Shiny in the Black: A FIREFLY Christmas, part three (a repost)

Continuing my repost of this Very Special (but Not Blossomesque) Episode of Firefly.

part two
part one


“Weapons on the ground!” the voice shouted. “Now!”

“Do it,” Mal said. He shot a look at Jayne, whose expression of disgust tended to be indistinguishable from his expression of being about to lose his temper. Slowly, Mal, Zoe and Jayne all laid their guns on the floor.

“Put that package on the floor too, preacher,” said the voice.

Book put the crate down.

“All right, face the crates.”

They complied.

“Put your hands on your head.”

They complied.

“Stand on your left feet and recite the first stanza the Alliance anthem!”

Mal glanced at Zoe. “Uh, what?”

Now the voice burst out in laughter. “All right, turn ’em off,” he said. The floodlights all shut off, and the light returned to the dim of the warehouse overhead lamps. Mal turned toward the source of the voice to see a stocky man dressed in old army fatigues approaching. The man was bald except for long, stringy hairs that hung from the back of his head; he had a thick mustache and three days’ growth of beard. He gave Mal a gap-toothed grin as he put his hands on his hips.

“Ahh, Mal, what am I gonna do with you?”

Mal and the others glanced around at the ‘lawmen’, and saw that they weren’t lawmen at all. They were a motley bunch of thieves. Not unlike themselves.

“Jonas,” Mal said. “Fancy meeting you here. I never figured you to be on Ariel. Kind of a rich world for your tastes, isn’t it?”

“Gotta go where the money is, my boy,” the man named Jonas said as he lit a cigar and took a few puffs. “‘Sides, ain’t planning on being here long. I’m guessing you weren’t either.”

“Not really,” Mal agreed. “Can we put our hands down? I don’t tend to find this posture conducive to friendly chat.”

“Ain’t so sure we’re being friendly,” Jonas said. “But sure, let your hands down. Don’t make a move toward those weapons, though.”

“Of course not,” said Mal. “After all, we’re just bein’ friendly.”

“I suppose we are,” Jonas replied as Mal and his people lowered their hands. “So, Mal, what are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” Mal said. “Doin’ a job.”

“And what would be the nature of that job?”

“Well, we’re purchasing the contents of this crate right here and going with them to a…client on Haven. Easy enough.”

“Sounds easy. Haven’s a piss-poor world…wait, did you say you were purchasing the goods?”

Mal shrugged. “Yeah, we’re doin’ it the honest way this time. Wanted to see what that was like.”

“Really. Honest. Dumpin’ a box of coin here and taking the box? That’s a new version of honest. Sounds to me like you’ve found a way of stealin’ that ends up costin’ you money.”

“Yeah,” Mal said, shooting a look at Shepherd Book, “I guess we didn’t really work all the kinks out.”

“Well, Mal, I can’t let you have this box. See, we need it, too. I’m doing a job, myself, and there’s a cantankerous old woman out on Whitefall that could use some of what’s in that box.”

“Whitefall?” Mal laughed. “You’re planning on doing business with Patience?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Oh, no reason,” Mal said. “Just make sure you plan for her to try to shoot you.”

“Nah,” Jonas said. “Patience and me go way back. I was the one who told her that she should shoot you if she got the chance.”

“Well that was nice of you,” Mal said. “She got the chance. Twice. I’m still here, still flyin’. Counts for somethin’.”

“Yeah, I guess it does. But I can’t let you take this box, coin or no. You see, Mal–“

“Hey, Captain!” It was one of Jonas’s men. Jonas rolled his eyes.

“What is it, Randy? I’m trying to be threatening here, and you’re interrupting.”

“I know, Cap, but this ain’t the box we’re here for.”

“What?”

“Look!” The wiry man named Randy held out a PDA for Jonas to look at. “See, that’s the number of the box we want. It’s the next one over. That one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That one’s got the farming seed and fertilizer in it. See, the one we want is in slot number 29-94-77. This slot is number 29-94-75.”

“Oh,” said Jonas.

“Well, this changes things a bit, doesn’t it?” Mal said.

“I think it does, Captain,” said Zoe.

“You see, Jonas, there’s no need to make this deal confrontational. Instead of goin’ that way, we can go another. We’re not even here for the same crate. We’ll take what we want, you’ll take what you want, and everybody’s happy.”

“Seriously, Mal? You’re after this crate? What’s in it?”

“I don’t think that really matters,” said Mal. “Haven’s not a big farming world, so you can bet I’m not looking for farming seed and fertilizer. Let’s just take what we all want and be done with it.”

Jonas kept his gun aimed at Mal as he considered things. Then he nodded at the Shepherd.

“Sure, Mal, we can do that. But I want the coin, too.”

Mal shrugged. “Give it to him, Preacher,” he said.

“Really?” asked Book.

“Yeah, really,” Mal said. “Plan was to leave the coin here anyway. But if you’re gonna take the coin, least you could do is have your boys load our crate onto our hauler for us.”

“I suppose I could do that,” Jonas said. His men grumbled, but he hissed them quiet. “A friendly gesture, right?”

“Yeah,” Mal said. “If we promise not to shoot you, can we pick up our guns now?”

“Sure,” Jonas said. “But we’ll still be coverin’ you until this is done.”

“I figured,” Mal replied as he picked up his pistol. The others followed suit.

“How’d you get in here, anyway?” Jonas asked.

“Door was open.”

“Well, I suppose you can thank me for that,” Jonas replied. “Paid the guards to leave it open and make themselves scarce. All right, boys, you heard the man. Let’s get these boxes loaded! Remember, this one here goes with them, that one down there goes with us. With the Shepherd’s coin.”

Book handed the box of coin to one of Jonas’s men, four of whom turned to the work of loading both crates while Jonas and Randy kept their pistols aimed at Mal and his people.

“Somethin’ here ain’t right,” Jayne said. “We’re gonna get screwed on this deal.”

“Well, Jayne, the screwing was built into the deal, so at least we’re not surprised by it.” Mal shook his head. “This is a weird damn job, though.”

“Nah,” Jayne replied. “There’s still some way this is gonna go south. You watch. Always happens to us.”

Mal rolled his eyes. “Not all our jobs end in disaster,” he said.

“Name one,” Jayne said.

“Well, there was–“

“You ended up drunk and with a con-woman pretending to be your wife.”

“Yeah, but it was good up to then.”

After about ten minutes, they were all outside and both crates were loaded onto their respective haulers.

“Well, Mal,” said Jonas, “I’d prefer if you’d drive off first. And try to stay out of my way in the future.”

“Pleasure doin’ business as always, Jonas,” Mal said. “But I wouldn’t mind pointin’ out that just because we were in the same place, doesn’t mean I was in your way.”

“Even so. I don’t want to get your luck on me, Reynolds. You have a history of taking on work that doesn’t leave you much of a profit. One day you’re gonna realize that ‘Just keep flying’ isn’t a great strategy for life.”

“Thanks for the wisdom, Jonas. Got some for you, too.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Patience is gonna try to shoot you.”

Jonas grinned. “Let her try.” He gestured with his pistol, sending Mal and his people off.

“I’m tellin’ you, this is gonna be a bad deal for everybody,” Jayne said as they neared Serenity.

“Calm down, Jayne. Your opinion is noted.”

Mal drove the hauler back onto the ship’s cargo hold, and Kaylee closed the hatch behind them. Simon and River were there waiting; Wash was on the bridge, and he called down on the intercom.

“Captain?” Wash said. “I’m ready to lift.”

“What are you waiting for!” Mal responded. The ship shifted beneath their feet as the engines roared and Serenity lifted off. Book and Jayne were offloading the crate from the hauler and securing it.

“You see, everybody?” Mal said as he took off his overcoat and tossed it at the foot of the stairs. “Nice, simple job. No big worries, no big fuss. We’re out some coin, sure, but we’ve got a big crate full of nice, shiny toys that will make all the children in an orphanage on Haven happy.”

“Everything went all right?” said Simon. “No hiccups?”

“One little hiccup,” Mal said. “But it didn’t amount to much.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Captain,” said Shepherd Book.

“What?”

“Hey Mal,” Jayne said. “We got a problem.”

Mal glanced at Zoe. They walked aft, to where Book and Jayne were both staring at the crate, which Book had opened. Zoe took one look and let out a string of expletives in Chinese. Mal did the same, only with a string of completely different expletives in Chinese.

The crate was full of farm seed and fertilizer. They had the wrong crate.

Share This Post

Be gentle

Sheila O’Malley, a blogger whose insight I aspire to reaching maybe ten percent one day, posted the following to Facebook earlier, and she gave me permission to reproduce it here.

I came home from the Trans Siberian Orchestra concert last night (out at Nassau Coliseum) and it was about 1 in the morning when I got home. It’s been a bit of a blue time for me personally, and then of course the tragedy in Connecticut has just been devastating for all of us. A horrible week. It was fun to go out and see this ridiculous over-the-top show, and when I got home I was a bit wired. I sat in bed reading 11/22/63 for a while (wow wow wow). And at one point, I heard a woman – either in my apartment building – or maybe in the house next door – sobbing. She was sobbing as if her heart was broken. It went on and on and it was the most heart-rending sound. I ached for her, whoever she was. Whatever she was dealing with was too hard to bear at 1:30, 2 in the morning. I understand that. There were times when she would quiet down, and I hoped she was passing out from exhaustion, to just get a little rest. 40 minutes would pass, and then the sobbing would start up again. There were times when the sound was so real and so painful that I felt tears welling up too. I was sending her vibes of at least peace and rest … everything looks at least more bearable in the morning. But, as F. Scott Fitzgerald so perfectly wrote: “In a dark night of the soul, it is always three o’clock in the morning.” I am thinking about that woman today. I wonder if anyone has ever heard me sobbing and had the same reaction. I felt like I was protecting her, hovering over her, during that hour or so that I was listening to her. I know that sounds dumb, but that’s what it felt like. Anyway, I am thinking about her this morning. We all have our private pains. Be kind to one another. Be gentle. Assume that people are doing their best. The holidays are a tough time for many people as it is. Be gentle.

I absolutely believe that we need to have several discussions about public policy in this country, with regard to both guns and mental health care. But we also need to remember how to heal our societal wounds when things like this happen.

Share This Post

Sunday Burst of Weird and Awesome

I wasn’t sure I wanted to post this today, but life doesn’t stop and the world won’t keep spinning today, so…oddities and Awesome abound!

:: Ever wonder what your facial features look like when hit by winds of 186 MPH? Well, no, I didn’t either. This guy did, though.

:: I cannot deny for one second that if 2001: A Space Odyssey was made in 2012, this is what its trailer would look like.


That’s about all. More next week! (Maybe. It’s always possible I’ll be too busy to collect links, between Christmas preparations and cranking through The Book.)

Share This Post

Saturday Centus (depressing edition)

I apologize for the somber tone of my entry for this week, but I think that the dominant event of the day is pretty self-explanatory.

On the thirteenth day of Christmas,
my parents gave to me
thirteen lilies for my grave.

Sigh….

UPDATE: By the way, this post will serve as my only comment on this blog on the awful events in Connecticut. I’ve said a few things on Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter, but I won’t be using this space to air any of my thoughts.

Share This Post

Something for Thursday

So much of Tchaikovsky, I can live just fine without. But there’s stuff of Tchaikovsky’s that, well, if you asked me to live without it, I’d cry.

Here, in time for The Season, is the Nutcracker Suite. I played this every year in college with the orchestra there; this is one of relatively few pieces of music that, for me, has very definite ties in my mind to a specific time and place. This is also one of those musical works that I point to whenever anyone tells me that there is no magic in our world. Oh yes, there is!

Share This Post

Saturday Centus (Tuesday Edition)

Hurg. I put this off because it’s a Cute Picture Prompt, and those almost always screw me up. Anyway, here’s the pic:

Yeesh. And we’re supposed to write in first person from the viewpoint of that squirrel. OK then….

Mr. Spackler, sir? I know you don’t much like my general field rodent class of animal, but…I was thinking that just for today, we might call a truce? I mean, after all, it IS Christmas, sir, and this war between you and the gophers isn’t going well for you. No, I’m a squirrel, sir, but I’ve been authorized to speak for the…well, there’s no need to get rude. Hey, there’s certainly no need to reach for that rifle! Mr. Spackler! AHHH!!! RUN RUN RUN!!!

(If you haven’t seen Caddyshack, you won’t get the joke.)

Share This Post

ForgottenStars.net

The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

Skip to content ↓