recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
And ... BREAK!

“Arrite, now the squirt is awake and well how about we give her and Doc some space and rest?” Vas suggested as he helped the Doc to a chair. He had to bear most of the weight but he was still plenty strong and helped ease the Doc down real gentle.

“Gill I know you’ll probably want to stay with your sister, Lyen I would consider it a kindness if you could watch over ‘em all? Hollar if you need me for anything … ships a wreak so …” Vas sighed figuring the rest was implied.

“Uh … Jacy lemme help you clean up your room …” Vas started figuring he break it to her gently that not only where her unmentionables were scattered about like Christmas decorations but the Shanky had left a pile of vomit on her bed to boot. “ … were going to need a bucket …” He muttered motioning for the blonde bombshell to follow.

“Doc, need anything before I hop back to work?” The young punk asked before he would run off to help Jacy and start putting the ship back to right.
Be that way!

Vas was about to answer when Dillon had gone and ran off. Why was this a common occurrence to Vas!? Why even ask if you were just going to run off! “Fine be that way … guess you’re bunking with the Russian.” Vas said under his breath. At least he would get some privacy. “Everyone askin’ me questions and running off or cuttin’ me off …” He mumbled and then plopped down on the chair to have a smoke. After he was going to take a nap and lock the damn hatch to be sure hoppity hop over there got the message.

If the Russian protested he was happy to duel it out soon as his nose healed up some.
A Long Time Coming

*“Are you as excited as I am to get my mouth opened wide and finally have those teeth sorted? I hope not, because I could hardly sleep last night, such was my eager anticipation.”*

Dorian chuckled at her exuberance. “Has been something of an odyssey, hasn’t it? Ah’ll be right with yah. Please have a seat.” After bringing the work light to bear upon the woman’s mouth, the dentist finished his prep with a surgical mask and gloves. “Now let’s have a look,” he said easily, as she opened her mouth.

He studied the once damaged area…the teeth he’d managed to reimplant, those he’d crowned, and the gum. “Well,” Adler’s eyebrows lifted as he pushed with an index finger, “tha gum and tha bone grafts have healed nicely.” A dental mirror slipped into Jacy’s mouth, affording him views of both the inner and outer placements. “Tha recovered teeth are healthy,” he said. “Considering tha extent of tha damage when Ah first saw yah, what Ah’m seein’ now is a complete recovery. We can go straight tah crowns,” he pronounced. “This normally doesn’t require anesthetic, but if yah need, Ah can numb tha area?”
And To All, A Good Night

Henry: *"Nah, I'm good and I appreciate the care. I...I'm not sure how this goes, having never seen a doc, medic or witch doctor before... but what do I owe you?"*

“Not a thing,” Adler replied as he wiped down his stethoscope. “Yah paid fah tha cruise. All services included. Witch doctah rates apply after landing,” he quipped.

Henry: *"And as far as pain, the wine will do me fine, but thank you. I'm going to go rest and try and come up with a way to make amends to everyone. I think I'm at least partly to blame, so no need to get the captain involved. Thanks again doc."*

Dorian nodded as the cleric took his leave. *“In vino veritas,”* he said quietly, the phrase bringing him to ponder just how much truth the man had actually shared. Not that a duplicitous passenger was an issue of concern. Most people who plied the trade routes of the outer rim had something to hide, present company included.

He cast a gaze over the infirmary, the inspection landing his eye upon the Denta-Kiln-Twenty-Five-Hundred. The shiny new apparatus sat forlorn, restrained to the counter, it’s power plug imprisoned by the mechanic’s ad hoc “chastity belt.” Tired as he was, the “better angels” of Dorian's nature had urged him to simply let it go and turn in for some overdue sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t those angels who now raised a twisted grin to his face.

*“ Tā mā de húndàn,”* the medic whispered as, armed with the stiff metal rod from an IV stand, he proceeded to smash the disrupter housing to pieces. Two good blows did the job. He chuckled to himself as he gathered the fragments into a neat little pile. Devilish inspiration now broadening his grin, Dorian set the power cable into three neat coils. The liberated connector was poised on the topmost, its’ hot, common, and ground pins all hanging downward like teeth. “Don’t tread on me,” Adler chuckled at his mockup of a flag taken from the dusty annals of Earth-That-Was.

“And so, to bed.” But not yet. Instead, he removed a bottle from his trunk. At this hour, the cargo bay should offer some quiet solace. He made his way into the large space, taking up stance at the center catwalk railing. A drink, to settle the mind. “Tah tha Lunar Veil,” he hefted the glass toward the darkened cargo bay.
Blink, Blink, Bang

The days in the black passed in a blur to Lyen. Most often she had spent the time meditating in her room, one benefit from having a space all to herself was the long periods of uninterrupted alone. The monastery hadn't afforded much in the way of personal space.

She had her robes back now, thanks to Dillon. She'd have to remember to thank him again. Ly hadn't minded the strange clothes she'd found in the cabin, and decided she'd add them to her wardrobe since they didn't seem to have an owner.

Ly's feet led her to the cargo bay, open to dusty Ezra. She arrived just in time to see a large man pointing a pistol up in her direction. She froze, then he pulled the trigger and... nothing happened. The nun came near to cursing. And on top of that the man was laughing hysterically, like it was some big joke to point pistols at people.

He was more preoccupied with writing something on his bullet when she reached him. Lyen swatted the huge man on the arm with an errant hand.

"What do you think you're doing? You pointed that thing right at me and pulled the trigger!" She motioned to the pistol in his hand.

Lyen looked like crew now, a baggy top and tight pants, hair down around one shoulder. Her hand landed on her hip, the other on her temple, an idiosyncratic pose from years past. "How would you like it if someone went around pointing barrels at you? Fú bāngzhù wǒ," the tools, guns, and powder spread around caught her attention, "What exactly do you do as apart of the crew?"
"Miss Reaver 2519"

Marisol’s brows lifted in surprise. “Wow, Beef Wellington,” she exclaimed with a smile. “Now I’ve got to…” Her words stopped cold at the sound of a new voice.

*"I didn't see anything, I swear! I just wanted to get something to eat, but I'm good, I'm good! I'll be… "* The girl’s eyes were wide in alarm as she took a reflexive step back. Her stunned observation inspired Marisol to size herself up. With her blood spattered wife beater shirt and wildly tossed her, she looked every bit the madwoman. The morbid image was completed with the camp saw and axe, dripping as they dangled from her blood soaked hands. Despite herself, the mechanic laughed. “It’s okay,” she smiled at the girl. “I’m not a Reaver…yet.”

*"That's --beef? I mean, not like... people or anything, right?"* She was coming around from Marisol’s somewhat murderous first impression. The girl was young…perhaps younger than her daughter Maria…with a pretty face and deep eyes that could convey any emotion with ease. And for now, those eyes radiated a wary sort of discomfort.

“Just beef,” the Spanic woman nodded. As Lyen stepped gracefully in to guide the child toward a meal, the mechanic tucked the tools beneath an arm. “Nice to meet you…Serena, is it? I’m Marisol,” she thought to offer her hand in greeting, then withdrew the macabre appendage. “Think I’d better go clean up,” she said as a sheepish exit was on her mind.

Moments later, behind the newfound luxury of an actual shower curtain, Marisol scrubbed off the blood and sweat of the day. Despite their tussle with Reavers and what news was beginning to filter back about the slavers, she found herself a contentment as the shampoo ran through her hair. There was baking to think about. Hotdog buns were one thing, but attempting the flaky pastry of a Beef Wellington…well, that was going to be a challenge with the sort of supplies she could latch to in the ‘verse. Might call for several experiments. Buddha knew they had the beef.

And time. Plenty of it, before whatever lay ahead at New Kasmir.
Burning In...

Marisol cast a glance over her quarters. The bed was now rebuilt, neatly made with fresh sheets, blanket, and pillowcases. The shelves were emptied and wiped clean. The deck glistened from a fresh mopping. She’d packed her duffel, and left it tucked inside the wardrobe locker, along with a fresh change of clothes for afterward.

*”… Welcome again, to New Kasmir, and thank you for flying the Lunar Veil.”*

Keller’s announcement roused her from a moment’s troubled reverie. Landing…time to wrap this up. The mechanic clambered up the ladderway, before making her deliberate way to the engine room. The sight of an open hatchway furrowed her brow; the last time had preceded Jat boiling out from engineering with accusations, fantasies, and violence. As she stepped through the entrance, her hand clutched the wrench secreted in her pocket.

Fortunately, no psychotic this time. She relaxed at the sight of Sister Lyen. The nun stood at the mechanic’s work station, engrossed in the engineering log as she traced entries with a pair of slender fingers. The nun was wearing a coat from the storage locker. *She makes a worn out coat look like a fashion statement,* the mechanic gave an amused smile. “A little light reading before we land?” Marisol asked. “No no no,” she gestured for Lyen to stay. “Just buckle up,” she pointed toward the straps. “We’re in re-entry sequence.”

Marisol clipped a hip loop to a handrail. “Have a look,” she offered. “During atmo entry, the action’s all spelled out on the screen. Hull temperature, internal O2, flight attitude, fuel burn. Do you feel that?” she asked. “Riley just rotated the atmo engines. It’s about to get noisy,” she smiled.
All This, and Kvass, Too...

He was as ready as he’d ever be.

The tray, with its’ array of tools and supplies, was prepared for each step. All Dorian needed now would be two pairs of hands to guide through the procedure. He could relax a bit.

The nun, Lyen, was proving a boon to his well being. She’d taken over watch of young Haddie, a major responsibility in itself. He watched her moving about the infirmary. Lyen was a creature of grace. Every motion seemed to be one in harmony with both her surroundings and the overarching mood. Though she was beautiful to the eye, the dentist became aware that what of Lyen was seen was only one part of the overall whole. She exuded an aura of calm and well being that enticed, and welcomed those in her company to share its’ goodness. *“Truly spiritual,”* he mused, *”without the righteous hard sell of religion.”* In those moments, he realized that he was taking a liking to her. “Sistah,” he said. “Ah…”

Gill returned from his time with the mechanic, lugging a box of metal parts that rattled as he carried them.

Gill: *"Devron gave me these for Haddie. How is she doing?"*

“Quite well,” the medic replied from his chair. “Sistah Lyen’s been taking very good care of her. Ah conjure we’ll be movin’ her tah her own bed in just a few minutes”. The happy prognosis delivered, he returned his gaze toward Lyen. “Sistah…..Ah…”

Suddenly, the doorway was filled with the giant figure of Dimitri. The big Russian was excited, gesturing with a hand filled with glasses toward a jar of liquid in the other as he burst into the infirmary.

Dimitri: *"DORIAN! I have something important to sh…”*

He froze in mid sentence as he took in the sights of Haddie on the table and an obviously less than well Dorian slumped into a chair. For a moment, it looked as if Dimitri was indecisive. As he appeared to be turning to leave, Dorian called out.

“Is that what Ah think it is, Mistah Dimitri?” he asked. “Yah not gettin’ away without raisin’ a glass with me.”
A beautiful beginning

"Excellent Captaining, Sir. You may want to stay topside in the galley. I think maybe the Doc leaked nitrous or something, the way everyone is acting squirrelly tonight."
"If I interject, if we seriously got Rob in Santo, I feel it is call for big security. I'll make measures later, loud measures. Painful measures.." he stared off for a split second, a cruel look on his face. He snapped back to the conversation at hand, "so you want me to shake up ship hand or me and ship hand search for weapons?"
He tried to turn to one person or the other, unsure who wore pants. Finally he decided on captain
Day 1 Late Evening - Nightcap

Now stripped of his bloody clothing, Dorian had shifted to the more comfortable attire of dressing robe and slippers. Most nights, this simple act, plus a few pages of either Marcel Proust or James Joyce would always put him right under. But tonight, his witnessing of such animal violence upon a child would not permit the mind it’s usual unspooling.

Instead, the old anger made itself comfortable within his forethought. As he considered the possibilities, Dorian understood just how futile his position on the matter could be. Somewhere in town tonight was a well-to-do gentleman, “in town for the opera.”

“*And apparently, his own Reaver fantasy,*” the medic thought. With every muscle of his frame tightening into fight-or-flight mode, he abandoned the idea of sleep for awhile. Pehaps, he thought, the bottle he’d left in the galley might still be about. His mission thus determined, Dorian made his way from the guest cabins up to the galley.

Riley was seated at the big table. Judging by the scatter of records and the *“Bié gēn tā mā de”* vibe emanating from her, she was engaged in a losing battle with the boat’s P and L balances. Of course, whatever foul smelling beverage residing in her mug surely couldn’t be helping the matter, regardless of the fragrant whiskey she’d attempted to use as a mask. *“A perfect metaphor,”* Dorian mused as he pulled the bottle and a glass.

Once two fingers had been poured out, he capped the bottle. The whiskey swirled a golden brown color as he strolled over to the pilot. “Ah beg pardon for disturbing” he said, producing from his pocket a coin pouch. The money landed upon the table beside Riley’s paperwork. “Four hundred thirty credits. That’s one third of today’s dental services charges,” he explained. “Standard facilities usage fee. Cheers,” he lifted his glass in salute, before downing the contents.
Broken Sleep

Thomas was sleeping comfortably. He had accomplished all of his tasks and gotten the ship off ground ahead of schedule. He deserved this nice quiet sleep.

Now, being on a cargo ship, one expects the usual noises of cargo being moved, people moving about and the sound of the engines but, there was something different. Some noise not right and that woke Thomas up.

He heard a small commotion down the passageway and it wasn't in the norms of a ship. Getting up, he entered the passageway and looked to see Vas with another individual up against the bulkhead and his arm pinned behind him.

"Are we taking bets and this turning into a real fight or are you two done making noise? As much as Thomas loved a good fight and would love to jump in, the ship was in flight and he needed to put all his energy into that. *Hopefully this ends quickly and without me having to jump in.*
Broken Boredom

Gill was bored. No. Bored did not cut it. He had sailed past bored and entered uncharted waters of mind numbing tediousness. He found himself willing on the next twinge of pain from his healing leg as an unpleasant yet diverting break from the hours of doing sweet sod all with his time.

He wondered absently if this was why Captain Keller drank so much. Perhaps he was just mind numbingly bored with the verse and sought distraction in the bottom of a bottle. A dram or two of whiskey might be just what the doctor ordered to break the monotony. On second thoughts no, it was just about the last thing that old Doc Adler would be ordering for his young charge.

Thus far the crew had stepped lightly around the injured deck hand mostly at the Docs orders. A fact for which he was grateful. However, Gill could not shake the feeling that when the hammer finally fell, and it would, it would be Adler holding the haft.

Absently he wondered how the preparations for departure were going. He held a vague sense of guilt about not being able to help out, but only vague. Truth be told if he could get up and pitch in he would jump at the chance.

The door burst open and Haddie came storming in with a face that could give a grizzly second thoughts. She was furious. Suddenly, Gill found himself missing the boredom.

“What now mei?”
Back to work

After the Captain helped Thomas back up to his feet, Thomas ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth to make sure all his teeth were still there then limped to the stack of crates, grabbed his assault rifle then limped back to his quarters. He wasn't interested in the twit and her fears of the medic.

After getting to his quarters, he stripped down, put on a pair of gym shorts and grabbed a towel. He again went to the showers and took a very cold shower. The cold water felt great on his sore and bruised body. The bleeding from his nose had stopped and he hoped the swelling in his left eye would go down soon.

He finished showering and went back to lie down in his bed for a short nap. The engines were in the green from his last check and the ship would be ready for take off. He had had a long day and needed some rest. After his nap, he would go and see who all the new people were and continue work on the shuttle.

Parts, dammit, did we get the parts? I sure hope someone was able to get the shopping done or else...Zzzzzzz
Cheese and Crackers

Marisol converted her anger into work.

The first task was a rinse-repeat, a check and diagnosis of all the cabin repress valves in the designated safe compartments. The results were eye opening. Like the cockpit, another two valves were candidates for complete replacement. Three more could be salvaged with new motor windings…a laborious process that at face value seemed much cheaper than outright replacement. *And that’s what they’d decide,* she thought of the captain’s kneejerk reactions to expenditures of any kind.

The final valve, feeding the galley, was missing altogether. *JesuCristo,* the mechanic thought of the short sighted repair. *Shiny that we didn’t actually have a hull breach.*

She cast an eye about the galley. True to Vas’ taunting, the dishes had been done. Marisol opened the refrigerator in hopes of finding leftovers of her cooking, but no such luck. *Must’ve been good,*she thought as her search unearthed a block of moldy cheese and crackers from the cabinet. Once she’d drawn a glass of water, the mechanic set to work with a knife. Slice by slice, the blue green mold landed on the counter until what remained was a deep yellow block of…something.

*Cheese product,* her wit injected as the first bite yielded up no clues as to a flavor.

*So what did we learn tonight?* she pondered in the quietude of the empty galley. Despite his display of misogyny and willingness to beat her with the chain of command, the so-called crew chief had no interest in addressing the threat they’d just weathered. He’d already been fired for his incompetence. And now, she felt a complete fool for taking up with Riley on his behalf.

The crackers were stale, delivering not the satisfying crunch but an unyielding sort of resistance that the flavorless cheese didn’t offset. *And day after tomorrow,* she thought darkly, *we’re right back in the same old mess.*

*”Leave,”* the self serving prick had suggested at the head of a diatribe about how easily replaceable she was. Maybe that wasn’t bad advice. Of all the reasons Marisol had to remain aboard this boat, none was important enough to warrant her going to war with a feral child. While she had no inkling as to the instantaneous hostility shown her by Gill and Haddie, she also understood that after the fuel sabotage and her responding promise of violence, a line had been crossed. That relationship wasn’t about to be mended anytime soon.

Especially since Vas had chosen to kick the can down the road.

*Leave.* One thing was certain; if she remained aboard, young Haddie would spare no risk in order to come at her. She’d be forced to react…most like with a bullet. *In time of war….* but this wasn’t…yet. She could change the mission…slip Kate off at Skyplex. Her own budding network on Santo could hide the intel agent. As a peripheral, Dorian could stay on, and a triumphant Haddie would have no further reason for sabotage.

A dim smile crossed her lips. *Maybe I could barter my share for Patch,* she thought of the big dog. “Leave,” the word escaped her lips. She’d have to think on it.
A love letter from far aways

Where is home?
I always knee Persephone, its climates and crazy markets. You could find a lot there if you looked hard enough. Goods, people, services, information, of all sorts. It's a variable gold mine, a wealth of sheer accessibility.

But is that home?
My babushka always said that where we came from, back on the Earth-That-Was, before everything went tits up, as she'd say, it was cold. She said that people were hearty and loved it, that the cold was wonderful.
She said that they'd gather round fires and share...
They'd drink, they'd talk, sharing stories of their travels.
She would talk of these other places, but babushka was old.
These stories weren't hers.

Sometimes I doubt her. She'd speak of such crazy things.

But she did teach me a lot.
I feel like that's why I think so fondly of Persephone. Its where I... I know. I know work, I know family, and I know the cold. Persephone has places where it's nice and cold. Hell it even snows. I know it's silly, clinging to old stories, but it gives me a sense of bearing. Without it I'm just another big man. A faceless meatslab to push through a crowd.

I'm not a bright guy persay. I know what I'm told. As far as anyone cares, I know how to do what pays well for guys like me. I want more. I want out. I want to find a place beyond this fucking empire. Someplace cold, someplace with those like me. I want a farm. A want a wife.

But not now. Not yet. Now, I want kvas.
-Dimitri Yolrick, who fucking cares when, on the Lunar Veil, 2519

Dim took the tablet and powered it down. No locks or anything, no need for it. He took the tablet and slipped it into his rucksack along with some of his kvas ingredients. A quick detour down to the hull to drop it off and slot it into one of his detonator crates before he creates his precious drink.
An Ounce of Prevention - (Day 1 Afternoon)

*Lieutenant Thorne had returned to her lawn chair. Marisol strode down the cargo ramp. “Lieutenant,” she addressed the pilot, “here’s the receipt for our top offs and drain out.” As Riley studied the yellow page, the diminutive mechanic continued. “The dock service guy told me about a place that carries some used parts. Chances are if they’ve got our valve I can get it cheaper here than on Beaumonde. Boat’s on shore power,” she reported. “I’ll be back before dark.”*

“Sounds good, let’s make it happen, the lieutenant replied, turning her attention back to the cortex. With Tojiro departing the ship, his stateroom opened up as did the crew berth which slept seven, only currently those bunks were being used by the crew in the cargo bay. With the captain promising transport for several workers to a prominent Beaumonde factory, the logistics of where to house everyone were daunting to say the least.

“Shiny.” Marisol turned, took a step, and then halted. “There was something else,” she said as she returned. “You got a minute?”

Riley looked at the non-existent line of takers with the “Crew Wanted” sign, as all of the ‘passenger’ slots were full up.”I’m sure the applicants won’t mind waiting for a minute,” she snarked. “What’s on your mind, Chavez?”

“Not sure if you’ve heard,” Marisol began, “but you should. Haddie and I got up to some mischief last night...in the galley.” She raised a hand to shade her eyes. “I cleaned it all up...but that’s not all.”

“That explains the missing condiments and canned food,” Riley said dryly, “What else?”

“I’ll pay for those,” the mechanic replied. “Serena got me paid...it’s burning a hole in my pocket, anyway. But Haddie….Lieutenant, the kid played….like a regular child. And to top it all off, she laughed,” Marisol said. “Out loud.”

“That’s great, she’s makin’ progress,” Riley offered, a pang of guilt shooting through her gut, a reminder that space was no place for a kid, especially ones with whatever baggage Haddie was bringing with her. “You can split the cost with Jat and Edwards.”

“Scared her,” the diminutive woman replied. “She ran off and hid.” Marisol’s eyes dropped to the dirt, then lifted once more. “I told Dorian about it. He mentioned talking to that hospital he’s tied up with. Suggested we should take whatever we do for her very slowly.”

“Mmm hmm, baby steps.” Riley agreed. “Chances are her brother’s gonna need some help himself, Got a lotta responsibility for a boy his age.” And thus far? He hadn’t proven himself very capable of it.

“Count me in,” the mechanic replied. Back as soon as I can manage.” She turned away, her steps carrying her toward town.

“Chavez, you sure you wanna head to town with a browncoat service revolver? Folks around here ain’t been too receptive of the brownies as of late.” The Lieutenant warned. “Chances are they’ll know an officer’s weapon when they see one.”

For the second time, Marisol turned back to face Riley. “Good to know,” she made her way back toward the ramp. “I’m in your debt.”

“Good mechanics are hard to come by.” the pilot quipped back, offering up her own service weapon. Crew looks out for crew, always.
An Ounce of Prevention

*“Doc that puts you in charge … You'll get the all-clear once everything is good. I’ll close the door behind me and check on the Captain see if he needs me for anything.”*

“Here,” the medic responded as he opened a pill bottle. “Take this. Here’s one fah the cap’n, and one fah Riley, if yah see ‘em.” As the shuttle hatch locked shut, he turned to face the assembled group, both two-and-four legged. “Water,” Adler’s glance landed upon the shuttle’s primary occupant. “Miss Jacy, we need some water. Would yah kindly help me with that?”

Adler accepted the brimming cup. “Thank yah. Please take this.” To the question in her eyes he answered “Iodine. Purely precautionary at this time.” Next came Gill, who obediently swallowed his dose. Finally, he dropped to one knee before Haddie. “Ah need yah tah take this,” he said to his most difficult little patient. “It’s iodine.” He pointed toward the base of her throat. “That’s your thyroid gland. We’ve got a radiation leak in engineering. We should all be safe, but iodine protects yah thyroid if any gets loose.”

He watched as the child inserted the tablet, made a face, and then followed up with a swallow of water. Dorian grinned when she opened her mouth wide, extending her tongue to prove that she had, in fact, swallowed the iodine. “Ah think yah just wanted tah stick yah tongue out at me,” he chuckled. “Mistah Gill,” he turned his head toward the boy, “we need a bowl of water fah tha droggies.” He poured a handful of the tablets into one hand, counting out eight. “These’ll protect them.”

He rooted through his bag, eventually bringing forth a small metal tray and a dental scraper. Dorian set to work with the blunt end, pulverizing the little tablets into dust which he scraped together into a small pile. His thoughts traveled to Marisol. There were protocols for radiation exposure from a fuel spill; he’d be duty bound to follow them and report his findings. Exposure kits were standard issue, required and accounted for in every safety inspection. The regulations had been in place since before time of war. Marisol understood what was coming. As he poured the iodine powder into the dogs’ water bowl, the knowledge made Dorian feel no better for the prospect.
A Snowy Proposition - (Day 4- Early Afternoon)

The sun was high now, reflecting on the snow on either side of their path. Woods like these were thick groupings of slender trees, bare and bark exposed to the winter's chill. The Sorrel walked on, head low to the ground, her breath dissipating in hurried vapors. Their calls had taken a regular cadence, one that echoed against the other search parties and back again.

Yazmina, the companion, had her delicate arms wrapped around Dorian's waist for balance against the gentle rock of the Chestnut gelding. Dorian himself seemed a mite preoccupied, perhaps from their search for Gill and Haddie taking sundown 'til looming sundown. Ly watched his gaze sweep her way as he scanned the treeline for any sign.

"Dorian, can I ask you something?" The Sorrel whined and circumnavigated a stone in their path. "You mentioned that the widow Schnabel has been assisting you with customers here in New Kasmir. Is that arrangement extending even after we leave here?" she continued, "Because I've been wondering whether you might consider teaching me enough to be useful to you and the crew on the Veil."

"When we performed that surgery on you in the black--that was the most frightened I'd been in a long while." she added, "I was terrified that I'd make a mistake that would cost your sight. But when it was over and you were all right, then I felt exhilarated. Seeing you fix people up, how you mend the broken, that's something I'd like to learn more about."

She craned her neck to watch his expression. "If it wouldn't be any trouble, that is."
Chef

Dillon stood by, feeling invisible. It was nice, but it couldn't last.

They were being tailed. His paranoia was nudging at him, but he felt reasonably sure it didn't have anything to do with him. If anyone was going to find him, it would've been on Persephone. Nobody knew he was here.

Rather than engage in the discussion, he turned to his original reason for coming to the galley. He joined Vas at the cupboards to take a quick inventory and see what he could do with it.

Dried onions... Dry bread... A few measly old spices... Some long forgotten bullion.... He could make it work. He pulled out a pan and some oil.

He didn't want to disrupt the serious talk, but he felt like he ought to ask before using up some supplies.... He shrugged inwardly. He'd make enough for everyone. How many people were there? Ten?

He began to fry the onions, mixing in just a bit of soy paste.
An Opportunity

The Sun on Yee 'gentlemen' left the saloon somewhat quiet. Most patrons were began to resume their business, a few people comforting Lenora. Only one person remained highly interested.

"Wait, that was captain Keller?" Dillon was sitting up straighter at his place in the booth. He'd long forgotten his watered down wisky with its ice nearly melted. He'd hardly taken more than a sip, only buying it as an excuse to be there.

Vanessa frowned, knowing Dillon was done humoring her. She'd been with him a good hour, expertly ending up with an arm around him, despite his resistance. "... Yeah, that was him... Why? He owe you something, sugar?"

"Not yet," he replied. He'd been too polite and awkward to shoo the woman away, and he was fully aware of the fact that she had him more or less trapped in the booth. He was also perfectly aware this particular woman was from down the street and only interested in him as a potential client. He tried to make it clear he wasn't interested, but she was persistent.

He was only here because he knew the bartender was his best chance for news on jobs. Between here and skulking around the port, somehow here felt more productive. He'd already met with a few captains over the last week, but either they weren't interested in him, or he wasn't interested in them. Sometimes both. He was trying to keep his standards low, yet nobody made the mark.

They were beginning to get sick of seeing him here and he knew it. He always had the excuse of one measly wisky, but they seemed to think they could be making more off of the space he occupied if he wasn't there. He only lingered so long because he had nowhere else to be.

"You'll have to excuse me, Vanessa," he said, his voice more assertive than that he'd been using for small talk.

Vanessa sighed, reluctantly scooting out of the booth to let him chase after another potential job. Soon, she'd discover a few coins Dillon had slipped into her pocket. Nothing generous, just a small form of repayment for her wasted time.

~~

Out of the Lucky Cat with his bag over his shoulder, the Sun on Yee gang were already gone and out of sight. It didn't stop him. "Slip 19..." he mumbled to himself, beginning to jog towards his destination. He hoped he could reach either the captain or his ship first. It was the perfect way too get his foot in the door.

Somehow, it didn't take long to catch up. The men had slowed down. They must have believed Lenora when she said they weren't leaving until morning. Altering his course to avoid them recognizing him from the salloon, he didn't have much stamina, but he was confident he'd get there first if he paced himself.
Day 1 Late Evening - "Career Opportunities"

He poured a second glass for himself. To be sure, Dorian found it more than a little amusing that the same woman who’d adopt a big Russian toting a kidnapped Fed, not to mention a sky pilot whose life’s work was the ultimate in long cons should suddenly get cagey. Then again, he mused, perhaps “once burned, twice shy” was taking a whole new meaning from where she sat. He also marveled at the notion that twice over the same night, two women who held some authority over him at varying times were pondering his domestication.

“Good money in circuit dentistry,” he answered plainly. “Ah try tah cover the entire outer rim each year.” This, of course, was the truth. While none of these squatters’ camps or mining colonies could support a fulltime dentist, they’d all line up once a year, mainly for extractions of teeth that no amount of hygienic instruction would coax them to care for. “Second,” he continued, “poker. Ah play tha game well enough tah cover mah bar tab, though it’s mainly a reason tah stake out a chair in a saloon. Yah’d be surprised, Lieutenant, just how much business gets done in saloons. Then again,” Dorian chuckled at her narrow eyed expression, “perhaps ya wouldn’t.”

He took the opportunity to pour another. The anger was softening around the edges, and he could feel welcome relaxation overtaking him as he enjoyed the sight of the woman across the table. “Finally,” Dorian said, “Ah’ve got a reputation as a gun hand. Ah’ve been known ta hire out. As a membah of your crew, Ah’ll be askin’ a five percent gun bonus each time Ah pull a pistol in defense of this boat or her people.” He took a swallow, set the half drained glass down. “In addition to mah full share, of course. Finally,” he said, “as tah how Ah’m able tah put people together?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah had lots ‘o’ practice, thanks tah tha Alliance.”
Am I going to make it?

*<<“Miss Jacy, now what…oww. First thing’s first,” Dorian produced a cold pack from the freezer. “Kindly tell me how this happened?” He folded his arms, nodding as he listened to her account.>>*

Jacy held Vas’ hand hostage with her own and with her other, pressed the chill pack to the side of her forehead. She was cold to start with and not suitably dressed for space travel if you were to ask some. Her time prone on the deck of The Lady’s Law hadn’t helped and being near Vas always made her tingly. Her legs were crossed and she saw a fresh abrasion on her knee as well. She gave Vas a squeeze and filled Dorian in with the specifics. “I was seated at the control console to my shuttle and there were alarms sounding throughout the ship. They had been for some time. I remember standing up, as the Lunar Veil’s upthrust rocked the ship. Yes I know, that was a bad move, but I assure you it was reactionary to the revelation of Reavers, not a willful desire to be on my feet. I must have fallen forward and bumped my head because the next thing I know is Sugarbear helping me to my feet.”

*<<“Yah said yah were knocked out?,” he observed. “Are we talkin’ just knocked senseless fah a moment, or were yah unconscious? Any idea how long?”>>*

“I was out, Dorian. There was no pain or confusion until I began to stir. There’s some disorientation as well. How long? How long has it been since we left the Skyplex?

*<<Dorian went for the little wireless contacts as Jacy and Vas offered their opinions. “Ah want tah get some vital signs,” he said, before explaining where he’d be attaching the tiny sensors. “While it’s most likely that there’s no real harm done, it won’t hurt tah have a good look.”>>*

“I’m accustomed to being poked and prodded by men, both legit and those merely playing doctor. Please place your sensory equipment as needed, Dorian.” Jacy gave him a smile and lowered her eyes.
Day 1 Evening - What was

Vas tried not to snicker as Jacy used her interrogation assets on Dillon. Sure they knew more about him now than before, but that just left one question in Vas’s head. “I understand that. Still then how did a decently educated, well off fella end up on this ship as a grunt? I mean … if you don’t mind me asking. You’re allowed to tell me to fuck off.” Vas assured Dillon, he was just being curious. Kid clearly could have had options but he chose this … as deckhand of all things… with a bunch of health issues.

Vas' steps slowed a bit taking in the new Santo. It had all been rebuilt from the bottom up. There wasn’t similar to his childhood memories but enough had chanced to make it a real startling contrast. Vas couldn’t help but see the ghost of his past reminding him of what was. Lounges and nightclubs were replaced by strip club and pubs. The once bright streets light were peppered with red lanterns, girls scantily clad crooked at anyone who paid them mind.

“Well ain’t that a slap to the face.” Vas murmured. If ever there was a moment where home didn’t feel like home anymore, this was it. Supposed there was even less than he thought left. He couldn't help but feel a bit of despair set in. If this much had changed he was starting to have doubts there would be anyone still living here from before the war.
Captain's Orders

"Aye, Sir?" Riley asked, leaving the mess by the galley to go clean up whatever mess the Captain found himself in. She briefly, longingly, swung her eyes towards the bridge.

"Did you know about this? You knew about this. The weapons brought on board. A lot of weapons, a literal shit-ton apparently. But there's a whole crate of weapons DeMarcus says is missing. "

"I think it's Dmitri, Sir."

"That's your take-a-way?"

"We have new deckhands, Sir. Crates have been moved, rearranged. We don't know that it's lost. We open the crates, we search them, we try to find the missing weapons that are listed on the manifest that I recall he tried to give me when I was on the bridge. If they aren't in any of the crates, then we can search the rooms, crew first, passengers second. No one has any reason to steal a bunch of weapons, because it would be easy enough to kill anyone on this ship without 'em. A six year old nearly accomplished it with a screwdriver. If we can't find it, it likely means it was left on Santo and it's just less to divvy up. Dim, find a deckhand, pick one, any one, and have at it. Captain, if it comes down to it, I think you should search the passenger rooms, because no one wants deckhands crawling all over their stuff. "

"I give the orders." He grumbled. "*You* can search the rooms. Or I can, if I feel like it, but only if I feel like it."

"Aye Sir. Then I'd appreciate it if you gave the order for me to go back up to the--"

"Back to the bridge!" he said quickly, interjecting before she could finish the words. "That's my idea."

"Excellent Captaining, Sir. You may want to stay topside in the galley. I think maybe the Doc leaked nitrous or something, the way everyone is acting squirrelly tonight."
Day 1 Late Evening - A Story to Tell

Riley: *"Out of curiosity, and that's all it is, strictly curiosity, why would a dentist need a gun to back him up? Hell of a way to collect on services, isn't it?"*

Dorian swirled the whiskey in his glass, his eyes drawn to the minor tempest as if he were viewing another time and place. “The short answer would be to call it “ongoing education,” he said reflectively. “The longer, more truthful response would be to say that picking up a gun is part of mah only war story.”
Dawn of the Dentist

*"Attention, crew and passengers, this is your Captain speaking. It appears that one of our esteemed guests, the Drog-Kryi, has gone missing. If anyone has the Drog-Kryi outside of the designated Drog-Kryi area, he needs to be returned IMMEDIATELY. Crew Chief, with the rooster cut! This is on you! Find that Ruttin' Drog-Kryi!"*

The captain’s announcement echoed with an accompanying squeal of feedback that soon had the rest of his canine hostages howling their displeasure. “Aaaah-ooooooh” Dorian joined the chorus with a smirk. There was a certain comfort to be taken from the daily madness that was life aboard Lunar Veil.

He lifted the exam table, adjusting it into its’ upright “treatment chair” position. Next came tool prep. Dorian placed an array of implements, dental mirrors, and the epoxy he’d use to secure Jacy’s new crowns for a lifetime of use. Given the way life had complicated itself since that ill fated night on Ezra, he found a gladness in this morning’s work, a simplicity of focus that refreshed. This morning, he could shed for awhile the weights of “thinker, doctor, hunter, spy” in favor of his long standing profession.

The box containing Jacy’s crowns was laid upon the tool tray. He slipped into his white dental smock, grabbed the steaming mug of coffee, and settled upon his work stool. A few minutes remained before Jacy’s appointment, offering him the quiet respite of his infirmary. The coffee was decent this morning. His rib was still a bit tender, but the bruising and the burns were all healing well. “Just a couple more days of this eye patch,” he whispered before the last satisfying mouthful of coffee made its’ way down.
Awkward

*Vas jumped to his feet. “I’ll give you a hand!” He said a little too eager. His heart damn near stopped when the women stated the planet they were headed too. Right into the belly of the beast, the gorram luck. Sure he was hungry and tired but he could not afford to set foot off this ship when they landed and he was not above kissing ass and making himself useful if it got him off Persephone alive!*

*“Yea … it’s great … you’ll love it.” Vas said hastily to Aello before chasing after Riley.*

Aello was not too impressed with Vas' impromptu answer and quick get away. He looked rattled after hearing the name Persephone. Aello figured he had a bad experience with that place in his youth. Since it wasn't her problem she blew it off and figured she could try to start over there or find another ship to leave if the need came by. She still had some money hidden on herself, but she needed to make it last since it was all she had for the moment. For the moment she was hoping to make a simple living as a medic. She slowly ate her sandwich and drank her water since she didn't want to rush it. It had been a while since she had anything but protein bars, so the sandwich was a nice change of pace. While in medical school she learned a good deal about cooking from her fellow colleagues. Since time was never on their side and a good meal usually involved take out at the last minute, she was all too happy to learn ways to cook with simple ingredients since take out food got old after several years.

Aello then waited patiently for Riley and Vas to come back as she didn't know what to say to Devron and Haddie who were very quiet.
A new low, and countdown to take off

Leo made his way back to the ship, easily bypassing whatever ruckus was going on in the cargo bay to ascend the stairs which would lead to his cabin. He chuckled slightly to himself, the site of Vas Jat being overpowered by some large canines amusing him. *Hello, what's this?* He thought to himself, recognizing one of the women on the deck. *From Santos?* He'd assumed the woman who came calling was a patient of the doctors. Perhaps the good doctor found himself a lady friend. Slinging the bag he carried over his shoulder, he near ran into the short ragamuffin the ship was still carting around. Looking around to make sure they were alone, he narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice.

"You make sure to keep your mitts off my things, and yourself out of my cabin, girl, otherwise? I'll feed you to those dogs down in cargo myself." He warned.

"What are we waiting for again?" The captain asked.

"A coffin, Sir." Riley replied.

"For that sickly boy? Did he die?"

"What? No. I don't know. Maybe. No, not him."

"Good, I was gonna say, carting him around, that's weird, even for us."

"Aye Sir. No. Passenger. Grieving Widow. Taking her beloved to his final resting place."

The Captain removed his hat for respect, and gave a brief moment of silence. "Did we check the coffin?"

"Sir..." Riley evaded, "What kind of question is that?"

"A good one given our past history of boxes and feds and mechanics, I'd think."

"Taken care of Sir. I'll have Jat check the medical crates before take off, same reason."

"Good idea. Let me know before we take off, I'd like to..."

"Do your captain radio thing, Aye Sir. I'll let you know."
Day 1 Afternoon - It's like Christmas for Devron

*Before Riley could answer the old man leapt over to her and hugged her. He was in tears. “Oh my dear! You saved the closest thing to a son I’ve ever had! Whatever you need, I probably have, and I only keep working parts around. And for what you’ve done, they're free of charge!” He shuffled quick to a small room to their left and could be heard shouting from it. “What model?!”*

Riley was hugged. Her fight or flight instincts kicked in telling her that this indeed was a fight, but she managed to keep it at bay, because he'd said 'free of charge', meaning all the majority of credits could go to a 'finder's fee,', lending itself to the bank of Riley.

"Firefly class. Ought four." She said back. "She's in pretty bad shape, my mechanic gave me a list..." The shopkeeper came back with a huge crate containing two Heat Exchangers. Taking the entire list, he filled the crate, a true one stop shop. Riley wanted to ask why, if he was the closest thing he had to a son he didn't just up and save the boy from the awful abbey, but two things stopped her. First, she was getting parts, for FREE, and didn't want to do anything to interfere with that. Second, she didn't care, mostly because of the first thing. Ugh, but what if the good preacher went and said something to the Captain? He'd accuse her of skimming of the top. Never mind the fact that she WAS skimming off the top, being accused of it would be a huge insult.

"Listen, padre..." She said, lowering her voice. "The captain of the ship may ask me how much all these parts cost. I'd appreciate it if you didn't disclose the gift aspect. The captain's been known to..." Riley made a drinking motion, "And I'd prefer to use the credits for items the ship needs, taking care of our crew, buying food and such. I... hope you understand?"
Captain in trouble

Thomas had slowly made his way forward and soon heard the Captain talking to someone and the talk of putting a gun away. Thomas moved up to the corner, crouched down and slowly peaked around the corner. Of course no clean shot from here but, he still kept the individual covered as the Captain tried talking things out.

*Where was Lloyd? Dammit, she was much closer than I was.* Thomas keyed his internal comm and called out to her.

In a quiet but stern voice: Dammit, Jacy! Where are you? Get your butt up here now!

Thomas listened to the captain while also listening for Jacy.

*I swear that girl is going to get a talking to. I don't care about high heels in the catwalks, we have a dangerous situation and she should have been here.*