Standing, Season 1, Episode 4

[Malcolm]

'Take me high,
or take me low.
Unto the end, where I may go.
If I can stand, then I shall pass...
Pass beyond this night of Black.'

Bedlam Bards: 'Sail The Sky'

Here's how things set as I see it. By necessity, the events of Book Smart are an alternate universe and have no bearin' on our current heading. Our new story, Standing, picks up not too long after the events of Pedal to the Metal, and will kick off a fresh set of eight new episodes.

As we begin Standing, our friend Clancy has gone his own way, but maintains his ties to Serenity and her crew. Reckon we'll see him again some day. Also reckon I can't say for sure which end of his rifle we'll be on.

"Standing" will offically start on TUESDAY, July 29th. We gotta lotta work to do and a long way to go, so I hope y'all are ready to fly.

OOC: Special Credit for the conception and outline for "Standing" goes to Manitou, my Big Damn Hero- who likes to pretend he's not a storyteller.

[Ertia]

[Serenity]

Screams, cries and sounds of chaos echoed against steel walls.

Slowly, the camera rises, illuminating for the viewers the galley table, abandoned, some dirty plates still scattered there. Moving as though through a tunnel, it follows the sounds, down the corridor, down the stairwell, showing metal grating of cargo-bay stairs as it moves closer to the yellings.

A wild screech. A sudden dash of movement in front of the camera that sends it careening to the decking! From the deck, for a split second, it frames above it something dark that bounces off the wall.

And back into the hands of Captain Malcolm Reynolds, who throws it, one handed and high, towards Wash, who catches, spins, and finds himself face to face with his grinning wife, who holds his attention just long enough for Kaylee Frye to leap in and steal the ball from his hands.

It is 'hoop-ball'. Raucous. Wild. And one of the few spontaneous ways to both get exercise and increase crew comradery in the Black.

The rules onboard Serenity are pretty simple, and decidedly non-regulation. Get the ball through the hoop. Try not to let someone who's not on your team get the ball through the hoop. Try not to cause damage of the Simon'll-Have-To-See-To-That variety.

In the cargo bay, the spurious, nearly outlaw, game continued, the thudding feet, pounding ball, and outbursts of triumphant shouting drowning out the steady beeping from the bridge that indicated an incoming wave.

OOC: I figure folks can be as involved in the game or not as they desire.

[Malcolm]

Well, the rules were pretty simple, just the way he liked it. Get ball through hoop. Don't let other team get ball through hoop. Problem Mal was havin' at this point was who was really on who's team? 'Cause he had thought Kaylee was with him, but apparently now she'd switched sides.

Or maybe he'd switched sides?

Re-joining the fray under the hoop scrabbling to get the ball, Mal couldn't remember now exactly how the after-dinner game had got started. Someone threw a dinner roll. Someone else said they'd take them on. And now they were all sweatin', laughin' and gettin bruised all to the edge of the 'verse and back.

An elbow caught him in the gut and he fell back, staggering out of the mad mob, "HEY! FOUL!"

But a smile lit his blue eyes as he sucked in air and he looked, really looked, at his crew. His crew. On his ship.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

[Derrial Book]

Ah 'hoop-ball', an extremely competitive and somewhat primitive game loosely based on the old Earth-That-Was sport named basketball, which faded out of popularity in the mid-21st century decades before the Exodus. It was one of the few things besides dinner in the galley, that brought the crew together like a close-knit family, dysfunctional though it was.

Book thoroughly enjoyed the game, not for the competitiveness it brewed inside the crew, but for the physical activity involved. It helped to work his muscles and keep him in shape, which for a man his age was exceptionally well, and it helped keep his hand-eye coordination on its toes. 'Hoop-ball' in Book's sharp mind was one of those games that the young and old alike could enjoy.


"HEY! FOUL!"


Of course just like any other sport, 'hoop-ball' could make a person blind to their actions. Book hadn't intentionally meant to elbow Mal in the gut, but he was so focused on making the shot that he accidentally sent his elbow into the captain's stomach above the navel.


"I deeply apologize for elbowing you in the stomach, Captain." replied Book apologetically. "It was unintentional and purely by accident."

[Wash]

“FOUL!”

“There's no poultry in this game, Mal!” Wash shouted as he dodged a flailing arm. Somehow the ball was back in his hands. “Except for the two chickens here on defense,” he said, not really knowing who he was addressing, just that one of the two trying to smother him may have been his wife. The game hadn't been going on for very long but he was already breathing heavily. He kept his head low as he spun away and jumped backwards for a fade away shot. “Fly like a leaf on the wind!” he shouted.

The ball hit the inside of the hoop with a thud, bouncing crazily back and forth before flying back out. “Oh, come on, this game's rigged, the ball's bigger than the hoop!”

He observed the scene during his momentary freedom from sweaty smothering bodies. Somewhere Wash thought he could hear the dreadful beeping sound that came with Serenity's wave alerts. Feet were stomping, voices were hollering; it was hard to say for sure what else was going on. Wash decided to pass it off as his paranoia, and dashed back into the fray, looking to get back to the engaging task of covering his wife, whether or not they were still on the same team.

[Zoe Alleyne Washburne]

Zoe smirked at her smitten husband as Kaylee stole the ball. Poor dear was just too easy to distract.

The action moved beneath the hoop in a tangle of limbs from which he captain bellowed, “Hey! Foul!” right as Book sent the ball for a score, pretty as a picture. Old man pulled his dignity around him like a cloak, "I deeply apologize for elbowing you in the stomach, Captain. It was unintentional and purely by accident."

“No need to apologize, Shepherd,” She offered Mal a slanted smile as she spoke to the preacher over the ruckus. The light in her eyes told them that she didn’t think the apology wasn’t entirely on the level and she didn’t care. “ Captain knew the stakes when he went for the ball.”

Turning her attention back to her husband, who had somehow gotten the ball again, she darted in to attempt a steal as he called out to the captain, “There's no poultry in this game, Mal! Except for the two chickens here on defense.” As her mister went for the shot, she laughed aloud, leaping up to try to grab the ball from the air, but only managing to brush it with a single fingertip. “Fly like a leaf on the wind!” he shouted at the ball as it sailed through the air before bouncing around the rim and recoiling without a score. “Oh, come on, this game's rigged, the ball's bigger than the hoop!”

As soon as she came down, she was back up for the rebound, snagging the ball and sending it cleanly through the ring. Brushing damp hair back from her brow, she offered Wash a glowing, loving, and gloating smile as one hand settled briefly on his arm. “Reckon the ball’s smaller than the rim at that. And you might wanna reconsider who you go about callin’ chicken, dear. ‘Specially if you have intentions towards sharin’ their bunk.”

[Derrial Book]

“No need to apologize, Shepherd,” “Captain knew the stakes when he went for the ball.”


"Very well then." he calmly said to the warrior woman. Turning to the captain, he cheerfully replied, "In that case I shall not feel bad for my team winning this game by a monumental landslide."


After he said that, Book gave Mal a smile and a small nod, before returning to the ruckus that was 'hoop-ball'.

[River Tam]

Pay no attention to the players.

They didn't plan this. Haven't worked it out ahead of time. There is no strategy, and the tactics are too fluid to follow.

The game is about the ball. Establish control over it, and keep control, and you win.

The players will confuse you, whether by design, or by lack of one.

Where is the ball?

Elbow in the stomach. All wrong. A beginner's move. Strike higher, for the solar plexus. Follow with an upward palm heel strike to the jaw for a knockout, or the temple or trachea for the kill.

No, that's a different game.

River watched from the catwalk. Around her, the rythyms of Serenity hummed and pulsed in the Black. A call from the bridge . . .

"Jayne will be happy." she said.

River spun, she bounced, she floated. She was the ball.

If the Alliance remained distracted by the players long enough, she might figure out how to leave the game.

[Malcolm]

cargo bay/bridge

"Who's side are you on again?" Mal panted out to his first mate as her ball cleared the ring, still doubled over catching his breath, "'Cuz I'm thinkin' on switchin'."

"In that case I shall not feel bad for my team winning this game by a monumental landslide."

"Well, you sure don't hit like a shepherd." Mal affected dismay as he straightened up, a grin twinkling at the corner of his mouth, "What happened to God's mercy?"

With a wave and grumble he headed up the catwalk stair, "Seein' as Shepherd's got God 'n elbows on his side, as well as Mz. Kaylee, I got work to see to. Someone's gotta keep this ship runnin'."

As he passed River, he heard her murmur, "Jayne will be happy."

"Yeah, more points for him without me bein' in his way," Mal answered, glancing down over the catwalk rail. "Why don't you step in for me, li'l mei mei? Have some fun?" He asked, only half-seriously, then added, "Shepherd's not like to throw an elbow your way."

Giving the girl a quick spirited grin, Mal continued on his way up to to his bunk, only hearing the wave-reciever beep as opened the hatch. Choice between grabbing a non-sweaty shirt and answerin' a call came down to the curiosity factor and he stepped onto the bridge, dropped into Wash's chair and clicked open the channel, "Ni hao. Reynolds here."

[Jordan Flynn]

INCOMING WAVE

"Captain Reynolds!" Jordan Flynn's radiant smile filled Serenity's tiny communications screen, her tone turning slightly embarrassed, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound so surprised, but I was anticipating Mr. Washburne."

Mal's grin answered the former Companion's smile, "He's busy gettin' beat by his wife, Mz. Jordan. Want me to fetch him? Or is there somethin' little ole me can do you for?"

There was a moment's hesitation as the beautiful woman, dressed, strangely, not in her usual exquisite entertaining garb, but in a crisp black silk blouse, her auburn waves bound up in a tight bun, seemed to collect herself, "Actually, it's you I wanted to speak to. Good to see you looking... " Her gaze trailed over his sweat-soaked shirt, dissheveled hair, "So well."

I haven't forgotten what you did for Nandi back at The Heart of Gold. I'm no longer on Jinye, but I thought I might try to return the favor." She leaned closer to the wave-unit, the lights glnting off her sage green eyes, "It's not much of a job, I'm afraid. Just a straightforward cargo run, but we can pay. No trade, this time, I promise. I'm talking coin. Half in advance, half on delivery. When it came down to thinking who could do the job, I thought of you."

"If no, or if you've got other engagements, no worries, just thought you could use the cash."

"Cash sounds good." Mal was tempted to bite, but he held off. Jordan Flynn was a woman of the Companionly sort and he knew too well what they were capable of, "What's the catch?"

A quirk of Jordan's beautiful lips, a wink, and an amused chuckle in her words, "Nothing gets by you does it?" The laugh faded, her expression open and honest, as she explained, "It's not legal."

She shrugged, hands splayed open in front of her, "My uncle's settlement on Angel ...They had a bad drought, lost their crops. Alliance says they've used up their seed allotment for the year, and won't re-issue in time for planting season. They need drought resistant gen-seed. I found some, and we'd best leave off the where and how."

"The buy is already made. All you have to do is pick it up from my associate on Ita Moon, and deliver it to Angel."

"Sneaky seed delivery?" Mal considered for a moment. People battered by the Alliance greed machine. The chance to do the right thing. And the chance to do it right in front of The Alliance. "You got me, Jordan. Tell me everything."


.............

[Serenity]

ADMIN PLOT PROGRESS

TWO DAYS LATER
Ita Moon

It was full night on the remote island of Croatia, far out into the waters of Ita's shallow southern ocean. Thick clouds filled the sky, darkening out the stars, a peculiarity of Ita due to her short days and long nights, and the constant cycle of evaporation and condensation over her waters.

The island itself was barren and rocky but for the low shrubs that struggled to survive in the thin soil, and a tall black rock hewn tower, the top hallowed out. Once meant as a lighthouse to warn fishermen back from the dangerously rocky reefs that surrounded the island, it was abandoned now, as the oceans had proven unable to sustain a solid fishing industry.

Warm winds, moist with condensed air, swept the island's surface, and far above, the mists obscured, then revealed, and obscured again, the glow of nearby Greenleaf- a glittering distant moon. It was in this faint and shifting light that a figure stood. Seeming carved of stone himself, wind tossing his lengthy hair in the faint moon-glow, cross-armed and brace-legged, the sturdy figure waited, watching the sky with one dark eye.

If one were of a romantic bent, and had perhaps read too many Robert Louis Stevenson novels as a child, images of pirates, and dirty deeds, and betrayal might have filled the mind. One might just look past the figure standing larger than life on that hill, and in their mind's eye imagine a four masted sailing ship, with black sails and above it's prow, the flag of Skull & Crossbones gleaming as it flapped in the moonlight.

Of course, if one were just a man looking to do business, perhaps all they would see is a waiting man, and an opportunity to get a job done. Serenity eased down to the surface, dust and spray thrown by her engines, ready to do business.

[Malcolm]

On the bridge, Mal checked his gun as he watched the island appear beneath them, first a small darker speck in the black sea, and then larger and larger until it took form.

There was no sign of another ship, no shuttle... no land vehicles that he could see either. Only the shadowy shape of the lighthouse tower, and a single man beside it.

"Nice landing, Wash." Mal clapped the pilot on the shoulder, his voice jovial. They were doing crime of the paying variety. What wasn't there to smile about? "Keep her hot and ready to fly. Don't imagine we'll be two shakes of a lambs tail."

He pulled down the com and switched it to all-call, quipping out sharp orders that didn't exactly hide his eagerness, "All right, folks, game-time. Zoe, Jayne, meet me in the cargo bay. Kaylee, keep the engine runnin', we're just makin' a pit stop. The rest of you lay low. Not exactly a resort island we're sittin' pretty on."

Captain Reynolds paused in the doorframe, blue eyes skating over the dark sky outside, long brown coat pulled back to expose the butt of his pistol, a stab of trepidation echoing in his gaze, "I do not like the looks of that sky. Can't see a thing out there with this fog. You keep an ear on the world, Wash. Anything sounds or looks like trouble, give a holler."

[Wash]

“Keep her hot and ready to fly. Don't think we'll be more than two shakes of a lamb's tail.”

“Ah, but what twisted tales the lambs do weave,” Wash said in a sage-like voice, “one shake you're fresh-faced and eager to listen, the next shake you've got Alliance up your pi gu.”

It was no secret that things hardly ever went according to the plan. And the sparse moonlight, the stoic figure, the burned out lighthouse, the thickening fog – none could possibly have been taken as good omens.

As Mal gave out the orders Wash strained his eyes in a feeble attempt to discern the shifting shapes in the fog, knowing full well the ships sensors would be able to tell him far more than what his eyes could see. He persisted, following the flicker of a massless shape as it melded with another before swirling into the gray abyss. It was a tad mesmerizing.

“I do not like the looks of that sky. Can't see a thing out there with this fog. You keep an ear on the world, Wash. Anything sounds or looks like trouble, give a holler.”

Wash's eyes continued to ignore the more trustworthy screens and readouts in front of him and wandered back to the deceptive fog. He could almost see the shadowy silhouette of that fabled ship.

“Don't worry, Mal. I'll be on the lookout for Dutchman, flying or otherwise.”

[Zoe Alleyne Washburne]

Zoe was heading for the bridge as the captain's voice came over the com, "All right, folks, game-time. Zoe, Jayne, meet me in the cargo bay. Kaylee, keep the engine runnin', we're just makin' a pit stop. The rest of you lay low. Not exactly a resort island we're sittin' pretty on."

She continued on her way. Figured she'd meet Mal on his way down. Also take a minute to say goodbuy to her mister. Turned out Mal was leaning in the doorway looking philosophical when she made it to the bridge. She nodded, watching him curiously. "Sir. Be right behind you."

Actually, right behind him, she spied Wash peering out into the inpenetrable fog. Stepping around Mal, she siddled up to her husband and frowned down at the displays, tapping the glass with one finger. "These things broken? Or did you go an' get yourself some fancy new occular implants without botherin' to tell me?" She kept her face pointed at the screens though she grinned and cut her eyes to watch him in the corner of her vision.