Ash nodded to Wyatt as the Captain and the others headed to the Double D. The three disappeared inside and the kid turned to the saloon across the street.

The kid didn’t draw many looks as he entered the build and walked up to the bar, he'd become a common sight by now.

Wade stood behind bar in his full white apron drying glasses. Seeing Asher approach to bar the mustached bar keeper drawled, “The usual?”

Asher smiled back saying, “Naw, I just need to speak to Nell.”
Wade tilted his head to the right,“She’s by the stairs.”

Ash glanced over and saw the attractive mature woman. Poised provocatively in a tight uplifting low cut gown she stood surveying the sparse patronage. A warm knowing smile blossomed as she recognized Asher. “ Asher, my sweet, you come to mama tonight?”

The kid smiled as he took in the tempting vision, “Well for now I just want to spend so time on the roof...it’s got a good view of the street and the stars.”

Nell eye him for a moment, "Me and my girls can give you a good view.”

Ash laugh,“No doubt, but for now I just need some time up there.”

“Well, you’ll have to come down sometime..go ahead you earned a little free time…alone.” Nell stepped back to let Asher by, she ran her hand softly along his thigh as he passed.

The kid smiled and ascended the stair. Passing the first floor Amber stood in her door wearing a tightly laced red and black skimpy corset. Bending to let the girls entice, she winked.

“Ah.. later.. maybe…” Ash mumbled as he turn to start the second set of stair.

Dashing up the last few steps he hurry down the hall to the backdoor that lead to the ladder to the roof.

Passing Honey’s room, she stood there in a short red silk open robe. Asher nearly stumbled as she wiggled her finger at him.

“ Miss Honey”..Ash nodded to her then passed out the rear door to grab the ladder to the roof.

The kid made his way across the flat open area to the front of the building. There he kept vigilance on the street and building across the street.

SOME TIME LATER……….
The street had been quiet and he had seen a couple of shooting stars across the moonless night sky. The door to the Double D opened and Wyatt, Tess and Willow emerged. The kid could hear a few other men say their “GoodNights” to his crewmates.

In the planned signal Wyatt gave Asher a quick tip of the hat to let him know all was clear. The trio then headed down the street. Ash knew they didn’t need to wait for him.

Climbing back down the ladder the gunslinger entered the second hall,... Honey and Amber were waiting. The girls sallied up on either side of the young man and diverted him into Honey’s room……..….Rip, Tear, Fling……

SOME TIME LATER………..
Synching his rig in place Ash nodded to the ladies as they lay smiling in near exhaustion. Asher took a deep breath and smiled as he left the room and desended the stair to the next floor. Reaching the stair that lead down to saloon Nell stepped out into the hall.

“Leaving so soon?” She took Asher by the hand and led him into her room…......Unhook…...Unfasten…. Oh my…….

SOME TIME LATER……
Asher s l o w l y descended the last set of stairs. Wade looked up, “Ok, now the usual?”

The kid smiled, “Sure.”

Wade pulled a chilled pitcher and poured a tall glass of milk. Sliding the glass to the young gunslinger, ”Need to keep up your strength.”

Rocinante - Eisley Moss Spaceport, Beaumonde – Return Trip: Day One
Fu Sheng arrived at Rocinante’s slip along with the farmer’s, their families, and hands early in the morning and, setting the pack that contained his few meager possessions out of the way, helped with the loading and stowage of their shipment before availing himself to Willow and allowing the lovely woman to show him to a small passenger’s berth, aft of the infirmary, that had been made ready for him with clean linens and a woolen blanket draped over the bunk. She was gracious and accommodating, of course, and even went as far as offering up something of an unnecessary apology for the compartment’s size.

“This is more than enough room for me, Takahara Shao Jeh,” he smiled at the woman, waving away the apology as he set his pack on the bunk and leaned his monk’s spade in one corner, “Sheh sheh.” He left his things in the small room, then, and followed Rocinante’s doctor/spokesperson on a short tour through the rest of the ship meant to familiarize him with the common areas and introduce him to those crewmembers the monk hadn’t had the opportunity to meet at the Double D the night prior…

Apollo Shian Shen was the ship’s mechanic. The others often called him Wolf and the moniker fit. Outwardly, he was a large, brusque sort of fellow. Very physically imposing, with a physique obviously forged in the fires of adversity as opposed to the pursuit of the perceived ideal and an often stern visage that looked as if a true smile had scarcely ever touched it… Fu Sheng knew this look well, remembered it from a reflection, long ago. Behind this, though, the little monk sensed a coarse nobility and a love for this ship and her crew that would, in time, make a smile and the mechanic’s lips more than passingly familiar.

Ryan Shian Shen seemed to be Wolf’s counterpart; sharp on the technical side where Wolf was keener with the mechanical; smooth and polished where the big mechanic was coarse and gritty; complementary to Apollo Shian Shen in duty and demeanor, it seemed. Unlike most of the others (save for, perhaps, Willow) there was a definite air of the Core Worlds that lingered about the man and, like many of the rest, Fu Sheng sensed that this one, too, was afflicted with a private demon that he liked to keep caged and hidden from the rest of the world.

Talhone Gong Di (“Aw, jus’ call me Asher”); the epitome of youthful exuberance among Rocinante’s se duhng from all that Fu Sheng could fathom. Where Wyatt was captain, Wolf and John tended the tech and mechanicals, Tess piloted the boat, and Willow served as Doctor and spokeswoman, this young man didn’t seem to have a specific job aboard ship aside from generally assisting everyone. The little monk knew better than to assume that Asher was simply a hired hand, though. The affable Kid hadn’t been in attendance at the Double D, last night, but Fu Sheng did recall catching a glimpse of him on the roof of an establishment across the way, eyes sharp on the streets below and rifle at the ready. Willow had introduced him as ‘public relations’ which, Fu Sheng knew, was a more socially acceptable term for the guy who’d wrap up negotiations with a well placed bullet or two if need be.

Trish Ayí was the oldest (and most elusive) of the good people that called Rocinante home. A den mother, of sorts. Her outward scars (which she tended to hide in the shadows of her hood) could almost have been seen as a physical representation of those inner scars that others bore… if Fu Sheng had bothered to see the woman’s scars, at all, that is… Scars, physical and spiritual, were nothing new to him. He bore his own share of both and had learned that, in the end, nothing more than blemishes left behind by trials endured and obstacles overcome, milestones on a journey through life, and, as ugly as they might be, did very little to diminish the true beauty of the individual marked by them. Scars or not, Trish was a beautiful spirit and that was what the little monk saw when he looked at her.

…By the end of the tour and introductions, Cheung Fu Sheng found himself more than assured that the Guild had hired the right crew for this venture. Differences and demons aside, Wyatt Sung and his people were more family than crew, there was no mistaking that, and that, in itself, was enough for the monk to feel comfortable among them. It would be a good journey, he was sure of it.

Day Three
Given his sense of ease with Rocinante’s crew, Fu Sheng had found it quite easy to slip into a ‘normal routine’ aboard ship. He rose early every morning, addressed his prayers and meditations, then made his way to the cargo bay to practice for an hour or so. It wasn’t unusual for the entirety of the crew to be up and about by the time his exercises were finished and so the taolu were often followed up by a trip to the common area where Trish Ayi could be found preparing breakfast. He always offered his assistance, of course, be it setting the table, chopping vegetables, or stirring the congee before joining the Rocinante family at the table and delighting in the morning banter. Following breakfast and helping with the cleanup, the small monk found plenty to occupy his time, whether it was helping others with their ‘chores,’ playing mahjong with Tess (or engaging in favorite pastimes with other members of the crew), finding a few moments alone in which to finally begin reading the book he had brought with him, or, simply more meditations, prayers, and practice. Of all these times, Fu Sheng had come to enjoy meal times most of all. It gave him the opportunity to see the crew 'at ease' for the most part and it always made him smile to see the 'family' emerge from the 'crew' in those conversations across the table.

The only notable interruption to this routine came on the third day when Rocinante was boarded and searched by an Alliance team. He had gone to the cargo bay when they arrived and stood silently by the pallets of food-stuffs, expecting, at first, that the Feds would certainly want to inspect the cargo. He wasn’t surprised when they didn’t, though… From the instant they boarded it was obvious that cargo inspection wasn’t high on their list of priorities. There wasn’t the slightest hint of concern from the lot as to whether or not there was any contraband hidden amongst the freight. They were looking for someone not something.

Despite having never heard the names Simon and River Tam before, Fu Sheng couldn’t help but be concerned for them following that visit from the Alliance. Whoever the Tam’s were and whatever they may have done, Fu Sheng sensed that should the Alliance manage to find and apprehend them, the ‘Verse would likely be the darker for it.

Day Seven
Following the visit from the Alliance, it was back to the day-in-day-out routine and, as Rocinante neared the halfway point of the trip, it seemed highly likely to stay that way. There had been no more boarding actions from the Alliance (or anyone else) and scarcely so much as another ship that passed within viewing distance for the next three days. So it was that, on the morning of the seventh day, Fu Sheng found himself in the common area, sipping at a cup of tea and watching Asher play a shoot ‘em up game on the Cortex as Trish put the final touches on this morning’s breakfast. The monk didn’t necessarily approve of the violent themes in the game but he did enjoy watching Asher play – much as he had enjoyed watching the children at Moriah Gulch play – and even found himself offering encouragement and congratulations as the young man immersed himself in the virtual action. He was just beginning to let himself get as immersed in Asher’s game as the Kid himself when, suddenly, the display winked out and was almost instantly replaced with little more than white noise and static.

Asher cursed at having been interrupted in the middle of his game.

Fu Sheng blinked and looked from the young man, to Trish, then to the corridor that led forward from the common area to the bridge… There was a sudden sense of confusion (but not panic) from all over the ship that was confirmed and punctuated by Trish’s shrug when Fu Sheng looked questioningly in her direction. This wasn’t a common occurrence, it seemed, but no one seemed overly worried or concerned… at least, not until the shipwide comm. speakers hummed to life and crackled out a distress call…

"This is the Star of Sihnon Cruise Liner. We are badly damaged by internal explosion. Starboard escape pods are lost. There are not enough for all passengers. We need help! In the name of Buddha, God and the 'verse please can someone hear me!!!!"

The little monk’s smile faded and a sense of foreboding washed over him. He indulged in another sip of his tea as his bare feet carried him across the room. He set the cup down in the sink and was about to excuse himself when the distress call was replaced by the clearer tone of the Captain’s voice; "This'll be your captain speakin'. It looks like we might be havin' a few guests fer supper t'night, so let's make preparations accordingly."

An honorable man. Fu Sheng’s smile brightened a bit as the Captain confirmed that he’d be offering up Rocinante’s assistance to the distressed cruise liner. He offered a quick bow to Trish; “Excuse me, Auntie,” then turned to catch sight of Asher already disappearing through the door and followed quickly after. He wasn’t entirely sure what Captain Sung might expect of him in this situation but it hardly mattered to the little monk, right now. He would be able to help, somehow, he was sure. He made a quick trip to his own cabin and retrieved a small bundle that contained his acupuncture needles and some liniments and medicines which might come in handy, draped a string of prayer beads over one wrist, and then found his way to the infirmary where Willow was also in the midst of her own preparations.

“Takahara Shao Jeh,” he said, “Should we bring on any injured, I have some small knowledge of healing if I might be of any use to you…”

((OOC: And, pause… My thoughts here are that Fu Sheng will initially offer his assistance in tending to any wounded, of course, unless Wyatt is planning some sort of craziness like actually boarding the exploding cruise liner to help passengers off, in which case, if asked, he’ll certainly be more than willing to go with the boarding party… Point me where you can use me best…))

The peace that the Black brought Wyatt was akin to being folded in the warm embrace of a loved one after a long journey. It hasn't always been that way. There was a time before the War when A much younger, and much more naive, Wyatt Sung had never dreamed of going off-world for so much more than a brief vacation. He had been content with the dream of a parcel of land, a wife and family, and growing old, tired, and cantankerous while watching the red sun set on the horizon. Now...now the cold dark of the Black was his mistress, and were he too long with the dirt beneath his soles he became edgy, angry, and more likely to cast about for trouble. He recognized this particular demon every time they set to port, and he made such visits as short as possible.

So, here he was, watching Tess out of the corner of his eye while using the other corner to eyeball John. It wasn't that he didn't trust them. They'd been on board long enough to prove their worth. He was just bored, and with boredom came a desire to drink. His options were to socialize, read, browse the Cortex, or pretend to be busy while possibly (subtly) learning something at the same time. That's what had brought him to the bridge; acting busy on the Nav-Computer while trying to learn a few tricks from the crew there, and that's how he ended up rising quick from his seat to lean over Tess' shoulder and stare intently at the scanner.

"John," Wyatt ordered as he watched the read. "Get back on the radio and let them know we're inbound. Skin yer eyes fee something fishy though--reavers, pirates, or the like. Cruise liners ain't prone t' go all fiery like that of their own choosin'. See if'n they can't give us an idea as to why they're lightin' up my sky while yer at it.

"Take us in Tess, only not so tight as t' risk the paint bubbling from the heat."

"Evenin'," Wyatt drawled into the shipwide com. "This'll be your captain speakin'. It looks like we might be Gavin' a few guests fer supper t'night, so let's make preparations accordingly."

The late night had brought a peaceful quiet to the streets of Eisley Moss. Asher enjoyed the easy silence as he made his way back to the space dock. He still watched for odd movement in the dark but he was not edgy, he only had himself to care for now.

The idle time let his mind wander; he remember a figure that that appeared several times as they had made their way to the Double D. The image of a young red haired freckle faced pretty girl brought a smile. She had dogged them all the way but Ash could tell she wasn’t a threat to the crew, she just like watching them. He’d had it happen before. These were the one he worried about most, not that they‘d hurt him, he might hurt them.
to
The next morning the Asher found that a new cargo was being delivered. He pitched in help store away the goods as they arrived. He saw other item being brought; items that more or less were gifts, gifts of food to make their run more tolerable. These folks were treating them closer to friends than a hired delivery service.

Through the comings and goings he turned to find that really pretty Little Red Haired Girl standing holding a ceramic jar. The smell of raisins and oatmeal was enough to make his mouth water. The girl handed the jar to Ash and whispered fearfully, “for you.”

The kid touched the girl's soft tiny hands as he took the jar, “Thank you, …..I was hoping to be seeing you again, ya disappeared last night.”

Her eye went wide when she realized that Asher has actually seen her …and remembered her.

Her confidence suddenly broke and she ran away as fast as she could. A man and woman, her parents by resemblance alone, stood by and watched, shaking their heads.

"You'll never get a man if you don't talk to him honey!" the Mom called out exasperated.

"Well that is not always true dear. Some like the quiet type." the Dad said and was hit across the back of his head for his troubles. "But not any you want to be with though."

Asher turned to the couple, “ She’ll do fine, she’s better off finding someone from here anyway.... Tell her to just be careful of fella’s like me that just fly in, cuz most of us will just fly out again……. You’ve got a right fine lady there for a daughter. Tell her I’ll keep this in my quarters.”

For Wolf the end of the fight and flight against the Angel was a relief allowing him once more to repair the Rocinante’s engines. Then came the farmers and their families job and with the successful outcome and the numerous jobs afterwards Wolf found himself almost non-stop in the engine room. So much so that even though he had his own stateroom he took to sleeping more and more in that same engine room. The Black was good for getting away from your troubles, but it also allowed time to think and sometimes the thoughts that a person found in their heads were not the best.

Though it had been months since Sam’s disappearance Wolf could still not help but think on where his old friend, hell his first friend, had gotten to. Was he out in the Rim, was he hiding in Reaver space on Miranda, or somewhere in the Outer Asteroid Belt on a lonely chunk of rock. Hell knowing Sam he was probably on Ariel or another of the Core Worlds watching the stars, a good looking girl on his arm, thumbing his nose at the Alliance for being where they might not think to look. Yet the question remained in Wolf’s head why did he really run and who had he once been to have to run at all.

As such the Rocinante’s lone mechanic, well not so alone since the arrival of Ryan, had taken to staying on ship with Trish whenever in port. He still interacted with his fellow crew but as for passengers he took a non-social demeanor. His days to him started to roll together in his mind as one long single day with brief spots of excitement. The best of those days were when the new pilot, who he had learned was named Tess, received a care package of various ship parts that with Ryan and Asher’s help he had a field day with. Especially the EMP gear and though it was a real *Wong Ba Duhn to work with, it had felt good lining the ship with it.

Now they were once more on a run headed to Deadword of all places and had some kind of Monk on board even. Though Wolf had yet to interact with said Monk, his non-social demeanor still quite intact, he wondered why a semi-religious person would be in on such a run. Wolf had never been a big believer in a god or some such deity he was more a hands on kind of guy. If he could not see it, taste it, feel it or be shown conclusive proof it existed he wrote it off as BS. Now he did believe in the power of things greater then himself, take the Black for example, but overall he had no time for myths or religious mumbo jumbo.

So it was that when Wyatt’s voice once more came over the intercom Wolf was taking a nap in the engine room.

"Evenin'," Wyatt drawled into the shipwide com. "This'll be your captain speakin'. It looks like we might be Gavin' a few guests fer supper t'night, so let's make preparations accordingly."

As Wolf jumped up and gathered his guns, ya never knew just what type of ‘guests’ they would have, one Brigit coming to mind. He quickly moved to the engines to prep them for a fast burn if needed...........


*Son of a B***h

Eisley Moss Spaceport, Early morning after the meeting John was wake with (presumably) the rest of the crew the morning after the Captain, Tess, and Willow had met with the farmers and sheriff at the double D. Shrink rapped skids of foodstuff were slowly loaded into the main cargo bay as the Rocinante got fuelled up for the journey a head. They were to take the cargo to Deadwood, but via the long way. John knew enough to not ask specifically why they were going the long way round, or why they’d taken on a new passenger for the trip, but he had his suspicions. Nevertheless he helped Tess plot their route through the black, it should take them 15 days but fates be willing they’d be able to shave some time off. John wasn’t keen on being cooped up inside the Roc for that long, even if he’d been on longer trips he knew how claustrophobic it got, and he knew he’d be yearning for some fresh air after the first week anyhow.

The new arrival, Fu Sheng, was a short chap and seemed deeply respectful to all. Mind you, a Buddhist monk, which is what John tool him for almost as soon as meeting him, would be. They had little in common, or at least John assumed they had little in common. A cloistered life was something at odds with the life he’d lived, and he’d lost faith in any gods years ago. That said, the man was nice enough and they made small talk when they found themselves together. It was interesting to see how the others reacted to the newcomer though.

The Black, three days from Beaumonde So far the trip had gone smoothly, but John was all aware that they hadn’t passed beyond the long arm of the law yet. Something they were all reminded of when an Alliance patrol boarded searching for two fugitives. Truth be told John thought they were after the cargo, having decided the foodstuffs must contain something of questionable legality, as did some of the rest of them apparently, but the purple bellies didn’t even check it. Whoever Simon and River Tam were they must be important for patrols to be so preoccupied, either that or the feds were so fed up of searching ships that they were just getting lazy.

The Black, seven days from Beaumonde Day seven, the day that John and Tess had reckoned they’d get out of range of even the high powered signals. John was busy taping up more cables when it happened, his datalibrary beeped alerting him to an update and sure enough it told him it had lost cortex connection. He casually walked prowards (towards the prow) and entered the cockpit. Testing a few functions at the co-pilots station confirmed it, they were on their own. Radio signals only, from now until a few days from Deadwood. A short while later John hears a cry from the pilots station, Tess was pointing out the cockpit towards what John first took to be a supernova. ‘Nice spot’ thought John, before realising that the explosion was no way a supernova but something much closer going bang. Long range sensors were picking up multiple heat readings, bright white spots in the midst of the cold black, and then Tess instinctively flicked on the radio as lights began to flash.
"Zzztttzzttztztz.....Mayday! Mayday....Zztztztztz. This is the Star of Sihnon ... zzttzz ... liner...zzztzttzt ...please help."

The signal was bad, they couldn’t make much of it out except that it was a mayday called. Adjusting some power feeds John was able to boost the signal. It was still filled with static but the full message was now decipherable.

"This is the Star of Sihnon Cruise Liner. We are badly damaged by internal explosion. Starboard escape pods are lost. There are not enough for all passengers. We need help! In the name of Buddha, God and the 'verse please can someone hear me!!!!"

John’s orders came quick, the Captain didn’t seem to need to think about it, although John wouldn’t have thought to do anything different. He pushed the ‘call’ button on the co-pilot mike and made the return call. “This is John Ryan of the firefly transport Rocinante, we have received your mayday call and are inbound. Over.” The replay came a few moments later, the distance causing a delay in the signals being sent and received, giving John time to do some quick maths.

"Thank the lords above, This is Captain Edward Smith of the Five Star Cruise Line, are you close by? We have sustain serious damage and the starboard has suffered a casade intergrity failure. Can you take on survivors as the explosions has wrecked so many escape pods that we no longer have enough for all the passengers?"

The captain had abandoned radio protocol, things must be bad. Although the fact the first they knew of the situation was an explosion was an indicator of that. Depressing the call button again John replied. “We will be with you in 20 minutes Captain.” John was taking care to be clear with his replies, it was impossible to know how much was getting distorted by the explosions radiation or any potentially damaged receiving equipment. “How many casualties do you have and where do you advise docking?” Again there was a delay in the reply, slightly longer then before but it still came.

"At least 40 so far, internal coms are patchy and there’s lots of panic. Our upper stern docking station has a flange seal, we’re routing passengers there now.”

The upper stern of the liner, that was their new destination. Or be it a temporary one for a humanitarian effort. Ignoring any interjections and violating the chain of command John issued ‘suggestion’ to Tess “Upper stern hatch, hard burn.” before getting back to Captain Smith, having remembered Wyatt’s order. “What’s your situation? Were you attacked and do you have a damage report?”

Using the time lapse between asking and the reply coming John tapped the intercom to the medical bay with the hope of catching Willow. “Expect at least 40 casualties, I’ll be done once we dock with the cruise liner.” As it turned out the Star of Sihnon hadn’t been attacked, the primary power conduit had blown causing a cascade of catastrophic systems failures. The main fuel tanks had ignited and the following explosions had shaken the liner to the core, damaging her hull integrity and destroying the starboard escape pods. They’d launched the port escape pods at or above capacity but the ship carried 240 passengers and 100 crew, it was probably safe to assume most of the passengers had been safely evacuated from the ship but assumptions got people killed in emergency situations. For the rest of their approach John kept on the coms with Captain Smith, relaying information to Wyatt and Willow where necessary so they could coordinate everything (unless John is ordered to help with the preparations). "Captain. We are a small ship, we can only take so many. Do you have life support?"
(Assuming a yes)
"Good, how long will you be able to last out? Once we've taken on as many as we can, will you have time for us to call for help?"
(Honestly not sure what the answer will be, but it only changes the tone of John's next request)
"Keep order on your ship. We'll be with you soon and don't want to take on a panicked mob. Tell everyone we have plenty of room for all but will take on casualties first. If there are any family groups left we'll take the children if we can." It was a chilling request.

Jessy managed to stay on her feet and move with the flow of people as they ‘ran’ towards the emergency exits in an ‘orderly’ fashion. She held tightly to the silver attaché case hugging it to her chest where she also tightly grasped the clutch purse. She kept looking around as if expecting someone was suspicious of her behavior but she could see that everyone seemed to be carrying their own most precious belongings as they ran for their lives.

Suddenly the crowd began to slow and Jessy doubted they were there yet, peering around people ahead of her she saw some of the ship’s personnel ahead of them spread out and blocking the passage. She struggled to hear them as they seemed to be shouted trying to be heard above the din. She could only make out a little bit, something about the stern of the ship.

People begin to turn around and tried to move back through the throng of people; she turned to someone passing her and stopped them for a moment.

“What is going on?” she asked the man who didn’t stop but did answer her as he moved to go around her.

“They said the escape pods up there are damaged and they are telling us to go to the stern for some alternate means of getting off the ship.”

She paused for a moment and quickly weighed her options; it sounded bad, escape pods damaged, going to the stern, alternate escape means? She thought for a moment maybe she could find her own way off but quickly discarded that option; she didn’t know the ship layout or the location of any ships or escape pods, if she tried to go it alone she might be trapped on the ship when it blew up which it seemed destined to do at some point. She turned and followed the people who had turned around moving quickly through the people who were still wondering what was going on.

She found herself now towards the front of the mass of people, she estimated about 40 or so, headed towards the stern, following one of the crewmen who was leading the way. She looked around at the groups of people who were gathered around her; most were the ordinary rich folks she had seen but a few stood out to her eye.

(OOC: Brackets below show celebrity the person looks like; descriptions compliments of our wonderful GM Alacrity)

She saw a well dressed elderly man who wore a sash across his chest, looking like a lord of old. He stood out not just because of the sash, he was polite even during the exodus by apologizing when he bumped into someone or they him.

A very rich looking woman, dressed in some of the richest looking clothes, who pulled along with her a young woman who was dressed more like a street prostitute than a socialite. The rich woman kept yelling at people to get out of her way as if she deserved the first spot on any escape craft just because of her money. (Signourney Weaver as Rich B*tch, a young Kate Hudson as young woman)

A odd group of a middle-aged woman with four younger women; all have red hair cut to the same length and wear similar dresses. The older woman seemed to be in charge and order the others around as they huddled around her like little ducklings. (Cindy Crawford as Older woman, Katy Perry, Zooey Deschanel, Amy Adams and Emily Blunt as the young women)

A group of four teen boys who seemed the brainy types looking scared and completely out of their league in this chaos. She remembered seeing them around the pool, one even tried hitting on her but he had absolutely no clue on how to talk to women; she had politely told him to go play in the arcade. (The guys from Big Bang Theory)

There were others around her, a few just as odd as these others, but her eye was drawn to one figure in particular; a man dressed in a white tuxedo carrying a long white cane with a diamond head. She noted him always at the corner of her eye as they moved aft. With him were two very large men in black suits, standard flunky types and obviously bodyguards. What made this man stand out is that he seemed to be looking right at Jessy almost every time she looked his way. (Michael Ironside as guy in white tuxedo)

Jessy instinctively gripped the case a little tighter wondering if this might be his case. Her pace picked up a little more trying to get to this ‘alternate’ escape vehicle, hoping that there would be room for these people otherwise it could get nasty when fighting broke out.

Early into the Journey
Once Rocinante was loaded and Willow had collected her share of hugs and kisses to keep her warm against the Black, it was time to leave. The first few minutes of the voyage were spent with Fu Sheng, getting him settled and introducing him to the rest of the crew. The small man had seemed truly happy with the small passenger berth, waving away her apologies with a smile and a gracious bow.

"If I may be so forward, Cheung Si Fu, it has been quite some time since I have been able to spend any time with someone of the Sangha (monastic community of Bhuddist monks). If it would not disturb you, might I join you in your devotions, sometime? I am always open to hearing another's interpretation of scripture. "

A day or so into the Journey
After some repeated prodding by Willow, John Ryan had finally made his way to the medical bay for his check in and medical history. Willow had looked up from her checklist for the emergency kit and smiled crookedly at him.
"About time, John Ryan, I was thinking you were avoiding me. Shirt off and up onto the bed, there's a good fellow. "

For all her playful words, Willow's manner and voice, once she began, were carefully impersonal. She carefully measured heart rate and body temperature, shone lights into eyes, ears and throat, and methodically took notes as she asked about prior illnesses, injuries, and treatments. Had she been a fully licensed doctor, she could have gotten all this online, but as it was, she found it better to hear people tell her themselves. Sometimes, how a person related their life told her more than the details themselves.

He'd told her little beyond some bare details, and she was glad to learn that the ship's new tech wizard also had some medical training to go with the piloting skills. The tattoo on his back was the emblem of the med evac ship he'd flown, but John had said little else after that. The fine red blood vessels in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders gave her a hint, though. Closing her eyes and putting a gloved hand on his back, she pressed gently and concentrated....there! The almost discernible tremor of deep fatigue.

Willow opened her eyes and stripped off her gloves before making a note on her chart. She then made a point of locking the chart in her cabinet before turning back to face her patient.

"You look rested enough, John Ryan, but you're not. Not by a long shot. I don't know how long you've been taking something to help you sleep, but you can't do it indefinitely. I don't make it a habit to intervene if it's not needed, and it's not. Not yet," her stern look softened.

"But when you're ready, I'm here. In the meantime, there are relaxation exercises that can help - maybe you'd need less to drop off.

Third Day into the Journey
Willow was brushing out her hair (100 strokes, every day) when the Captain announced that Alliance was coming aboard. Moving quickly, she hastened to the cargo bay, unbound hair flowing behind her, and strategically placed herself in front of one of the lights in the cargo bay. When the Alliance began to search the bay, the lights were turned on, shining through the sheer material of Willow's sari. From past experience, she'd learned the exact position in the light that revealed nothing, but suggested everything, but in the end, it didn't matter. The team didn't give the cargo a second look (though Willow gathered her share) and soon left the ship.

Seventh Day into the Journey
In the infirmary, Willow is humming an old ballad to herself while watching a blue bar on the diagnostic machine slowly lengthen. She never understood why the system couldn't do this without her, but she was supposed to tap a registration number in at a key point, and it wouldn't run if she took too long to key it in.

Suddenly, the blue bar vanished, and Willow blinked. "Where's the blue bar? There has to be a blue bar. Oh no you don't, you cursed machine....don't you fail me now..."

"Zzztttzzttztztz.....Mayday! Mayday....Zztztztztz. This is the Star of Sihnon ... zzttzz ... liner...zzztzttzt ...please help."

Willow covered her ears against the static, which mercifully faded back somewhat almost immediately.

"This is the Star of Sihnon Cruise Liner. We are badly damaged by internal explosion. Starboard escape pods are lost. There are not enough for all passengers. We need help! In the name of Buddha, God and the 'verse please can someone hear me!!!!"

"Evenin'," Wyatt's voice came over the shipwide com. "This'll be your captain speakin'. It looks like we might be havin' a few guests fer supper t'night, so let's make preparations accordingly."

Willow closed her eyes and muttered a quick prayer to Buddha, then knew matters were in her hands. She pulled on her white coat and a pair of gloves, shoving multiple pairs into both pockets of the coat. She hit the reset button on the diagnostic machine, knowing she'd need it soon enough, then began dumping all the bandages, suture kits and dermaplast sprays she could into the emergency kit she'd sling across herself. She picked up one of the back boards used to move injured people and headed to the cargo bay when Fu Sheng met her at the door to the infirmary.

“Takahara Shao Jeh,” he said, “Should we bring on any injured, I have some small knowledge of healing if I might be of any use to you…”

“Expect at least 40 casualties, I’ll be done once we dock with the cruise liner.” came John's voice over the comm, and Willow's worried eyes met Fu Sheng's.

"Forty? Where are we going to put them all?" she whispered, then her voice firmed into a doctor's assured command." Understood, John. As soon as you can, join us in the cargo bay for triage. Si Fu, thank you. I will take any pair of trained hands I can. Please grab another one of these boards and come to the cargo bay. We'll need to assess the injuries and set everyone into a stream for treatment - those who can wait, those who can't, and those we can only make more comfortable. Are you able to handle that ?"

Willow didn't wait for a response. Her heart was racing, and she knew she was in for a long day, but it had been a very long time since the ER....

Peace in the quiet.

Stillness in the black.
Tess sat with her arms pulled up around her legs, chin resting gently on her knees, staring out into the reaches of space. Her mind was as blank as the scape she watched. They had just passed through the far reaches of Sihnon, and were beginning the longest leg of their journey through the black.

The random search by the Alliance was still troubling Tess. Any encounter with the Alliance always left the pilot uneasy afterwards. She chalked it up to the war; Tess just hadn’t been able to let go. That and anyone who didn’t belong on the ship always made her nervy around the bridge. It took her around an hour of going over the consoles to make sure that nothing had been nudged out of place, or sabotaged.

Wyatt stood behind her, staring out into the deep. Her thoughts strayed to him, wondering what his mind pondered while he gazed at the stars. Tess’s eyes glazed out of focused, letting her mind drift. A screen blinked out in her peripheral; the cortex feed had suddenly cut out. A frown emerged onto her features, she reached out and pressed a few of the power and channel switching buttons. Nothing. The pilot uncoiled herself from the chair and tried a few different tricks to get the feed back.

“Odd,” she murmured. John began to work on it, but nothing came up. She looked back into the black, looking for inspiration as to how to fix their problem, when she saw it. A bright explosion, no more than a dot, was visible from the cockpit.

“Look!” Tess gasped.

The short range wave light began to blink rapidly, and Tess flipped it onto speaker.

"Zzztttzzttztztz.....Mayday! Mayday....Zztztztztz. This is the Star of Sihnon ... zzttzz ... liner...zzztzttzt ...please help."

Already on the ball, John immediately began to clear up the transmission.

"This is the Star of Sihnon Cruise Liner. We are badly damaged by internal explosion. Starboard escape pods are lost. There are not enough for all passengers. We need help! In the name of Buddha, God and the 'verse please can someone hear me!!!!"

"John," Wyatt ordered as he watched the read. "Get back on the radio and let them know we're inbound. Skin yer eyes fee something fishy though--reavers, pirates, or the like. Cruise liners ain't prone t' go all fiery like that of their own choosin'. See if'n they can't give us an idea as to why they're lightin' up my sky while yer at it.

"Take us in Tess, only not so tight as t' risk the paint bubbling from the heat."

"Evenin'," Wyatt drawled into the shipwide com. "This'll be your captain speakin'. It looks like we might be Gavin' a few guests fer supper t'night, so let's make preparations accordingly."

“Fifteen minutes of hard burn, boss, and we’ll be there,” she replied, snapping her goggles down onto her eyes.

She listened intently to the radio calls as she began the flight sequence for hard burn.

“This is John Ryan of the Firefly transport Rocinante, we have received your mayday call and are inbound. Over.”

"Thank the lords above, This is Captain Edward Smith of the Five Star Cruise Line, are you close by? We have sustain serious damage and the starboard has suffered a casade intergrity failure. Can you take on survivors as the explosions has wrecked so many escape pods that we no longer have enough for all the passengers?"

Tess reached over to the shipcom to engineering, “Prepare for hard burn.”


“We will be with you in 20 minutes Captain.” John was saying. “How many casualties do you have and where do you advise docking?” There was hesitation over the radio; it was almost imperceptible if one hadn’t been familiar with dealing with combat transmissions for years.

"At least 40 so far, internal coms are patchy and there’s lots of panic. Our upper stern docking station has a flange seal, we’re routing passengers there now.”

John sharply said to Tess, “Upper stern hatch, hard burn,” before getting back on the radio to Captain Smith, “What’s your situation? Were you attacked and do you have a damage report?”

Tess looked over at John after his comment to her, raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Having just finished the burn start up sequence, she casually flipped the switch that sent Rocinante rocketing through the black. Her mouth remained shut during the duration of the transmissions to the Star of Sihnon, taking in the details and watching the cruise liner slowly grow in size.


"Keep order on your ship,” John was saying, “We'll be with you soon and don't want to take on a panicked mob. Tell everyone we have plenty of room for all but will take on casualties first. If there are any family groups left we'll take the children if we can."

He clicked off the radio, and Willow’s voice sounded on the bridge, “Understood, John. As soon as you can, join us in the cargo bay for triage.”

“Mr. Ryan,” Tess said calmly, “Please remember that I was a pilot for a number of years in the war, and as such have developed the ever lovin’ ability to both fly and listen to the radio at the same time. Don’t underestimate my capability to be assess’n the situation, because believe you me di di, I’ve done flown into much worse on less information.”

Her face remained flat as she turned back to the console, “It might’n be a good idea fer you to go join Miss Willow and help her prepare to take on those forty odd casualties. I’m sure that Capt’n Wyatt and I can handle the bridge, and it do sound like she’ll be needin’ all the help we can muster.”

“Speakin’ of, Capt’n, has it occurred to you yet that we’re docking on a explodin’ ship with quite a bit ‘o TNT our ownselves? Not to say we shouldn’t pick up those poor sods, just summit to ponder.”

After John had received the reply from Willow, Tess spoke calmly to him.

“Mr. Ryan, please remember that I was a pilot for a number of years in the war, and as such have developed the ever lovin’ ability to both fly and listen to the radio at the same time. Don’t underestimate my capability to be assess’n the situation, because believe you me di di, I’ve done flown into much worse on less information.”

Stony faced she turned back to the console and spoke again.

“It might’n be a good idea fer you to go join Miss Willow and help her prepare to take on those forty odd casualties. I’m sure that Capt’n Wyatt and I can handle the bridge, and it do sound like she’ll be needin’ all the help we can muster.”

All John could do to reply was to look quizzically at here, his eyes considering her under new light. Speaking in a tone hard to place, a dumfounded drawl somehow simultaneously shocked and quizzical, he questioned Tess. "You're picking now to argue mei-mei?" He paused, still watching Tess, before twisting in his seat and, in a much lighter but still serious tone, asked something of their Captain. "Permission to leave the bridge Sir?"

(With permission John leaves and makes for the med bay)

The cargo was stored and the Roc left on it’s run. Ash could tell by the size of the load and the stores that this would be a longer run than they’d been pull’n . Wyatt hadn’t gone into details so Ash figured it was the usual “need to know”, after all that ain’t his end of the business.
As with all flights Ash fell into his routine doing what ever was needed. Willow kept up her classes and Ash showed up early to take part in the meditation part. He saw this as a way to make himself more alert so the he didn’t get his brain pan rung by a swift kick from the Doc.

A passenger had stayed on board when they left Eisley Moss Spaceport and he was makin sure the goods got delivered to a home kids. He was Cheung Fu Sheng and some kind of monk or religious person. He had started to join them in their morning class and it was real clear he knew a lot more about those moves on Willow’s video than either of them would ever be able to do. He’d started show’n Willow how to hold her arms and legs when she moved; didn’t seem too much but dang she’d really started to pack a wollup and a heck of lot more accurate. Then Fu Sheng started letting Ash in on the moves too, it all seemed so simple the way he’d say it, but you had to think to get it right. Fu said it would become natural with time and that it would be there before Ash looked for it. The kid wasn’t so sure, but he was able to block Willows kicks more often.
Three days into the flight……. Asher was bit concerned when they were hailed and boarded by Alliance Feds. He made his usual preparation for trouble, but they were searching for a couple of fella’s and didn’t check the cargo. The kid figured that clued the run as the more legal kind and didn’t give the goods any more thought.
Four days later……. Practicing his draw and fire weren’t practical on board but Ash had found some games on the Cortex that tested his concentration and reflexes. Most of the crew just thought he was wast’n time on the shoot’um ups but the kid could tell that the sessions with Willow and Fu Sheng helped him be more aware and react quicker, with better accuracy. He was moving through an advanced level with speed that had even drew Fu’s attention. Just as he was about to level again the Cortex shutdown. With a burst of frustration the kid let out a “Gorrum”, he was concentrating so hard he hadn’t saved and would have to do the whole level over.

Asher set down the controller as over the comm. came, "Zzztttzzttztztz.....Mayday! Mayday....Zztztztztz. This is the Star of Sihnon ... zzttzz ... liner...zzztzttzt ...please help."
The kid turned to Fu Sheng, “Excuse me, gotta go.” Then he headed for his usual station down with Wolf.

Rocinante Bridge, 8:05 pm ST The radio signal is getting stronger as the ship moves to intercept the cruise liner. John follows the captain's orders and stays on the radio with the Captain Edward Smith. “This is John Ryan of the firefly transport Rocinante, we have received your mayday call and are inbound. Over.”

"Thank the lords above, This is Captain Edward Smith of the Five Star Cruise Line, are you close by? We have sustain serious damage and the starboard has suffered a cascade integrity failure. Can you take on survivors as the explosions has wrecked so many escape pods that we no longer have enough for all the passengers?" There was relief in the man's voice but fear as well.

Depressing the call button again John replied. “We will be with you in 20 minutes Captain. How many casualties do you have and where do you advise docking?” Again there was a delay in the reply, slightly longer then before but it still came.

"At least 40 so far, internal comms are patchy and there’s lots of panic. Our upper stern docking station has a flange seal, we’re routing passengers there now.”

“What’s your situation? Were you attacked and do you have a damage report?” John asked.

"No attack as far as I can see. The primary power conduit blew causing a cascade of catastrophic systems failures. The main fuel tanks ignited and the explosions shook us to the core. There is damage to her hull integrity and the starboard escape pods were nearly all destroyed."

"Captain. We are a small ship, we can only take so many. Do you have life support?"

"Life Support? For now but I barely have a hull and no guarantee that something else won't go up like a roman candle!"

"Good, how long will you be able to last out? Once we've taken on as many as we can, will you have time for us to call for help?"

"What the ... Give me your Captain! What do you think I'm gorram doing you Hsiu mu fen tu!? Making gorram tea?" Captain Smith shouts into the mike so loud it feels like he is shouting across space, "Give me someone with some sense and starting clearing room in your cargo bay Zhu toh zhu nao dai shing ren!!!!"

(assuming Wyatt takes the comm away from John as he heads out to help Willow, and introduces himself)

"Captain Sung, things are pretty dire here. I need as much help as you can muster. From what I can see, the leftover passengers are heading towards the stern dock. Please tell me I am not herding them to their deaths Yu gong yi shung."

Rocinante Bridge, 8:15 pm ST
The Rocinante comes within visual range of the cruise liner. It is exactly as Captain Smith had said, the starboard side looks like so much crumbled paper and steel bulkheads. The escape pods have all launched from the port side and the auto-pings of their beacon further mess up your already hashed communications system. Tess looks to Wyatt as they pass by the worst of her damage and shakes her head at him. You don't have much time.

The docking station at the rear of the liner is a standard flange seal, and will mean that you can open up the entire cargo bay once you link up. The Star is currently stable, although listing to the port side slightly. The electrical is intact as the landing guide lights come on as you approach. Tess turns the ship slightly to match the pitch and moves into the docking station.

OOC: Okay - I need to know where everyone is precisely when the ship docks and the cargo bay doors open. (No, you are not going to die - relax) I would believe that everyone would head to the cargo bay to help out but I need to know if that is what your characters do. Trish will be there on the catwalk with hood fully up. Don't post too far in advance because you will be waiting to see what awaits you. (No, not Reavers...)

It was a grueling trek to get to the stern of the ship. At one point Jessy stumbled when she was pushed from behind by some old biddy who instead of apologizing only remarked.

“Get out of my way!”

Jessy tripped over another person on her left and went down hard on the deck. Her forehead struck the bulkhead and she sat there a moment before scrambling back to her feet. She didn’t want to get left behind, if there was an escape. She still had doubts about this ‘alternate’ means of getting off the ship. Jessy felt something wet on her forehead and reaching up her hand came away with blood on it. She must have cut herself when she struck that bulkhead. It didn’t feel bad, she wasn’t dizzy or anything so she didn’t worry about any major damage. Head wounds always had a way of bleeding more than they should, she didn’t know why and really didn’t care.

She kept moving with the others and after about 20 long mins, which seems like an hour in this chaos, they entered what appeared to be a loading dock. This was obviously not a place they expected passengers to frequent, the place was cold and dirty but it had an airlock which was a welcome sight. She noticed that the crewman in front, who was a security guard by his uniform, was on some kind of comm device; he must be coordinating with the ship that was going to get them off of here. At least she hoped that was the case.

As they continued to spill into the room, Jessy realized there were more people here than she thought. She estimated there must be 70-80 people here; what she assumed was the last of them was followed by another security guard who moved through the throng to meet up with the other guard. Jessy fell into his wake and followed him to get more towards the front; to find out what was going on as well as be closer to being off this ship.

She saw that most of the people here were elegantly dressed and obviously more suited to an evening of wining and dining and seemed out of place here milling about wondering if they were going to live.

“What is going on?” one older gentlemen asked aloud of the security guard.

“Yes, is there a ship coming?” an older woman asked, she was the older lady from before, the one with the very provocatively dressed young woman with her who must be her daughter. (Sigourney Weaver & young Kate Hudson)

“Hold on,” one of the guards said as the other tried to listen to the comm.

“Young man,” the woman said haughtily, “do you know who I am? “

“No lady,” the guard answered sounding a might perturbed, “but I do know your life is only as important as the rest of these passengers. So shut up and listen.”
The woman turned bright red and seemed about to retort when the other guard got off the comm, and turned to everyone assemble.

“Everyone please listen,” he said sounding scared, “there is a ship inbound that will be here shortly. It will take all of you off of here and ferry you to safety. Once it gets here we will lock up with it and then we will open the airlock. Please remain calm and enter the other ship in an orderly fashion.”

Jessy was glad to hear this, she took a deep shuttering breath and leaned against the bulkhead and looked at the others here. She noticed what appeared to be the ship’s orchestra among the passengers. She wondered if they were crew or just hired to play. She remembered seeing the board for the performance when she was coming aboard; it had said something about a Special Performance featuring some obviously famous musician named… Strato… something something or another.

She didn’t attend the show as the ‘benefactor’ who had provided her with the tickets hadn’t bought one for the performance. She didn’t really care, she wasn’t into that kind of music really, she… suddenly her thoughts were interrupted as she noticed one of the musicians carrying a silver case very similar if not identical to the one she carried. He was a little swarthy skinned man (Indian descent) and he hung on to his little silver attaché case about as tightly as Jessy held on to hers.

She hoped this ship got here soon, she was tired and her head was beginning to hurt her a little bit where she had hit it. She touched the spot, which caused her to wince in pain, noticing it was still bleeding and running down the left side of her face. She needed to get off this ship and soon. She didn’t deserve this; it was supposed to be her big break. But here she was escaping from a fabulous stellar cruise ship with nothing to show for except the bar and this mysterious locked case.

Well at least there weren’t any more explosions; that was a good sign wasn’t it?

Rocinante Bridge, 8:05 ST
"You're picking now to argue mei-mei?" John asked incredulously. Tess looked crossways over to Wyatt, who was trying to smooth over things with Captain Smith. Her eyebrow cocked before turning back to the console.

“Yup,” she responded, pulling up a few charts on the astrogation library.

"Permission to leave the bridge Sir?"

John left the room, leaving a rather thick air behind him. Tess continued to skim through the library before finally pulling up a picture of a small moon.

“Capt’n,” she said, pulling up more information, “Might’n be wanting to find a place to cozy up before them Feds decide to come in an’ save these rich folk.”

She swiveled her chair around so Wyatt could get a better look at the screen, “Ain’t got no fancy name, seeing as how it’s still in the second stage of terraform. LV-426, atmo, some trees an’ shrubs. Ain’t nothin’ living there yet, but I know there’ll be something to duck our heads under, an’ breathable air. ‘Bout four hours away, but a helluva lot closer than Sihnon, nor anythin’ else.”

Rocinante Bridge, 8:15 ST
The Star of Sihnon listed in the black, the starboard side looked like a party popper that had already been spent. Debris littered the surrounding space, and it was evident why many of the escape pods hadn’t been used. From this distance, they looked like little crushed aluminum can.

Rhythmic pings inundate the comm. system, indicating the escape pods that had launched and maintained power. Tess turned down the volume slightly and slowed the ship down for a docking approach. The damage to the hull of the cruise liner was extensive. Lights flickered in and out as they passed by, and she knew that the ship wouldn’t hold out much longer. The pilot looked back to the captain and shook her head slightly.

Rocinante pitched and rolled gradually as Tess lined her up to dock.

“I’ll keep her engines warm so we can boogy on outta here as soon as our new flock gits aboard,” she said as the flange locked up to Roc’s cargo bay doors, “When ya’ller ready, Capt’n, though we might’n be wantin’ to make it real quick like.”

“This is John Ryan of the firefly transport Rocinante, we have received your mayday call and are inbound. Over.”

Wyatt left John to his communications and returned his gaze out the viewports to where he could still see the pinpoint of glowing orange the size of a small star in the distance. Imagery of what kind of trouble they were taking on board splashed around in his brainpan like grease from the morning protein patties. Dignitaries, wealthy entitled people, snobby better-than-thou children…the likes of which he’d spent most of his life avoiding. All of these people crammed into their tiny little Firefly, shoulder-to-shoulder with injured and those pumped full of adrenaline. They hadn’t the foodstuffs, medical supplies, or space to air out all the dirty laundry that was bound to come on board with all of them rich-folk.

Tess reached over to the shipcom to engineering, “Prepare for hard burn.”

"Thank the lords above! This is Captain Edward Smith of the Five Star Cruise Line, are you close by? We have sustained serious damage and the starboard has suffered a cascade integrity failure. Can you take on survivors as the explosions have wrecked so many escape pods that we no longer have enough for all the passengers?" Wyatt registered relief and fear in the captain’s static-laced voice. Glancing down at the screen to Tess’ right he registered the distance between them and the newly damaged ship. Still no signs of anything that could have caused the damage externally.

In the meantime John continued the conversation with his usually tired tone, “We will be with you in 20-minutes Captain. How many casualties do you have and where do you advise docking?”

"At least 40 so far,” the delayed voice of the captain returned. “Internal comms are patchy and there’s lots of panic. Our upper stern docking station has a flange seal; we’re routing passengers there now.”
John sharply said to Tess, “Upper stern hatch, hard burn,” before getting back on the radio to Captain Smith, “What’s your situation? Were you attacked and do you have a damage report?”

Wyatt reached overhead and adjusted the radar range. The newly installed enhancements to the systems Tess’ friend had provided were a very handy gift, and Sung was grateful even more than usual for such a gift as he returned his gaze to the radar screen. Still nothing—and forty passengers wasn’t as bad as it could be.

"No attack as far as I can see. The primary power conduit blew causing a cascade of catastrophic systems failures. The main fuel tanks ignited and the explosions shook us to the core. There is damage to her hull integrity and the starboard escape pods were nearly all destroyed."
"Captain,” John replied with a disturbing lack of compassion evident in his voice as far as Wyatt was concerned. “We are a small ship. We can only take so many. Do you have life support?" Shaking his head, Captain Sung helped Tess plug in the trajectory after receiving telemetry from the nav computer. There was all sorts of debris floating about the ship, any one of which was hurtling through space pushed on by the power of the explosion; any one of which could potentially punch a hole in something important to Roc. Best to make sure that the entry path was mathematically approved.

"Life Support? For now but I barely have a hull and no guarantee that something else won't go up like a roman candle!" Wyatt read a rising impatience in the captain’s voice at the continued questioning, but he and Tess were busy recalculating the secondary route past some newly identified hull panels, so he let it be.

"Good, how long will you be able to last out? Once we've taken on as many as we can, will you have time for us to call for help?"

"What the ... Give me your Captain! What do you think I'm gorram doing you Hsiu mu fen tu!? Making gorram tea?" Captain Smith’s shouting was loud enough that it felt to Sung like he was in the cockpit with him, “"Give me someone with some sense and starting clearing room in your cargo bay Zhu toh zhu nao dai shing ren!!!!"
Taking a deep breath, Wyatt snatched the mic from its cradle and flipped control over to the pilot’s chair. “This is Captain Sung, an’ I hear ya, Capt. Smith. I’d like t’ apologize for the disconnected nature we’ve been introduced. John’s a good man, but he’s got concerns ‘bout our ability t’ shoulder the weight o’ something as large as the Star. Have t’ admit, I do as well, but that ain’t stoppin’ us from swingin’ on by t’ see what kind of service we can be.

“Like John said, we’ll be there now in ‘bout fifteen.”

"Captain Sung, things are pretty dire here. I need as much help as you can muster. From what I can see, the leftover passengers are heading towards the stern dock. Please tell me I am not herding them to their deaths Yu gong yi shung."
“Not if I can help it, Captain,” Sung glanced down to see Tess entering the calculations for the stern port o’ call. “We’ll be there as soon as a hard burn can facilitate it.”

"Willow,” John was saying, “We’re likely taking on a panicked mob. Tell everyone we have plenty of room for all but will take on casualties first. If there are any family groups left we'll take the children if we can."

Wyatt momentarily wondered where John was suddenly getting this desire to be in charge of his ship. He’d have to address that when there was time, or there’ll likely be trouble from it.

Willow’s voice sounded on the bridge, “Understood, John. As soon as you can, join us in the cargo bay for triage.”
“Mr. Ryan,” Tess said calmly, “Please remember that I was a pilot for a number of years in the war, and as such have developed the ever lovin’ ability to both fly and listen to the radio at the same time. Don’t underestimate my capability to be assess’n the situation, because believe you me di di, I’ve done flown into much worse on less information.”

Her face remained flat as she turned back to the console, “It might’n be a good idea fer you to go join Miss Willow and help her prepare to take on those forty odd casualties. I’m sure that Capt’n Wyatt and I can handle the bridge, and it do sound like she’ll be needin’ all the help we can muster.”

“Speakin’ of, Capt’n, has it occurred to you yet that we’re docking on a explodin’ ship with quite a bit ‘o TNT our ownselves? Not to say we shouldn’t pick up those poor sods, just summit to ponder.”

"You're picking now to argue mei-mei?" John paused, still watching Tess, before twisting in his seat and, in a much lighter but still serious tone, asked something of their Captain. "Permission to leave the bridge Sir?"

“That’s enough,” Wyatt growled. “The two o’ you. There’s far more important things at hand than pride, or whatever other yi dwei da buen chuo roh the lot o’ you are chewing on. Permission granted…an’ John, I give the orders on Roc. Dohn ma?

“Tess, I hired ya ‘cause I count on the pilotin’ skills you’ve shown t’ not git us blown up.”

“Capt’n,” Tess replied as John exited the bridge. She pulled up more information on the scanner, “Might’n be wanting to find a place to cozy up before them Feds decide to come in an’ save these rich folk.”

She swiveled her chair around so Wyatt could get a better look at the screen, “Ain’t got no fancy name, seeing as how it’s still in the second stage of terraform. LV-426, atmo, some trees an’ shrubs. Ain’t nothin’ living there yet, but I know there’ll be something to duck our heads under, an’ breathable air. ‘Bout four hours away, but a helluva lot closer than Sihnon, nor anythin’ else.”

Wyatt stared for a moment at the readout. He didn’t have time, nor the desire, to sit around and wait for the Purple Bellies to show up and take these Inner Planet luxury liner idgets off their hands. Good on Tess for thinking ahead. She was definitely proving to be a really good addition to the crew. “All right, see if you can keep running those scans an’ find us a place t’ put these passengers aground with a beacon. I’d rather not be duckin’ our heads when we could be a few hours further int’ the Black with nothin’ but our shiny backsides in the Alliance’s scanners.”

Rocinante Bridge, 8:15 pm ST
The Rocinante comes within visual range of the cruise liner. It is exactly as Captain Smith had said, the starboard side looks like so much crumbled paper and steel bulkheads. The escape pods have all launched from the port side and the auto-pings of their beacon further mess up your already hashed communications system. Tess looks to Wyatt as they pass by the worst of her damage and shakes her head at him. You don't have much time. Wyatt’s face is unreadable, but his eyes are filled with concern.

The docking station at the rear of the liner is a standard flange seal, and will mean that you can open up the entire cargo bay once you link up. The Star is currently stable, although listing to the port side slightly. The electrical is intact as the landing guide lights come on as you approach. Tess turns the ship slightly to match the pitch and moves into the docking station.

Rocinante pitched and rolled gradually as Tess lined her up to dock.

“I’ll keep her engines warm so we can boogy on outta here as soon as our new flock gits aboard,” she said as the flange locked up to Roc’s cargo bay doors, “When ya’ller ready, Capt’n, though we might’n be wantin’ to make it real quick like.”

“Oh,” Wyatt began as he tapped the back of her chair and made for the cargo bay. “I ain’t plannin’ on settin’ up a homestead. Keep an eye on those scanners, Tess. I don’t want nothin’ sneakin’ up on us.”

Wyatt burned through the ship corridors at a jog and reached the cargo bay just as they were starting to open the doors. Standing at the forefront of the walk just over the mule, he watched the scene unfold before him ready to call out orders as need be, fully aware that he’d left his rig in his bunk and hadn’t had time to swing by to pick it up on the way down. Willow was already there, and he’d leave her to her magic for the most part, but he wasn’t about to let a herd of panicked Inner-worlders come surging on board Roc without so much as a howdy-do and a complete understanding of who was in charge here. He only hoped that who was in charge was him…