“Expect at least 40 casualties,” John’s voice stated over the comm., “I’ll be down once we dock with the cruise liner.”

Willow's worried eyes met Fu Sheng's, then, and she whispered; "Forty? Where are we going to put them all?"

“A jug fills drop by drop, Takahara Shao Jeh,” Fu Sheng said softly, “let us not worry about a want of space until our jug is near full and these drops we fill it with start to spill over.”

Willow’s 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?"

“I am,” the monk confirmed with a nod to Willow, who had already started for the cargo bay. He grabbed another backboard per her instructions and was only steps behind.

Willow waited in the cargo bay with Fu Sheng, outwardly calm but her mind racing through triage protocols. It took discipline to only spend enough time per person to assess their needs, and even more discipline to not spend precious supplies on someone who was dying. Only once before had Willow had to make that kind of decision, and she'd been distraught for days.

Jade eyes strayed over to the compact enigma beside her, and she remembered his words of just a few moments ago. A jug fills drop by drop, Takahara Shao Jeh, let us not worry about a want of space until our jug is near full and these drops we fill it with start to spill over. There was something child-like about the man, an innocence of spirit, yet a depth of wisdom that was hard won. Somehow, Willow wanted to be a better person than she was, so as not to disappoint him.

"We'll deal with each drop," she said determinedly, though it could have been to herself or Fu Sheng, she spoke so softly," as long as we draw breath...that reminds me!" Two quick strides took her to the comm.

"Mr. Wolf, dear? " her voice sounded in the engine room," we're heading in to take on 40 casualties, though it's a big ship and we may end up with more. We'll be needing more air than we're currently producing."

For Wolf this new run they were on had pretty much started out much the same as the others before it…. Boring. Not that he honestly minded boring; boring was good and helped put creds in his pocket after all. However nothing got the blood flowing and adrenaline pumping like some action. His guns strapped he was prepping the engines for a heavier work load when the new pilot’s voice came over the intercom.

“Prepare for hard burn.”

Once again Wolf had to smile knowing he had called it right just as Asher ran into the engine room.

“What the *guay Is going on Ash!”
(Knowing Ash will tell me)
Hearing of the forthcoming rescue attempt from Wyatt over the ship's comm and now confirmed by Ash. With possiblty of a large number of new ‘passengers’ Wolf knew that as the atmos controls were currently set, the added bodies would be bad, very bad.

“Ash help me with this” Wolf spoke to Asher as he moved to adjust the Carbon Dioxide Scrubbers, the Heat Exchanger/Cooling system and finally the oxygen level within the Rocinante. He knew that he had no choice but to up the scrubbers to full, set the AC to frigging freezing and use the extra algae packs to produce more air. As he was doing this the intercom in the engine room went off once more this time the voice on the other end belonged to Miss Willow.

"Mr. Wolf, dear?” her voice sounded in the engine room," we're heading in to take on 40 casualties, though it's a big ship and we may end up with more. We'll be needing more air than we're currently producing."

Pausing only long enough to send a quick reply “On it miss Willow” Wolf with Ash’s help continued prepping the ship for its forthcoming new cargo.

*Hell

(OOC: AL using plot points as stated in my PM)

Asher heard Wyatt’s comments over the comm about folks comin on board so he stopped by his quarters to strap on his Peace Keepers. Strangers onboard would mean crowd control and protection for his crew. With his favorite girls snug against his legs the kid headed down to assist Wolf.

As he entered the engine room Wolf looked up, “What the *guay Is going on Ash!”
“Best I can tell there’s a boat in trouble and we’re their closest help. Ain’t got enough life boats so we’re goin in to grab a few folks. Could get a bit crowded here. “

Wolf was already figuring what may need adjusted as Willow’s voice filled the room.

"Mr. Wolf, dear we're heading in to take on 40 casualties, though it's a big ship and we may end up with more. We'll be needing more air than we're currently producing."
Pausing only long enough to send a quick reply “On it miss Willow”. Wolf with Ash’s help continued prepping the ship for its forthcoming new cargo.

When Wolf click off the comm Ash piped up, “Whatever you need me ta do just point.”

Wolf pointed, “Ash help me with this” as he moved to adjust the Carbon Dioxide Scrubbers, the Heat Exchanger/Cooling system and finally the oxygen level within the Rocinante.

The kid followed the mechanic’s directions.

“ Say, would it might help if we could use the shuttles systems too? You know like, open the doors and let them make air too. They might even be able to be use as life boats to get the number of folk down to where the Roc ain’t puffen so hard. Maybe Ma and the new guy could bird dog us to a safe place? Ya think we should ask Capt’n?”

Asher kept working as he let Wolf ponder the idea. He wanted to get as much as possible ready before they took on their company. His job as “Public Relation” would be needed to support Capt’n Wyatt so all them folk know just who’s boat this is and who is in charge, so he have to leave Wolf for bit; even if it were just for show.

Rocinante Cargo bay, 8:25 pm ST
There was a hush in the cargo bay as the flange seal connected and the auto-pressurization equalized the atmo in the walkway. What was actually seconds, felt like passing hours until the green light above the hatch lit up signalling that it was safe to open the door. The ramp dropped and the hatchway door raised up in a gasp of hydraulics and steel pistons.

There were a lot of people - more than forty and perhaps more twice as many. They came staggering in a dazed and confused state of people in a crisis situation. Wyatt had seen it many times before, evacuating civilians during the war. Of course, those people weren’t so well dressed.

The passengers were all dressed in the fanciest of clothing, though many were dirty and dishevelled from running and falling. Willow and John immediately started moving aside people with injuries but there were no serious injuries beyond gashes, bruising and a few twisted ankles. There were no children and more men than women. The youngest of the group were four teen boys and a group of teen girls. Most people move with haste, fear gnawing at them like a wild animal in pursuit of prey. Some do not gather the enormity of what is happening and seem to believe that everything must revolve around them.

One lady enters the ship with four teen girls in tow. The lady is stunningly beautiful if a little dirty and worn from the rescue (Cindy Crawford). The four girls that cling to her and each others are all the same. Same red hair, done in the same style, wearing similar outfits and jewelry. (Katy Perry, Zooey Deschanel, Amy Adams and Emily Blunt).

There are four young men who seem completely out of place among this crowd. One is very tall, reminds you of a preying mantis and seems to look at everything around him as if watching an experiment. Another is very short and appears colour blind by the various arrangement of contrary and bright coloured clothing he is wearing. The third is of Indian descent and is very quiet. The last one wears glasses and messy brown hair and is more interested in the ship than anything going on around him. ( Johnny Galecki, Jim Parsons, Simon Helberg, Kunal Nayyar)

One man in a formal suit is wearing a gold sash, balding with a white rim of white hair cut very short and a small white goatee, moustache combination (an Older Chris Hood from the Inn). Instead of rushing aboard like many of the others, he stops to help the older passengers and the wounded – giving direction and aid wherever he can. He does it quietly, without any showmanship. Another gentleman comes staggering on to the gangway wearing a military uniform of an Independent officer and a long brown duster (Bernard Fox). He is very drunk and almost falls if it weren’t for the man with the sash grabbing him and keeping him steady.

“You okay there Captain Havelock?” The lord asks with an easy smile.

“Yes, I just ...” The captain looks at his rescuer, “Lord Hood? I say, aren’t we enemies Christopher?”

“War is over Captain.” The lord says softly as if he has said it many times before, “But there are a lot of people here who need your help and guidance.”

“I left a lot of people in Serenity Valley that needed my help and guidance.” He says sadly.

“I know. But these people need you now and you can help them. So time to show me what an officer is really made of, Captain.”

Havelock looks at the Lord for a second and then stands on his own and straightens up and starts looking around as if seeing the ship interior for the first time. “Right!” He says loudly, “If you are injured move to the right onwards these three medical personnel. Otherwise to the right and keep moving so we can get everyone on board.”

For Fu Sheng, the emotions of so many people coming at him at once nearly overwhelm him. He had been in crowded places before and felt many emotions from others as well, but this was fear and it was raw. It took every ounce of spiritual and relaxation training for him to stay calm and not let himself be taken over by the wave of panic. He pushed away the thoughts of others and focuses on the injured. By lubk or Buddha’s mercy, there were not many serious injuries. A young lady approached him with a bad gash to her head (Jessy). He could tell that her head injury was minor and she was very cognitive by the way she looked around from place to place on the ship, taking in her surrounding and assessing the situation.

Willow sighed some relief as she sorted through the injured and saw none of the grievously injured she was expecting. Someone told her that they had put all the seriously wounded on the escape pods as well as any families with children. But as she was helping one elderly couple who were winded by all the walking to the stern, a lady approached her with an air of superiority and a expression of not willing to take anything but what she wanted.

“I need to speak to the captain of this ... vessel!” Said the lady (Sigourney Weaver) who was conservatively dressed in a sharp business-style suit that Willow knew from looking probably cost more than the ship. Behind her, a young blond girl (Young Kate Hudson) wearing a see-though gossamer sarong by the same designer. She has a rose tattooed on her right cheek and she looks around as if searching for an exit or somewhere to hide away. The sharp dressed woman was continuing in a demanding voice, “I cannot stay here in a ... storage unit. I paid first class and Five Star has a reputation for high standards. So get me the captain so I can arrange quarters immediately for my daughter and I. After all, do you know who I am?!” (Willow does, and will respond)

The daughter wanders away from her mother towards John who is bandaging an elderly lady’s arm with a cut. “Hi.”, she says while putting her hand on his cheek and looking deeply in his eyes. “I’m Amber Sunshine. Are you a doctor?” She asks as she moves her hand from his cheek down his neck lightly and then along the buttons of his shirts. “I think I need to be examined thoroughly. You got someplace ... private we could go?”

Rocinante Engine Room, 8:25 pm ST
Fenris Apollo knew the gravity of the situation. Having worked with mining equipment and miners, he knew the importance of thinking ahead and planning for the worst case scenario. When Willow called him to warn about a possible 40 people coming aboard, maybe more, he started doing the math in his head. You didn’t want to just throw more oxygen into the system – that was a recipe for an explosion.

“Ash, help me with this” the mechanic said thinking all the while. The carbon dioxide scrubbers would take the most time to adjust. He showed the kid how to increase the scrubbers to max but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to put another scrubber on the main line. Of course, he would have to build it from scratch.

“ Say, would it might help if we could use the shuttles systems too? You know like, open the doors and let them make air too. They might even be able to be use as life boats to get the number of folk down to where the Roc ain’t puffen so hard. Maybe Ma and the new guy could bird dog us to a safe place? Ya think we should ask Capt’n?” Asher asked.

Wolf though about it. Wasn’t a bad idea about the shuttles and the air. It would buy him some time to build the scrubber from spare parts. (Assuming Wolf tells Asher to go ahead and do so after hitting the algae tanks with a couple of packs of the dried algae rejuv that Tess’s friend had sent them)

Asher did what he was told and then bounded down the stairs to the catwalk above the cargo bay to find the captain. He also wanted to be there for the Captain as well but when he got there he was surprised by the number of people coming in. He counted by fives as quick as he could and there was 60 by his count and more coming.

As he moved to talk to Wyatt, he noticed Trish signalling to him. He looked down and saw a man in a white tuxedo (Michael Ironside) carrying a long white cane with a diamond head. Beside him, on either side are two big guys in black suits that screamed bodyguards. Trish pointed at them and motioned under her arms. Asher knew what she was saying – they were carrying weapons on shoulder holsters.

Rocinante Cargo Bay, 8:30 pm ST
The last of the passenger come abroad and Lord Hood waves to the two Security Guards to come as well, but they turn back and run down the corridor to do a last check for passengers.

(There will be an interaction here between Willow and a passenger who gets on amoung the last - Cameron Bridges)


Rocinante Bridge, 8:30 pm ST
Tess keeps an eye on the sensor readings and the scanners as she keeps the ship on a steady low energy burn. Suddenly the radio lights up again.

“Captain Wyatt?”

(Assuming a This is Tess how can I help you)

“Have you gotten everyone? We have a build up of power in the secondary system that is becoming worrisome.”

Tess looks to the camera on the Cargo Bay. No more passengers are coming in but some guy in a sash is standing on the main hatch and waving towards the security guys.

(Assuming a response of almost)

The radio is silent for a few seconds and then Smith’s voice comes back in a commanding voice, “GET OUT OF THERE NOW! NOW! The power is ....”

Tess looks out the window and sees the explosion from where the bridge would have been and averts her eyes from the brightness. The ship shakes and rattles from the shockwave. The Cruise liner is about to blow completely and it is time to fly.

Rocinante Cargo Bay, 8:31 pm ST
The ship shakes suddenly and the sound from the airlock of an explosion fills the cargobay. Lord Hood stumbles to the ground from the shaking.

“Get back here now!” The Lord shouts down the airlock but it is too late. The automatic safety system shut the doorway to the airlock with a resounding thud.

“No!” Hood cries out but he knows that they cannot hear him and the door will not obey his command.

(assuming someone will hit the controls to close the cargo Bay doors)

Captain Havelock staggers over to where Lord Hood is on the ground and offers him a hand up while removing his hat and bowing his head in respect for the two men. Another explosion rocks the ship as it pulls away from the liner, and then all hell breaks loose as the Star of Sihnon is engulfed in a series of cascading explosions.

Rocinante Bridge, 8:31 pm ST
Tess pulls out in full reverse as soon as the hatchway shows sealed. The Cruise liner is blowing up before her and she knows what will happen now. Debris and pieces of the liner are shot through space at high velocity. Some of those pieces were flying directly at Rocinante.

It was time for some thrilling heroics.

Rocinante Cargo bay, 8:26 pm ST
Jessy staggered aboard in the mass of survivors, she hurries aboard the rescue vessel and her quick eyes study the layout as she moves onboard.

She sees crew of this ship directing people aboard; there was one oriental looking woman dressed very well who was directing people saying something about if anyone was injured to move to a certain area. The woman was beautiful and reminded Jessy of registered companions she had seen once; it couldn’t be though as why would a companion be aboard such a vessel as this one. Her injury wasn’t life threatening but it was starting to throb so she moved in the indicated direction. She held tightly to her case and the small clutch purse was still wrapped around her arm.

Jessy was not paying attention to where she was stepping and tripped over an uneven deck plate, she stumbled into someone there (Fu Sheng) who kept her from falling yet again. (I assume he caught her, if not she will fall at his feet instead). She got to her feet with his help, and looked at his face as she got up.

“Sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile, “I feel a little dizzy.”

She looked over the man carefully, he was strangely dressed, and possibly from one of the monastic religious orders she thought. He had a kind face; it made her smile a little brighter. She steadied herself on her feet and then reached up one hand to hold where her injury was on her head; she swayed slightly on her feet. She was feeling a tad dizzy but it wouldn’t hurt to be perceived as being more injured than she truly was in fact.

(Just a little something, more to come later)

Rocinante - Cargo Bay 8:22 pm
"We'll deal with each drop," Willow replied in a soft voice," as long as we draw breath...”

The little monk offered a faint nod and a reassuring smile.

“…that reminds me!" The lovely doctor accessed the comm., then, and called to Apollo Shian Shen, requesting that the Firefly’s atmo scrubbers be prepped to compensate for the incoming rush of passengers from the cruise liner.

For his part, Fu Sheng returned his gaze to the bay doors and, as the prayer beads cycled through his fingers, offered up silent pleas to his ancestors and the Buddha.

Cargo Bay 8:25 pm
When Rocinante finally docked with the Star an eerie silence washed over the cargo bay and Fu Sheng found himself very conscious of the sound of his own breath… his own heartbeat… and, as the cargo bay door opened in a hissing whoosh and squelch of the mechanicals to admit the panicked evacuees, the monk couldn’t help but suck in a deep, almost shuddering breath of his own, and allow himself to be driven half a step backwards in the face of the raw, unbridled wave of fear that came with them.

It was unexpected… he hadn’t quite prepared himself for a sense of terror of this magnitude… it was… almost too much…

When sweeping the temple floor, the temple floor is all there is. The mantra came to him from somewhere deep inside and long ago, and he repeated it to himself with each breath, each heartbeat, as he sought to push the crippling angst of others from his mind. It took a moment and more than a little resolve but he managed to shield himself from it and, as his eyes opened and he took in the crowd of well better than forty spirits, he did so with a tranquil determination. He moved among the throng, then, tending to the few minor injuries (Buddha be praised) that he encountered, and offering words of comfort and reassurance to those who needed little else. Fu Sheng finished applying a bandage to the scraped arm of a younger man and, offering a pleasant smile, stood to make his way to the next passenger… but she came to him, instead.

She was an athletically built young woman, dressed in what was certainly an expensive, figure hugging, gold and silver evening gown. Very attractive and very alert – her clear eyes darting purposefully about as she moved through the crowd, assessing her surroundings – despite the bleeding wound to her head. Fu Sheng managed to garner that much from the glance he got before she stumbled over a deck plate and toppled forward. He moved quickly, stepping gracefully around one or two others in order to catch the falling woman before she hit the deck.

“Xiao xin, Shao Jeh,” he smiled as he caught her by elbow and waist, his grip firm but gentle, helping to restore her balance and steady her on her feet, “Ni hai hao ma?*”

“Sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile, “I feel a little dizzy.”

“Duhn ruhn,**” Fu Sheng nodded, pleased to see the woman’s smile brighten a bit more when their eyes met. “Come,” he said, ushering her a few steps away and gesturing to a spot where a spar jutted out from the bulkhead, “Sit. Allow me to tend your hurt.”

((Assuming Jessy has no problem doing so…))

The little monk eased Jessy down onto the outcropping and released his hold on her, then, but his hands didn’t wander far away. The fingertips of one hand landed gently on her wrist to gauge her pulse and the palm of the other hovered just a fraction of an inch from her belly to get a sense of how her chi was flowing. After a moment, he found her eyes again, and smiled as he let go of her wrist and let that hand move to the cut on her head.

“Your energies are good, Shao Jeh,” he said softly, inspecting the cut, “and this does not look so bad…” He produced a cloth and a small jar of antiseptic from within the orange changshan he wore and proceeded to clean and dress the wound. “…It is the emotion, I think, more than the injury that makes you dizzy.” Fu Sheng glanced meaningfully around the cargo bay, then, smiling as his eyes came back to hers, again; “It is quite palpable, is it not?”

This crowd… the type of people that comprised it… they reminded him of the crowds that had often ringed the pits in which he had been forced to fight… had it not been for fear as opposed to greed or bloodlust being the predominant emotion wafting from them, Fu Sheng might have almost expected an opponent or three to be presented to him at any moment…When sweeping the temple floor, the temple floor is all there is.
After another moment, Jessy’s wound was cleaned and bandaged, and the little monk was rising to his feet. “Rest here,” he said, still smiling, “Breathe. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Your equilibrium will return soon enough.

I am Fu Sheng,” the monk offered with a bow, “If there is anything else I can do for you, Shao Jeh, do not hesitate to say so…Ah mi tah Fo.***”

---

((And, pause…More coming, of course, just wanted to get the interaction with Jessy addressed…))

* Carefully, miss. Are you okay?
** Of course
*** Buddha bless you

Sifu Cheung, still trying to hold at bay the overwhelming surge of emotions emanating from the Star’s evacuees, moved away from Jessy, then, and sought out any others that might require his assistance. His gaze panned slowly over the myriad spirits filling the Rocinante’s cargo bay and he, once again, paid close attention to his breathing and keeping his own thoughts in order as the still-overpowering influx of threatened to sweep him under. He managed to stay separate from it well enough to attend the injured for a bit longer – stopping here to apply liniment to a bruise, there to administer a cluster of acupuncture needles intended to slow a racing heartbeat – but still the tide of fear and anger roiled around him and attempted to suck him into it’s tumultuous current…

Anger? Fu Sheng blinked, offered a shake of his head as if that particular sensation was somehow strangely alien to the moment – and, this particular brand of anger that had just crashed over him was exactly that – and felt himself thrown off balance by the sudden darkness of it.

The monk’s smile diminished noticeably as he fought to maintain tranquility in the gale of emotion. His breathing was barely on the edge of his control for an instant and refused to flow either in or out with ease as he tried to open himself to the sensation and, hopefully, locate it’s source… Each tick of his gaze from the face of one passenger to the next was accompanied by a slow, quivering breath and a mantra repeated in his mind but, otherwise, the little monk appeared to be frozen in place; only his eyes moving… When Fu Sheng managed to separate that poisonous anger from the predominant tang of fear, it hit him hard… almost physically… and he felt his knees give a little as it howled past.

Someone here is terribly angry that their plan has failed… His eyes closed and he shuddered faintly before opening them again. ...this plan that had something to do with the blast… Someone wanted something from that ship... and caused the Star’s destruction trying to get to it… and, whatever that something is, it is now on this ship, as is the one searching for it.
“I…” the little priest blinked and wavered in the midst of the throng, the characteristic smile now completely gone from his lips as his gaze skimmed the cargo bay in what might have been taken by some as desperation, “…can’t…”

He shook his head, again, this time with such force that the long, braided queue that hung down his back whipped over one shoulder and draped itself in a loose loop around his neck. Fu Sheng’s gaze abandoned the crowd, then, sought out Captain Sung, and found him standing on the catwalk above. Before the thought had completed itself, the monk was moving up the steps and across the catwalk toward Wyatt.

“Sung Chuan Zung,” he said evenly and hopefully loudly enough for only the captain to hear, “I do not wish to cause alarm but I believe we might have a problem.”


((OOC: And there we have it… room for edits and interjections as necessary, of course… ))

“Duhn ruhn,**” Fu Sheng nodded, pleased to see the woman’s smile brighten a bit more when their eyes met. “Come,” he said, ushering her a few steps away and gesturing to a spot where a spar jutted out from the bulkhead, “Sit. Allow me to tend your hurt.”
She smiled at him and let herself be guided to a sitting place and she watched as he tended to her minor injuries.

Your energies are good, Shao Jeh,” he said softly, inspecting the cut, “and this does not look so bad…” He produced a cloth and a small jar of antiseptic from within the orange changshan he wore and proceeded to clean and dress the wound. “…It is the emotion, I think, more than the injury that makes you dizzy.” Fu Sheng glanced meaningfully around the cargo bay, then, smiling as his eyes came back to hers, again; “It is quite palpable, is it not?”
“Yes,” she said looking around as he began to clean her forehead, “it was horrible.” She let a faint tremor seep into her voice as if the emotion was getting to her. Actually, now that she was off that ship she felt better, but she always tended to try an appear helpless. It came in handy many times in the past; people always assumed a beautiful woman was no threat often to their consternation.

She sat the silver case down next to her but kept a hand on it as he finished up with her cut; it didn’t take long for, as he had said, it wasn’t that bad.

“I am Fu Sheng,” the monk offered with a bow, “If there is anything else I can do for you, Shao Jeh, do not hesitate to say so…Ah mi tah Fo.***”
“Yes,” she said smiling again as her hand touched the bandage he had applied, “I will be fine now. There are others probably more injured than I. Thank you Fu Sheng; my name is Beatrix Kiddo.” Strange she didn’t look like a Beatrix anything.

Jessy used the cover identity she had aboard the ship, no sense in saying her real name just yet. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek lightly and then sat back and let him go about his business.

When he walked away she watched him for a moment but then began to survey the chaos. Just because they were off the ship didn’t mean there was order now; people milled around and some of the more snobby passengers were demanding better accommodations. Jessy smirked and looked down at the case beside her; it was all she had now except for the bar in her purse. The case made her think of the guy aboard ship that had been eyeing her during the trip to the stern. She looked around and saw him and his bulky shadows across the bay; she wondered why he had seemed to be watching her. She lifted the case again, sitting it on her lap and hugging it to her chest, she remained sitting there where Fu Sheng had left her, no sense getting in the way and it was comfortable as it were.

Suddenly she felt a tremor through the ship and then the she heard yelling and the cargo door slammed shut and the ship rocks as it disengages from the liner and she reaches out and hangs on to a beam nearby as more violent movements shake the ship. She can only guess that there were more explosions aboard the starliner. She hangs on as the ship pitches and rolls as it tries to escape the fiery death of the other ship.

As the cargo bay hatch opened, Willow took in a deep cleansing breath and raised her chin, her dancer's stance making her appear both regal and welcoming at the same time. As the mass of formerly well dressed humanity swelled towards her, Willow began speaking, using her performer's skills to project her voice without seeming to shout, using smiles and graceful arm gestures to direct the crowd.

"Welcome aboard, everyone, come in, come in. Keep moving in, there's a dear, and clear the way for those behind you. If you're hurt, come alongside here and we'll have a look, otherwise, let's get everyone aboard before we get sorted, shall we?"

Willow spotted Lord Christopher Hood pause in helping those around him to catch an older military man from falling. The two exchanged quiet words, and the military man promptly straightened up and took over shepherding the crowd, albeit in a somewhat confusing manner. Lord Hood stayed beside him, re-directing people correctly. Willow nodded her thanks to both of them and turned to address the relatively minor injuries of her new charges. Fortunately, John and Fu Sheng were already dealing with some of the injured, and she thanked the Buddha for her blessings.

She'd assessed the group around her and had already taken care of the worst injuries when she overheard a waspish command from the hatchway. She looked up to see Portia Amber striding onto the ship in her usual forceful manner, demanding to speak to the Captain. Willow knew that it would take just one such scene to tip many of the others to remembering how important they were, so she excused herself from the young man with the freshly bandaged arm to glide up alongside the imperious woman.

"So get me the captain so I can arrange quarters immediately for my daughter and I. After all, do you know who I am?!
"Of course I do, Portia Amber-sama, you have often honoured the Takahara home with your presence, along with your husband. I am so sorry for your loss, "Willow put her hands on her thighs to bow respectfully, her head bowing deep enough to show respect, but not subordinance," How lovely to see you again, it's Sunipta Takahara, Ahiro's daughter. I will be certain to pass along any greetings you may have for him." Willow's tone was gracious and respectful, but was assuredly firm.

"As for accomodations, I can certainly understand your concern, and we'll address them as soon as we have a moment. Would you like to sit over here, where you won't be bothered...or perhaps you'd like to wait back on the ship, in case something more suitable comes along? No? I supposed not, you are as wise as my father always said you are! Please, make yourself comfortable, Ms. Amber-sama."

OOC: More to come - it's late!

Willow had left Portia Amber sitting on a crate in a quiet corner of the cargo bay; the woman's handsome features marred by a frown of thought. She was either coming up with her next set of complaints or trying to remember where on the social register the Takaharas were in relation to her. In either case, she wasn't making a scene, and Willow could return to assessing injuries. She frowned for a moment, realizing she'd lost track of Amber Sunshine, then spotted her with John Ryan.

"Merciful Buddha," she thought to herself, changing one set of medical gloves for another," I hope John knows well enough to not sample that bit of candy - Portia will have his head, and other sundry body parts! He's a grown man, I'm sure he's fine."

She put the matter from her mind, peering down the hatchway to see if there any more passengers boarding, and saw the backs of two ship security guards heading back into the crippled ship, Lord Hood waving at them to come back. The distraction meant she'd missed the last passenger to board, but he'd spotted her.

"Sunipta? Is that really you?" Willow's jaw dropped almost comically as she found herself looking at a well dressed older man, who looked puzzled, then delighted to see her." Sunipta, my precious, the fates themselves brought us together...I knew we couldn't be parted. "

He'd grabbed both her forearms with more force than she'd ever accredit her former lover, though she'd not have recognized him but for his wave a few months ago. He was dressed well, but more flashily than she'd remembered his taste, and his facial skin was too tight for his age. She narrowed her gaze and looked at the too firm jaw, and spotted the faint traces of surgery. His hair was thicker than it was on the wave, proof of more surgery, and his expensive cologne was loaded with subtle pheromones. She found her body responding even as her mind raced. How did he have all this money? Willow loved her father, but knew full well that when Ahiro Takahara ruined a man, he was ruined . Cameron Bridges shouldn't have had a single credit, and here he was all but wearing a crown.

Too bright teeth flashed a smile that faded into a puzzled grimace as Cameron looked around, without letting go of Willow, " I don't understand, Sunni, what are you doing here? You really turned me down for...this?"

Willow couldn't answer, the ship rippled beneath her feet before she heard the explosion; already off balance from being grabbed by Bridges, she fell into his arms, and he stumbled, pulling her to the floor as he fell.

“Get back here now!” Willow hears Lord Hood shout distantly, but she hears the automatic safety system shut the doorway to the airlock with a resounding thud.

Another explosion rocks the ship as it pulls away from the liner, and then all hell breaks loose as the Star of Sihnon is engulfed in a series of cascading explosions.

Ash paid close attention to Wolf’s instructions; he wanted Wolf to have confidence in him again. As soon as Wolf was assured things seemed set the kid headed out to the cargo bay to assist Wyatt.

The kid made his way to the catwalk. He spotted Wyatt and noticed he was unarmed. Hot footing it to Wyatt’s side the throng below caught his attention, “Gorram, that’s not forth”, scanning the crowd he counted by fives ,when he reached sixty he quit.

Trish caught his attention and motioned to pair of men standing guard over a man in a white suit. The bulge of a gun showed under their black jackets, they weren’t trying to hide it.

Asher knew that many rich folk kept their own “Public Relations” people at hand but he’d be sure to keep an eye.

Wyatt leaned his weight on the palms of his hands, and these he placed on the cool rail overlooking the cargo bay. Normally this bay was filled with either crates or livestock--he wasn't so sure it still wasn't filled with livestock. The crowd of bruised and confused played tricks with his crystal-colored eyes at first. He attempted to blink back the double vision, but it didn't cede. His lids closed for a moment and he breathed out a prayer to Buddha for patience. Even with the prayer, he found it more difficult to open his eyes to the swarming mass below than he'd anticipated. When he finally managed Willow and the little monk were quickly working through the crowd with direction and command. He felt the usual grateful surge for Willow and her many talents before moving his gaze to scan his new guests. Trouble was always on the table for Wyatt Sung, and he wasn't about to pretend he could ignore it. And sure as there was no oxygen in the Black, trouble came on the lips of those wanting special treatment aboard Roc.

"I want to speak with the captain," was something he heard echo throughout the bay from one metal wall to the other, and from more than one mouth. But before that got out of hand, he watched with chagrin as an obvious Browncoat officer stumbled to the ground.

Wyatt could tell the man was drunk from his actions...it was all too familiar a state of mind. The captain's usual stoic expression soured and he gripped the rail with white knuckle resolve. How often had he been tempted to drown himself in amber liquid fire? Especially since Sam had left? And here was a mirror to look in--to witness the demons at work, pulling and tearing at his flesh. That's when more recognition dawned and Wyatt took in a deep breath to steady the sudden cocktail of feelings he found himself mixing.

Captain Havelock was being helped up by a gentlemanly sort after having fallen drunkenly to his deck. The Captain Havelock of Serenity Valley. Names always carried their own stories after a war, but Havelock's carried more than a story. There weren't a Browncoat alive who likely didn't owe Havelock something. And here he stood, in conversation with a man who looked like he belonged to the crowd they'd come in with. Wyatt's head tilted to the side just a bit, similar to the way a dog's tilted when it saw that you were talking at it. Did he know the gentleman? Havelock obviously did. And whatever the man said to the old Browncoat, it seemed to work. Captain Havelock began barking orders, and people began to follow them. Wyatt finally released the grip on the rail and allowed himself to breathe. He'd have to figure out what kind of respect to pay the man later. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Motion near the stairs drew Wyatt's attention and furrowed his brow. The young folk were b-lining for the engine room. Placing his fingers in his mouth, Sung blew a sharp whistle to catch Ash's attention. At first, he ignored the others who looked, and focused his attention on the young gunman until he caught Asher's eye, and directed him after the teens. Then, he heard the call to "Come back," followed by the desperate bellow of, "Noooooo!"

Roc's captain looked back to the cargo bay doors just in time to see the security detail running back into the ship just as the whole vessel rumbles, and another explosion shakes them to the core. Wyatt gripped the rail again to keep from stumbling, and forces himself upright as soon as the blast doors began to shut. He could feel Roc gearing up to move beneath his feet, and the sound of galloping echoed all around him. They were moving, and fast at that. Tess must have seen something rather frightening to move Roc at that gait, and following the explosion, Wyatt easily figured it had something to do with their imminent safety being threatened by the Star's dying breath.

The chaos that followed was primarily verbal, and a quick scan told Wyatt that their new passengers weren't quite yet at the, "Screw everyone else, it's one for one, and all the rest of you can kiss my lily white ass," mode yet. But it likely wouldn't be long before they were, and the need to establish command and control on his ship was greatly pressing on him.

One more whistle erupted from his lips before he straightened into the commanding figure he could be and spoke with the calm of a practiced politician.

"My name is Captain Wyatt Sung, and yer aboard my ship now. Rocinante is a good ship, but she weren't built for the accommodations that the Star was. Our facilities are limited, an' though we are all grateful to Buddha that we were in this end o' the Black when this disaster happened, things are a bit tight. So, I'm gonna state this once, and only once. Listen like your lives depend on it, fine people. You stay here in this bay unless otherwise directed by myself'r one o' my crew. Don't go touchin' none of the cargo, don't go messin' with my mule. Just sit tight while we find the best solution to the situation.

"Miss Willow and Fu Sheng there'll help those o' you who are hurtin'. John'll support yer needs as we can, but there'll be order about it. The young man there is Asher...he's a good hand at public relations, so he'll be about as needed. That's Ma Trish, and she's just like any ma dirtside, so I wouldn't be pressin' her patience none.

"Now, I've got my pilot takin' us to a nearby planet that looks like it'll be a good place with some fresh air t' wait out the Alliance's rescue boats. It's 'bout a four-hour trip that should go rather quick if'n everyone's cooperative. So, let's be cooperative an' make it as pleasant as we can."

Tapping the rail with his left hand a couple of times, Wyatt considered just how diplomatic he wanted to be. Fine folk like this could lead to additional work in the future. Of course, there are levels to Fine, and some of the finer might take offense should he show the less-than-fine more favor. Making a decision, Wyatt spoke up again.

"Some o' you may want t' give me the time o' day pretending that Roc has more t' offer than what you see before you. It ain't that I am inattentive t' the needs o' my passengers. It's jus' that Roc is a pretty li'l thing that flies on a wing an' a prayer. So, I'll not be entertainin' private audiences with anyone 'less I determine it's necessary. Yer on my ship, an' there're a lot o' pressin' matters that need my attention. So, I appreciate yer cooperation.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've progress t' check on."

Wyatt abruptly ended the speech by turning and striding for the stairs leading to the bridge. He hoped to Buddha he didn't have to shoot someone in the leg to drive his point home.

As Wolf worked quickly having Ash to help if even briefly was a big help. Having no problem setting the scrubbers to max and getting the algae up to speed his next task was to hand build a second filter for them. He could feel the shaking of the Rocinante as it moved away from the pleasure ship. Then he was lucky that he was able to grab a hold on the work bench before him to not fall over as the ship was hit by a bigger force of pressure. Clearly some type of explosion.

Moving quicker he ignored what could be happening outside the ship, or inside it, and kept his attantion focused on building the filter.

John had come down to the hangar in a mood, something or somebody in the bridge had ticked him off but he wasn’t saying what or who. He just helped Willow and Cheung with their preparations then stood by the door controls waiting for the onslaught of unexpected guests. A slight bump and a green light announced they’d docked with the Star and John, being the closest, pushed a button to drop the loading ramp and raise the internal hatchway door. Beyond the door was a short passageway leading to one of the Star’s doors. Dazed and confused people staggered into the cargo bay like livestock into a pen. John stood back and ushered folk along, counting as he did, as Willow greeted the new passengers and directed them about the cargo hold. There were far more then forty here, and no casualties to speak of. John hoped the casualties hadn’t been put into escape pods, escape pods needed to be saved for those with better chances of survival then casualties, and John also doubted the Star had sufficient medical personnel to put one with each casualty in each escape pod… mind you there were only 17 escape pods so it might have been possible. The Start’s captain, the apparently drunk gentleman in old military dress, seemed to do things differently to how John would have, or would have advised doing them.

As the cargo bay filled and as the drunk captain and his aid started organising the mob John was freed up to see to what injuries people presented. There were some cuts and bruises, but nothing particular to get worried about, except a potentially bad cut on some old dear’s arm. Recalling his years old medical training John cleaned and bandaged the wound best he could, ignoring the chatter around him until somebodies warm hand landed on his cheek. John finished the bandage then looked up as the hand slid down along the contour of his cheekbone and down his neck, then down the buttons of his shirt until the hand met his waistcoat.
“I’m Amber Sunshine. Are you a doctor?” said the girl in a voice as soft as her hand.
He looked at her, craftily watching the rise and fall of her chest, as she looked deeply into his eyes, taking her hand from his shirt he held it in both his own, casually holding a few fingers across her wrist. He kept silent, not answering her question, knowing she wasn’t particularly interested in his answer.
“I think I need to be examined thoroughly. You got someplace ... private we could go?” she continued.
Her question was unexpected, and almost took John off guard. He hadn’t been with anybody for a long while, for too much of a long while, and this girl was offering herself to him. And she was pretty, she was very appealing. It would have been the easiest thing in the ‘Verse to say ‘Yes’ and head off to his quarters, but instead this is what John said. “You’re perspiring a little and your pupils are slightly dilated. Your breathing is also irregular and your heart beat seems elevated.” He let go of her hand and looked her in the eye with the bored sternness one would expect from a doctor telling you to ‘take it easy’ after an operation or a dentist letting you know you should be flossing more regularly. “I think you’ll be fine. I’ve got to finish up here but if you want a check over wait around the medbay.” John then asked the older woman to hold her injured arm across her waist as he tied it into a sling. She probably didn’t need one, but people seemed to like the comfort of slings and it couldn’t do any harm.

Waiting for Willow to be free he quietly whispered to her that there may be a girl waiting around the medbay, and that she’d asked him for an ‘examination’, hinting that she’d be better to send the girl off then himself.

EDIT: Changed "cold" to "bored", and general grammatical and spelling mistakes. Hope nobody minds.