Fic: Honeymooning with the Neidermeyers, (2/2)
Honeymooning with the Neidermeyers, (2/2)
The walk to the cabin had actually helped to sort them out, to cool them down. Wash was reaching out to swipe the key card when Kaylee said quietly, “I'm sorry.”
“No, Kaylee,” he reassured her, turning to look into her crest-fallen face. “You got nothing to be sorry for. It was just a kiss. A very, very nice kiss. But that's all. We don't have to make it into anything else.”
“No. No, it was wrong,” she replied, shaking her head. “I know you're courtin' Zoe. And, that's right and good. She needs a fella like you, all fun, and sweet, and, and strong enough to take whatever she'll throw at you.”
“Strong.” Wash considered himself, and considered what it might be Zoe could need from a man, long term.
Oh, well. And besides, if she threw anything at him, he figured he'd just duck.
He swiped the card through the lock, grinning down at Kaylee. “Fun, maybe, I got.”
~ * ~
Kaylee used the bathroom first, oohing and ahing over the fixtures and the assortment of soaps and other potions. She decided she'd shower the next morning, and came out of the bathroom in the same PJs she wore on Serenity, when she wandered down into the galley for a midnight snack.
Wash opted to shower then, and left Kaylee bouncing in the middle of the huge bed, exclaiming at how soft it was. He took shameless advantage of the lack of water rationing and indulged in a good fifteen minute soak under steaming hot spray. Skin glowing pink, he emerged from the bathroom in a tank and his flannel drawstring pants, toweling his hair dry. Kaylee sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, looking at a slender volume open in her lap. As he watched, she picked the book up, and with a quizzical expression, rotated it 180 degrees. Noticing him then, she flipped it around so the page she'd been studying faced him.
“Ain't this somethin', Wash? Ya ever done that?”
He'd leaned in automatically to look at what she was showing him. He jerked back just as automatically when he realized he was looking at a lovely, but extremely graphic illustration of a pair of very flexible lovers.
Ears growing hot, he admitted, “Um, um, yeah, you know. A few times.”
“Really?” She turned the book toward herself again, staring at the picture, shaking her head in wonderment.
“Yeah, well, I'm actually pretty lithe.” Desirous of leading the conversation in a less personal direction, he asked, “Where'd you get that?”
“In there.” She gestured over her shoulder with her thumb, pointing Wash in the direction of the bedside table. “Oh, there's lots of other nifty stuff too. Looky here!” She tossed the pillow book to one side, and rolling onto her belly, stretched out to reach into the open drawer. Sitting back up, she spilled a large handful of small packets, tubes, and vials onto the bed. "Seems as the establishment wants to make sure their new wed passengers get off to a good start!”
“Huh,” said Wash, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and ruffling his fingers through the goodies. “Lube, massage oil, condoms, both male and female...” He picked up one of the sheaths, reading the label. “Mint flavored.” He tossed it back to begin picking through the pile. “Any grape? Grape's my favorite.”
“This 'un's got racin' stripes!”
“Stripes?”
“Sure enough. Look.” Ripping open the packet, she pulled out the condom, pinched the tip, and deftly unrolled it. She displayed it for Wash, and sure enough, the latex sheath was bright purple, with vivid red stripes.
“Shiny!” he exclaimed, matching her enthusiasm with his, although, truth be told, to his mind anyway, advertising one's speed in the sexual area seemed counter-productive.
Giggling, she put the opening of the sheath to her lips and exhaled hugely. The thing inflated, and she continued blowing it up, transforming it into an enormous pink-streaked lavender sausage. Then she let it go, and Wash barked with laughter as he ducked away from its crazy flight around the room. He reached for a packet of his own.
~ * ~
The next morning, Kaylee popped out of the bathroom, briskly running her brush through her hair. She wore her favorite of her new dresses, the light green one, sprigged with tiny red roses. “Might wanna make sure your pillow and blanket are back on the bed, Wash.”
Wash, perched on the edge of couch, straightened after tugging his shoe lace tight. “What? Oh.”
“Yep. Maid might think it strange one of us slept on the couch, this bein' the bridal suite an' all. Maybe I'm bein' all paranoid and spookish, but probably best if we don't stand out in anyway. So's no one has cause to gossip 'bout us.”
“You're getting real good at this sneaky stuff, Kaylee. Kinda scary, actually. Smart, cute, and sneaky. 'Verse don't stand a chance.”
She giggled, and popped back into the bathroom, calling, “Think they'll have fresh strawberries at breakfast?”
~ * ~
Zoe, lurking in a non-obvious manner down the corridor, watched the two of them leave their stateroom, heading toward the dining room. She smiled to herself. Apparently Wash had sneaked one of his aloha shirts, the newest one, scarlet palm trees on a deep blue background, into his luggage. Which, for once, actually seemed apropos. This was a cruise ship, after all.
After a few moments, she strode down the hallway, metal briefcase swinging casually in her grip. Acquiring the EM dampener from the secure cargo area had gone without a hitch, with the access codes Badger had supplied. The fact that her captain had served as look out while she did the actual thieving might have had something to do with how smoothly the operation had gone.
She slipped into the bridal suite, cast a quick glance around, confirming that the mapped floor plans matched reality, then, skirting around the bed - a huge plushy thing with a crimson coverlet, unmade and satin sheets well rumbled - went to the closet. Sliding the door aside, she found Wash's duffel on the floor. She knelt, undid the zip, and slid the briefcase inside. Zipping it back up, a flash of color caught the corner of her eye, and she turned her head to focus on it. Then, she bent, reaching out to grasp the glittering thing from under the bed. She stood up, pinching between forefinger and thumb the purple condom packet, torn open and empty.
She looked down, into the waste basket beside the bed, then looked quickly away. But, impressed clearly on her razor sharp mind was the image of, at its bottom, at least three limp, multi-colored sheaths, their wrappers, and a number of empty mini-tubes of massage oil.
~ * ~
Almost two hours later, Wash and Kaylee waddled back to their cabin. There had been strawberries, and fresh orange juice, and real eggs and coffee, and a dozen different types of tiny pastries, one of each they each had to sample. And that had been just the first pass at the buffet.
“Think I'm gonna explode,” Kaylee declared, as Wash swiped the key card to their suite.
“Yeah, but what a way to go,” Wash groaned, in a manner which was down right lascivious.
They stepped in, and found the cabin sparkling bright. Clearly housekeeping had been there, as the bed was crisply made, and there were new flowers, white and lavender, in the vases next to the bed. Wash went to the closet, as Kaylee meandered to the bedside table and, checking, found the drawer freshly stocked.
“It's here,” Wash declared, voice muffled in the closet. Kaylee immediately slid the drawer shut, saying, “Shiny. Let's do this.”
When you got right down to it, Wash mused, the caper itself was pretty routine. Kaylee carefully took the device apart while he took notes and digital images. And then she put it back together, with him telling her every now and then, 'Yes, that modification would improve efficiency, but if you make it, they'll know they were skunked.' It seemed to be against her core nature not to make a piece of engineering, whatever it was, work to its optimum level.
Eventually, their task was done. She put the EM dampener back in its case, and that back in Wash's duffel. He tidied up their tools and drop cloth. He popped the camera's chip, put it in his pocket, and installed a new one. Once the device was back in secure cargo, he and Kaylee could be really-o, truly-o tourists, and he wanted to get a lot of vids and stills of the Lorelei and her entertainments.
They went to lunch.
Zoe slid into their cabin, then out again, metal briefcase so natural in her hand.
~ * ~
Mal sat at a table in Ballroom A, completely, smugly sanguine. The job was done, and all he and his crew had to do was ride it out on a luxury liner for the next six days. Zoe slipped into a chair next to him, and they exchanged a look which, to an outside observer, would read as completely cold and indifferent. He knew, though, that inside she was triumphantly chortling, “Hell, yeah!” He gave her a brief, exultant, “Hell, yeah!” nod in return.
Naturally, that was when Lorelei security surrounded their table, a very large lieutenant ordering politely, “Malcolm Reynolds, Zoe Alleyne, please accompany us to the security office.”
Mal took a moment to consider whether making a ruckus was worth it. (He knew Zoe'd follow whichever course he took.) But then he spotted Wash and Kaylee standing in the huge double doors, wide-eyed. And he knew, if he made it physical, Zoe'd be right there. Which meant his feng le pilot would fly in, swinging wildly. And maybe even Kaylee, after him. Which he actually appreciated, though he knew their efforts would be totally worthless.
So he stood, saying peaceably, “What's the problem, officers?”
Wash and Kaylee, coming in for the afternoon high tea, stood stock still, their stomachs plummeting, as they watched Zoe and Mal escorted from their table.
“So,” Wash quipped quietly, voice tight with nerves, “Plan B?”
Kaylee stared wide-eyed after the four large men in spotless white uniforms taking her captain and first mate away. She whispered, “We got a plan B?”
“No. No, we don't,” Wash said brightly. “But that's all to the good, see. 'Cause our plans, they just never go smooth. So, if we don't have one, we'll be just fine!”
~ * ~
Was a fluke really. No error in formation or implementation of the plan. In fact, the actual mission itself remained uncompromised. Problem was, there were warrants out for Mal and Zoe on Beaumont. Minor matters, really, that would take just a few days and a colorful swath of credits to sort out. If Mal had a free hand. Problem was, one of the first class passengers was the fella making the complaint. Tacked onto that was the fact that the chief of security was his second cousin.
So it kinda looked like he and Zoe were locked up in the closest thing Lorelei had to a brig, a secured cabin reserved for passengers disorderly due to over-indulgence, until they reached Beaumont. And it didn't look like he was gonna get a hand free, so he was a tad concerned he and Zoe might get stuck doing actual time.
He was ruminating over what that might mean for Serenity, and for his crew remaining at loose ends, when the intercom by the door gave a sudden little pop, then a faint hiss of static. Both Mal and Zoe turned their heads to look at it, and then rose to their feet in alarm at the sound which next issued forth.
“Cap'n? Zoe? Can ya hear me? It's Kaylee. Just talk if ya can hear me.”
“Kaylee? Yeah, we hear you,” Mal snapped crisply. “Get on away from here. Don't let anyone catch you messin' around by that door.”
“Oh, I ain't by the door, Cap'n, no fears. I'm on the deck above you. In the ladies'. Had ta cut a hole in the hull to get to the wirin'.” After a short pause she went on, chagrin evident even through the tinny speaker, “It's just a little hole, Cap'n, an' I'll fix it when I'm done. I ain't vandalizin' this pretty ship none, honest.”
“All right, then. You and Wash okay?” Tamade, he needed to focus, to help get his crew safely out of this tangle.
“Right as rain, don't you fret. But... we got a question.”
“Go on, baobai.”
“Is this part of the cunning plan? 'Cuz we don't wanna mess anything up if it is. But if it ain't, would you mind so much if we rescued you?”
“Resc- Kaylee, now, don't you go doin' somethin' crazy.” Then he reined himself up short, considering this whole 'crazy' thing. With a great deal of dark foreboding, Mal asked, “Kaylee, where's Wash at?”
“Oh, he's off stealin' us a ship. Just in case ya do, y'know, want us to rescue you.”
~ * ~
Wash had opted to go for one of the Lorelei's support and repair skiffs, rather than one of the lifeboat shuttles. The shuttles, docked on A deck, close to the passenger quarters, would have been easier to access. Skiffs were kept on the lowest deck, E, near the engine rooms, an area off-limits to passengers. But, while not as comfortable as a lifeboat, there where times a skiff needed leave the influence of the cruiser's gravity screens, yet still keep up with her. So a skiff had real legs. Plus, because of its duties, about a third of its tonnage was given over to a small, but well stocked repair shop. Wash and Kaylee thought those tools might come in handy.
So he did a little sneaking, old skills first acquired violating flight school curfew, and then polished in prison, getting him undetected through the port-side skiff's access hatch. A little tinkering, and the boat was set, and all he needed was his crew.
Which was how he found himself waiting, jittering, in a corridor on D deck, one level above the out-of-bounds E. To his left, the corridor led forward, toward the spa and gym. To his right, it went aft toward staff offices and housekeeping services like the laundry. Another corridor T'd off ahead of him, the one which Kaylee'd come scurrying down about twenty minutes ago.
"Twiddled the 'lectronics on the lock, Wash," she'd gasped, out of breath, "but Cap'n wouldn't let me near the door to get to the mechanism. Said he and Zoe'd see to it. Said they'd be right behind me." She looked a little worried. "Sounded a bit tetchy. Hope he's not out of sorts 'bout the rescue thingie."
He'd nodded abstractedly, brain moving ahead to the next problem as he'd turned to pop the hatch to the companionway that led down to E deck. He'd guided her through the corridors to the skiff, and then, once secure inside it, had tried to settle down on the tiny craft's bridge while Kaylee'd fiddled about with its engines aft. After five minutes, though, he'd found he couldn't bear it, images of Zoe and Mal wandering lost through the unfamiliar innards of this vast ship preying on his mind. Finally, he'd said, "Gonna go back up, Kaylee, make sure they find the right hatchway." She'd simply nodded, elbow deep in the skiff's workings.
He realized it didn't make much sense for him to go lurking through the corridors. Chances were just as good that he'd miss them as find them, and then they could show up at the skiff and he'd be missing, then they'd go looking for him and around and around. Best stay put, as agitating as it was to have to stand in one spot.
His heart lurched as a person slipped around the corner he was watching, alarm shifting to joy as he saw it was Zoe. She spotted him immediately, and a quick smile flashed across her face before her expression became still and intent again. He took a step toward her, then a voice rang out to his right.
“Mr. Neidermeyer?”
Wash pivoted, catching out of the corner of his eye Zoe stepping back, bumping into Mal as he came around the corner, and pushing him back around it.
The first thing he noticed was the white Lorelei uniform, and he thought for a moment Lt. Han, the security chief, had found him out. But then it struck him that Han probably wouldn't be carrying a stack of folded, fluffy white towels through the corridors.
“James!” Wash blurted, truly relieved to recognize the young steward who'd showed them to their cabin yesterday. He stepped forward quickly, to meet him down the corridor, rather than let him get to the intersection, thereby blocking it.
James' smile grew deeper, perhaps interpreting Wash's relieved grin as something more personal. “How are you today, Mr. Neidermeyer?” he asked, stopping as Wash approached him.
“I'm good, thanks, James.” Wash stepped to one side, a little past him, turning, requiring James to turn too to keep facing him. This little maneuver put the steward's back to the intersection. “And how are you?”
“Fine, thank you, sir. How is Mrs. Neidermeyer?”
“She's- she's in our cabin. Lying down.” He gave his smile a rueful slant. “All worn out. A little too much excitement. So I came out to explore on my own.”
Movement in the intersection caught Wash's eye and he flicked a glance over James' shoulder, who began to turn to see what - or who - had caught his attention. Wash quickly reached out and set light fingertips on James' bicep. The man's interest flew immediately back to Wash.
Wash watched without looking directly, as Zoe stepped silently into the intersection. He said, “I'm a little turned around. This part of the ship isn't off-limits, is it?” He lowered his voice a little, leaning slightly toward James. “I wouldn't want to get into any trouble.”
As he spoke, Zoe moved to the hatch to E deck, and carefully rotated the switch that took the door from automatic to manual. Then, with a smooth, powerful motion, she took hold of the hatch-grips, and slid the heavy barrier to one side. The exquisitely maintained bearings rolled without a sound, while her moving the door manually avoided the soft but distinct pneumatic hiss of it opening on automatic. A little animal in the back of Wash's brain noted how he found all this - her cleverness, her complete silence, her strength and speed - incredibly arousing.
Most of his brain, though, focused on keeping James distracted.
The young man was saying, “Oh, no. Deck D is completely open to passengers, although anything aft would just be boring staff offices and the like.”
“And aft is that way?” Wash gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. “I get so confused.”
“That's right, Mr. Neidermeyer! You're catching on quickly.”
Zoe had slipped through the opening, and Mal had followed, two quick strides getting him through the intersection and the hatch, as Wash said, “Maybe you could give me a private tour, James. I'm sure I'd catch on real quick then.”
A certain... anticipation flashed across James' features, then he looked down at the towels he carried. His face fell. “I'm sorry, Mr. Neidermeyer. I'm on duty, I need to run these to the gym.”
The hatch slid shut, and Wash leaned back a little. “Oh. Well, maybe later, then.” He smiled brightly, an expression James could take any way he chose.
The young man blinked, as though slightly dazzled, then grinned himself. “Deck C lounge. I'm there lots, when I'm off-duty.”
“Deck C,” Wash repeated, as though committing it to memory.
With a smiling nod, James turned away, to stride up the corridor toward the gym. He glanced over his shoulder after about ten paces, and was gratified to see Mr. Neidermeyer had his gaze fixed upon him, watching intently. He went on, adding a jaunty little swagger to his step.
Wash waited a good long moment once James rounded a corner, his hearing hyper-alert to any sounds coming down any of the corridors. Then he went to the hatch, switched it back to automatic, and hit the button to open it. It hissed and he squeezed through the widening gap, smacked the close button, then flung himself down the companionway, stumbling on the steps. He took a deep breath at the bottom, composing himself, and with no less tension but much more control, wound cautiously through the corridors leading to the port-side skiff.
Its access hatch was open and he stepped through to hear Mal ask, in a dubious tone, “...how well does he know that guy?”
Kaylee spotted him coming in, and cried, “Wash!”
“Hush, hush,” he hissed, sliding for the pilot's seat. “We gotta move.” She darted back toward the engine, accessed on this small a vessel through an open panel. He hit the button that would seal both Lorelei's hatch and the skiff's door, then flipped the switch that would bring the rocket boosters on-line.
He then reached for the toggle which opened the bay doors in Lorelei's hull, allowing them egress, the tangle of wires spilling from its panel to the navsat's testimony to the very hasty, sloppy job he'd done hacking it.
“Won't the bridge see us leaving?” Mal asked, as he plopped himself in one of the crew chairs, strapping himself in, Zoe mirroring his actions.
“Oh, Wash fixed that,” Kaylee declared from aft. “Spooked the sensors to the door, and the bay's atmo readings, and jimmied it so the pressure plates would signify the skiff ain't moved.”
“Oh,” Mal said, bemused.
A tiny burst of the jets had them moving backwards, out the hatch, and once clear, Wash sent the signal to seal Lorelei back up again. He let them drift away, slowly bringing their own grav screens up, blending them indiscernibly with the cruiser's. They eventually oozed from from Lorelei's envelope, and Wash began the sequence to start up the skiff's pulse drive.
“Wait! Shouldn't we wait 'til they're well clear?”
“Don't know how soon they'll spot the skiff missing. Could be any moment. If they're lookin' for us, this close, they'll spot our grav anomaly.”
“But if we start the pulse drive, they'll spot us and track us for sure!”
“Oh, Kaylee fixed that,” Wash declared. “Used bits and pieces to whip us up an EM dampener. Just like the MacGuffin unit. Fade our exhaust right out.”
“Won't last long though, Cap'n, no more'n a couple hours” Kaylee said apologetically. “Need a real hardened relay spool, to handle the radiation. An' I could only cobble up a quick titanium coil.”
“Well, I'm sure you did the best you could, little Kaylee,” Mal said encouragingly, then settled back in his chair, wrapping his head around the fact he was being rescued by his tech crew. Decided to relax and enjoy it.
Wash breathed, “Yee hah,” and kicked on the pulse drive.
Was fast. About as fast as Mal could remember moving. Little craft like this, every movement was raw, real close to the naked Black outside. Wash had them back above Persephone in a couple hours, and then the guy's hands were moving, flying about all over the console, steadying the bucking stick.
“This thing okay to enter atmo?” Mal inquired, in what he figured was a pretty casual tone.
“Sure. No problem.” And Wash was talking in that creepifyin' calm, cool voice, the one that let you know that if even the tiniest little thing went wrong, you were a smear of organic molecules fizzling in the troposphere. “If you hit it at precisely the right angle.”
Mal clamped his jaws shut tight, gripping the arms of the chair, scarcely breathing for fear of distracting his pilot.
~ * ~
Badger was a little taken aback at needing to pay up for the mission so soon, just three days after agreeing on something that was thought would take over a week. But Reynolds had the goods, including a vid chip. Mal thought Jayne being a tad surly due to being rousted early from his pleasures helped move things along. Maybe Zoe's mood, too. She was always a bit odd and fettle-some after Wash did a bit of fancy flying. So Badger, wisely, decided not to fuss about the advanced schedule, and paid up.
Wash and Kaylee proved to be a bit melancholy about passing the skiff through a chop shop, but Mal made sure they got first dibs on the disassembled pieces.
Then Serenity was up in the Black, though not quite unattached from Persephone, 'cuz they needed Inara to be done with her business. That would take a few days, but Mal was sanguine, positively sanguine, that they could float above that world, just being themselves unto their own selves. Really, besides just eating and breathing, he didn't know what else was worth askin' from the 'verse.
~ * ~
Zoe'd come back from dealing with Badger with a tension Wash had grown to anticipate and appreciate. She'd found him, and said curtly, “Your bunk,” then strode off to do first matey things.
So after all his piloting chores were done, and they were set in a peaceful swinging orbit around Persephone, he'd gone to his bunk and waited. He'd been caught up lately in a series of rediscovered Earth-That-Was novels of wet water sailing adventures. A couple Border worlds had taken to publishing these public domain works on actual paper, made from hemp, cheap, with gorgeously lurid and cheesy covers. He loved how they smelled. But when the hatch clunked open, he thoughtlessly tossed Hornblower aside. He sat up on the end of his bed, watching Zoe slide down his ladder.
She paused, one hand gripping an upright, studying him intently. He smiled, joyful simply to be looking at her, then eased back onto his bed, laying himself down, lower legs still dangling over its edge. He ran languid hands slowly up and down his sides, before saying, “Lucky thing, y' know, that I decided to wear this, 'stead of that gorram suit this morning. Having had to abandon all our luggage. It's my favorite shirt.”
“Mm,” Zoe replied as she joined him on the bed, straddling his body, crawling on all fours until her face came even above his. He grinned lazily up at her, luxuriating in the knowledge that great goodness was about to spill out all upon his person.
Then she reached under her vest, into an inner pocket, pulling out a small, vivid, torn packet. She held it up before Wash's eyes and he took it automatically, squinting at it closely.
“Huh. Oh, yeah. This was the purple one. With red racing stripes.”
There was a short, very pointed silence. Then Wash abruptly blanched, fingers tightening on the wrapper.
“No,” he gasped. “No, oh, no.” Eyes wide, he met Zoe's stare, horrified. “We didn't. She didn't. I didn't.”
“No? You seemed to be gettin' pretty cozy there on the dance floor.”
“We... The kiss.” He felt his cheeks go from clammy to burning, acutely aware that Zoe would perceive that flush - correctly - as guilt.
“Looked like a good one.”
“It- it was. But, Zoe.” He made himself focus, and say levelly, “It was just that one.”
“You're sayin' it stopped there.”
“Yes, I'm saying that.”
He left it at that, squarely meeting her measuring gaze. She either believed him or she didn't; she wasn't a woman to be sweet-talked around to any man's advantage.
Not taking her eyes from his, she indicated with a tilt of her head the condom wrapper he still tightly gripped. “That?”
“We found them, in the bedside table. We, ah, blew them up. Like balloons.”
“Balloons,” she said flatly.
Ah, well. So much for the manly, hero-like points he might have gleaned with the whole stealing the skiff thing. “Balloons,” he affirmed. “We flew them around the room.” He waggled his hand, waving the wrapper, buzzing his lips with the “released balloon” flutter.
She stared down at him a moment more, then her whole face lit up as she grinned, a ripple of giggles startled from her. He grinned too, with vast relief, that she had decided to trust him, to believe him. She still loomed over him on all fours, but suddenly her position became a lot less intimidating, and a lot more intriguing. With a flick of his wrist, he sailed the sheath wrapper onto his bedside table, then brought both his hands up to lightly stroke her arms.
She lifted a hand to catch one of his, bringing it to her lips to kiss his knuckles. He melted with the love he wasn't sure she would welcome him expressing yet, the way he always did with one of her tender little gestures. Then she frowned, as she circled back round to something that had been niggling at her.
“Racing stripes?” She cocked a disparaging brow.
“I know!” he exclaimed. “I mean, don't get me wrong. I love speed. The speedier the speed the better. But some things just shouldn't be sped.”
She began leisurely unbuttoning his shirt. “Damn straight. Some things, slow and steady wins the race. Let's just see...” He gasped softly as her fingernails made an unhurried foray on a nipple. “...just how slow we can make this one go.”
The walk to the cabin had actually helped to sort them out, to cool them down. Wash was reaching out to swipe the key card when Kaylee said quietly, “I'm sorry.”
“No, Kaylee,” he reassured her, turning to look into her crest-fallen face. “You got nothing to be sorry for. It was just a kiss. A very, very nice kiss. But that's all. We don't have to make it into anything else.”
“No. No, it was wrong,” she replied, shaking her head. “I know you're courtin' Zoe. And, that's right and good. She needs a fella like you, all fun, and sweet, and, and strong enough to take whatever she'll throw at you.”
“Strong.” Wash considered himself, and considered what it might be Zoe could need from a man, long term.
Oh, well. And besides, if she threw anything at him, he figured he'd just duck.
He swiped the card through the lock, grinning down at Kaylee. “Fun, maybe, I got.”
~ * ~
Kaylee used the bathroom first, oohing and ahing over the fixtures and the assortment of soaps and other potions. She decided she'd shower the next morning, and came out of the bathroom in the same PJs she wore on Serenity, when she wandered down into the galley for a midnight snack.
Wash opted to shower then, and left Kaylee bouncing in the middle of the huge bed, exclaiming at how soft it was. He took shameless advantage of the lack of water rationing and indulged in a good fifteen minute soak under steaming hot spray. Skin glowing pink, he emerged from the bathroom in a tank and his flannel drawstring pants, toweling his hair dry. Kaylee sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, looking at a slender volume open in her lap. As he watched, she picked the book up, and with a quizzical expression, rotated it 180 degrees. Noticing him then, she flipped it around so the page she'd been studying faced him.
“Ain't this somethin', Wash? Ya ever done that?”
He'd leaned in automatically to look at what she was showing him. He jerked back just as automatically when he realized he was looking at a lovely, but extremely graphic illustration of a pair of very flexible lovers.
Ears growing hot, he admitted, “Um, um, yeah, you know. A few times.”
“Really?” She turned the book toward herself again, staring at the picture, shaking her head in wonderment.
“Yeah, well, I'm actually pretty lithe.” Desirous of leading the conversation in a less personal direction, he asked, “Where'd you get that?”
“In there.” She gestured over her shoulder with her thumb, pointing Wash in the direction of the bedside table. “Oh, there's lots of other nifty stuff too. Looky here!” She tossed the pillow book to one side, and rolling onto her belly, stretched out to reach into the open drawer. Sitting back up, she spilled a large handful of small packets, tubes, and vials onto the bed. "Seems as the establishment wants to make sure their new wed passengers get off to a good start!”
“Huh,” said Wash, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and ruffling his fingers through the goodies. “Lube, massage oil, condoms, both male and female...” He picked up one of the sheaths, reading the label. “Mint flavored.” He tossed it back to begin picking through the pile. “Any grape? Grape's my favorite.”
“This 'un's got racin' stripes!”
“Stripes?”
“Sure enough. Look.” Ripping open the packet, she pulled out the condom, pinched the tip, and deftly unrolled it. She displayed it for Wash, and sure enough, the latex sheath was bright purple, with vivid red stripes.
“Shiny!” he exclaimed, matching her enthusiasm with his, although, truth be told, to his mind anyway, advertising one's speed in the sexual area seemed counter-productive.
Giggling, she put the opening of the sheath to her lips and exhaled hugely. The thing inflated, and she continued blowing it up, transforming it into an enormous pink-streaked lavender sausage. Then she let it go, and Wash barked with laughter as he ducked away from its crazy flight around the room. He reached for a packet of his own.
~ * ~
The next morning, Kaylee popped out of the bathroom, briskly running her brush through her hair. She wore her favorite of her new dresses, the light green one, sprigged with tiny red roses. “Might wanna make sure your pillow and blanket are back on the bed, Wash.”
Wash, perched on the edge of couch, straightened after tugging his shoe lace tight. “What? Oh.”
“Yep. Maid might think it strange one of us slept on the couch, this bein' the bridal suite an' all. Maybe I'm bein' all paranoid and spookish, but probably best if we don't stand out in anyway. So's no one has cause to gossip 'bout us.”
“You're getting real good at this sneaky stuff, Kaylee. Kinda scary, actually. Smart, cute, and sneaky. 'Verse don't stand a chance.”
She giggled, and popped back into the bathroom, calling, “Think they'll have fresh strawberries at breakfast?”
~ * ~
Zoe, lurking in a non-obvious manner down the corridor, watched the two of them leave their stateroom, heading toward the dining room. She smiled to herself. Apparently Wash had sneaked one of his aloha shirts, the newest one, scarlet palm trees on a deep blue background, into his luggage. Which, for once, actually seemed apropos. This was a cruise ship, after all.
After a few moments, she strode down the hallway, metal briefcase swinging casually in her grip. Acquiring the EM dampener from the secure cargo area had gone without a hitch, with the access codes Badger had supplied. The fact that her captain had served as look out while she did the actual thieving might have had something to do with how smoothly the operation had gone.
She slipped into the bridal suite, cast a quick glance around, confirming that the mapped floor plans matched reality, then, skirting around the bed - a huge plushy thing with a crimson coverlet, unmade and satin sheets well rumbled - went to the closet. Sliding the door aside, she found Wash's duffel on the floor. She knelt, undid the zip, and slid the briefcase inside. Zipping it back up, a flash of color caught the corner of her eye, and she turned her head to focus on it. Then, she bent, reaching out to grasp the glittering thing from under the bed. She stood up, pinching between forefinger and thumb the purple condom packet, torn open and empty.
She looked down, into the waste basket beside the bed, then looked quickly away. But, impressed clearly on her razor sharp mind was the image of, at its bottom, at least three limp, multi-colored sheaths, their wrappers, and a number of empty mini-tubes of massage oil.
~ * ~
Almost two hours later, Wash and Kaylee waddled back to their cabin. There had been strawberries, and fresh orange juice, and real eggs and coffee, and a dozen different types of tiny pastries, one of each they each had to sample. And that had been just the first pass at the buffet.
“Think I'm gonna explode,” Kaylee declared, as Wash swiped the key card to their suite.
“Yeah, but what a way to go,” Wash groaned, in a manner which was down right lascivious.
They stepped in, and found the cabin sparkling bright. Clearly housekeeping had been there, as the bed was crisply made, and there were new flowers, white and lavender, in the vases next to the bed. Wash went to the closet, as Kaylee meandered to the bedside table and, checking, found the drawer freshly stocked.
“It's here,” Wash declared, voice muffled in the closet. Kaylee immediately slid the drawer shut, saying, “Shiny. Let's do this.”
When you got right down to it, Wash mused, the caper itself was pretty routine. Kaylee carefully took the device apart while he took notes and digital images. And then she put it back together, with him telling her every now and then, 'Yes, that modification would improve efficiency, but if you make it, they'll know they were skunked.' It seemed to be against her core nature not to make a piece of engineering, whatever it was, work to its optimum level.
Eventually, their task was done. She put the EM dampener back in its case, and that back in Wash's duffel. He tidied up their tools and drop cloth. He popped the camera's chip, put it in his pocket, and installed a new one. Once the device was back in secure cargo, he and Kaylee could be really-o, truly-o tourists, and he wanted to get a lot of vids and stills of the Lorelei and her entertainments.
They went to lunch.
Zoe slid into their cabin, then out again, metal briefcase so natural in her hand.
~ * ~
Mal sat at a table in Ballroom A, completely, smugly sanguine. The job was done, and all he and his crew had to do was ride it out on a luxury liner for the next six days. Zoe slipped into a chair next to him, and they exchanged a look which, to an outside observer, would read as completely cold and indifferent. He knew, though, that inside she was triumphantly chortling, “Hell, yeah!” He gave her a brief, exultant, “Hell, yeah!” nod in return.
Naturally, that was when Lorelei security surrounded their table, a very large lieutenant ordering politely, “Malcolm Reynolds, Zoe Alleyne, please accompany us to the security office.”
Mal took a moment to consider whether making a ruckus was worth it. (He knew Zoe'd follow whichever course he took.) But then he spotted Wash and Kaylee standing in the huge double doors, wide-eyed. And he knew, if he made it physical, Zoe'd be right there. Which meant his feng le pilot would fly in, swinging wildly. And maybe even Kaylee, after him. Which he actually appreciated, though he knew their efforts would be totally worthless.
So he stood, saying peaceably, “What's the problem, officers?”
Wash and Kaylee, coming in for the afternoon high tea, stood stock still, their stomachs plummeting, as they watched Zoe and Mal escorted from their table.
“So,” Wash quipped quietly, voice tight with nerves, “Plan B?”
Kaylee stared wide-eyed after the four large men in spotless white uniforms taking her captain and first mate away. She whispered, “We got a plan B?”
“No. No, we don't,” Wash said brightly. “But that's all to the good, see. 'Cause our plans, they just never go smooth. So, if we don't have one, we'll be just fine!”
~ * ~
Was a fluke really. No error in formation or implementation of the plan. In fact, the actual mission itself remained uncompromised. Problem was, there were warrants out for Mal and Zoe on Beaumont. Minor matters, really, that would take just a few days and a colorful swath of credits to sort out. If Mal had a free hand. Problem was, one of the first class passengers was the fella making the complaint. Tacked onto that was the fact that the chief of security was his second cousin.
So it kinda looked like he and Zoe were locked up in the closest thing Lorelei had to a brig, a secured cabin reserved for passengers disorderly due to over-indulgence, until they reached Beaumont. And it didn't look like he was gonna get a hand free, so he was a tad concerned he and Zoe might get stuck doing actual time.
He was ruminating over what that might mean for Serenity, and for his crew remaining at loose ends, when the intercom by the door gave a sudden little pop, then a faint hiss of static. Both Mal and Zoe turned their heads to look at it, and then rose to their feet in alarm at the sound which next issued forth.
“Cap'n? Zoe? Can ya hear me? It's Kaylee. Just talk if ya can hear me.”
“Kaylee? Yeah, we hear you,” Mal snapped crisply. “Get on away from here. Don't let anyone catch you messin' around by that door.”
“Oh, I ain't by the door, Cap'n, no fears. I'm on the deck above you. In the ladies'. Had ta cut a hole in the hull to get to the wirin'.” After a short pause she went on, chagrin evident even through the tinny speaker, “It's just a little hole, Cap'n, an' I'll fix it when I'm done. I ain't vandalizin' this pretty ship none, honest.”
“All right, then. You and Wash okay?” Tamade, he needed to focus, to help get his crew safely out of this tangle.
“Right as rain, don't you fret. But... we got a question.”
“Go on, baobai.”
“Is this part of the cunning plan? 'Cuz we don't wanna mess anything up if it is. But if it ain't, would you mind so much if we rescued you?”
“Resc- Kaylee, now, don't you go doin' somethin' crazy.” Then he reined himself up short, considering this whole 'crazy' thing. With a great deal of dark foreboding, Mal asked, “Kaylee, where's Wash at?”
“Oh, he's off stealin' us a ship. Just in case ya do, y'know, want us to rescue you.”
~ * ~
Wash had opted to go for one of the Lorelei's support and repair skiffs, rather than one of the lifeboat shuttles. The shuttles, docked on A deck, close to the passenger quarters, would have been easier to access. Skiffs were kept on the lowest deck, E, near the engine rooms, an area off-limits to passengers. But, while not as comfortable as a lifeboat, there where times a skiff needed leave the influence of the cruiser's gravity screens, yet still keep up with her. So a skiff had real legs. Plus, because of its duties, about a third of its tonnage was given over to a small, but well stocked repair shop. Wash and Kaylee thought those tools might come in handy.
So he did a little sneaking, old skills first acquired violating flight school curfew, and then polished in prison, getting him undetected through the port-side skiff's access hatch. A little tinkering, and the boat was set, and all he needed was his crew.
Which was how he found himself waiting, jittering, in a corridor on D deck, one level above the out-of-bounds E. To his left, the corridor led forward, toward the spa and gym. To his right, it went aft toward staff offices and housekeeping services like the laundry. Another corridor T'd off ahead of him, the one which Kaylee'd come scurrying down about twenty minutes ago.
"Twiddled the 'lectronics on the lock, Wash," she'd gasped, out of breath, "but Cap'n wouldn't let me near the door to get to the mechanism. Said he and Zoe'd see to it. Said they'd be right behind me." She looked a little worried. "Sounded a bit tetchy. Hope he's not out of sorts 'bout the rescue thingie."
He'd nodded abstractedly, brain moving ahead to the next problem as he'd turned to pop the hatch to the companionway that led down to E deck. He'd guided her through the corridors to the skiff, and then, once secure inside it, had tried to settle down on the tiny craft's bridge while Kaylee'd fiddled about with its engines aft. After five minutes, though, he'd found he couldn't bear it, images of Zoe and Mal wandering lost through the unfamiliar innards of this vast ship preying on his mind. Finally, he'd said, "Gonna go back up, Kaylee, make sure they find the right hatchway." She'd simply nodded, elbow deep in the skiff's workings.
He realized it didn't make much sense for him to go lurking through the corridors. Chances were just as good that he'd miss them as find them, and then they could show up at the skiff and he'd be missing, then they'd go looking for him and around and around. Best stay put, as agitating as it was to have to stand in one spot.
His heart lurched as a person slipped around the corner he was watching, alarm shifting to joy as he saw it was Zoe. She spotted him immediately, and a quick smile flashed across her face before her expression became still and intent again. He took a step toward her, then a voice rang out to his right.
“Mr. Neidermeyer?”
Wash pivoted, catching out of the corner of his eye Zoe stepping back, bumping into Mal as he came around the corner, and pushing him back around it.
The first thing he noticed was the white Lorelei uniform, and he thought for a moment Lt. Han, the security chief, had found him out. But then it struck him that Han probably wouldn't be carrying a stack of folded, fluffy white towels through the corridors.
“James!” Wash blurted, truly relieved to recognize the young steward who'd showed them to their cabin yesterday. He stepped forward quickly, to meet him down the corridor, rather than let him get to the intersection, thereby blocking it.
James' smile grew deeper, perhaps interpreting Wash's relieved grin as something more personal. “How are you today, Mr. Neidermeyer?” he asked, stopping as Wash approached him.
“I'm good, thanks, James.” Wash stepped to one side, a little past him, turning, requiring James to turn too to keep facing him. This little maneuver put the steward's back to the intersection. “And how are you?”
“Fine, thank you, sir. How is Mrs. Neidermeyer?”
“She's- she's in our cabin. Lying down.” He gave his smile a rueful slant. “All worn out. A little too much excitement. So I came out to explore on my own.”
Movement in the intersection caught Wash's eye and he flicked a glance over James' shoulder, who began to turn to see what - or who - had caught his attention. Wash quickly reached out and set light fingertips on James' bicep. The man's interest flew immediately back to Wash.
Wash watched without looking directly, as Zoe stepped silently into the intersection. He said, “I'm a little turned around. This part of the ship isn't off-limits, is it?” He lowered his voice a little, leaning slightly toward James. “I wouldn't want to get into any trouble.”
As he spoke, Zoe moved to the hatch to E deck, and carefully rotated the switch that took the door from automatic to manual. Then, with a smooth, powerful motion, she took hold of the hatch-grips, and slid the heavy barrier to one side. The exquisitely maintained bearings rolled without a sound, while her moving the door manually avoided the soft but distinct pneumatic hiss of it opening on automatic. A little animal in the back of Wash's brain noted how he found all this - her cleverness, her complete silence, her strength and speed - incredibly arousing.
Most of his brain, though, focused on keeping James distracted.
The young man was saying, “Oh, no. Deck D is completely open to passengers, although anything aft would just be boring staff offices and the like.”
“And aft is that way?” Wash gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. “I get so confused.”
“That's right, Mr. Neidermeyer! You're catching on quickly.”
Zoe had slipped through the opening, and Mal had followed, two quick strides getting him through the intersection and the hatch, as Wash said, “Maybe you could give me a private tour, James. I'm sure I'd catch on real quick then.”
A certain... anticipation flashed across James' features, then he looked down at the towels he carried. His face fell. “I'm sorry, Mr. Neidermeyer. I'm on duty, I need to run these to the gym.”
The hatch slid shut, and Wash leaned back a little. “Oh. Well, maybe later, then.” He smiled brightly, an expression James could take any way he chose.
The young man blinked, as though slightly dazzled, then grinned himself. “Deck C lounge. I'm there lots, when I'm off-duty.”
“Deck C,” Wash repeated, as though committing it to memory.
With a smiling nod, James turned away, to stride up the corridor toward the gym. He glanced over his shoulder after about ten paces, and was gratified to see Mr. Neidermeyer had his gaze fixed upon him, watching intently. He went on, adding a jaunty little swagger to his step.
Wash waited a good long moment once James rounded a corner, his hearing hyper-alert to any sounds coming down any of the corridors. Then he went to the hatch, switched it back to automatic, and hit the button to open it. It hissed and he squeezed through the widening gap, smacked the close button, then flung himself down the companionway, stumbling on the steps. He took a deep breath at the bottom, composing himself, and with no less tension but much more control, wound cautiously through the corridors leading to the port-side skiff.
Its access hatch was open and he stepped through to hear Mal ask, in a dubious tone, “...how well does he know that guy?”
Kaylee spotted him coming in, and cried, “Wash!”
“Hush, hush,” he hissed, sliding for the pilot's seat. “We gotta move.” She darted back toward the engine, accessed on this small a vessel through an open panel. He hit the button that would seal both Lorelei's hatch and the skiff's door, then flipped the switch that would bring the rocket boosters on-line.
He then reached for the toggle which opened the bay doors in Lorelei's hull, allowing them egress, the tangle of wires spilling from its panel to the navsat's testimony to the very hasty, sloppy job he'd done hacking it.
“Won't the bridge see us leaving?” Mal asked, as he plopped himself in one of the crew chairs, strapping himself in, Zoe mirroring his actions.
“Oh, Wash fixed that,” Kaylee declared from aft. “Spooked the sensors to the door, and the bay's atmo readings, and jimmied it so the pressure plates would signify the skiff ain't moved.”
“Oh,” Mal said, bemused.
A tiny burst of the jets had them moving backwards, out the hatch, and once clear, Wash sent the signal to seal Lorelei back up again. He let them drift away, slowly bringing their own grav screens up, blending them indiscernibly with the cruiser's. They eventually oozed from from Lorelei's envelope, and Wash began the sequence to start up the skiff's pulse drive.
“Wait! Shouldn't we wait 'til they're well clear?”
“Don't know how soon they'll spot the skiff missing. Could be any moment. If they're lookin' for us, this close, they'll spot our grav anomaly.”
“But if we start the pulse drive, they'll spot us and track us for sure!”
“Oh, Kaylee fixed that,” Wash declared. “Used bits and pieces to whip us up an EM dampener. Just like the MacGuffin unit. Fade our exhaust right out.”
“Won't last long though, Cap'n, no more'n a couple hours” Kaylee said apologetically. “Need a real hardened relay spool, to handle the radiation. An' I could only cobble up a quick titanium coil.”
“Well, I'm sure you did the best you could, little Kaylee,” Mal said encouragingly, then settled back in his chair, wrapping his head around the fact he was being rescued by his tech crew. Decided to relax and enjoy it.
Wash breathed, “Yee hah,” and kicked on the pulse drive.
Was fast. About as fast as Mal could remember moving. Little craft like this, every movement was raw, real close to the naked Black outside. Wash had them back above Persephone in a couple hours, and then the guy's hands were moving, flying about all over the console, steadying the bucking stick.
“This thing okay to enter atmo?” Mal inquired, in what he figured was a pretty casual tone.
“Sure. No problem.” And Wash was talking in that creepifyin' calm, cool voice, the one that let you know that if even the tiniest little thing went wrong, you were a smear of organic molecules fizzling in the troposphere. “If you hit it at precisely the right angle.”
Mal clamped his jaws shut tight, gripping the arms of the chair, scarcely breathing for fear of distracting his pilot.
~ * ~
Badger was a little taken aback at needing to pay up for the mission so soon, just three days after agreeing on something that was thought would take over a week. But Reynolds had the goods, including a vid chip. Mal thought Jayne being a tad surly due to being rousted early from his pleasures helped move things along. Maybe Zoe's mood, too. She was always a bit odd and fettle-some after Wash did a bit of fancy flying. So Badger, wisely, decided not to fuss about the advanced schedule, and paid up.
Wash and Kaylee proved to be a bit melancholy about passing the skiff through a chop shop, but Mal made sure they got first dibs on the disassembled pieces.
Then Serenity was up in the Black, though not quite unattached from Persephone, 'cuz they needed Inara to be done with her business. That would take a few days, but Mal was sanguine, positively sanguine, that they could float above that world, just being themselves unto their own selves. Really, besides just eating and breathing, he didn't know what else was worth askin' from the 'verse.
~ * ~
Zoe'd come back from dealing with Badger with a tension Wash had grown to anticipate and appreciate. She'd found him, and said curtly, “Your bunk,” then strode off to do first matey things.
So after all his piloting chores were done, and they were set in a peaceful swinging orbit around Persephone, he'd gone to his bunk and waited. He'd been caught up lately in a series of rediscovered Earth-That-Was novels of wet water sailing adventures. A couple Border worlds had taken to publishing these public domain works on actual paper, made from hemp, cheap, with gorgeously lurid and cheesy covers. He loved how they smelled. But when the hatch clunked open, he thoughtlessly tossed Hornblower aside. He sat up on the end of his bed, watching Zoe slide down his ladder.
She paused, one hand gripping an upright, studying him intently. He smiled, joyful simply to be looking at her, then eased back onto his bed, laying himself down, lower legs still dangling over its edge. He ran languid hands slowly up and down his sides, before saying, “Lucky thing, y' know, that I decided to wear this, 'stead of that gorram suit this morning. Having had to abandon all our luggage. It's my favorite shirt.”
“Mm,” Zoe replied as she joined him on the bed, straddling his body, crawling on all fours until her face came even above his. He grinned lazily up at her, luxuriating in the knowledge that great goodness was about to spill out all upon his person.
Then she reached under her vest, into an inner pocket, pulling out a small, vivid, torn packet. She held it up before Wash's eyes and he took it automatically, squinting at it closely.
“Huh. Oh, yeah. This was the purple one. With red racing stripes.”
There was a short, very pointed silence. Then Wash abruptly blanched, fingers tightening on the wrapper.
“No,” he gasped. “No, oh, no.” Eyes wide, he met Zoe's stare, horrified. “We didn't. She didn't. I didn't.”
“No? You seemed to be gettin' pretty cozy there on the dance floor.”
“We... The kiss.” He felt his cheeks go from clammy to burning, acutely aware that Zoe would perceive that flush - correctly - as guilt.
“Looked like a good one.”
“It- it was. But, Zoe.” He made himself focus, and say levelly, “It was just that one.”
“You're sayin' it stopped there.”
“Yes, I'm saying that.”
He left it at that, squarely meeting her measuring gaze. She either believed him or she didn't; she wasn't a woman to be sweet-talked around to any man's advantage.
Not taking her eyes from his, she indicated with a tilt of her head the condom wrapper he still tightly gripped. “That?”
“We found them, in the bedside table. We, ah, blew them up. Like balloons.”
“Balloons,” she said flatly.
Ah, well. So much for the manly, hero-like points he might have gleaned with the whole stealing the skiff thing. “Balloons,” he affirmed. “We flew them around the room.” He waggled his hand, waving the wrapper, buzzing his lips with the “released balloon” flutter.
She stared down at him a moment more, then her whole face lit up as she grinned, a ripple of giggles startled from her. He grinned too, with vast relief, that she had decided to trust him, to believe him. She still loomed over him on all fours, but suddenly her position became a lot less intimidating, and a lot more intriguing. With a flick of his wrist, he sailed the sheath wrapper onto his bedside table, then brought both his hands up to lightly stroke her arms.
She lifted a hand to catch one of his, bringing it to her lips to kiss his knuckles. He melted with the love he wasn't sure she would welcome him expressing yet, the way he always did with one of her tender little gestures. Then she frowned, as she circled back round to something that had been niggling at her.
“Racing stripes?” She cocked a disparaging brow.
“I know!” he exclaimed. “I mean, don't get me wrong. I love speed. The speedier the speed the better. But some things just shouldn't be sped.”
She began leisurely unbuttoning his shirt. “Damn straight. Some things, slow and steady wins the race. Let's just see...” He gasped softly as her fingernails made an unhurried foray on a nipple. “...just how slow we can make this one go.”