Ursa Major, Ursa Minor
folder
1 through F › Firefly
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
34
Views:
8,786
Reviews:
21
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
1 through F › Firefly
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
34
Views:
8,786
Reviews:
21
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Firefly, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Inara Higgins
Chapter Four:
“Gorramit!”
The sound of a wide palm slapping a flat surface echoed throughout the entire ship.
Inara held up her own hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, take it easy, Jayne.”
“Ain’t no way I’ll be able to keep up this ruttin’ act.”
“Not with that attitude.”
He grumbled again.
“Look, Donna said that planetary custom demands that the tallest men are to be honored before everyone else. You have to make yourself seem honorable.”
Jayne looked offended, “I can be honorable,” he whined.
Inara looked dubious—raised that eyebrow of hers in an expression she usually saved for Mal.
Jayne’s offended expression deepened. “Ya’ll may not think much of me, but my folks do. I got sisters and brothers and when I was still back home I took care of them. I still try to with the coin I send ‘em. I been tryin’ to do what’s right.”
Inara schooled her expression back to normal and sighed. “I’m sorry, Jayne.”
He calmed down and smiled reassuringly at the companion. “Hell, don’t ‘pologize. It’s my job to act all dis-honorable and whatnot. Can’t assume ya’ll would think I’m anythin’ else when I don’ exactly make it a point to say otherwise,” Jayne waved his hand through the air—pushing her unwanted apology away.
Inara cast her eyes down at the table—her manuals of etiquette were strewn about and open to pages she’d thought Jayne would need to learn. He was doing pretty well with the manners part (much to her surprise) but was struggling with keeping his accent from sounding so gruff. He’d been reading the same sentence out loud over and over again—trying to talk like a “real Core bred ben dan.”
“Try it again,” she ordered.
Jayne groaned and picked up the book again—so focused that he didn’t notice when River slid bare-footed into the mess. He began to read aloud.
“A man makes inferiors his superiors by heat; self control is the rule. Anger is an uncontrollable feeling that betrays what you are when you are not yourself. Anger is that powerful internal force that blows out the light of reason. Know this to be the enemy: it is anger, born of desire.”*
Inara smiled at him and clapped her hands together. “You did it, Jayne!”
“No screw-ups this time?” he asked.
Inara was beaming. “None. It sounded perfect.”
River dropped into the chair beside Inara and pierced Jayne with a pleased expression. “He sounded like Simon.”
“Oh sweet Buddha,” Jayne groaned and dropped his forehead against the table with a resounding crack.
Inara winced for him. “That isn’t bad at all, Jayne—at least not for this job. If you try and mimic Simon you may be able to keep in character.”
“What are we pilfering?” River asked, trying to ease Jayne’s discomfort.
Inara shrugged. “Earth-That-Was artifacts—several, actually. Mostly art pieces. Though she did list three weapons that might interest the two of you.”
The deadly pair leaned in closer.
“One is…” she wracked her brains for the names, “It’s an M60** machine gun. The other two are an…XM-26 shotgun and something called a TMP. She said that once Mal came through with the artwork you could do as you pleased with the guns.”
River and Jayne looked at one another and Inara swore she could see an excited conversation pass between their eyes.
“I call the M60,” Jayne announced.
“The TMP is mine,” River challenged.
They eyeball-argued over the last one. In sudden agreement, they held out their fists, pumped them in the air three times, and then formed two different shapes with their fingers.
“Ha! I triumph! Scissors cut paper to bits and the XM-26 is mine for the taking!” River exclaimed.
Jayne pouted. “That ain’t fair! You could have read me. Best two out of three.”
She beat him every time.
*
Mal had his pre-job meeting while they orbited Londinium—awaiting landing clearance from the local dock.
“So it’s gonna be me, Zoë, Jayne, and River goin’ in to meet with Donna. Once we make contact with her, she’ll direct us to the goods. We’ll need a distraction at about half-past so no one notices anything missing. Now Doc, Kaylee-girl, I’m countin’ on the pair of you to be ready with the mule at quarter past. Me an’ Zoë are gonna sneak out the back, hand off the goods to you two, and head back to the ship while everyone is occupied in the ballroom.”
Everyone nodded
“Now I’ll need one hell of a distraction—that’d be you and Jayne, lil’ albatross.”
“What?” asked Jayne.
“Hell, I dunno—dance, fight, sing, arm wrestle—I don’t care. As long as everyone is payin’ attention to the pair of you at the top of the hour and not me an’ Zoë as we vamoose.”
“’s gonna be rough, Mal,” Jayne argued.
“When isn’t it?” Mal challenged.
Jayne shrugged.
River was staring at him. “We must come up with a plan beforehand.”
Jayne slumped in his favorite chair and rubbed his thumb beneath his lower lip—still expecting the feel of his beard against his skin but surprising himself yet again. I feel gorram naked…
River blushed.
“That could work,” she murmured.
Jayne’s eyes narrowed, then widened suddenly. “I meant my face!” he all but shouted.
Inara, ever the peacemaker, cut in. “Do you know any dances, Jayne?”
Thank Buddha he’s so easily distracted…
“I know a couple. My ma made me learn.”
River’s cheeks colored again as yet another commonality was brought to focus between her and the big mercenary.
“Do you remember the names of the dances?” Inara asked.
He rubbed at the skin beneath his lower lip again and cast his eyes to the slowly moving stars just beyond the ship’s hull. “Uh… The waltz,
something called a jive, and a… go se, what was it again?”
“Tango,” said River.
Inara approved. “That would indeed be a distracting dance. So would a jive.”
River nodded. “Jive first. Tango later. When everyone is watching only us.”
“This is gonna be real embarrassing,” Jayne predicted.
TBC
*Ralph Waldo Emerson
**Animal Mother’s weapon of choice in Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket.
Translations:
Ben dan: idiot/moron
Go se: shit
“Gorramit!”
The sound of a wide palm slapping a flat surface echoed throughout the entire ship.
Inara held up her own hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, take it easy, Jayne.”
“Ain’t no way I’ll be able to keep up this ruttin’ act.”
“Not with that attitude.”
He grumbled again.
“Look, Donna said that planetary custom demands that the tallest men are to be honored before everyone else. You have to make yourself seem honorable.”
Jayne looked offended, “I can be honorable,” he whined.
Inara looked dubious—raised that eyebrow of hers in an expression she usually saved for Mal.
Jayne’s offended expression deepened. “Ya’ll may not think much of me, but my folks do. I got sisters and brothers and when I was still back home I took care of them. I still try to with the coin I send ‘em. I been tryin’ to do what’s right.”
Inara schooled her expression back to normal and sighed. “I’m sorry, Jayne.”
He calmed down and smiled reassuringly at the companion. “Hell, don’t ‘pologize. It’s my job to act all dis-honorable and whatnot. Can’t assume ya’ll would think I’m anythin’ else when I don’ exactly make it a point to say otherwise,” Jayne waved his hand through the air—pushing her unwanted apology away.
Inara cast her eyes down at the table—her manuals of etiquette were strewn about and open to pages she’d thought Jayne would need to learn. He was doing pretty well with the manners part (much to her surprise) but was struggling with keeping his accent from sounding so gruff. He’d been reading the same sentence out loud over and over again—trying to talk like a “real Core bred ben dan.”
“Try it again,” she ordered.
Jayne groaned and picked up the book again—so focused that he didn’t notice when River slid bare-footed into the mess. He began to read aloud.
“A man makes inferiors his superiors by heat; self control is the rule. Anger is an uncontrollable feeling that betrays what you are when you are not yourself. Anger is that powerful internal force that blows out the light of reason. Know this to be the enemy: it is anger, born of desire.”*
Inara smiled at him and clapped her hands together. “You did it, Jayne!”
“No screw-ups this time?” he asked.
Inara was beaming. “None. It sounded perfect.”
River dropped into the chair beside Inara and pierced Jayne with a pleased expression. “He sounded like Simon.”
“Oh sweet Buddha,” Jayne groaned and dropped his forehead against the table with a resounding crack.
Inara winced for him. “That isn’t bad at all, Jayne—at least not for this job. If you try and mimic Simon you may be able to keep in character.”
“What are we pilfering?” River asked, trying to ease Jayne’s discomfort.
Inara shrugged. “Earth-That-Was artifacts—several, actually. Mostly art pieces. Though she did list three weapons that might interest the two of you.”
The deadly pair leaned in closer.
“One is…” she wracked her brains for the names, “It’s an M60** machine gun. The other two are an…XM-26 shotgun and something called a TMP. She said that once Mal came through with the artwork you could do as you pleased with the guns.”
River and Jayne looked at one another and Inara swore she could see an excited conversation pass between their eyes.
“I call the M60,” Jayne announced.
“The TMP is mine,” River challenged.
They eyeball-argued over the last one. In sudden agreement, they held out their fists, pumped them in the air three times, and then formed two different shapes with their fingers.
“Ha! I triumph! Scissors cut paper to bits and the XM-26 is mine for the taking!” River exclaimed.
Jayne pouted. “That ain’t fair! You could have read me. Best two out of three.”
She beat him every time.
*
Mal had his pre-job meeting while they orbited Londinium—awaiting landing clearance from the local dock.
“So it’s gonna be me, Zoë, Jayne, and River goin’ in to meet with Donna. Once we make contact with her, she’ll direct us to the goods. We’ll need a distraction at about half-past so no one notices anything missing. Now Doc, Kaylee-girl, I’m countin’ on the pair of you to be ready with the mule at quarter past. Me an’ Zoë are gonna sneak out the back, hand off the goods to you two, and head back to the ship while everyone is occupied in the ballroom.”
Everyone nodded
“Now I’ll need one hell of a distraction—that’d be you and Jayne, lil’ albatross.”
“What?” asked Jayne.
“Hell, I dunno—dance, fight, sing, arm wrestle—I don’t care. As long as everyone is payin’ attention to the pair of you at the top of the hour and not me an’ Zoë as we vamoose.”
“’s gonna be rough, Mal,” Jayne argued.
“When isn’t it?” Mal challenged.
Jayne shrugged.
River was staring at him. “We must come up with a plan beforehand.”
Jayne slumped in his favorite chair and rubbed his thumb beneath his lower lip—still expecting the feel of his beard against his skin but surprising himself yet again. I feel gorram naked…
River blushed.
“That could work,” she murmured.
Jayne’s eyes narrowed, then widened suddenly. “I meant my face!” he all but shouted.
Inara, ever the peacemaker, cut in. “Do you know any dances, Jayne?”
Thank Buddha he’s so easily distracted…
“I know a couple. My ma made me learn.”
River’s cheeks colored again as yet another commonality was brought to focus between her and the big mercenary.
“Do you remember the names of the dances?” Inara asked.
He rubbed at the skin beneath his lower lip again and cast his eyes to the slowly moving stars just beyond the ship’s hull. “Uh… The waltz,
something called a jive, and a… go se, what was it again?”
“Tango,” said River.
Inara approved. “That would indeed be a distracting dance. So would a jive.”
River nodded. “Jive first. Tango later. When everyone is watching only us.”
“This is gonna be real embarrassing,” Jayne predicted.
TBC
*Ralph Waldo Emerson
**Animal Mother’s weapon of choice in Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket.
Translations:
Ben dan: idiot/moron
Go se: shit