With the med supply run done and stocked away, Willow settled into the routine she¡¦d established when traveling from one bit of rock to the next. There was laundry to consider, both her outfits from dirtside and the sheets she'd loaned to Asher for his big night out. Or was that "in" , Willow chuckled wickedly to herself.

Water was carefully rationed on ships, but some genius had developed a system of tumbling clothes in a blend of silicate beads that absorbed dirt and odour, leaving clothes clean and fresh. Willow used the unit on her sheets, then grabbed enough beads in a bucket to "handwash" her clothes, a small bowl of water handy to spot clean what the beads missed. This she did with complete absorption, humming to herself and exclaiming with delight when everything was clean, fresh and neatly folded again.

The medical bay was reviewed thoroughly; the newer supplies rotated behind older ones. As fussy and girly as Willow's bunk was, this room was spotless and spare, everything in its designated place. Woe to anyone who "borrowed" some surgical tape or scissors and put them back in the wrong spot.

To keep slender and fit on such a small ship, Willow started a daily yoga class, or at least, she practiced yoga daily and invited the others to join her. Her bunk was too small, so she¡¦d lay out her mat in the dining area between lunch and dinner, set soft music to playing on the kitchen comm., and move through one graceful pose to the next. (OOC: Not sure if anyone joins her, but I'm sure there's the occasional audience )

It was after one such session that Willow returned to her bunk, glowing from the exercise and serene with the inner peace it brought. She was stowing the yoga mat in the storage closet when the basket of scarves over her bed caught her eye. Each scarf was normally rolled and tucked into the basket so she could quickly find the right colur or material, but someone had rummaged in the basket, pulling the scarves apart and bundling them together. As Willow pulled the basket down and started to pull out the scarves to resort them, muttering in annoyance, she realized there was a round depression in the middle of the basket, as if something had curled up in the scarves to make a nest.

"Space rats?!" she gasped, horrified. "Not in my bunk, not in my SCARVES! " That second part came out almost as a wail, and Willow was about to dash off in search of Kora, or maybe Dash, of maybe one of Asher's big guns (non violence going out the door when it came to Willow's clothes) when the comm crackled with Dash's signature drawl.

"A'right, ladies an' men-folk,"¨ Dash broadcast to the ship, "Ya'll need ta get yer gorram asses up here! Ya ain't gonna wanna miss this!"

Willow was all too glad to escape her rat infested bunk, and was making her way to the bridge when Dash yelled," Mei mei, get yer fine li'l ass back there an' get me some juice flowin'! Ever'body else, grab hold o' somethin'! This tzao gao's 'bout ta get all kinds o' crazy!"

Willow hastened to grab ahold of something solid nearby and braced herself as best she could. "Now what?!" she wondered.

Two and a half days of routine. That’s the way Wyatt looked at it; when they were in the Black. It was comforting to be among the stars with those that he cared about despite the nagging pressure of what he assumed was hunting them. Here, they had control of the situation. Not much could sneak up on you when you were being propelled through space and with Dash at the controls they could outrun just about anything, or so Wyatt believed.

Since bringing Sam on board as the pilot, Wyatt had taken his fair share of turns behind the controls, but when it came to threading a needle, he still preferred Sam to be the one making the decisions. Of course, this didn’t mean that he didn’t look over his friend’s shoulder none.

Still, two and a half days meant that Wyatt spent a bunch of time in his quarters reading, or hanging out in the cargo bay with Dash, Asher, and Kora working out and sparring. On some nights, when feeling particularly lonely, he’d find himself talking quietly with Willow about nothing consequential. It was a comfort. The only person he spoke to about anything he was feeling deep down inside was Trish. She was his confidante.

As captain, he’d make the rounds, check on the condition of the ship, and make sure things were running smoothly, shifts were being met, and order was being maintained. It didn’t take much with this crew. They were all ku and knew their stuff, so the only times he really had to assert his authority were when Trish challenged that Dash and Asher were stealing paste again. That pretty much ended when Wyatt growled, “Go Hwong Tong! Someone’s eatin’ the gorram paste, an’ I don’t much care who, but it had better stop. Dohn-luh-mah?” There’d been some ruffled feathers for a few hours, but it had passed. Wyatt didn’t concern himself with who was eating the paste after that; he had other things on his mind.

Come the day of arrival, Wyatt was in the cockpit with Sam when the comet came into view.

“Ain’t nobody tried to heave us to and suck us out inta the nothin’,” Sam grinned as he flicked a glance at the navsat display, “ain’t no bombs went off in none o’ the luh suh what Griff or Dodger stuck in Roc’s hold… Ever’thin’s shiny as shiny gets.

Now where in the hell is that ruttin’ Hulawhore mi…” Dash interrupted his own query with a low whistle as he caught sight of the Angel Hair comet streaking brilliantly through the inky void. “Wuo duh MA! Ain’t that a pretty sight, though?”

“Glory be,” Wyatt whispered in awe. “Damn near the prettiest thing I’ve seen in the whole of the Black. Careful, Puhn yoh, that ain’t gonna be like threadin’ no canyon.”

Even as Sam goaded Rocinante closer, slightly adjusting course to pin down his intended intercept vector, Wyatt rose up from the co-pilot’s seat and made his way to stand behind his friend. Placing one hand on the bulkhead, he placed the other on the back of the pilot’s chair. Over Sam’s shoulder he read the display as it chirped to life: Lullabelle Mine: claim registration 1277640.

“I wanna meet the crazy S.O.B. that tied a Bumblebee to that,” Dash chuckled as he started making adjustments to the controls and sensors that would be necessary to ease the Firefly into the comet’s tail and then successfully navigate through and, finally, dock with the mine. That done, Sam turned his gaze back to the rapidly approaching Angel Hair comet again and reached for the mic.

“A’right, ladies an’ men-folk,” he said, broadcasting to the entire ship, “Ya’ll need ta get yer gorram asses up here! Ya ain’t gonna wanna miss this!”

Wyatt continued to eye their approach. He was quite certain that this would be one of the most difficult landings they’ve ever had to attempt and knew Sam well enough to sense when he was “feeling it”, so he let the man play.

“Reminds me of a lady I knew once,” Sam quipped without looking away from what he was doing, “Shiny. Beautiful. Damn invitin’… But, underneath all o’ th’ sparkly stuff, a heart o’ solid gorram ice.

I remember this one time. Her an’ me was grapplin’ like grapplin’ was goin’ outta style, get me? An’, all the sudden she flips us over an’ reaches fer th…Gun!!!”

At the very instant the proximity alarm sounded, Sam twisted the yoke hard to port in order to roll Rocinante safely out of the path of the Griffin class freighter that had just blown past them. Wyatt fell against the console and cursed as he felt the pain of the steel against his hip.

“What the hell was that,” Dash growled, angrily reining the Firefly back to starboard to re-claim his plotted vector. He glared at the Griffin as it burned hard towards the comet, the name Mary Celestia indelibly scribing itself at the top of his Mi tian gohn list.

“Choo fei wuh suh leh (Over my dead body),” Dash snarled at the Celestia as his hands thudded across the console and nudged the throttle, “you obviously don’ know who yer humpin’ wit’! Meh, tah mah duh hwoon dahn!.”

“Mei mei,” he barked as his fingers flexed, then curled around the yoke in a nothin’-but-business manner, “Get yer fine li’l ass back there an’ get me some juice flowin’! Ever’body else, grab hold o’ somethin’! This tzao gao’s ‘bout ta get all kinds o’ crazy!”

Wyatt scowled at the intruder and grabbed the mic. “Alright folks, this is your captain. Everyone get to yer stations, there’s likely going to be trouble here.

“We’re burnin’ for the comet, but we got ourselves some competition.” Clicking the mic off, he replaced it on the hook and made his way over to the co-pilot’s seat. “I’ve got your six, Dash. Burn hard, then cut in front of the Huen Dahn and see how he likes the bump and grind of Roc’s blast. I don’t much care if you ride that tail for nigh on to an hour so long as they get the worst of it.”

That said, Wyatt flipped the switch to give him some access to the controls—not enough to pull anything from Sam, but enough that he could assist in the difficult flying that lay ahead.

(I’m going to add two plot points to Sam’s piloting checks.)

GM’s Note: I have kept conversation out of this as much as possible to allow you to post your own reactions.

Battlestations
Griffin class ships were designed to be blockade runners in the war. Ugly as sin doesn’t quite describe these ships that are reminiscent of a long fat bird with oversized wings. In the old days, this thing would have been packed with missiles on them there wings, but after the war, they were picked up by enterprising folks who stripped them down. Their strengths are maneuverability and ability to take a beating and keep on fleeting. Weakness is that their engines burn out easily, but most owners of these replace the faulty parts early.

Normally in a race, the Griffin is equal to the Firefly, but a touch more agile. But they ain’t flying against a standard firefly, they be flying against Rocinante.

Wyatt takes the secondary pilot’s seat to assist Dash in the treacherous job of flying through ice and vapour to outrun the other ship. Kora takes off in a run to the engine room to help Rocinante with the strain. Asher follows behind Kora, hoping to assist her in anyway. Willow follows close behind to head to the infirmary and Trish, knowing to keep out of the way, heads to the kitchen to strap anything loose down.

Just as Kora reaches the hatchway to the Aft Hall, a streak of black and white zips by, as the brightly collared cat passes under the feet of Kora and Asher. It runs right by Willow and past Trish to disappear under one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

“Rawwwwrrfff” the kitten exclaims as it passes by. All of you saw it but right now none of you have the time to stop and talk about it.

The Chase
Maria Celestia has the lead and uses it to advantage, snaking over and across the vapour trail to send chunks of ice in its wake. A mountain of white looms before you and for a moment all seems lost. Sam throws the ship into a fast dive and spins Rocinante into a barrel roll. Every thunk and bang on the hull of the ship sounds like a giant knocking to get in, but she keeps on flying (1 point stun damage, 1 point wound damage to Rocinante).

Sam spots a clearing in the ice pattern and calls to Kora to give him some speed. She responds in action, asking Ash for tools so she can shunt power from the thrusters to the main engine. Sam finds the thrust he needs and Rocinante zooms forward to catch up to Maria Celestia. Another group of ice comes toward both ships, larger than the ones before. Rocinantezigs to port, Maria Celestiazags to starboard, and it turns out that zagging was a mistake. A huge chunk smashes into the other ship causing it to veer off course. It is still flying but it has fallen behind.

Without another ship to stir up the pot, avoiding the ice becomes that much easier, until Kora shuts down the shunt she built to give Rocinante the extra speed. The power should have returned quickly to the thrusters but instead a feedback occurs. A large panel of wires next to Asher overheats rapidly then explodes. The panel barely misses the young man’s head but the fire from beneath reaches out for him, burning his left hand and arm (3 wound point, 3 stun points to Asher). He screams in pain and Kora quickly grabs a fire extinguisher to douse the flames. She looks to Asher to see if he is ok, yells out for Willow and then immediately starts to repair the damage. As much as she wants to help her friend, she knows that without the thruster, they are in big trouble.

In the cockpit, Sam and Wyatt hear the scream and the call for Willow. Just then, Sam loses control for a moment as the ship suddenly veers toward the comet tail. For a lesser pilot, this would be the end, but he compensates quickly, muscles in his arm bulging to fight the controls. In the corner of his eye he sees Maria Celestia gaining distance behind them. If that ship had missiles still, they’d be dead in the black right now.

Asher gets up from the floor. His arm and hand hurt like the blazes but he pushes it aside to continue helping Kora as best he can.

Willow comes up the stairs with med kit in hand. Glad that she was wearing her yoga gear, the freedom of movement allows her to bound up the stairs and get to Ash’s side.

(assuming some discourse here. 3 wound points is close to serious for Asher but he is no way down)

Kora manages a rapid duct-tape repair of the panel. The reason for the overload comes clear with the smell of cat urine and burned feces from within the remains of the electronics.

Sam regains the control he needs and uses it to his advantage. Pulling the same trick as they did, he swoops over and creates an avalanche of ice behind the ship. Maria Celestia is forced to evade and makes another error in judgment. Bright light explodes against the darkness and the ship loses control, spinning like a child’s top away from the comet. They will recover but you’d bet there will be a few really sick people in that ship once it stabilizes.

Sam matches speed with the comet, turning Rocinante around at the last moment to swing in close. The core of Angel Hair is a nasty inhospitable place. A dirty snowball of nickel and iron and clamped to its surface – a converted Munroe Wagon (Bumblebee Class). You can see the 80 foot diameter dome glowing from within. There are two docking ports are at the 6 and 9 o’clock positions from the dome. Numerous processors and storage tanks can be seen as well as a few other building outside of the main dome.

The docking ports are set to automatic, and with the usual amount of cursing and swearing, Sam clamps to docking coupler #1 (nine o’clock), and shuts down the engines. An automatic vocal message in a soothing female voice intones, “Welcome to the Lullabelle Mine. We hope your journey was a pleasant one. Owners Sam Hawkes and Jim Ryan will be available shortly to attend to your business needs.”

Senator Kyle Tang was a solidly built older man, grey hair and moustache, of at least 50 years. He wore the sash of Lordship and the emblems of military ranks as well. He had been a general in the war, with moderate success and medals. He faced death, destruction and worst fates that that in his time without flinching. Now, he shook the bottle of pain relievers into his hand and popped two of them into his mouth, swishing them back with the remains of the whiskey he’d been drinking. He looked again at the Captain standing at attention before him.

“You didn’t find it?”

“No Senator. I had three squads search the entire docking port. We searched ships, we searched cargo holds. We found quite a bit of illegal goods and materials sir, but no …ummm... kitten.”

“Search again!”

The captain looked perturbed, ‘But Senator Tang, we ...”

“I said search again! I want a port lock on all the ships within, and I want every inch combed. Do you understand me!”

But it’s only a cat the Captain thought, but answered quickly, “Yes sir! By your orders sir!” and he saluted and turned to put the orders into effect.

Tang opened the decanter and filled his glass again. This was his own damn fault and he knew it. Should have kept it locked up but he didn’t think that Emilee would go into his personal belongings. But he’d left her in the skiff with her kitten for way too long, and naturally she got bored. By the Buddha, why did she have to play dress up with that!

If that bracelet fell into the wrong hands, he’d be ruined. That wasn’t about to happen and he didn’t get to where he was without knowing when to have a few escape routes planned. If the bracelet was activated, they would find it instantly and he’d be able to make a joke about it. If not, then he’d wait until it was found. If some rube did find it, chances are he’d wouldn’t realize what it was and then try to sell it. Tang finished his drink and then went to his cortex terminal to call a few friends and call in a few favours.

Willow had been making her way to the bridge when all hell broke loose, so she reversed course to head to the medical bay. She couldn¡¦t help on the bridge or in the engine room, so the best thing was to stay out of the way and be ready for when things went wrong and people needed patching.

She hadn't even gotten close to the bay when a black and white streak blurred by at ankle level, heading for the kitchen. "Aha, but that's a bloody big rat?!" she exclaimed, but all thoughts of vermin fled when the explosion happened and Asher screamed in pain.

"Hang on, I'm coming," Willow called, leaving all dignity behind to dash to the medical bay to grab her kit. With no time to clean up, she pulled on surgical gloves with her teeth as she raced back to the engine room. There, the smell of chemical flame extinguisher warred with the odours of hot engine, burned wiring and seared flesh, as well as the tang of something acrid. Willow dismissed it to assess Asher and Kora. Kora had already turned to start fixing the thingamabob that had gotten burnt, so she was obviously not injured. Asher was trying manfully to help, his left arm a mess of black and red flesh. Willow moved to Asher's side and held the young man's chin firmly in her hands until his dazed eyes focused on hers.

"Asher? Asher Talhone, you look at me now," she said in a calm but firm tone, the command unmistakable. "This is no big deal, you hear me? Let's patch you up so you can be of more use to Kora here, alright?"

(OOC: Assuming Asher will stop long enough with a pretty doctor tugging at him )

Willow smiled reassuringly at the young man, then took his left arm carefully into her gloves hands to examine it. The slightest move made burnt cloth pull at the oozing burns, and she knew she had to protect the tender flesh beneath. "Hang on, babe," she murmured, then reached into the kit to pull out a can of anesthetic spray. She applied the spray liberally to the burned areas, knowing she had to remove the cloth and dead skin as quickly as possible. Once the numbing effect of the spray took hold, surgical scissors made quick work of the remains of Asher's sleeve.

"Just you watch what Kora's doing, ok, Ash? You pay her close mind, so you know how to help in a minute," Willow soothed, not wanting Asher to see the next step. (OOC: Whether he looks or not, she has to do the next part.) With the same scissors, she snipped any flesh that was clearly dead, leaving inflamed and injured flesh that could heal cleanly. "Just a minute more, and we'll be done, my dear, " she murmured, smiling again as the worst of it was over. A thorough splash of antiseptic on the area, then she applied a quick sealing bandage, the weave designed not to stick to raw flesh. Patting the edges in place before the anesthetic spray could wear off, Willow looked back up at Asher and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"And a kiss to make it all better," she finished, letting the young man go and stepping back to start cleaning up the debris of her work. "Give Kora what help she needs, and when you're done, we'll get you on my table for a proper healing. "

Willow nods reassuringly and steps back up against a wall, where she'll be out of the way but able to keep an eye on Asher. It wasn't a major injury, but it was a close thing. A few seconds longer in the flames, and Willow might have been doing an amputation.

OOC: That's enough for now, want to leave room for interaction

“I’ve got your six, Dash. Burn hard, then cut in front of the Huen Dahn and see how he likes the bump and grind of Roc’s blast. I don’t much care if you ride that tail for nigh on to an hour so long as they get the worst of it.”

An almost mischievous grin spread across Dash’s lips, then, and when Wyatt shunted some of the peripherals to the co-pilot’s seat, the pilot nodded; “Roger that, Cap…

…C’mon, baby,” he whispered to Rocinante as he jammed the throttle forward, “let’s fahn dahn!” Dash’s eyes panned across the console once and then lifted to peer through the viewports and lock in that ruttin’ Griffin… he felt himself become one with the ship at that point. The ice vapor and vacuum that swept over Roc’s hull swept over him, every movement of his body was synced with a movement made by the beloved Firefly that he’d called home for this past year, and, at this moment, Dash’s life was about nothing else than catching Maria Celestia and showing her what sailin’ the black was all about.

Just as Rocinante was beginning to close the gap, though, the wong ba duhn at the Griffin’s helm carved a wake through the comet’s tail and sent an avalanche of ice and rock hurtling towards them. Aside from a mumbled curse and an almost aggravated sigh, though, Sam didn’t panic. Instead, feeling Roc’s ‘instinctive reaction,’ he followed through with the will of the ship, nosing steeply down and rolling through the helter-skelter chunks of space debris, skillfully avoiding the worst of Maria Celestia’s wake-storm. Dash did wince and curse each time a chunk of debris clanged off of the ship, though, following up each exclamation with “…Ow! Sorry, Kora…”

Guiding Rocinante easily out of the white-knuckle barrel-roll, Dash flicked a glance at Wyatt, offering a sheepish grin and a faint shrug… “Them scratches should jus’ buff right out, puhn yoh,” he said before turning his eyes back to the debris field and the aft end of Maria Celestia… “An’ will ya looky here, they done did us a favor an’ pointed me right at a pipe!

Got me an open lane, mei mei,” he said after cuing the mic, “Dump whatever ya can inta th’ flow an’ let’s put these frog-humpers in our wake!”

It doesn’t take long for Kora to work her magic and, it seemed, the power he’d called for was at his fingertips even before the last word of his request disappeared from the air; “Giddyap, Roc!” The firefly zooms forward, quickly closing the gap between the two racing transports, and Dash rolls Roc over on her back above Celestia as they catch up… He’s not sure if the other pilot can se him or not but, just in case, he blows the other wheelman a kiss and quickly follows up that action by flipping the bird for good measure before completing the roll and placing Roc on the port side of the Griffin. For a moment, the two spaceships hurtle towards the comet side by side, bobbing and weaving to avoid the chunks of ice and stone that continually break off from the Angel Hair comet. As they enter a denser, more dangerous section of the comet’s tail, though, Dash finds the extra help he needs in the form of an enormous chunk of ice. He holds course along side the Griffin until the last possible instant, zigging Rocinante to port and giving Maria Celestia no other option but to zag the other direction… right into the path of that tumbling ice cube. “Wu du bu juhn fu,” Dash laughed as the impact sent the Griffin veering off course and secured the lead for Rocinante, “Eat that, ya claim-jumpin’ chai neow!

A’ight, mei mei,” he called out, signaling to the mechanic that the power shunt could be capped, “The kiddies’re in th’ dust…” He had expected the speed to fall off a bit in response but what he hadn’t been prepared for was the sudden loss of control and the chaos that erupted from the back of the ship. He traded concerned glances with Wyatt when the Kid’s scream of pain and the frantic call for the Doc echoed up the foredeck but didn’t have time to comment.

“Juh shi suh mo go dohng shee?! No, no, no, baby,” he grimaced, almost lifting himself out of the seat as he hauled on the yoke as he fought to keep Rocinante from heaving over and getting pummeled, “Stay wit’ me, bao bei…stay wit’ me. C’mon!”

Out of the corner of his eye he spots the Maria Celestia, apparently recovered from her ten-second grapple with the space-berg and gaining on them a little too quickly. “Gorramit, Kora,” he hollered, still wrestling with the controls and not bothering with the mic, “ ‘less ya wanna take that ride agin, darlin’, I could use some tian ling ling, di ling ling right about now…”

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for Kora to make the repairs (what ever had gone wrong stunk to high heaven, though, the smell of it reaching even Sam’s nose) and, before the Griffin could overtake them, Dash had the controls back. “Tha’s better,” he grinned at Wyatt, “sometimes I jus’ wanna plant a big, wet one right on that li’l lady’s a…

Son-of-a…” Dash smirked, catching sight of the Griffin… The job-jacker was doing it’s best to pull up and snatch the lead again… “No ya don’t, puhn yoh,” he chuckled as he wrenched the yoke and, using the Celestia’s own maneuver against her, carved an arc across the Angel Hair’s tail. “Eat that, ya ching wah tsao duh liao mahng,” he grinned wickedly, watching Maria Celestia tumble out of control after taking the full brunt of Roc’s wake, “Gimme a hard time, will ya?”

As happy as he was with himself, though, Dash didn’t linger overlong on gloating. In fact, he quickly let the amateurs aboard that Griffin fade quickly from his mind (although he would have to remember the tale the next time he saw Terry) and settled back into driving his own boat the rest of the way to the Lullabelle mine. “I reckon that’s the worst of it, Wyatt,” he offered, relaxing in his seat a bit and scanning the console and the view beyond the canopy with a well trained eye, “All’s left ta do now is ta bring this bird ta roost…”

((OOC: Room for interjection, commentary, etc, all through this, of course… assuming that Wyatt will grab the mic, here, and make a Captain-like announcement… “We’s still livin’… what’s the status, etc”…))

“…I dunno what th’ guay happened back there, Cap,” Dash continued after Wyatt had returned the mic to its cradle, “Din’t sound as if the Kid got the best of it, though… A’right, here’s our hitchin’ post.”

It wasn’t the easiest task in the ‘Verse, hitching a transport to a comet, but Dash didn’t struggle with it much more than any other docking procedure he’d ever pulled off. At least, that’s the impression one would get as gauged level of difficulty by the amount of cursing that flowed from the Sam’s mouth whilst he was setting Rocinante to the clamps. Once he felt as much as heard the mechanicals lock in place, he toggled the engines off and reached for the mic, himself. “We’re strapped on, folks,” he said, “ever’body feel free ta puke.”

((OOC: Aaand we’ll leave it there for now. Dash will (assuming he’s already got his weapons strapped) head for the engine room to see exactly what in the hell happened back there and check on Asher… “Ya a’right, Kid? Din’t scald yer pecker off didja?... Just yer arm? Well hell, ya got two o’ them… *grin*”))

“A’right, ladies an’ men-folk, ya’ll need ta get yer gorram asses up here! Ya ain’t gonna wanna miss this!”

Sam’s graveled voice echoed throughout the ship as Kora gave up trying to coax the frightened kitten from it’s hiding place and hurriedly made her way to the bridge to see what Dash was so excited about.

When she arrived, her jaw dropped and a slight gasp escaped her open mouth. The view was breathtaking, like nothing she had ever seen. Before her, a brilliant cone raced across the blackness of space trailing gossamer spires of luminous dust in it’s wake.

“Wo Bu Shin Wo Dah Yan Jing” she muttered to herself as she gaped in awe. She had hardly uttered the last syllable when the proximity alarm sounded. Instinctively, Sam quickly twisted the yoke to port to roll the ship away from whatever had caused the alarm causing Wyatt to fall against the console. A line of expletives followed.
“What the hell was that,” Dash growled, angrily reining the Firefly back to starboard to re-claim his plotted vector. He glared at the Griffin as it burned hard towards the comet, the name Mary Celestia indelibly scribing itself at the top of his Mi tian gohn list.

“Choo fei wuh suh leh (Over my dead body),” Dash snarled at the Celestia as his hands thudded across the console and nudged the throttle, “you obviously don’ know who yer humpin’ wit’! Meh, tah mah duh hwoon dahn!.”

Kora’s eyes were torn away from the comet’s spectacle as the Griffin Class ship hurtled past them. As if reading Dash’s mind, she moved quickly to get to the engine room where he was likely exepcting her to work her magic with the power adjustments.

“Mei mei,” he barked as his fingers flexed, then curled around the yoke in a nothin’-but-business manner, “Get yer fine li’l ass back there an’ get me some juice flowin’! Ever’body else, grab hold o’ somethin’! This tzao gao’s ‘bout ta get all kinds o’ crazy!”

Kora was already on her way off the bridge before Dash was finished yelling. Asher followed close behind, holding onto whatever he could to steady himself as the ship rocked back and forth under Sam’s skillful hand.
As they converged at the back hallway, a furry flash dashed past by them almost causing Kora to trip. “GORRAM!!! There you are!!” She yelled. Asher’s eyes widened as the small critter scurried by. Seeing Asher’s reaction she scrambled onward as she said over her shoulder “I’ll explain later Ash”

As the two passed her room Kora stopped long enough to grab her toolbox and from there it took only a few seconds to reach the engine room. Quickly but with a steady hand she began removing panels with a screwdriver supplied by Asher. He had become a good assistant and though she was glad to have his help on most occasions she preferred to work alone in stressful situations, so the boy stood back and handed her tools unless given more specific instruction. Her hands moved rapidly as she rerouted lines from the thrusters to the main engine. Every so often she could feel the impact of stray ice slamming into the ship and grimaced at the thought of how hard it was going to be to buff those out. What seemed like an eternity was actually less than a minute and she was done…Sam had the power he needed. A high pitched rumble told Kora the trick had worked and the ship immediately responded by sailing past the Celestia with ease. Once the ship leveled out she knew Sam had successfully maneuvered his way safely past the opposition and she began to shut down the shunt so as not to use any more energy than needed. Asher was standing behind her near the entrance to the engine room when a spark ignited beneath a panel beside him blowing the console panel off. It missed Ash’s head by merely inches. Kora turned in time to see flames grab Asher’s arm as if it had been lying in wait the whole time for the perfect moment to strike. The kid screamed in pain and fell to the floor shaking his arm in an effort to put the flame out. The mechanic quickly responded by dousing the fire with a nearby extinguisher. “WILLOW!! She yelled, “we need some help here!!”

Within seconds Willow was at Asher’s side doctoring his burned arm while he futiley tried to help Kora get things under control.

"Asher? Asher Talhone, you look at me now," Willow chided in a calm but firm tone, the command unmistakable. "This is no big deal, you hear me? Let's patch you up so you can be of more use to Kora here, alright?"

Willow gently took Asher's burned arm and began to clean the wound as best she could all the while gently speaking to him in a reassuring voice. Ash was white as snow but seemd to respond to Willow's special touch. When she was done, she gave him a peck on the cheek

Kora hastily duct taped the wiring back together and pulled her hand from the charred console. Burned wires and flesh mingled with an acrid smell that Kora couldn’t quite put her finger on but it was wet and was what had caused the short in the panel. Finishing up…she turned to Willow and asked...“Do you smell something funny”

As Kora and Dash both worked their separate magics to stabilize the ship, Willow had a moment to breathe, though her eyes remained on Asher to note any other signs of injury that hadn’t been immediately apparent. When she was satisfied that he’d just need time in the med bay to prevent scarring, Willow stepped over to the com.

“Minor medical event in the engine room, Captain-san, but we’re shiny now. Just no hitting Asher on the arm for a while, or you’ll have me to face. Pardon the impertinence, but are we there yet? My stomach can’t remember which way is up.”

(Waits for a response, will respond is if necessary).

Her report done (Captain was a stickler about knowing everything necessary), Willow moved to kep out of Kora and Asher’s way as much as possible. When Kora was done her repairs, the pretty mechanic turned to Willow to ask,” Do you smell something funny?”

“You mean besides burned wiring and Asher flambé?”, Willow raised an eyebrow, her sense of play returning as the fright wore off, ” yes, and that’s distinctly urine and feces, or numbers 1 & 2 as Usha referred to them, I had enough whiffs of it in the emergency room. Something small and nasty has gotten behind your panels and done it’s business back there. I think we have space rats!”

Willow finished by looking worriedly at the floor as if little rat teeth were reaching for her ankles.

[OOC: ... all hell breaks loose in the engine room.]

Asher had grown used to playing gopher boy for Kora when it came to helping out in the engine room. In everyday circumstances, sometimes the kid wished the gifted engineer would trust him a bit more… teach him a bit more about the ins and outs of the Roc. Kora was like a jealous lover, though, when it came to her “baby”… so Asher had taken up “distance education” with her, silently watching from a ways away. He had gotten good at handing whatever tool Kora needed at the moment and had become intimately familiar with Kora’s tool kit – knew where everything belonged and was careful to return everything back to its place.

Kora reminded Ash of his father, and their times together repairing the farm’s skiff. That thing was an old beast of a work horse, but Ash’s dad loved the thing. “Keep the coolant hose clean,” he’d say, “treat ‘er like a lady, she’ll stay faithful t’ ya t’ the end, son.”

But when bad things came a knockin’ ‘round the Roc, the distance education proved useful… the kid passed the tool needed, Kora focussed on the problem at hand – smooth like a good whiskey.

This day seemed no different – Asher handed Kora everything right like, Kora got the juice flowing for Dash. With the competition out the way, Kora seemed to be looking to bring the Roc back to “normal operating” levels… smooth like…

An odour assaulted the kid’s nose, “What is that sme…”

With instant reflexes and a good dose of luck, the kid sidestepped the sudden launch of the control panel beside him. His sidestep, however, gave the fire in waiting the perfect opportunity to strike. The intense flames licked and lapped at his arm, looking to drawn in the young gunman. But in its eagerness, the flames worked against themselves, pushing Asher back until his slipped to the ground, stunned by the sudden and painful turn of events.

The young lad had been kicked by a horse when he was younger. He’d been shot once too. But the raging pain of burn coursing through his arm caused Ash to scream through clenched teeth. Kora quickly extinguished the flames as the kid struggled to catch his breath through the pain.

The engineer called out for Willow as Asher slip himself up off the floor using the still good paneling to brace himself. The pain sought to push him back down, but Ash push back harder, biting down to regain control. Kora’s dependin’ on ya! Whole ship’s dependin’ on ya to be on in this moment. Now, get ‘er done Talhone!
Asher could hear Willow making her way to the engine room, as he attempted to continue helping the engineer. Don’t look at the burn! Focus on Kora! Get the girl what she needs!
“Asher?” It was Willow.

“I’m fine enough,” he stated through gritted teeth.

“Asher Talhone, you look at me now.” The doctor’s tone reminded the young lad of his mother. Ash took a moment longer turning to face Willow, trying hard to blink away the tears, to push aside the terrible pain and fear that made him want to cry like a baby.

Willow pressed on, "This is no big deal, you hear me? Let's patch you up so you can be of more use to Kora here, alright?"

Asher turned to the doctor and, while the kid didn’t sob, tears flowed down by their own will as he looked into the doctor’s eyes. Willow smiled reassuringly at the young man, then took his left arm carefully into her gloved hands to examine it. The slightest move made burnt cloth pull at the oozing burns, and she knew she had to protect the tender flesh beneath. "Hang on, babe," she murmured, then reached into the kit to pull out a can of anesthetic spray. She applied the spray liberally to the burned areas and Asher soon felt the pain dull a bit.

Willow made quick work of Asher’s shirt sleeve. With the sleeve gone, Asher finally took a look at his injury, the sight nearly making the young man gag and fall to the floor again.

"Just you watch what Kora's doing, ok, Ash?” Willow said reassuringly. “You pay her close mind, so you know how to help in a minute."

The kid followed her lead, looking back at Kora to see how things were going for the engineer. The occasional “ghawarrrr!” escaped from Ash’s lips as the scissors cut across pain receptors not quite numbed from the spray.

"Just a minute more, and we'll be done, my dear, " Willow murmured, smiling again as the worst of it was over. The antiseptic splash on his arm once again threatened to send Ash’s world spinning with its intense cooling warmth.

Asher felt the quick sealing bandage, the weave designed not to stick to raw flesh. Patting the edges in place before the anesthetic spray could wear off, Willow looked back up at Asher and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, the fine doctor’s alluring perfume grabbing his attention. He gave Willow a silly grin, like he was saying ‘what was that for?’

"And a kiss to make it all better," she finished, letting the young man go and stepping back to start cleaning up the debris of her work. "Give Kora what help she needs, and when you're done, we'll get you on my table for a proper healing."

Asher gave the doctor a “I’m-tough-really-I-am” reassuring smile and nod before looking to help Kora. He found the capable engineer was already finished as was starting to put things back into place.

He helped her as best as he was able to tidy up. When they were about done, Kora asked, “Do you smell something funny?”

“You mean besides burned wiring and Asher flambé?” Willow piped in, raising an eyebrow. The kid gave her a look. Willow continued, “Yes, and that’s distinctly urine and feces, or numbers 1 & 2 as Usha referred to them, I had enough whiffs of it in the emergency room. Something small and nasty has gotten behind your panels and done its business back there. I think we have space rats!”

“Not space rats,” Asher corrected. He knew the smell well from life on the farm. “That’s burning cat piss smell for sure. We had at least twenty cats back on the farm. That’s a smell you don’t forget. Probably from that ball of fur that zipped by us on our way down here.”

Maria Celestia floated in the black, the engine and controls of the vessel off line for the moment. Lenny Fulton, eldest of the Fulton clan, and Captain of the ship rubbed his head to clear the headache while un-strapping himself from the pilot’s chair. Like every member of the family, Lenny had red hair, pale skin and freckles all over his body that seemed to become even redder when he was scared or embarrassed. The spin they had just pulled out of had scared Lenny badly, but more he feared the wrath of their employer at letting that other ship get first dibbs at the comet.

“Y’all okay back there!” he shouted out. The PA system was long broken but even if it wasn’t he’d still shout. “Any of yous hurt?”

Kenny, youngest of his brothers (all of 16 years) came running up at full speed, his long red hair flying out behind him. Kenny always ran, ever since he was a wee one. Went from crawling to running their ma would say, and never stopped.

“I’mokaynowbutIhadtohurlthereforaspellbutonceitwasdoneI…”

“Okay Kenny. Puhn Yoh (buddy),,why are you wearing that getup?”

Kenny looked down at his checked flannel shirt and overalls. He had two handguns strapped on both sides, and another one on his left leg. “Mr.LudlowsaidIcouldgoeswith himtogetthe…”

“Kenny,” Lenny shook his head, “Have some sense boy. You ain’t a Ta Ma Duh (God-Damned) gunfighter. You ain’t killed nothing in your lifetime and yous are right handed. Dohn mah (understand)?”

Kenny looked confused, “So?”

The approach of his other brother stopped Lenny from smacking Kenny on the head. Balding in the top of his head but long around the sides and a full red handlebar moustache, Denny was the second oldest and the engineer. “How’s it look Denny?”

“Denny wiped his handles on his overalls, “Well them there Tian Di Wu Yohn (useless) gizmos are too hot now, and the thingabob needs to be fixed. And the whatsit is dead and I don’t know why”

“D’un Yi Shia (wait a second)Denny!” Lenny shouted, “I told you not to give me no technical talk. Dumb it down for me!”

“We be here for a spell, Lenny.”

“Right.” The eldest sighed and pointed at Kenny, “Y’all go got Penny and Mr. Ludlow. No doubt they are in her ruttin’ bunk as usual, the Meh Lien DuhJyah Jee (Shameless hussy)”

“butMr.Ludlowisgonnabeallkindsofmadaboutstoppingletalonemegettinghimwhenheand pennyaregoingatit” Kenny whined making a gesture of his hands mashing together to illustrate his point, “Maybewebetter…”

“Why are you all standing are yapping when we should be docking?” the deep voice of Ernest Ludlow came from doorway of the cockpit. He was a big man, biggest that any of the Fultons had seen in their time. A barrel-chested man with wavy brown hair, crooked teeth and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once (Picture Marv from Sin City with longer hair). “Juh Shi Suh Mo Go Dohng Shee(what the hell is) going on here?”

Behind him, Penny was standing wrapped in a threadbare sheet and unkempt long red hair going in all kinds of directions. ‘Yeah bro! What’s going on here?”

Lenny grimaced, “We were bushwhacked by some varmits. As we flew up, this ship cut us off and then caught us in the wake of that there comet.”

“Another Ship?” Ernest growled.

“Another Ship?’ Penny said.

“Yep, a Firefly came near enough to spit on us.”

‘Did you get its tag?” Ludlow asked, entering the now crowded cabin and looking out the window at the comet.

Yeah Lenny! Did you get its tag?” Penny added.

Lenny glared at his sister, “YEAH! I did. Had some real strange foreign sounding name too. Something like Rotten and Naughty.”

Ludlow gave a guttural laugh, “Sounds like you babe.” He said to Penny, reaching over to pinch her bottom. Penny laughed raunchily.

Kenny piped up, “Wegoingtogoteachthemtheredudesalessonabout…”

“We ains’t going anywhere right now,” Denny raised his hands to get attention, “Not until I get the thingamabob and the blooiethingy fixed.”

“Well then,” Ernest came up real close to Denny, looking down hard upon the smaller man. “You better get to work.”

“Yeah Denny,” Penny translated, “Better get to work!”

“My ears work Penny! Bai Tuo, Uhn Jin Yee Dien (Shut up)! Lords Almighty I don’t need you to repeat everything Mr. Ludlow says.” Denny said, shooting a disgusted look at his sister, while he left the cabin to escape the wrath if Ludlow. “C’mon Kenny. Give me a hand and maybe you won’t be completely useless.”

“I’mnotuselessIamgoingtohelpMr.Ludlowcatchthem…”

“Yeah, yeah, Kenny. You are right handed by the way. If you are right handed you put a leg iron on the right. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

In the cockpit, Ernest Ludlow poked a finger at finger hard into Lenny’s chest, “I want to be on that comet and have our new friend in the hold in two hours. If not, I’m gonna be plum angry; Dohn ma(you got that)?”

Lenny swallowed nervously and rubbed his chest, “Yes Sir, Mr Ludlow. We be there don’t you worry. Denny is a good mechanic and he’ll have us right as rain.”

“Good. Then everything is shiny.” Ernest growled with a menacing smile. He looked over at Penny, “Come on. We ain’t done yet. Bao Bei (sweetheart)” He said grabbing her by the arm and leading her back towards her bunk.

Lenny shook his head, wishing he hadn’t taken the job. The money was good and he wasn’t too worried abut himself as Ludlow needed a pilot, or Denny because this bucket of bolts needed a mechanic. But this gunfighter stuff from Kenny was scaring him, because if lead started to fly, sure as shooting, Kenny wouldn’t be much use to Ernest except as a shield. They could try to take Ludlow down, but Penny was so stuck on him right now that they need a crowbar to stop the ruttin around.

It was a bad situation, and nothing to do about it except wait it out. Lenny turned back to the control panel to try and figure out the extent of the damage.

Wyatt’s face split in a grin that belonged to a man who’d just witnessed the grim overcome. The Maria Celestia was blown back and they were coming in on the docking bay as smooth as one could considering the icy debris floating off that rock. They’d be delivering the cargo soon enough and on their way, though he’d no illusions that the crew they’d just sent rollin’ wouldn’t be out for something by way of revenge. What the ruttin’ hell’d they think they’d accomplish by gunnin’ like they did anyway? he thought just as Willow’s report came over the intercom:

“Minor medical event in the engine room, Captain-san, but we’re shiny now. Just no hitting Asher on the arm for a while, or you’ll have me to face. Pardon the impertinence, but are we there yet? My stomach can’t remember which way is up.”
Wyatt glanced at Dash and raised his eyebrows as he grabbed the mic. “What the hell happened so that he got himself broke?”

(OOC: assuming a quick, “The panel blew out and toasted him a bit.”)

“Ta Ma Duh! (Damn!)” Visions of Roc falling apart around him filled his head. “Well, tell Kora she don’t have much time to get the patch on. I don’t want to be sittin’ on this spinning iceblock fer very long.

“Ash, git yerself all patched and meet me an’ Sam in the cargo hold pronto. The rest o’ ya, strap some iron for the duration. We’re preparin’ fer Tian Shia (Everything under the sky).”

Dropping the mic back into its holder, Wyatt helped Dash bring the Roc around for purchase, then, as the pilot worked his magic, Sung began switching all control back over to him. The grinding sound of their boat connecting with the docking bay rang through the ship followed by a clanking that indicated the magnetic locks were in place, and Wyatt rose from the chair.

“Get strapped, Sam. The crew o’ Celestia’s likely t’ want words. I want t’ make sure we’re doing the right sort o’ talkin’.”

Slapping his friend’s shoulder, Wyatt readjusted his hat and made his way to the Fore Deck and down the ladder to his quarters, his boots making the crisp clicking sound he was so used to on the metal boardwalk as he went.

Wyatt hung his weaponry in a ostentatious manner on the wall near the door in his room. The shotgun hung horizontal at head level, its sheathe draped across its length. The Colt service revolver Wyatt preferred rested in its holster beneath the shotgun, angled so that the combat knife—also in its sheathe—could cross underneath it. Beneath those, center under the pattern, was the Derringer, all shiny and faux pearl handled. The drawers were underneath these and it was to this that Wyatt first focused his attention, pressing the button that pushed the top one open. As the mechanism released, Wyatt was already unbuttoning his shirt with one hand while pulling his suspender straps down with the other. As soon as he was bare-chested, the captain hooked his hat on the shotgun barrel and retrieved his ballistic mesh shirt from the drawer.

He’d seen this little piece of armor save more than one life while in the service and when he knew there was a good chance for trouble, the captain took to it like a second skin.

After he’d shimmied into it, he redressed, slipped the Derringer into a boot holster, slung his gunbelt about his waist, and pulled on his brown duster. His shotgun rig went over the top of that, and his hat went back on his head. Wyatt then dropped the personal, ship-linked handset into his pocket and finalized the routine by checking to make sure each of the weapons were fully loaded and that he had a fair share of reload available.

Pausing to peer at the elephant portrait, Wyatt gave it a quick pat and then hurried back up to the Fore Deck. He paused at the Galley just long enough to poke his head in.

“Trish, there’s likely going to be trouble. Keep sharp.” When he received the answering nod, Sung turned and made his way down the stairs to the cargo bay, all the way to the floor. He stopped at the comlink and pressed it in. “Here’s the plan, folks. Sam and I are gonna go see that we’re not being run competition by those Au chr Jze Se Duh Fohn Diang Gho (crazy dogs in love with their own feces) that tried to boil us in the Black a few minutes ago, and to ensure our sale. Asher, we need you caught up as soon as you and Willow can rig it. Kora, git Roc all patched up as quick as you can. I could you use as a guarantee should the going get rough, but it’s more vital that Roc’s all shiny in case we need to skit and skat a little fast. Willow, I’ll want you in on the business meet when that takes place, so prepare yourself, Doc.

“We ain’t outta the fire yet, folks. So let’s not get Soh Ya Feh Tian (foiled at the last minute).”

Turning from the console Wyatt caught Sam as he approached, strapped and ready.

“Well, let’s go G’en Ho Tze Bi Dio se. (engage a monkey in a feces throwing contest.)”

Willow listened to the Captain's broadcast an her stomach sunk, just a little. They'd just managed to land in one piece, with only a single injury, and the Captain was talking like he was spoiling for a fight... and that was no way to start a business relationship. She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching for the serenity the day's yoga had brought her.

"Asher, get yourself to the medical lab, please and thank you? I won't let you miss out on too much fun, but that arm needs more care if you want to be able to keep bending that elbow at any more bars."

(OOC: If Asher argues, Willow will cross her arms and give him "The Look"...one that has absolutely no Companion in it and all Doctor )

Willow nodded to Kora and Asher and headed over to the Captain's quarters to speak to Sung. She could have used the comm in private mode, but felt it best to speak in person, gauge his mood before seeming to cross him. He'd never been anything than polite with her, but she knew the deep hurt that festered within his soul, never too far from the surface, and people in pain can lash out. If he was going to lose his temper with her, better that the rest of the crew not witness it.

Outside the Captain's quarters, she took another calming breath, then signaled she was outside. (OOC: Leave it to captain if he invites Willow in, or steps up onto the decking.)

"Captain san, when I said everything was shiny, that was more for Asher's state of mind than yours," she started, then stopped to wrinkle her nose at the oiled metallic smell she noted on the Captain.

"I see you've put on your "dress" shirt," she resumed, a touch of irony colouring her tone. "Ready for trouble or looking for it, I'd suggest that Asher remain on the ship with me for a least an hour or so. That burn was bad, but I didn't want to scare him and send him into shock. He's stable, now, but needs real mending if he wants to keep the full use of his arm. Burn scars are the worst to heal, especially around a joint. "

Willow kept her expression neutral, and waited the Captain's response.

Sam rolled his eyes as Miss Willow’s report came over the PA. The Kid done got hisself hurt and we ain’t so much as popped the airlock. Just shiny!
“What the hell happened so he got himself broke,” Wyatt demanded.

“Th’ li’l billy-goat prob’ly got excitable, grabbed Kora’s keester an’ got ‘is elbow broke,” Sam laughed, “Give ‘im one night wit’ a hooker an’ th’ Kid thinks he’s Don Juan er somethin’.” He also muttered an apology to the Doc when she mentioned the state of her stomach after the jaunt through the comet’s tail but, otherwise was focused on bringing Roc to roost. He nodded his thanks as Wyatt ended his chat with the folk in the engine room and helped bring the ship around. Even before the magnetic locks had clamped Rocinante to the docking port, Sam’s mind was sorting through his gear and, by the time Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder and said “Get strapped, Sam. The crew o’ Celestia’s likely t’ want words. I want t’ make sure we’re doing the right sort o’ talkin’,” the pilot had a good mind that he’d be loading pretty heavy.

“Two shakes ahead of ya, Wyatt,” he grinned, hauling himself out of his seat and stomping purposefully towards his cabin, “Catch up wit’ ya inna hold.” Once inside, he wasted no time in peeling off his shirt and shrugging his way into the ballistic mesh shirt that he kept in his locker, then covering the armor again with the faded, gray T-shirt that designated him as an “Authorized Distributor of a No. 9 Boot in the Ass”. He also made sure to tug his beat up denim jacket on over that as the inside pocket of the thing had proven to be a great place to store a couple of cigar-shaped flash-bangs. After double checking his derringers, strapping on his gunbelt and combat knife, Sam opted, also, to carry the shotgun this time around. Wasn’t it some president or some such from Earth-that-was once said, fly it like ya stole it an’ carry a big stick?
“Might not’ve been them precise words,” Sam grinned, answering his own unspoken query as he cinched the SPAS 30’s sheathe to his back, “but close ‘nuff fer me.” He flicked a quick glance at the cortex panel mounted to the wall, hoping that there might be a wave from Tink waiting but, seeing that the indicator was still dark, resigned himself to having to wait a while longer and climbed back out onto the foredeck.

((OOC: Not sure if Miss Wil would’ve been invited in to Wyatt’s cabin or if they’d be standing out on the deck… if Sam finds them on the deck, he’ll leave them to their conversatin’ with little more than a nod in passing and maybe a quick apology to the Doc for the turbulence…))

"…Ready for trouble or looking for it,” he heard the Doc’s voice say to Wyatt as he slid past, “I'd suggest that Asher remain on the ship with me for a least an hour or so. That burn was bad, but I didn't want to scare him and send him into shock. He's stable, now, but needs real mending if he wants to keep the full use of his arm. Burn scars are the worst to heal, especially around a joint. "

Ruttin’ fantastic, Sam snarled inwardly as he disappeared through the hatch to the galley and continued on towards the engine room, if them se duhng from Celestia show up lookin’ fer a tussle tha’ means the Kid’s only got th’ one hand ta shoot with… Gorramit but this jus’ keeps gettin’ better an’ better!
“Hey, Kora,” he hollered, poking his head through the doorway to the engine room when he caught sight of the mechanic already in the process of assessing the damage, “ever’thin’ shiny back here, mei mei? I din’t hump nuthin’ too all-fired important did I?... Kid’s down in the ‘firmary, right?... An’ what inna hump is that smell?!”

(Assuming some kind of reply… “Actually, Dash, ya humped it real good… Now leave me the hell alone so’s I c’n fix it! Get outta here or I’m runnin’ this wrench up yer butt”, etc… Up to Kora if she says anything about the cat… assuming she doesn’t… )

“A’right, a’right,” he grinned ducking back out of the doorway so as not to get hit with any tools that might be launched his way, “no need ta get tetchy, darlin’! I was jus’ askin’…Buddha’s balls!

We’s like ta have company comin’,” he hollered back over his shoulder as he bounded down the steps to the lower decks, “jus’ so’s ya know. Don’ go tearin’ down nothin’ as we’re gonna need if we have to leave this bitch in a lurch, get me?...”

And when he got to the bottom of the stair, his gaze swept over the converted secondary hold in search of the supposedly injured Asher. “…Where ya at, Kid,” he called, knowing damn well that Wil had sent him to the infirmary and that’s likely where he was. Dash peeked in after catching sight of the Kid sitting a bit anxiously in the chair. “Ya a’right, Ash,” he asked, “not jus’ playin’ sick so’s ya c’n go roll ‘round in them sheets is ya?” He’d caught a peep at the Kid’s arm, of course, and could tell that it was a serious enough injury that being holed up in the Doc’s den was the best place for him to be but Dash knew better than to let on as to how bad it looked.

(Again, assuming some kind of answer…)

“Don’ sweat it, Kid,” he winked, “Miss Will’s like ta have ya patched up in two shakes. Hell, it don’ even look that bad. Me an the Cap’ll save ya some fun if’n it comes ta that. Stay frosty, puhn yoh. I’ll bring ya back a hat er somethin’.”

Wyatt’s voice crackled over the comm. system as Dash strolled out of the infirmary and towards the primary hold. He listened intently to the Cap’s words as he fine tuned his orders, nodding faintly as he made mental notes as to what was expected… Yup… sounds like a fine drill ta me…Still wish the Kid was in a better state…
“We ain’t outta the fire yet, folks,” the Cap was saying as Sam stepped into the bay, “So let’s not get Soh Ya Feh Tian.”

Turning from the console Wyatt caught Sam as he approached, strapped and ready.

“Well, let’s go G’en Ho Tze Bi Dio se,” he said.

Dash grinned and nodded; “Jah Yoh, Cap.”

((OOC: Sam’ll follow Wyatt’s lead, making sure to stay a couple of steps back and to Wyatt’s left to allow clear fields of fire if things get hinky. ))

Lullabelle Mine, Prospectors Homestead, 10:00 am LMT (lullabelle mine time)
Jim Ryan looked up from his terminal and over at his friend and partner with concern in his eyes. “We got company, Sam.”

“That should be Royale and Captain Griffith. I think that was his name.” Sam Hawkes didn’t look up from his breakfast. “About time too, he was suppose to be here days ago according to Sachet.”

“No. Two ships are coming on us fast and neither or a Dragonfly.”

“ Shuh muh? (what) Sam stood up and walked over to his friend. “Rung Tse Song Di Ching Dai Wuo Tzo (sweet god take me away) I knew it was too good to last! Claim jumpers! Right when my maters were about to ripen too!”

Jim shook his head, “ You and them Ta Ma Duh (damn) tomatoes. Maybe jumpers. Maybe not. They seem to have a real hurry too and with no love of each other. Maybe Balley Sachet couldn’t get the other ship.”

“Maybe they want our claim too! They probably shanghaied Royale and now are planning to kill us and take what’s ours.”

“Calm yourself Sam, “Jim said unconvincingly, “You’re gonna get me all twitchy. We can’t go shooting everyone who comes to our gates. Killing customers is bad for business.”

“Well, we worked hard for this claim. Official like too! I ain’t rolling over for no Go Neong Yung Duh (son of a bitch)”

“Best be cautious then, Sam.” Jim said while walking over to the gun cabinet. He pulled himself out his favourite rifle and attached the scope. Sam followed behind and grabbed his shotgun and pistols.

“I’ll go upstairs and give them a warning. Then we’ll talk all civilized like.” Jim said as he started up the stairs. ‘you watch yourself and don’t go off shooting unless they look bad.”

“Better not mess with my maters” Sam muttered as he loaded shells into the gun.


Lullabelle Mine, Rocinante on Docking Coupler #2, 10:30 am LMT
Trish’s Love and Concern
The cry of Asher sent a shiver down Trish’s spine and it was all se could do not to run to the boy and hold him tight. Asher was the pride and joy of her life now, and she loved him fiercely, like she would her own child. But she held herself back, letting Willow administer to his needs as the good doctor could. She knew that Asher didn’t need mothering right now, and Willow was more than capable of dealing with these injuries. But part of her wished she could say something soothing to the boy.

Trish was glad to hear that Willow wanted Asher to stay behind for better care and treatment. Buddha knows the young man would have gone off with the Captain if he’d been given his way.

Now for the other matter at hand. Trish had seen the streak of dirty cat lightening fly by as they started into the approach. More importantly, she recognized the flashing on the bracelet as an emergency beacon. Many a former friends of Trish during here heydays had these devices. Jewelry with a homing beacon in it that would bring an alliance patrol rushing. Out here in the Black, there was little chance of the signal reaching, but it would be a problem if they got planetside.

But Kitty seems to like the protein paste, She thought to herself, Well then let us see if I can coax you out with some of your favourite din din
Willow and Asher
It vexed Asher to be left behind but he trusted Willow when it came to being fixed up. He watched her pass the dermal mender across his hand and arm with a slow practiced motion. The wound was healing but very slowly. Willow assured him this was normal because of it being a burn. Cuts and bullet holes are easier to mend if there ain’t no vitals hit. Burns however, required a slow patient hand.

The Damage and the Plates
The panel was an easy fix. She mentally thanked the captian for being willing to put the extra armour on the electrical systems of Roc. The damage would have been much greater otherwise. But the hull had taken hits, and the only way to see the damage was to go topside in a suit, since this was a coupling dock. She couldn’t just leave it until later, because if they took more hits leaving, they’d pay for it. Best to get it done now while the time was right than later if they had to leave in a hurry.

The view from underneath the ship was breathtaking, like she was standing alone on a comet, riding it into oblivion. She paused a moment to enjoy the view then went to work. There ice had damaged two of the underside outer hull plates. They were dented, but not cracked – though if cracked then she and the crew would have known. Kora went through her mental checklist of spare parts she had on board. She had one good panel in storage. That could replace the first panel, then the remains of the other two could be welded together patchwork-like to hold them until Regina. This would take some time though, so she hoped that the captain was going to have a smooth operation this time.

She laughed out loud at the idea, and started to get to work.

Enter the Thunderdome

Lullabelle Mine, Main Entrance on Docking Coupler #2, 10:40 am LMT

OOC: Even if someone does tell W & S about the cat, you can backpost that. I highly doubt that they will not head out just because there is a kitty stowaway on board

Wyatt and Sam walk the length of the docking coupler gantry, both of them prepared for a fight. They get to the main hatchway leading into the dome and activate the doors. There is hiss and a groan as the doors lurch out, to reveal a wondrous sight.

Through the doorway is vast blue sky. A bright sun shines down on a farmstead landscape that extends to a hazy distant horizon. There are wisps of clouds overhead and a very pleasant warm breeze brushing against their faces. There is a small grass covered hill crested by a modest two story building. Near the base of the hill is a garden, a real garden with vegetables (Tomatoes, Carrots, Lettuce, Potatoes etc) nearly ready for the picking. At the corner of the building are some small trees and a shrubbery. No one is around to greet you.

A hologram. The dome is a hologram designed to simulate the environment of a better place than this chunk of ice. Prospecting ice must be a more lucrative business than you thought because this getup is expensive.

Across the way, on the other side of the garden, is the other airlock. Since the dome is projecting the holograph, there is no way to tell if the other ship has landed yet or not. But the doors remain closed and the light on the panel that represents a ship in dock remains unlit.

*Blamm …. Twing thuck*

A gunshot rings out and a tuft of dirt is kicked up a good 6 feet in front of you. Either someone is a very bad shot, or that was a deliberate miss to get your attention.

“WHO THE AI YAH TIEN AH ARE YOU?” a voice shouts out from the homestead.

“AND STAY OUT OF MY MATERS!” another voice calls.

(OOC: backpost a bit)

Wyatt had just finished strapping on and was about to give the elephants a farewell pat when his quarters were buzzed. Readjusting his hat so that it rode low on his brow, the captain opened the ladder hatch and climbed up to meet… glossy—Willow. Climbing up the rest of the way, Wyatt twisted and dropped to the catwalk.

"Captain san, when I said everything was shiny, that was more for Asher's state of mind than yours," she started, then stopped to wrinkle her nose at the oiled metallic smell she noted on the Captain.

"I see you've put on your "dress" shirt," she resumed, a touch of irony coloring her tone. "Ready for trouble or looking for it, I'd suggest that Asher remain on the ship with me for a least an hour or so. That burn was bad, but I didn't want to scare him and send him into shock. He's stable, now, but needs real mending if he wants to keep the full use of his arm. Burn scars are the worst to heal, especially around a joint."

Wyatt tilted his head to the side, not completely oblivious to the tone she’d taken with him, but finding it amusing he decided to let it pass.

“If’n you say he should remain, then remain he shall, Doc.” It was simple; it was direct. Tilting his hat to the little woman he gave her a soft half-smile. “I ain’t lookin’ for trouble Willow, just prepared for it. Whoever was on that other ship seemed hell-bent to run us out and paid it no mind when they put their burn to our nose. I’ll not play like that didn’t happen, but I’ll not start no conversatin’ that ain’t peaceable. I promise you that. Just tend to the boy and the rest,” he gave his coat pocket a tap. “I’ll let you know when your skills are needed.”

Wyatt waited to make sure that Willow didn’t have anything to add before continuing on his way with another tip of the hat brim.

(OOC: caught up.)

The trip down the gantry did nothing to prepare Wyatt for the vision he was met with upon opening the doors. The captain was forced to squint into the bright light, a frown creasing his face as his hand rested on the butt of his pistol. Lowering his head a bit, he allowed the brim of his hat to shade his eyes and scanned the area for signs of life—the closed doors on Bay 1 not going unnoticed. They’d beaten the Celestia in.

*Blamm …. Ting thuck*
Most men might have jumped, but not Wyatt. He was practically dead inside, most days it didn’t matter if he was dead on the outside too, and the proximity of the shot mattered little to him other than to stay his hand as his initial impulse had been to skin iron.

“Hold steady, Sam,” Wyatt said under his breath. It wasn’t that he figured Sam for a loose cannon… well, OK, sometimes he figured Sam for a loose cannon.

“WHO THE AI YAH TIEN AH ARE YOU?” a voice shouts out from the homestead.

“AND STAY OUT OF MY MATERS!” another voice calls.

Wyatt let his hand drift from his weapon and his coat to roll back over it as he held his hands out about six inches from his sides.

“Name’s Wyatt Sung, an’ I captain Rocinante here. Picked up some containers from Griffith on Beaumonde. Griffith an’ Royale. We were told that the Lullaby Mine had some ice that needed transport to Regina. Who’s throwing lead our way, so that I might address them that be proper. After all, it ain’t considered polite to keep hollerin’ less you know who yer hollerin’ at.”

(OOC: Influence roll please… trying to influence the situation in our favor.)