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intoabar. Shepherd Book meets Buffy.
"If I'd seen that collar on your captain instead, I think I'd have slayed first and answered questions later, but you look a lot more like a Giles. There any tea to go with the soup?"
Title: for it is in giving that we receive
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Spoilers: Firefly (pre-Serenity) and B:tVS (post-canon)
Notes: For the "Ficathon Goes Into a Bar" challenge, for the prompt, "Buffy Summers goes into a bar and meets... Shepherd Book (Firefly)!" Contains a few Biblical references, because Book, and random inspiration from this Sci-Fi Ascent article from 2018.
Summary: "If I'd seen that collar on your captain instead, I think I'd have slayed first and answered questions later, but you look a lot more like a Giles. There any tea to go with the soup?" 4100 words.
The man known as Shepherd Book had seen plenty of wonders during his time aboard the spaceship Serenity; most of them unexpected, and not a few of them encountered in the pursuit of crime. It wasn't exactly the life he'd envisioned when he'd left the monastery to walk the world a spell, and one he wasn't certain he'd be able to endure long-term. But he did like to think he was doing some good there, both for the crew's sake and for his own spiritual development: experiencing all the varied highs and lows of God's creation.
Including the sight currently visible beyond the cockpit windows. "I lift up my eyes to the mountains; where does my help come from?" he quoted quietly, staring at the rocky crest visible in the near distance.
"What was that, Shepherd?" Mal asked absently, looking over from where he stood behind the pilot's chair.
Bible verses, alas, were not the way to Captain Reynolds' wounded soul; that, he suspected, would require a more personal approach, if ever. In the meantime, there was much for him to learn in turn.
"I simply wondered-- this seems a highly unusual situation, Captain. Are such rendezvous common?"
"Well, yes and no," Mal replied with a shrug. "On most planets, can't get this close to a mountain without skimming atmo. Lotta reasons for that, as I understand it; size of the world before terraforming, plate tectonics, weathering, and suchlike, normally limit how high a peak can grow. This one here's unique; highest planetary elevation in all the Five Systems."
"Since they thickened up the atmosphere and lubed up the mantle it'll probably erode eventually, or else erupt and collapse," Wash shrugged, pressing a few more keys on the control panel before joining the others in gazing out the window. "But that'll be a long time coming. In the meantime, station-keeping orbit's only a little bit tricky and uses up a lot less fuel than landing would. Most we've got to watch out for is if any patrol boats come out this way, or if any other climbers are following our contact up."
No snow marred the upper reaches of the massive upswelling of the moon's crust beneath them; somewhere far below, where the atmosphere began to be a notable presence, fields of white sheathed the mountain like a vast scarf. The base of it was so wide the entirety of it disappeared from view, distorting all the visible horizon.
"But how does anyone climb it, if they have to leave atmo?" Kaylee asked for all of them, furrowing her brow.
"Skinsuits," an unexpected voice answered: Simon, nose wrinkled in distaste. "That's part of the challenge. It's a rich man's game, you see; I spent all my time studying, not pursuing extreme sport, but some of my childhood associates did. Climbers compete to see how far they can go before having to don a skinsuit, then reach the top before their supplemental oxygen stores give out, leaving video marker beacons behind as proof of claim. But even hauling a skinsuit and necessary supplies that high's an extreme physical challenge; at around eight thousand meters above sea level, the average point at which suits are donned, atmospheric pressure is a third of normal. Even after the necessary low-pressure acclimatization, hauling any amount of extra weight is very difficult. And if you accidentally damage your suit as you climb further-- well, help's a very long way down. The full climb takes several months, minimum, if you do it all on foot."
"And that there's why rendezvous such as ours ain't common," Mal agreed. "Approach is tricky, from above or below, and hauling enough goods to be worth the risk's damn near impossible. And this section of the planet's zoned against any sort of engine-based transport, to keep it pristine for such moneyed folk. Most of the traffic here's from climbers who think reaching the top's enough and would really rather not climb back down. Someone with the wherewithal to reach the summit who can't call their own ride's a mite unusual."
"Perhaps it's not so much that they don't, as they don't wish to draw attention to their exit," Zoë mused. "No transport under their own name. No sort of tracking out here, if they skip dropping beacons, and the difficulty level is a significant deterrent to any suspicions. Anyone who sees the pickup will simply believe it's another rich adventurer skipping the walk back down; too much trouble to bother. And in the meantime, they walk right off world without passing through port control or customs."
"I suppose the question is, what else is on this world that they might need such an escape from?" Book mused aloud. It was a raw young world, only very lately terraformed; settlers were only just beginning to form communities a continent away. But if adventure seekers had been here long enough for there to be routines and competitions, then perhaps something else had been here before the moon was officially opened... something a little more clandestine in nature.
"Well, that's a question we're not bein' paid to ask," Mal said. "We're only bein' paid to retrieve 'em. And... I think that might be them. Red skinsuit, silver piping." A small figure had slowly come into view, slowly working their way up the last rough ridge. "Jayne?" he added, reaching out to touch the intercom.
"Yeah, I see 'er," Jayne commented. He'd been positioned in the airlock off the cargo bay, wearing a spacesuit of his own, waiting for the signal. "Soon's she stops, I'll drop the line."
It seemed folly to wait as long as might be required for their contact to finish the climb, if escape were indeed the point, particularly if the mystery woman wasn't even dropping a beacon. But Book supposed lack of public acknowledgement did not diminish such an achievement, and they did seem to have the time.
Finally, the figure stopped. They paused for a moment, lifting what might be a capture as they struck a pose; then they turned and gave a slow wave, and a moment later a cable became visible, snaking out from beneath the ship. Wash nudged their vector ever so slightly closer, watching carefully as the woman reached for the line. She didn't catch it on the first attempt, or the second; either exhaustion or the lack of atmosphere had made her a little awkward. But the third attempt, prompting a wave of relieved breaths through the cockpit, proved to be a success. She fixed it to her belt with the attached clip, then yanked on it a couple of times and gave the ship a thumb's-up; in response, Mal triggered the intercom again to signal Jayne to activate the winch.
The initial tug, detaching her from the mountain's gravity, looked somewhat disorienting; but then she relaxed, swinging free as she gradually disappeared back out of view toward Serenity's rear hatch.
"Shall we go greet our guest, then?" Inara said, finally breaking away from the view herself. Very few things challenged the Companion's worldly composure, but this particular caper had drawn an amazed look to her eye; Book suspected she enjoyed the wonders inherent in their chaotic form of space travel as much as he did.
"That's the plan," Mal agreed, then turned to head down into the ship. "Wash, get us headed toward Beaumonde; quick as can be without crossing the paths of any patrols."
"Will do," Wash agreed, turning back to his screens as the rest of them followed Mal down the stairs.
Most headed for the cargo bay, but Book had another thought and hung back in the galley. Simon's mention of months combined with the climber's tired fumbling had made him think on how long it had probably been since their client had a cup of something warm to drink or a satisfying meal that didn't come pureed through a suit's feeding tube, and there was some soup left over that only needed a little heating.
It was some minutes before the murmur of voices came back up the stairs from below. Likely they had taken the time to allow the woman to change out of her suit, and to give Simon the chance to check her over in the infirmary. But she must have come through in decent health, for the tenor of the conversation seemed cheerful, if a little subdued. Kaylee appeared first, her smiles bright and welcoming, followed closely by a quieter woman with blonde hair some years her elder. At first glance, it seemed difficult to believe this was the person who had climbed such a great height; she seemed fit, but of a height with Kaylee, slim and only lightly muscled, not possessed of the sort of athlete's physique her achievement suggested. But then Book saw her eyes.
A deep, deep weariness lay in the depths of the stranger's green gaze... but beneath it lay a bedrock-stubborn foundation, the determination of one who would keep getting back up so as long as a task remained for her to accomplish. Book knew that gaze intimately, though it had taken most of his life to find it in his own mirror; he'd spent most of his youth taking up one difficult challenge after another merely to escape what lay behind him, until the last one-- during the war-- had imploded, leaving him aimlessly on the drift. A timely bowl of soup in a shelter had been his wake-up call, an existential moment that had led him to the monastery and given him a purpose to work toward rather than another problem to run from.
Kaylee led her to the table where she gratefully sank into a chair; then the rest followed them up from below. Even River, who had declined to accompany them to the cockpit with a nonsensical comment about preventing the captain and Jayne from being mistaken for demons, had finally joined the group.
"Hey, somethin' smells good, preacher. You makin' an early lunch?" Jayne asked.
"Merely a little something for our guest," Book smiled at him, ladling up a bowl. Then he turned to the table, moving to set it before her.
"Wow, that does smell kind of divine," she said brightly, perking up a little as she inhaled the steam. "Some hospitality you've got here, Captain."
"That's all down to the shepherd, Miz Summers," Mal demurred, "though it's mighty kind of him to do it. We've made you up a bunk in the passenger dorm when you're ready to rest; I think Kaylee showed you where it was? Just let us know if there's anything else you need before we get to Beaumonde. Cargo bay, engine room, and bridge'll be off limits 'til then without an escort, but feel free to make yourself at home otherwise."
"Just being out of that suit's amazing already. Anything else? Cherry on top," she said, nodding to him. "Soup first, then that bunk sounds great. Maybe clean up a little somewhere in between, if you can spare the water."
"Aw, c'mon. Ain't no one goin' to ask why she needed smugglin' off world in the first place?" Jayne asked, as it looked like the excitement was about to die down. "I don't care if we're not bein' paid to ask the question, I want to know."
"Please ignore Jayne," Inara said smoothly, giving the mercenary a firm look. "Your business is, of course, your own, however unusual it may be."
"As in, you're curious too, but too polite to say so," Ms. Summers replied, the corners of her eyes crinkling in accompaniment to a tired, though genuine, smile. Then she looked over at Book. "If I'd seen that collar on your captain instead, I think I'd have slayed first and answered questions later, but you look a lot more like a Giles. There any tea to go with the soup?"
The comment was alarmingly phrased and not entirely decipherable, but the gist seemed more or less positive; Book nodded to her. "But of course," he said, then turned to the kettle to serve up enough of his favorite blend for two. "It's a little strong, but the flavor should be sufficiently complimentary."
"Does that mean you are going to answer questions?" Kaylee said, excitedly.
Ms. Summers didn't answer immediately; she waited long enough to accept a cup with a smile and another satisfied inhale, eyes fluttering briefly shut as she took her first sip. "Definitely a Giles," she said musingly, then opened her eyes again and glanced around at the crew, who had begun to retrieve beverages of their own and settle in at the other seats at the table. Wash had even come to join them, now that the course had been set and the autopilot engaged, after a brief, affectionate exchange with his wife. "I guess I can't fault the curiosity, since there was a reason I agreed to hire your ship specifically."
"Did you, now," Mal said, furrowing his brow. "Thought the job came through friends of our Dr. Tam's, here?"
That had caused some consternation, in fact; the folks who had contacted Simon with an offer to help enable his sister's escape from the Hands of the Alliance had disappeared from the Cortex afterward, undoubtedly for the security of all concerned. Their reemergence, then, hinted at the significance of their somewhat odd request, and only the assurance that no direct conflict would be required had convinced Mal to agree to it.
"Oh, they're absolutely the ones paying for it," Ms. Summers shrugged. "Paid my ride out here, too, as a down payment for what I'm bringing back, especially considering how long it was going to take." She dipped her fingers into the pocket of her rumpled jumpsuit, then brought out a 'wave tape, briefly gesturing with it before tucking it away again. "But I picked you guys because of the story they told me about Simon and his sister and the ship that took them in. I have this thing about powerful people hurting those they see as unworthy-- especially girls-- to make themselves stronger. It's the whole reason I'm even in this 'verse in the first place."
"Then there is a secret facility of some type down there," Book said, sipping at his own tea. "With critical, though perhaps not too urgent, business. A weighty thing, to be so sure of your life's purpose at your age. Though it grieves me that it happens often enough that such a calling is needed."
Ms. Summers looked briefly startled, then rueful, as she took a sip of the soup. "There is. And that's a pretty way to say it, but not quite what I meant. I mean, I'm literally in this 'verse because a, let's call them a mad scientist--" she motioned the fingers of her free hand as if framing the latter two words as a quote, "--with the knowhow to poke holes between worlds went looking for one that they could somehow make better. I mean, for grief-related reasons, which I would be more with the sympathetic if they hadn't decided to kill or incapacitate anyone who might stop them and then open a portal to pending dystopia over the bodies. I was the only one in a position to follow... but for whatever reason, I didn't end up anywhere near them on this end. I was lucky to land somewhere that no one asked too many questions while I figured out what the hell was going on."
"Heisenberg uncertainty principle," River spoke up then, nodding knowingly. "Speed or position; you can know where, or you can know when. Logical universes don't come with compensators."
Book wasn't too sure how a physics principle regarding the measurement of quantum particles related to Ms. Summers' wild tale, but the traveler herself seemed to have some idea. "Wait, you're saying I might have landed in the right place after all, just too late? Or early?" she replied, setting her spoon down in alarm.
Mal didn't wait for River's answer, throwing both her and then Ms. Summers an incredulous look. "Wait, you're sayin' you're not from this 'verse at all? Don't matter what maths River knows, that's fèihuà. Look, you don't want to tell us what's really going on, that's your right and all, but I'm not one for fairy stories."
Ms. Summers sighed, then picked her spoon back up and took another sip. "Funny, since fairy stories seem to be one for you," she said, tipping her chin pointedly toward the Tam siblings. "But it's true whether you believe me or not, and I'm not paying you for that, just to give me a ride without filing any reports. So thank you for the ride, Captain Reynolds. We can maybe talk other rides some other time?"
Mal eyed her for a long moment, mouth pursed, as if searching for clues to her earnestness in her clothing or bearing, then gave her a curt nod and braced his hands on the table to get up. "Might do at that. Whatever the truth is, you're either hunting for or fleeing from something, or both; that's plain enough. Alliance related as well, unless I miss my guess. Got no problem helping a cause like that along if the incentive's right."
"I'll keep that in mind," she replied, a dry warmth to her tone that reminded Book much of Inara.
"Shiny," Mal said, then gestured to the others. "Come on then, now, let's give the woman some space. She's had a grueling ordeal, and there's some work still to be done 'fore we land on Beaumonde, since certain people spent half the day in the cockpit 'stead of about the ship's business."
There was some grumbling amongst the crew, but they generally yielded to that argument; a few had another brief exchange with Ms. Summers before following the captain out of the galley, but within minutes they had all drifted out again. All but Book, whose business was in fact lunch... or would be, in another half hour or so. In the meantime, he sipped at his tea, silently continuing his observation of their guest.
Ms. Summers let the silence be for a moment, eyes drifting half shut as she savored more of the soup. But when she'd taken enough on board to satisfy some of her immediate need, she looked up again, expression sharp as she studied him. "So, preacher man. Keeping an eye on little old me?"
"Keeping you company," he corrected her gently. "And it isn't 'preacher man', it's Shepherd Book."
"Kind of an appropriate name, for a man of the Book," she replied. Book half-expected the usual question to follow-- the desire to know his real name, as if the name Derrial Book hadn't been real to someone already before he made it his, as if the name he was born under could hope to now define him nearly fifty years since he'd shed it as an ill-fitting skin-- but instead she extended a hand over the table, giving him a lopsided smile. "More appropriate than mine, anyway. Pleased to meet you, Shepherd Book. I'm Buffy Summers."
"Pleased to meet you as well," he said, taking the hand for a brief shake. "That is an unusual name; though I believe I'm ill-qualified to judge its appropriateness, given your origins."
"What, you don't think I'm mad like your captain does?" she replied, tilting her head curiously.
Well she might ask, but he hadn't forgot that feeling of resonance at first glance, and didn't think his instincts could be that far off. "You don't have the air of a madwoman," he replied with a shrug, "or of someone telling a deliberately fanciful tale to discourage questions. You strike me more as a woman on a lonely, difficult path, hoping to find those who might be willing to walk it with her."
Her expression softened, a faint smile quirking at the corner of her mouth. "Like knows like?"
Book smiled back. "Something like that," he replied, taking another sip of his tea.
Ms. Summers considered that a moment, turning her gaze into the depths of her own mug, then sighed. He would have guessed at first glance that she was somewhere between the doctor's age and the captain's, but for a brief moment she looked much older, pained lines drawing taut between her brows. "There was a time when people called me the 'one girl in all the world', you know, but I never believed in that rule. I did what I had to do, but I found a lot of strength in not being alone. I miss that. I miss them."
He was curious what sort of business might be implied by doing what she had to do, but this didn't seem an appropriate moment to ask. Enough was implied by her herculean task, and the motivation she'd already shared. "You don't believe you'll be able to return to them?" he asked instead, frowning.
"If it was easy to do, they'd have come right after me," she shrugged. "If anyone knows how to go back, it'll be the person I'm working with your doctor's friends to track down... but, you know, I'm not holding my breath. I've accepted for a long time that there was eventually going to be a day I couldn't, one way or another." Her expression creased more deeply, but that bedrock resolution still held beneath. Book wasn't certain, from the available evidence, whether she had any plans for what would come after she reached her goal, but he had no doubt that she would at least reach it.
"Then clearly, to have left them behind, whether in a position to act or not, the consequences of not acting must have seemed very significant," he affirmed gently. "You think the one you seek has committed, or will commit, something truly terrible that you must take such risks to stop."
"They're no great mastermind, really. Just in a lot of pain. But they've also got a whole lot of dangerous knowledge, and from what I've learned of your Alliance, they'd fit right in. One more cog in a giant machine of evil." Ms. Summers grimaced. "No one can stop the whole machine, but I can stop this one cog from turning."
"A wise approach," Book replied, "if not one best calculated for your own happiness. I hope you will consider contracting with Serenity again in pursuit of your cause; the crew can be... a bit much sometimes, but they have a streak of nobility to them, and those as don't have martial skills to offer have their own areas of expertise. And should you find what you seek, and not be able to return home... well, there are worse ways to rest while contemplating your next steps than to take indefinite passage on a somewhat clandestine old transport vessel." He gestured illustratively toward the walls of the ship's dining space.
"You really are kind of a Giles," she replied wonderingly, breaking into a brilliant, if faded, smile. "Didn't think I'd find one of those here. All right Shepherd, I'll keep that in mind."
Another positive if incomprehensible remark, he deemed. "Good," he nodded, then glanced at the clock again. "Well, I should get started on lunch; if the soup wasn't filling enough, I can prepare an extra plate for you?"
"Maybe at dinner? I think I'd better see about a nap first. And de-stinking myself a little," she replied, shielding a sudden, eye-watering yawn behind one hand. "Passenger dorms were back down the stairs?"
"Yes." Book stood, retrieving the mostly-empty bowl and both mugs to carry to the reclamator. "When you go back down to the common area, the cargo bay where you entered is to one side, and the entrance to the passenger dorms is at the other. There are nine rooms in all; three are currently occupied, not including the one set aside for you. The plumbing is of the compact variety, limited to toilet and sink, but there are supplies enough for sponge baths."
"Sounds plan-like," she replied, stifling another yawn, then got slowly to her feet and headed for the stairs. "See you later."
Book watched her go, thinking about the majesty of the mountain again; of the indomitable nature of certain wills; and of ease taken between demanding tasks. Contemplating his own next steps, and the illumination cast by this most unusual encounter.
"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news," he quoted again, smiling wryly to himself, then returned his attention to his work.
(x-posted at intoabar and on AO3)
intoabar. Shepherd Book meets Buffy."If I'd seen that collar on your captain instead, I think I'd have slayed first and answered questions later, but you look a lot more like a Giles. There any tea to go with the soup?"
Title: for it is in giving that we receive
Author: Jedi Buttercup
Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not.
Spoilers: Firefly (pre-Serenity) and B:tVS (post-canon)
Notes: For the "Ficathon Goes Into a Bar" challenge, for the prompt, "Buffy Summers goes into a bar and meets... Shepherd Book (Firefly)!" Contains a few Biblical references, because Book, and random inspiration from this Sci-Fi Ascent article from 2018.
Summary: "If I'd seen that collar on your captain instead, I think I'd have slayed first and answered questions later, but you look a lot more like a Giles. There any tea to go with the soup?" 4100 words.
The man known as Shepherd Book had seen plenty of wonders during his time aboard the spaceship Serenity; most of them unexpected, and not a few of them encountered in the pursuit of crime. It wasn't exactly the life he'd envisioned when he'd left the monastery to walk the world a spell, and one he wasn't certain he'd be able to endure long-term. But he did like to think he was doing some good there, both for the crew's sake and for his own spiritual development: experiencing all the varied highs and lows of God's creation.
Including the sight currently visible beyond the cockpit windows. "I lift up my eyes to the mountains; where does my help come from?" he quoted quietly, staring at the rocky crest visible in the near distance.
"What was that, Shepherd?" Mal asked absently, looking over from where he stood behind the pilot's chair.
Bible verses, alas, were not the way to Captain Reynolds' wounded soul; that, he suspected, would require a more personal approach, if ever. In the meantime, there was much for him to learn in turn.
"I simply wondered-- this seems a highly unusual situation, Captain. Are such rendezvous common?"
"Well, yes and no," Mal replied with a shrug. "On most planets, can't get this close to a mountain without skimming atmo. Lotta reasons for that, as I understand it; size of the world before terraforming, plate tectonics, weathering, and suchlike, normally limit how high a peak can grow. This one here's unique; highest planetary elevation in all the Five Systems."
"Since they thickened up the atmosphere and lubed up the mantle it'll probably erode eventually, or else erupt and collapse," Wash shrugged, pressing a few more keys on the control panel before joining the others in gazing out the window. "But that'll be a long time coming. In the meantime, station-keeping orbit's only a little bit tricky and uses up a lot less fuel than landing would. Most we've got to watch out for is if any patrol boats come out this way, or if any other climbers are following our contact up."
No snow marred the upper reaches of the massive upswelling of the moon's crust beneath them; somewhere far below, where the atmosphere began to be a notable presence, fields of white sheathed the mountain like a vast scarf. The base of it was so wide the entirety of it disappeared from view, distorting all the visible horizon.
"But how does anyone climb it, if they have to leave atmo?" Kaylee asked for all of them, furrowing her brow.
"Skinsuits," an unexpected voice answered: Simon, nose wrinkled in distaste. "That's part of the challenge. It's a rich man's game, you see; I spent all my time studying, not pursuing extreme sport, but some of my childhood associates did. Climbers compete to see how far they can go before having to don a skinsuit, then reach the top before their supplemental oxygen stores give out, leaving video marker beacons behind as proof of claim. But even hauling a skinsuit and necessary supplies that high's an extreme physical challenge; at around eight thousand meters above sea level, the average point at which suits are donned, atmospheric pressure is a third of normal. Even after the necessary low-pressure acclimatization, hauling any amount of extra weight is very difficult. And if you accidentally damage your suit as you climb further-- well, help's a very long way down. The full climb takes several months, minimum, if you do it all on foot."
"And that there's why rendezvous such as ours ain't common," Mal agreed. "Approach is tricky, from above or below, and hauling enough goods to be worth the risk's damn near impossible. And this section of the planet's zoned against any sort of engine-based transport, to keep it pristine for such moneyed folk. Most of the traffic here's from climbers who think reaching the top's enough and would really rather not climb back down. Someone with the wherewithal to reach the summit who can't call their own ride's a mite unusual."
"Perhaps it's not so much that they don't, as they don't wish to draw attention to their exit," Zoë mused. "No transport under their own name. No sort of tracking out here, if they skip dropping beacons, and the difficulty level is a significant deterrent to any suspicions. Anyone who sees the pickup will simply believe it's another rich adventurer skipping the walk back down; too much trouble to bother. And in the meantime, they walk right off world without passing through port control or customs."
"I suppose the question is, what else is on this world that they might need such an escape from?" Book mused aloud. It was a raw young world, only very lately terraformed; settlers were only just beginning to form communities a continent away. But if adventure seekers had been here long enough for there to be routines and competitions, then perhaps something else had been here before the moon was officially opened... something a little more clandestine in nature.
"Well, that's a question we're not bein' paid to ask," Mal said. "We're only bein' paid to retrieve 'em. And... I think that might be them. Red skinsuit, silver piping." A small figure had slowly come into view, slowly working their way up the last rough ridge. "Jayne?" he added, reaching out to touch the intercom.
"Yeah, I see 'er," Jayne commented. He'd been positioned in the airlock off the cargo bay, wearing a spacesuit of his own, waiting for the signal. "Soon's she stops, I'll drop the line."
It seemed folly to wait as long as might be required for their contact to finish the climb, if escape were indeed the point, particularly if the mystery woman wasn't even dropping a beacon. But Book supposed lack of public acknowledgement did not diminish such an achievement, and they did seem to have the time.
Finally, the figure stopped. They paused for a moment, lifting what might be a capture as they struck a pose; then they turned and gave a slow wave, and a moment later a cable became visible, snaking out from beneath the ship. Wash nudged their vector ever so slightly closer, watching carefully as the woman reached for the line. She didn't catch it on the first attempt, or the second; either exhaustion or the lack of atmosphere had made her a little awkward. But the third attempt, prompting a wave of relieved breaths through the cockpit, proved to be a success. She fixed it to her belt with the attached clip, then yanked on it a couple of times and gave the ship a thumb's-up; in response, Mal triggered the intercom again to signal Jayne to activate the winch.
The initial tug, detaching her from the mountain's gravity, looked somewhat disorienting; but then she relaxed, swinging free as she gradually disappeared back out of view toward Serenity's rear hatch.
"Shall we go greet our guest, then?" Inara said, finally breaking away from the view herself. Very few things challenged the Companion's worldly composure, but this particular caper had drawn an amazed look to her eye; Book suspected she enjoyed the wonders inherent in their chaotic form of space travel as much as he did.
"That's the plan," Mal agreed, then turned to head down into the ship. "Wash, get us headed toward Beaumonde; quick as can be without crossing the paths of any patrols."
"Will do," Wash agreed, turning back to his screens as the rest of them followed Mal down the stairs.
Most headed for the cargo bay, but Book had another thought and hung back in the galley. Simon's mention of months combined with the climber's tired fumbling had made him think on how long it had probably been since their client had a cup of something warm to drink or a satisfying meal that didn't come pureed through a suit's feeding tube, and there was some soup left over that only needed a little heating.
It was some minutes before the murmur of voices came back up the stairs from below. Likely they had taken the time to allow the woman to change out of her suit, and to give Simon the chance to check her over in the infirmary. But she must have come through in decent health, for the tenor of the conversation seemed cheerful, if a little subdued. Kaylee appeared first, her smiles bright and welcoming, followed closely by a quieter woman with blonde hair some years her elder. At first glance, it seemed difficult to believe this was the person who had climbed such a great height; she seemed fit, but of a height with Kaylee, slim and only lightly muscled, not possessed of the sort of athlete's physique her achievement suggested. But then Book saw her eyes.
A deep, deep weariness lay in the depths of the stranger's green gaze... but beneath it lay a bedrock-stubborn foundation, the determination of one who would keep getting back up so as long as a task remained for her to accomplish. Book knew that gaze intimately, though it had taken most of his life to find it in his own mirror; he'd spent most of his youth taking up one difficult challenge after another merely to escape what lay behind him, until the last one-- during the war-- had imploded, leaving him aimlessly on the drift. A timely bowl of soup in a shelter had been his wake-up call, an existential moment that had led him to the monastery and given him a purpose to work toward rather than another problem to run from.
Kaylee led her to the table where she gratefully sank into a chair; then the rest followed them up from below. Even River, who had declined to accompany them to the cockpit with a nonsensical comment about preventing the captain and Jayne from being mistaken for demons, had finally joined the group.
"Hey, somethin' smells good, preacher. You makin' an early lunch?" Jayne asked.
"Merely a little something for our guest," Book smiled at him, ladling up a bowl. Then he turned to the table, moving to set it before her.
"Wow, that does smell kind of divine," she said brightly, perking up a little as she inhaled the steam. "Some hospitality you've got here, Captain."
"That's all down to the shepherd, Miz Summers," Mal demurred, "though it's mighty kind of him to do it. We've made you up a bunk in the passenger dorm when you're ready to rest; I think Kaylee showed you where it was? Just let us know if there's anything else you need before we get to Beaumonde. Cargo bay, engine room, and bridge'll be off limits 'til then without an escort, but feel free to make yourself at home otherwise."
"Just being out of that suit's amazing already. Anything else? Cherry on top," she said, nodding to him. "Soup first, then that bunk sounds great. Maybe clean up a little somewhere in between, if you can spare the water."
"Aw, c'mon. Ain't no one goin' to ask why she needed smugglin' off world in the first place?" Jayne asked, as it looked like the excitement was about to die down. "I don't care if we're not bein' paid to ask the question, I want to know."
"Please ignore Jayne," Inara said smoothly, giving the mercenary a firm look. "Your business is, of course, your own, however unusual it may be."
"As in, you're curious too, but too polite to say so," Ms. Summers replied, the corners of her eyes crinkling in accompaniment to a tired, though genuine, smile. Then she looked over at Book. "If I'd seen that collar on your captain instead, I think I'd have slayed first and answered questions later, but you look a lot more like a Giles. There any tea to go with the soup?"
The comment was alarmingly phrased and not entirely decipherable, but the gist seemed more or less positive; Book nodded to her. "But of course," he said, then turned to the kettle to serve up enough of his favorite blend for two. "It's a little strong, but the flavor should be sufficiently complimentary."
"Does that mean you are going to answer questions?" Kaylee said, excitedly.
Ms. Summers didn't answer immediately; she waited long enough to accept a cup with a smile and another satisfied inhale, eyes fluttering briefly shut as she took her first sip. "Definitely a Giles," she said musingly, then opened her eyes again and glanced around at the crew, who had begun to retrieve beverages of their own and settle in at the other seats at the table. Wash had even come to join them, now that the course had been set and the autopilot engaged, after a brief, affectionate exchange with his wife. "I guess I can't fault the curiosity, since there was a reason I agreed to hire your ship specifically."
"Did you, now," Mal said, furrowing his brow. "Thought the job came through friends of our Dr. Tam's, here?"
That had caused some consternation, in fact; the folks who had contacted Simon with an offer to help enable his sister's escape from the Hands of the Alliance had disappeared from the Cortex afterward, undoubtedly for the security of all concerned. Their reemergence, then, hinted at the significance of their somewhat odd request, and only the assurance that no direct conflict would be required had convinced Mal to agree to it.
"Oh, they're absolutely the ones paying for it," Ms. Summers shrugged. "Paid my ride out here, too, as a down payment for what I'm bringing back, especially considering how long it was going to take." She dipped her fingers into the pocket of her rumpled jumpsuit, then brought out a 'wave tape, briefly gesturing with it before tucking it away again. "But I picked you guys because of the story they told me about Simon and his sister and the ship that took them in. I have this thing about powerful people hurting those they see as unworthy-- especially girls-- to make themselves stronger. It's the whole reason I'm even in this 'verse in the first place."
"Then there is a secret facility of some type down there," Book said, sipping at his own tea. "With critical, though perhaps not too urgent, business. A weighty thing, to be so sure of your life's purpose at your age. Though it grieves me that it happens often enough that such a calling is needed."
Ms. Summers looked briefly startled, then rueful, as she took a sip of the soup. "There is. And that's a pretty way to say it, but not quite what I meant. I mean, I'm literally in this 'verse because a, let's call them a mad scientist--" she motioned the fingers of her free hand as if framing the latter two words as a quote, "--with the knowhow to poke holes between worlds went looking for one that they could somehow make better. I mean, for grief-related reasons, which I would be more with the sympathetic if they hadn't decided to kill or incapacitate anyone who might stop them and then open a portal to pending dystopia over the bodies. I was the only one in a position to follow... but for whatever reason, I didn't end up anywhere near them on this end. I was lucky to land somewhere that no one asked too many questions while I figured out what the hell was going on."
"Heisenberg uncertainty principle," River spoke up then, nodding knowingly. "Speed or position; you can know where, or you can know when. Logical universes don't come with compensators."
Book wasn't too sure how a physics principle regarding the measurement of quantum particles related to Ms. Summers' wild tale, but the traveler herself seemed to have some idea. "Wait, you're saying I might have landed in the right place after all, just too late? Or early?" she replied, setting her spoon down in alarm.
Mal didn't wait for River's answer, throwing both her and then Ms. Summers an incredulous look. "Wait, you're sayin' you're not from this 'verse at all? Don't matter what maths River knows, that's fèihuà. Look, you don't want to tell us what's really going on, that's your right and all, but I'm not one for fairy stories."
Ms. Summers sighed, then picked her spoon back up and took another sip. "Funny, since fairy stories seem to be one for you," she said, tipping her chin pointedly toward the Tam siblings. "But it's true whether you believe me or not, and I'm not paying you for that, just to give me a ride without filing any reports. So thank you for the ride, Captain Reynolds. We can maybe talk other rides some other time?"
Mal eyed her for a long moment, mouth pursed, as if searching for clues to her earnestness in her clothing or bearing, then gave her a curt nod and braced his hands on the table to get up. "Might do at that. Whatever the truth is, you're either hunting for or fleeing from something, or both; that's plain enough. Alliance related as well, unless I miss my guess. Got no problem helping a cause like that along if the incentive's right."
"I'll keep that in mind," she replied, a dry warmth to her tone that reminded Book much of Inara.
"Shiny," Mal said, then gestured to the others. "Come on then, now, let's give the woman some space. She's had a grueling ordeal, and there's some work still to be done 'fore we land on Beaumonde, since certain people spent half the day in the cockpit 'stead of about the ship's business."
There was some grumbling amongst the crew, but they generally yielded to that argument; a few had another brief exchange with Ms. Summers before following the captain out of the galley, but within minutes they had all drifted out again. All but Book, whose business was in fact lunch... or would be, in another half hour or so. In the meantime, he sipped at his tea, silently continuing his observation of their guest.
Ms. Summers let the silence be for a moment, eyes drifting half shut as she savored more of the soup. But when she'd taken enough on board to satisfy some of her immediate need, she looked up again, expression sharp as she studied him. "So, preacher man. Keeping an eye on little old me?"
"Keeping you company," he corrected her gently. "And it isn't 'preacher man', it's Shepherd Book."
"Kind of an appropriate name, for a man of the Book," she replied. Book half-expected the usual question to follow-- the desire to know his real name, as if the name Derrial Book hadn't been real to someone already before he made it his, as if the name he was born under could hope to now define him nearly fifty years since he'd shed it as an ill-fitting skin-- but instead she extended a hand over the table, giving him a lopsided smile. "More appropriate than mine, anyway. Pleased to meet you, Shepherd Book. I'm Buffy Summers."
"Pleased to meet you as well," he said, taking the hand for a brief shake. "That is an unusual name; though I believe I'm ill-qualified to judge its appropriateness, given your origins."
"What, you don't think I'm mad like your captain does?" she replied, tilting her head curiously.
Well she might ask, but he hadn't forgot that feeling of resonance at first glance, and didn't think his instincts could be that far off. "You don't have the air of a madwoman," he replied with a shrug, "or of someone telling a deliberately fanciful tale to discourage questions. You strike me more as a woman on a lonely, difficult path, hoping to find those who might be willing to walk it with her."
Her expression softened, a faint smile quirking at the corner of her mouth. "Like knows like?"
Book smiled back. "Something like that," he replied, taking another sip of his tea.
Ms. Summers considered that a moment, turning her gaze into the depths of her own mug, then sighed. He would have guessed at first glance that she was somewhere between the doctor's age and the captain's, but for a brief moment she looked much older, pained lines drawing taut between her brows. "There was a time when people called me the 'one girl in all the world', you know, but I never believed in that rule. I did what I had to do, but I found a lot of strength in not being alone. I miss that. I miss them."
He was curious what sort of business might be implied by doing what she had to do, but this didn't seem an appropriate moment to ask. Enough was implied by her herculean task, and the motivation she'd already shared. "You don't believe you'll be able to return to them?" he asked instead, frowning.
"If it was easy to do, they'd have come right after me," she shrugged. "If anyone knows how to go back, it'll be the person I'm working with your doctor's friends to track down... but, you know, I'm not holding my breath. I've accepted for a long time that there was eventually going to be a day I couldn't, one way or another." Her expression creased more deeply, but that bedrock resolution still held beneath. Book wasn't certain, from the available evidence, whether she had any plans for what would come after she reached her goal, but he had no doubt that she would at least reach it.
"Then clearly, to have left them behind, whether in a position to act or not, the consequences of not acting must have seemed very significant," he affirmed gently. "You think the one you seek has committed, or will commit, something truly terrible that you must take such risks to stop."
"They're no great mastermind, really. Just in a lot of pain. But they've also got a whole lot of dangerous knowledge, and from what I've learned of your Alliance, they'd fit right in. One more cog in a giant machine of evil." Ms. Summers grimaced. "No one can stop the whole machine, but I can stop this one cog from turning."
"A wise approach," Book replied, "if not one best calculated for your own happiness. I hope you will consider contracting with Serenity again in pursuit of your cause; the crew can be... a bit much sometimes, but they have a streak of nobility to them, and those as don't have martial skills to offer have their own areas of expertise. And should you find what you seek, and not be able to return home... well, there are worse ways to rest while contemplating your next steps than to take indefinite passage on a somewhat clandestine old transport vessel." He gestured illustratively toward the walls of the ship's dining space.
"You really are kind of a Giles," she replied wonderingly, breaking into a brilliant, if faded, smile. "Didn't think I'd find one of those here. All right Shepherd, I'll keep that in mind."
Another positive if incomprehensible remark, he deemed. "Good," he nodded, then glanced at the clock again. "Well, I should get started on lunch; if the soup wasn't filling enough, I can prepare an extra plate for you?"
"Maybe at dinner? I think I'd better see about a nap first. And de-stinking myself a little," she replied, shielding a sudden, eye-watering yawn behind one hand. "Passenger dorms were back down the stairs?"
"Yes." Book stood, retrieving the mostly-empty bowl and both mugs to carry to the reclamator. "When you go back down to the common area, the cargo bay where you entered is to one side, and the entrance to the passenger dorms is at the other. There are nine rooms in all; three are currently occupied, not including the one set aside for you. The plumbing is of the compact variety, limited to toilet and sink, but there are supplies enough for sponge baths."
"Sounds plan-like," she replied, stifling another yawn, then got slowly to her feet and headed for the stairs. "See you later."
Book watched her go, thinking about the majesty of the mountain again; of the indomitable nature of certain wills; and of ease taken between demanding tasks. Contemplating his own next steps, and the illumination cast by this most unusual encounter.
"How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news," he quoted again, smiling wryly to himself, then returned his attention to his work.
(x-posted at intoabar and on AO3)
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Date: 2023-06-24 06:51 am (UTC)