what seemed like concern. She thinks I belong in a mental ward. He thought. Hell, who's to say I don't.

    ~30a~

        ~Planet Columbia~

        Lucky Yoshikawa daydreamed.

        She dreamed she was at the helm of her very own enforcement vessel, leather gloves gripping the steering handles, and dark eyes focussing on the streaking moonlit cityspace ahead. Licking her red lips, she felt the hum of the craft and the swoosh of the nightime atmo outside.

        Her planet. Her home planet. A brilliant core world. Her home.

        With a slight turn, her craft tilted and sliced between two closely-spaced skyscrapers. WHOOOSH! The familiar grav-forces gripped her petite frame. Coming out of the turn, she levelled the powerful craft. Then pulling the handles back, she threw the craft hard into a steep vertical ascent. SHREEESH! Suddenly, the furious flight of childhood violins from Vivaldi's Four Seasons -- the "Summer Storm" -- filled her ears. As the vessel vibrated between the thrust of the engines and the force of gravity, she pushed the engines harder and harder, higher and higher, the violins soaring faster and faster, her heart beating louder and louder. ROOOAAAR! Then suddenly--

        She cut the thrust.

        In moments, the craft decelerated, losing momentum, slower and slower, until, for a frozen instant, she floated within an unearthly feeling of peace and tranquility and serenity, before the craft began to fall back into the grasp of gravity. As the nose began to turn downward, she slammed the thrust before the ship could tumble out of her control. ROOOAAAR! And she sent the accelerating vessel and violins back down toward the planet.

        Shooting like a meteorite toward the evening city, Lucky closed her twinkling eyes and revelled in the racing and roaring rush of speed and flight. WHOOOSH! And as one glove strayed down below her waist, she smiled in utter pleasure.

        ~Moon Santa Maria~

        "Eee-aaahhh!" the Asian guard cried as he twisted away too late, the shot blasting into his shoulder as his deflected arm fired a bullet -- Brack! -- into the roof.

        Fortunately, by providing the distraction, the injured guard gave his hidden partner the opening he needed. Seeing the intruder-in-black's shining blade, the second guard dropped back down behind his crate and fired a series of sonic-rifle blasts into the opposite wall that bounced directly into the target's huge frame. With the comparable result of an old-style wire-taser weapon, the stunned target lost his balance and fell twitching onto the floor.

        Leaping over his bleeding partner to the large intruder, the second guard threw a solid rifle butt to the equally large head, and grinned as the nasty nuisance finally plunged into unconsciousness.

        ~~~

        As Officer Chen-Yi scanned the greencoat's ident card, Officer Jackson eyed the stranger suspiciously, his weapon still trained at his chest. An occasional passerby stared at the odd trio, then continued on his way. From the patio table of a dingy food vendor, several customers sat and gazed amusedly.

        Suddenly -- Beep! Beep! Beep! -- the scanner display flashed.

        "Lun-kuai, Andrew, Doctor," Chen-Yi began and when he read the bottom, his thin eyes widened. This stranger already had a warrant issued for his arrest!

        Chen-Yi continued, "By the authority of the Union of Allied Planets you are hereby bound by law!"

        [[Stunned, the stranger began to protest, "Shah muh? (What?) But my ship--"]]

        "Like I said," Jackson grunted. "Save it!"

        As Jackson yanked the short wiry doctor around to cuff his wrists behind his back, Chen-Yi pulled out his radio and thumbed the button down, "Sergeant, this is Chen-Yi!"

        The static crackled then, "Vanderson here. Whattaya got?"

        "We have the greencoat at the docks. Believe or not, he's a doctor. And he's already marked with a bounty!"

        "Is that right?" the voice chuckled. "That certainly matches the evidence left at the saloon -- Kssht -- Stay there, I'm sending a team over now -- Kssht -- Well-well, some of us may be getting promotions after all."

        ~~~

        "I own a store with supplies," he finally managed weakly. "I think I can help you."

        As the occasional chatter and whine of folks and motors passed by, Miriam silently set her wide auburn eyes upon the strange bearded man with his slight self-conscious stutter. Strange yet somehow harmless. Despite the stranger's weathered tan, she recognized the expression in his faded blue eyes. She'd seen it often enough in her customers at the saloon. Like a young man asking a girl out on a date for the first time. She wondered briefly, He doesn't know me from the saloon, does he?

        Bringing back her gentle smile, she replied, "Really?"

        Then trusting her instincts once more, the teenaged girl pushed herself through the sliding inner doors, stepped into the airlock, and leaned beside the airlock controls. She motioned to him to come up onto the loading ramp and asked in genuine interest. "What kind of supplies?"

        The stranger hesitantly stepped onto the ramp.

        Suddenly, a metallic sound -- Click! -- echoed from the cargo bay.

        His extended arm peeking beyond the inner doors, the shadowy Captain Jayman pointed his shiny silver-and-black handgun at the stranger's head. "Yeah, fella. Wha' manner o' goods ya carryin'?"

    ~30b~

        Rubick slowly opened his eyes to the sound of running water. The river passed by as it always did, without a care in the verse. He smiled at the familiar memory. Looking down into the water. He saw his reflection, scarless, smiling back. And then the claws from behind him dragging across his cheek forced him to his knees into the water. He flailed wildly for a second before -

        He stood on the bank over the bodies and gripped the toothy necklace so hard his palm began to bleed. The smell of the village burning on the across the forest filled his nostrils and the sight of the field filled with graves, puffing everywhere like demonic wombs, clouded his mind. Slowly he lit the match and watched it fall to the ground and saw the carpet of flame spread quietly over the monsters at his feet. As he stood in the glow of the fire, pressing against the dark night, he pressed a hand to his cheek, feeling his way across the wound with his fingers. He stared into the flames and felt the terror rising through him, but he refused to make a sound. Slowly, he fell back against a tree and sank to the ground.

    ~30c~

        As the feds manhandled the Doc around, cuffing his hands behind his back, and frisking him for weapons and removing the few bits of gear that had been overlooked by Wei Fu-She and his goons, Andrew Lun-Kuai reflected on how he'd got into this sorry situation. The meeting of the two mercenaries in the bar, the fight between Rubick and the thugs, and the arrival of the fed squad at the saloon. Why hadn't he stayed put instead of escaping out of the back with Rubick?

        One of the feds was gleefully reporting in. "We have the greencoat at the docks. Believe or not, he's a doctor, and he's already marked with a bounty!"

        "Is that right?" the voice on the other end of the radio chuckled. "That certainly matches the evidence left at the saloon -- Kssht -- Stay there, I'm sending a team over now -- Kssht -- Well-well, some of us may be getting promotions after all."

        He sighed, as reality came back to him. There was no way he would stay somewhere for the Feds to find him. Doctor or not, they had no respect for someone who stood up for what they believed in, even if it was just to defend his family and his town

        The memory of the raider's attack came back to him, and he pushed it away into the back of his mind, unwilling to open that box.

        The feds reinforcements arrived, and he was frogmarched at gunpoint behind a pile of cargo crates.

        With nothing else, the doc settled back agaisnt a crate and entered into his customary method for passing the time - brief naps (a skill picked up in hospitals) interspaced with recitals of anatomy...

        "Pronator teres, Flexor carpi radialis, Palmaris longus, Flexor carpi ulnaris..."

    ~30d~

        With a tender smile and a waving hand, the pretty young girl invited Ethan aboard. "What kind of supplies?"

        He could hear the sincerity in her voice and was somewhat baffled by her kindness.

        Nonetheless, he made his way onto the ramp, considering how to reply. He didn't have long to consider, though. A hard click made him whip his view away from the girl and toward it's origin. He found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol.

        "Yeah, fella. Wha' manner o' goods ya carryin'?" asked a large figure, cloaked in shadows and somehow more menacing than the gun he stood behind.

        His first thought was that he had been swindeled. These two were thieves who were looking for a way to steal from his shop from the beginning. Then, he saw the girl's surprised expression and realized that she hadn't seen this coming herself. After further consideration he realized the sheer ridiculousness of the notion, as it was he who had stopped them.

        Ethan stood for a moment frozen in fear. He was aware of the people in the space port passing behind him; all in a hurry, all heedless to the fact that a fellow man had a gun pointed at him. He attempted to answer the demanding figure but could only stutter. "I, uh, I don't... I-I just wanted to see-"

        Then, he stepped outside himself and heard his own stuttering, frightened voice. All of a sudden, he became weary of that voice. He decided he was done hearing it.

        It might have been the adrenaline, but Ethan was suddenly invigorated. He felt completely confident with himself for the first time since coming home from the war.

        He put on a toothy grin and chuckled toward the gunslinger. "Well, I was gonna say weapons, but it seems you're doin' jus' fine in that market."

    ~31a~

        ~Moon Santa Maria~

        Yes, Mr. Nathaniel Williams loved three things: His faraway daughter, his nearby gang, and his radio receiver. Under the watchful eye of his big-and-black bodyguard Othello, he leaned his frail form into his leather chair and enjoyed the continuing radio broadcast...

        "We have the greencoat at the docks -- Kssht -- Believe or not, he's a doctor -- Kssht -- And he's already marked with a bounty!"

        "Is that right?" the voice chuckled. "That certainly matches the evidence left at the saloon -- Kssht -- Stay there, I'm sending a team over now -- Kssht -- Well-well, some of us may be getting promotions after all."

        The crime boss cackled at his bodyguard, "Haha! So his little partner is a doctor, eh?"

        More radio static then, "Sergeant, this is Wang. The secondary squad's getting reports that a large Caucasian fitting Rubick's description has been found -- Kssht -- He seems to be lying unconscious in one of the riverside streets."

        "Really?" the chuckle returned. "More good news? -- Kssht -- Take a team and a four-wheeler to haul away his murdering ass -- Kssht -- We'll rendezvous at the spaceport!"

        "Hahahahaha! That takes care of Rubick!" the boss cackled once more before following it with a series -- Cough! Cough! Cough! -- of hacking coughs. Regaining his voice, he added, "Once again, my Othello, you've done very well!"

        "Yes, Mr. Williams."

        "Othello, I don't know what I'd do without you." He quietly switched off the radio.

        "Pardon me, sir. There's one more thing..."

        "Oh yes!" the boss brightened despite his fragile skeletal frame. "Do you have it?"

        From his vest pocket, the bodyguard pulled out a manila-wrapped package, about 2-by-3-by-5-inches in size, and handed it to his boss.

        "Thank you," Nathaniel Williams took the box and began to tear off the wrapping, revealing a reflective metal box with a 10-button combination keypad on one of its wide faces, and a hinge on one end. A safebox. An impenetrable miniature combination safebox. Punching in his usual multi-digit code, he savored the soft sound -- Click -- as the end-panel opened.

        "Othello," he glanced up.

        "Yes, Mr. Williams," the bodyguard understood the routine. He swung open the door, left the office, and shut the door.

        Pulling out the foam-encased contents, Nathaniel felt his weak heart grow stronger. Splitting apart the foam, he felt his heart beat louder. The familiar set of bright-blue 2-by-4-inch datacards. Carefully taking the first datacard, he inserted it into the proper slot of his dusty flat-panel audiovisual player-recorder. Hesitantly, he pressed the green 'Play' button, blew a feeble puff of air to clear the dust, and gazed in anticipation as the blank screen came to life before him...

        Beep. Beep. Beep. "Hi, Dad! It's raining here again... That's one thing I hate about the Core Worlds -- the rain! But good news! I finally got promoted to Systems Manager at the Clothing Division of Blue Sun! And since my last message, I met this guy... But don't be mad... He's nice... and cute..."

        Nathaniel smiled genuinely. No diabolical schemes. No miscalculated stabbings. No psychological stress. Just his faraway daughter, her bright smile, and her melodic voice. Even after a lifetime of disreputable choices, he still wondered at her unconditional love.

        "... and his name is Zack... Isn't that the cutest name?..."

        Nothing was going to take it away from him.

        ~~~

        Rumble. Rumble.

        As Officer Wang drove the rumbling all-terrain four-wheeler through the dusty streets, he glanced back at his not-so-precious cargo. With cuffed wrists and chained ankles, the oversized criminal lay unconscious in the four-wheeled mini-trailer, while the watchful Officer Nichols sat above him, his weapon aimed at his large chest.

        That murderin' gosse and his gorram beret trap!

        Meanwhile, another half dozen armed officers from the secondary squad flanked the vehicle and trailer, in jogging formation, not only to protect the cargo but to protect the Winding Valley townfolk as well.

        As Wang rolled towards the Rollin' River saloon, he spotted another four-wheeler and more officers loading up its trailer with the two enshrouded dead bodies. Two comrades lost. Cobbler had the wife and kids, a sense of humor, and a love for the uniform. But Rodriguez was the rookie far away from home. At least their deaths were quick.

        The gorram murderin' hwoon dahn (bastard)!

        He honked his horn -- Beep! Beep! -- to clear a path through the scattered crowd. And within minutes, he rumbled a few more blocks to the spaceport, found the imposing yet comforting shape of the ASREV in the first docking lot, and headed towards it.

        As he approached, Wang spotted his squad leader -- Sergeant Vanderson -- speaking with the leader of the other squad. And nearby, his comrades Chen-Yi and Jackson stood behind a bound and darkly clothed stranger.

        Ah, his ruttin' partner! That greencoat doctor!

        As he slowed his vehicle, he felt the sudden urge to take his weapon and fire it point-blank range into Rubick's and the Doc's faces. If only he had a real weapon with real ammo, and not this sonic crap.

        Ah, a real weapon! Now that would be shiny!

        Instead, Wang parked the vehicle, hopped off, and joined his partner Nichols at the mini-trailer. With a nod from Wang, Nichols pulled off a black glove and leaned towards the criminal.

        "Hey! Sleeping Beauty!" he shouted, slapping his empty glove -- Slap! -- into the scarred face. "Time to wake up! Nappy time's over!"

        ~~~

        "Well, I was gonna say weapons, but it seems you're doing jus' fine in that market."

        "Uncle Jake!" the teenaged pseudo-niece cried out. "What are you doing?"

        "A joke?" Captain Jayman snarled in his Aussie accent, lowering his weapon a few inches. "Wow, 'at's real funny. Me guts burstin' in high-larity."

        And then he raised it once more. "Be quick t' state yer biz'ness, fella! Or git!" For the briefest moment, he was caught off guard, momentarily hypnotized by the twinkling twin pools of blue beaming back at him and the girl. "Gos se! Yer not stalkin' my niece, are ya? Gorram, yer ol' 'nuff t' be 'er frikkin' father!"

        "Uncle Jake!" she gasped.

        "Well, fella?" the captain spat. "Ain't no green grass growin' 'ere. Ya gots two secon's!... One!..."

        Trembling, the girl closed and covered her big brown eyes.

        ~~~

        Once upon a time, when he had flown his father's Firefly to the far reaches of the galaxy, Ethan had been quite the wordsmith. Some said it was a gift, some, namely his brothers, simply said "Shut up, already!". However it was seen though, Ethan was undeniably a chatterbox. He would talk elegantly at great length on any subject to anyone who would listen. He would persuade strangers to see things his way with a couple of sentences. He would interject witty remarks when a conversation was in desperate need of good humor.

        But that was another era, and since losing all that he loved in this world to that yu bun duh war, Ethan had become the silent type. Out on the rim humor and articulate speech was seldom apprectiated and he had lost the desire to speak his mind. So he had plugged his mouth with cigars and shut the hell up.

        Now, with a 0.357-caliber handgun staring him in the eye and the seconds left of his life being counted by the shadowy figure behind it, Ethan was surprised to find his gift for gab return.

        "I'm no enemy, gunslinger, and my biz'ness, it would seem, is charity for the time being. Like I said, I own a store with supplies. I've got all manner of spare engine parts, Nav system upgrades, distress beacon decoys, Alliance transmission scanners, and yes, a couple of weapons that might make yer' day. I'll give ya yer' pick o' the litter. No charge."

        He paused for a moment, hoping he had the man's attention.

        ~~~

        "... I'll give ya yer' pick o' the litter. No charge."

        Captain Jayman grinned at the generous perhaps fictional offer. But he had to admit, even though the hairy blue-eyed stranger stuttered and stumbled at first, he picked himself back up pretty quick. Now he found himself in a bit of a dilemma: (a) stick around this mudball town to check out the stranger's story, or (b) jet the hell off this ruttin' dirtball moon without him.

        As the impulsive urge to kick the stranger off the ramp pushed his body forward through the doors, the captain and his emerald eye caught an unusual procession of purple-and-grey uniforms in the adjacent docking lot. The sight of those feds, not to mention the formidable enforcing vessel, always made him a little more anxious than usual. And at the moment, there seemed to be a squad, maybe two, swarming like ants around their anthill vessel.

        "Gos se," the captain gasped, his silver-and-black weapon lowering. "Tha' can't be."

        With a rapid pattern of right-eye blinks, he zoomed in double size. Among the uniforms, he managed to spot the rather-drowsy-looking runaway doctor -- Dr. Andrew Lun-kuai -- then the just-as-drowsy black-clad mercenary -- Zacharias Rubick -- being ushered in cuffs and chains toward the vessel. With another rapid pattern, he returned his vision to normal.

        Th' ruttin' feds found 'em? Jayman cried out in his mind. They foun' tha' Rubick an' th' greencoat a'ready? Ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahng! (Frog-humping sonofabitch!) Me two blazin' bounties are out th' window!

        "Arrrgh!" In pistol-wielding disgust, he swung around to Miriam's side and slammed the big red 'Raise' button to raise the loading ramp.

        "Well, fella," the captain muttered. "I jus' ruttin' lost me two blazin' bounties. Pro'bly those dang locals! Why can't those dang locals mind their own gorram biz'ness? Why can't they leave 'em crim'nals alone fer a few days, ya know? Folks jus' like you. Why can't ya mind yer own gorram biz'ness, eh?"

        Reinserting the polished handgun in his pants-waist behind him, he strode back through the doors into the cargo bay. As the humming ramp rose even higher, his hesitant pseudo-niece soon followed.

        "So..." Jayman stopped a dozen feet away and spun towards the doors, his torn black-leather jacket billowing briefly and his hands hardening into fists. "Maybe now's a jumpin' opp'tunity fer me t' take it out on a nosy local... such as yerself... No charge!"