Early that evening, Shepherd Book climbed the stairs up to Serenity's bridge. Not long after the Alliance had left, he had gone through the spare shuttle with a fine-toothed comb, ensuring that there were no traces of the Tams' existence. Although nothing had been discovered during the inspection, he knew that would not preclude the Alliance from conducting another one if they felt the notion to, and maybe with a forensic team this time. And even with no reason to suspect such would occur, he reckoned it was better to make certain that there was absolutely no evidence of River and Simon's presence, so he had taken it upon himself to do a thorough cleaning. He had also done a sweep of the infirmary, too, making sure there were no telltale traces of a doctor on board who was not supposed to be. Little though it was, it was the most he could do to help protect the two. He thanked the Lord that Inara was still around, at least. Otherwise things would have definitely turned out far worse for all of them. But if it was a relief to know that this "emergency" was not about the Tams, he still had to wonder what it really was about.

Hoping that the captain had made some progress on that front, he stepped through the bulkhead and onto the bridge. Over at the helm, Mal, Zoe, and Wash had arranged themselves around the Cortex monitor, their eyes fixed on the feed.

"What's the news?" he asked, moving to join them in watching the broadcast that was already under way.

"Many members of Parliament have stated that the emergency declaration was necessary to preempt any economic fallout from the situation on Harvest," the newsfeed anchor was reporting.

"Harvest?" Book repeated in knee-jerk fashion.

"Yeah. That's where the trouble is. There's been some kind of natural disaster," Wash explained to him, "but that's about all we know so far."

"What happened?"

"They ain't been too forthcoming on the details," Mal answered, "but apparently it's pretty bad. The Feds are initiatin' a major mobilization to deal with it. That's why they got us locked down. They're gonna use New Melbourne as a staging point."

"Listen," Zoe hushed him, and they all fell silent as the report continued.

"No officials were able to comment on the extent of the damage, but the Cortex feed for the entire planet has been knocked out, leading to speculation that the impact may be world-wide. In response to those fears, the emergency decree has frozen all food prices at their current levels. Special funds have been allocated to other major agricultural worlds to help boost their production. Meanwhile, the Chair of Parliament cautioned that depending on the scope and duration of the emergency, there may be some temporary shortages, but he assured citizens that there is no possibility of famine anywhere in the Verse. He further asked the Verse to keep those on Harvest in their thoughts and prayers. Alliance High Command has confirmed that several cruisers have already been ordered to the system and should arrive within two days to begin initial assessment. Blue Sun, which owns and operates most of the production facilities on the planet, has said that it does not have any further details on the situation than what is already available. At a press conference earlier, President and CEO Miriam Hector stated that the company is cooperating fully with the government's efforts and committing all available resources to assist in addressing the emergency."

"Wow. It sounds like they don't have a clue what's goin' on," Wash commented at the end of the report. "If it's as bad as it sounds, that could mean a terraforming failure and that's… I can't even imagine," he shook his head, at a loss to comprehend the thought.

"That don't seem possible, but if that's the case, that whole world could be dead," Zoe added, real concern weighing on her features.

Maybe it's just a coincidence, Book told himself as he considered what he had heard as well. He tried to suppress the suspicions that were already coalescing in his mind, but the old instincts, worn though they were, told him he was naïve if he thought that was true.

"Somethin' wrong there, preacher?" Zoe's question jerked him from his reverie. Mal, Zoe, and Wash were all looking at him with some measure of curiosity, and he realized that his expression had involuntarily turned into a rather fearsome scowl.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, quickly wiping the look from his face. "I was just thinking of how terrible it must be for all of those people. Did they make any mention of when the port might be re-opened?"

"No, and even if they did, we ain't gonna go rushin' off on some charity mission," Mal responded, erroneously ascertaining the direction of Book's question. "My sympathies are with them people, too, but I got a crew to pay and feed and a ship to fuel."

"I appreciate your point of view, Captain, but I was more immediately concerned about those of us here, namely Simon and River," Book corrected. "Do you have a plan?"

"Hiding 'em ain't a plan?"

"It'll do for a spell. But they can't stay hid forever. What about your client, the judge?" Book suggested. "Perhaps he can pull some strings to get us released?"

"He was more concerned about gettin' his kids back when he waved me a little while ago, but in either case I don't reckon he's got that much clout. They won't even let Inara leave," Mal remarked. "That ain't to say I'm in any way comfortable sittin' around here under the Alliance's thumb, but there's too many unknowns for us to go makin' rash decisions that are bound to backfire on us. We'll just have to wait this one out. The Alliance's got no reason to suspect us of anything , and I doubt that lieutenant will want to cross Inara again. I'm tellin' ya, you should've seen the look on his face when she gave him the what-for," he chuckled a little. "I swear I'm gonna remember that 'till the day I die."

"But if it's as serious as the newsfeed indicated, there's like to be many more of the Alliance to deal with than just that lieutenant. Inara played her part well, but what happens when she's gone, or when they don't take no for an answer next time?" Book urged.

"Just what else do you suggest we do?" Mal snapped, his fuse likely shortened by the day's already considerable trials.

"I just thought you might be working more diligently to find a way out of this." Book's words came out far more critical than he had intended, and he immediately regretted them. The air on the bridge grew still and tense all of a sudden, and Mal faced him squarely.

"You got somethin' to say about how I run my ship, Shepherd?" the captain asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

"That's not what I meant," Book retreated carefully from the thin ice he had put himself on.

"What did you mean, then?"

"Just… voicing my concerns," he kept it at that.

"Well, I'll be sure to take them under advisement," Mal noted with false sincerity, his eyes flashing as they stared Book down.

"Hey," Kaylee poked her head onto the bridge at that moment. "I was gonna fix up somethin' for dinner. Anybody else feelin' hungry?" she asked.

"No thanks," Mal responded after a beat, breaking the ominous tension. He turned away, dropping into the copilot's chair and busied himself with something on the console.

"I'm good," Zoe declined as well, her tone casual, although she flashed Book a brief, sidelong frown.

"I could go for something," Wash agreed.

"Okay. Has anyone seen Jayne?" Kaylee asked next.

"I passed him on my way up here," Book informed her. "He was lifting. How about I come give you a hand in the kitchen," he offered, glad for her interruption and the chance to escape. "I'm sure our passengers will be getting hungry as well about now." He smiled broadly and Kaylee's face brightened.

"Shiny. Thanks," she said. Making for the door, Book chastised himself for letting those old feelings briefly get the better of him. He certainly hadn't meant to push the captain. Perhaps Mal was right after all, and doing nothing was the best course of action at this juncture. A certain part of him chafed at that notion, but it was not his role to manage their situation, as the captain had made succinctly clear. He had offered his counsel and he would have to be content with that. Besides, he had ample evidence to believe that Mal would do everything he could to protect the Tams and the rest of them, whatever that turned out to be. It wasn't always the smartest thing, but it would be the right thing. With that in mind, he set aside his uncertainties for now and joined Kaylee at the doorway. The two of them left the bridge together.

"What was that all about?" Wash threw out once Book and Kaylee were gone.

"Not sure," his wife answered, looking to Mal, who was still fuming.

"Either the Shepherd's got something under that collar o' his, or he's doin' a damn fine job of makin' a nuisance of himself," he spat.

"Maybe he's just…" Wash started to say, but he was cut off by Zoe's curse. She pointed out the viewport. Alerted by her tone, Mal leaped out of his seat to get a better look at what she was seeing. Threading its way towards them across the docks they saw a convoy of heavily loaded flatbeds flanked by a sizeable contingent of troops. The three watched as vehicles occasionally separated from the convoy, coming to a stop at several of the slips.

"Are they loading cargo?" asked Wash.

"Maybe, but I don't like the looks of this," Mal uttered. Snaking through the mass of bodies and machinery he spied a uniformed figure that he was sure he recognized.

"There's one stopping in front of us," Zoe alerted him, craning over the console to peer beyond Serenity's bow. Mal joined her in looking down, and sure enough one of the flatbeds had slowed to a halt at their bay.

"I don't like the looks of this at all," Mal reiterated.

"What do you think they want?" Wash asked him. Mal didn't answer, but the sinking feeling in his gut told him that whatever it was it did not bode well. He watched for a few more moments as the official figure disappeared into each ship where a vehicle had stopped, gradually working his way towards their berth. Then he tore his attention away and made for the stairs.

"Zoe, come on," he beckoned her as he ducked through the bulkhead. Zoe followed dutifully behind him. They trotted through the foredeck and down the forward stairs, reaching the catwalk just as a loud impact rang throughout the hold.

"What the gorram hell is that?" Jayne demanded, jolting up from his workout bench and reaching for his pistol sitting on the floor nearby.

"Stow it," Mal ordered him, jogging to the cloudy window in the cargo bay door, hoping against hope to not see what he anticipated seeing. "It's the hei reng seng Feds, and I don't think they'll take too kindly to findin' you armed."

"What do they want now?" asked Jayne, joining him and Zoe by the door.

"What do they ever want? Givin' folk like us a hard time is the official creed of the Alliance. Zao gao!" Mal swore, pounding a fist on the hull.

"What's going on?" a voice interrupted from behind him. Mal, Zoe, and Jayne all turned and found Raissa standing in the middle of the bay, regarding them with something like suspicion. Jaron was visible in the doorway of the commons behind her, looking on with more curiosity than concern.

"You go on back to your quarters. Stay there 'till I say otherwise," Mal dismissed them both and turned to his first mate, lowering his voice. "Go check on Inara. Tell her to be ready in case they come callin' again."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Raissa's tone sharpened into a demand over his words. Mal's back went rigid and he turned slowly to face the young woman. "I have a right to know. You have a responsibility to us as paying passengers," she continued, and he was not sure which made him angrier- that she presumed he was guilty of something, or that she spoke to him like he was a subordinate.

"Look here, I don't know who the hell you think you're talkin' to, but I'm captain of this boat, and that means everyone on it- passengers, crew, everyone- does what I say," he reproached, advancing until he was looming over her. "You ever yi zhi qi shi like that again and I'll have you walkin' your ass back to your daddy's office, judge or no. I'm the only one who gives orders, and right now I'm orderin' you to go back to your room." Raissa's eyes burned into him with cold, blue fire as he spoke. Even though she was about as short as Kaylee, she did not retreat. He stared her down, and she just stared back up, defiant. She clearly was not used to being talked to in that manner, and for a second Mal thought she might start swearing at him, but instead she twisted on her heel and stormed back towards the commons. Mal watched her go, his anger simmering.

"That was a bit harsh," Zoe said beside him. "What if she tells her father?"

"That don't worry me. You heard her. I ain't gonna let some prissy, stuck-up girl talk to me like that on my ship. Would you?"

"No," Zoe gave him that. "I would've decked her." Mal managed a slight, grim smile.

"Get goin'" he jerked his head towards the catwalk. Zoe nodded, lips tight. She pounded up the stairs and over to Inara's shuttle while he returned his attention to the doors. Heaving one of them open, he was met by Lieutenant Jorgenson standing just outside. "Lieutenant. So nice of you stop by again," he greeted with a pleasantly mocking smile.

"Drop your loading ramp, Captain," Jorgenson ordered without preamble.

"Why?"

"Because your cargo is here."

"I wasn't expectin' a shipment," Mal folded his arms.

"As I'm sure you've heard by now, Parliament has authorized the contracting of civilian carriers in order to expedite the relief mission to Harvest," Jorgenson offered by way of explanation. In point of fact, Mal had not heard any such news, but he understood very well what it meant.

Over my dead body, he thought. "I don't contract with the Alliance," he told the lieutenant flatly. "You can just keep whatever you got out there. We ain't interested." He moved to shut the door in the officer's face.

"Well, you certainly have the right to refuse," Jorgenson went on in a tone that sounded far too conciliatory to be honest, causing Mal to stop. "But if that's the case, I'm afraid I can't say when you'll be allowed to leave port. All ships supplying the relief mission will be getting priority clearance, and due to security concerns, all others will remain grounded until the operation is complete, or the emergency declaration is lifted. It could be a week or more." He paused, waiting with the touch of a smirk on his face. "Should I mark down that you declined?" Mal's nostrils flared and his fingernails dug into the steel of the door as he struggled to reign in his temper. It was clear now what was up. Typical of the Alliance, they were offering a threat disguised as a choice. Mal either agreed to take the cargo, or he would be laid up in port indefinitely.

"What's the cargo?" he snapped, realizing that if he was to have any chance of getting off of New Melbourne any time soon, he would have to play along and step to the Alliance's tune. Still, the words bit like acid at the back of his throat.

"Supplies for the relief effort. That's all you need to know."

"Really?" Mal folded his arms obstinately again. "I think as captain of a shipping vessel, I ought to know exactly what it is I'm carryin'. Could be it might pose a danger to me and my crew."

"Interesting. You don't seem enforce that requirement with all of your customers. Something about what you don't know can't hurt you, maybe?"

"Fine," Mal bit. "But you might wanna step back. Wouldn't want to accidentally crush you or nothin'." He slammed the door on the lieutenant and stomped over to the controls. Zoe met him there as she came down from the catwalk. Jayne, who was still hovering nearby, rejoined them as well.

"Inara's as ready as she can be," Zoe reported. "What do they want?"

"They're forcin' us to take cargo."

"Cargo?" spat Jayne.

"For this mess on Harvest," Mal explained. "And if we don't, the lieutenant made it pretty clear that we don't leave."

"Zen me de liao," observed Zoe.

"I know. But it don't look like we got a choice if we want to get out of here anytime soon. Gorram Feds!" Mal slammed his fist down on the controls that actuated the ramp.

Coming into view as the edge dropped, he saw several squads of Federal troops and a half dozen or so stevedores gathered around a flatbed vehicle loaded with pallets of crates covered in cargo netting.

"Clear out!" Jorgenson ordered his men as the ramp lowered. When it was down, the lieutenant motioned to a forklift waiting near the flatbed. Then he met Mal and Zoe at the top of the ramp. "You're going to get seventy-five pallets, Captain," Jorgenson informed them, consulting his handheld pad.

"Seventy-five… what the hell is all this stuff?" Mal barked.

"As I said, relief supplies," Jorgenson half-ignored the comment, still engrossed in the screen of his pad. Mal wondered what in the Verse he was getting himself into as he watched the forklift carefully trundle up the incline and into Serenity's hold with the first load.

"Where do you want it?" the operator yelled to him. Mal glanced around the bay. It was mostly empty, but there were still odds and ends lying about. Seventy-five pallets would take up a lot of room, plus they needed to be secured.

"Zoe, get the others down here. We're gonna have to clear some space."

"Aye, sir." She grabbed the mic from the control panel and flipped on the intercom. "All crew members please report to the cargo bay immediately." A few moments later Kaylee, Book, and Wash appeared from above deck.

"What is all this?" Wash wondered as he paused to take in the sight from the catwalk.

"It's our cargo, apparently," Mal's answer was grim. "Get down here and help us make room."

"I didn't think we had anything lined up," said Wash, coming down the stairs.

"We didn't," Zoe answered him. "But the Alliance thought otherwise." She threw Jorgenson a cold glare.

"Uh huh," Wash replied. He eyed the first pallet as the forklift returned with another. "How many?"

"Seventy-five," Mal grunted.

"Wu di ma!" he gaped.

"Hey, Wash, how's about instead of standing there like an er bai wu4, you help us out?" growled Jayne, straining against the first pallet. Wash shook out of his shock and joined Jayne, Zoe, and several of the longshoremen in sliding the pallet where Mal wanted it to go.

"Do you need us to help, too?" Jaron asked, standing in the doorway of the commons once again.

"I told you to stay in your room. You're passengers, not crew," Mal replied curtly, and the boy retreated back down the stairs after a space. At least he's got some sense, Mal thought, comparing Jaron to his obstinate sister. Then he forgot all about either of them and turned his full attention to getting the cargo on board.

It took just under an hour to load all of the pallets and secure them in the hold.

"Are we done here?" Mal asked Lieutenant Jorgenson as the stevedores tightened the floor restraints on the last one.

"Just about," Jorgenson smiled broadly. The lieutenant was clearly enjoying making him squirm this time, and Mal silently cursed karma or whatever it was that had inflicted this upon him. "There are a few more things I need to inform you of. First, you will be receiving a military escort to the Harvest system."

"What?" Mal blinked, not sure he had heard right, but Jorgenson went on without stopping.

"You will be departing tonight and rendezvous in orbit with other vessels in your convoy group. Clearance and navigation data will be uploaded to you within the hour. Your escort wing will then see to it that you arrive at your destination safely. Also, given your record, a guard detail will be assigned to your vessel to ensure that nothing untoward happens to your shipment before it arrives. Sergeant!" Jorgenson shouted over his shoulder, and a stocky, middle-aged man, clearly a long-time veteran of the infantry, strode to the lieutenant's side. "This is Sergeant Abernathy. He and his men," he waved to three other regulars who followed the sergeant up the ramp, duffels slung over their shoulders, "will be accompanying you to Harvest. You do have sufficient accommodations for them, don't you?" Mal was struck dumb, and he saw a gleam of pleasure in the Jorgenson's eyes.

"No!" he shouted in outrage when he found his voice. "Absolutely not!"

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Captain. This is the way it is if you want to transport Alliance cargo."

"I don't want your gorram cargo! You're forcin' it on me, and now you're forcin' me to quarter soldiers on my ship! You can't chuai chuan my rights like that! There's a Constitution, and I'm pretty sure it forbids quartering soldiers in a private …"

"Except," Jorgenson cut his rant off, "in temporary circumstances where the security, safety, and protection of life and property may warrant it, like during a federally declared emergency, as is the case." Mal's mouth worked, but no sound came out, so flustered and furious was he. "Not to worry. The Alliance is offering to compensate all ships for their service. You will be paid ten credits, plus two extra per man assigned to you to cover their provisions. We will deposit the credits into any account you wish upon fulfilling your contract," Jorgenson's mouth curled into a wicked little grin. Mal realized that by offering compensation, the Alliance was in effect circumventing the law. It was outright blackmail and it infuriated him.

Jorgenson watched him work this through with a simpering smile pasted on his face, and Mal's fists balled up. He had to use every last milligram of his restraint to resist the temptation to knock the man's jaw off.

"You got your cargo loaded. You got your men on board. Now get the hell off my ship," Mal ground his words through clenched teeth. Jorgenson tucked his pad under his arm.

"The Alliance appreciates your cooperation and service in this great time of need, Captain Reynolds," he said with pep. "Have a good evening." He nodded to the sergeant as he strode out of the bay. Mal stared out long after Jorgenson had disappeared towards the head of his contingent. The troops and cargo carriers rolled by on the dock, but his eyes did not see them.

"Sir?" Zoe asked when he did not move for a minute. He broke away and fixed his stony gaze on her, and she actually flinched at its harshness. "What should we…" she trailed off, her eyes slipping to the four soldiers standing in the hold, clustered uncomfortably around each other. Mal followed her gaze and did not bother to hide the loathing on his face. A long moment of suffocating tension filled the bay.

"I'll get their rooms ready," Book finally stepped in and offered.

"Fine," Mal snarled, not even looking at the Shepherd. Without another word, he turned away and climbed the stairs, heading towards the fore of the ship. Kaylee and Wash cringed back as he passed around them. A moment later, the crash of something shattering echoed down from the dining area.

With the sound of the captain's fury lingering in the cargo bay, Zoe turned to Book.

"Shepherd, show these men to their quarters," she said. Her iron stare raked over the soldiers and all of them except the sergeant seemed to tense.

"If you'll come with me, gentlemen, I'll show you where you'll be staying," Book turned to the group, making an effort to sound somewhat cordial.

"Thank you," the sergeant replied. He masked it well, but Book was fairly sure his voice conveyed a hint of relief. Nodding to his men, he followed Book's lead and the other three fell in behind him. Passing Jayne who glared and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, Book guided the quartet out of the cargo bay and through the commons. Along the way, he was thankful that Mal had retained enough sense to withhold his violent outburst until the lieutenant was gone and he was well out of sight of the soldiers. Otherwise, they might be in a heap more trouble. Of course, the fact that they now had an armed and vigilant Alliance presence on board for the duration of their government service was no mere inconvenience, either. It would only take the careless slip of a crew member's tongue or one of the soldiers getting too curious and poking around where he shouldn't to lead to a deadly confrontation of one kind or another. That was why he had volunteered to play chaperone. If he could put them at least somewhat at their ease, things might go a great deal smoother for all of them.

"Your rooms will be back here," Book said over his shoulder, directing the soldiers up to the dorm area. "There is one at the end and the rest are up above. Feel free to take whichever you wish," he indicated to the empty compartments.

"Much obliged, Shepherd," the grizzled sergeant thanked him again.

"You can call me Book," Book offered.

"Book, thanks. Joe Abernathy," the sergeant returned with a smile this time. "Stu, Z, Szymanski, you take the top," he turned to his contingent and jerked his head at the upper level rooms. At the sound of the soldiers tromping about outside, Jaron and Raissa poked their heads out of their respective doors.

"These are your fellow passengers that you'll be sharing space with," Book took the opportunity to introduce the siblings. The sergeant nodded to them said as he set his rifle down at his door and unfastened his helmet. Book noticed the faces of all three young men brighten with varying degrees of interest as soon as their eyes alighted on the girl. Conversely, Raissa's expression rapidly shifted from surprise to a glower as she passed her gaze over them.

"What is this all about?" she demanded of Book.

"These men are just here temporarily until we deliver our cargo to Harvest," Book assured her.

"The captain didn't say he was going to Harvest. We're supposed to be on Persephone in a month," she responded crossly.

"Sorry to impose upon you," the sergeant offered in apology. "This whole situation's turned everybody's plans topsy-turvy."

"What situation?" asked Jaron.

"There's been a major disaster on Harvest, and the government has asked us to deliver some supplies for the relief effort." Book's explanation glossed over the exact details of their arrangement with the Alliance, but it was otherwise accurate.

"What happened?"

"Not sure," the sergeant's face turned serious. "Cortex is out planet-wide, and no one's gotten much more information than that."

"Wow," Jaron murmured with some concern, although he didn't seem to fully comprehend the scope of what the sergeant's words implied.

"I heard that this is all about those raiders that've been attacking the Rim for the past few months," one of the soldiers spoke up.

"You mean, uh… what do they call 'em?" a second soldier asked.

"Reavers," the third one answered.

"Don't believe everything you hear, Zach," the sergeant responded to the first one.

"What are reavers?" Jaron inquired.

"You've never heard of 'em?" the one named Zach turned to him. The kid, as he outnumbered Jaron by no more than a year or two in Book's estimation, was the stereotypical enlisted grunt likely not far out of Basic. The pale golden fuzz that was making a faint appearance on his chin could barely be counted as stubble, and his attitude conveyed the casual, almost arrogant confidence of youth. "Reavers are demons, men so possessed by evil that they've turned to eating the flesh of their fellow men so they can stay alive forever," Zach delivered with a dramatic flair.

"Shut up, Zach," one of his compatriots chuffed.

"Well they're cannibals for sure. At least that's what I've heard," Zach defended his description.

"I heard the government made 'em during the war," the second soldier added. "Some kind of experiment gone wrong."

"Bu jing zhi tan. That's something some old Browncoats made up to scare ignorant folk into fighting on their side," it was Zach's turn to scoff. Losing interest in the conversation at this point, Jaron turned to Book.

"Are we going to eat anytime soon?"

"Of course. I was just getting ready to fix something up before we got interrupted by all of this. Let me get these gentlemen settled and then I'll take you up to the galley," Book said.

"Don't hold your dinner on our account," Sergeant Abernathy waved them on.

"All right. Follow me," the Shepherd motioned to the youngsters and turned to lead them out.

"Follow you where?" Mal's crisp voice halted him before he could take a step. The captain stood blocking the passage to the commons with an impenetrable glare.

"Just to the galley. I was going to prepare something for our fares," Book explained with a glance at Raissa and Jaron.

"Give 'em some protein bars. I don't want you makin' a mess up there. We just got our clearance and lift-off is at 2100. Everything's getting battened down. Make sure they got all their gear stowed," Mal jerked his chin towards the soldiers without ever actually looking at them. "From here on, no one goes outside the common area unless escorted by a crew member."

"Are they allowing anyone else to leave?" Book asked, careful to keep his tone neutral, although his heart jolted with concern as soon as the captain spoke of their departure. If Inara was to leave for the training house now…

"Not that I'm aware," Mal answered in stride, but with a subtle shift of his eyes that acknowledged the tack of the question. Book offered a silent prayer of thanks in relief.

"Captain," Abernathy spoke up formally, garnering Mal's attention. "I was goin' to post a man in the hold on four hour rotations. Will that be a problem?" Mal looked at the sergeant for the first time, his eyes hard and vacant.

"You got your orders and I got mine," was all he said after a beat. Then he turned heel and left. Abernathy heaved a sigh. His three subordinates relaxed visibly, their hands moving away from their weapons.

"You think he's gonna cause trouble for us?" one soldier ventured a little quietly, as if he was afraid of being overheard. Abernathy shook his head in resignation.

"We ain't here to make trouble for nobody," he said. "We keep an eye on the cargo. Anything else's not our business. Dong ma?" he arched his brows at his men.

"Yes sir," they all replied.

"Good. Zach, get your gear squared away and take the first watch" he ordered.

"I'm betting he's an Independent," Zach posited of Mal as he tossed his duffel into his chosen compartment, his lips twisting with distaste. "My old man told me a lot of freelancers out here are. They never knew when to quit. He'd probably have that stuff on the black market by tomorrow morning if we weren't here."

"Even if that's so, it don't change our mission none," the sergeant pronounced with a sharp look at the youth.

"Sir," Zach acknowledged with almost a touch of resignation and hopped off of the ladder.

"You two best get some shut-eye as well," the sergeant told his remaining cortege. "Derek, you'll relieve Zach in four hours."

"Any idea how long we'll be here, Sarge?" Derek asked. Abernathy stretched and cracked his back before answering.

"Four, five days, tops, by my best guess."

"There's a latrine in the commons," Book informed them. "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

"Appreciate your kindness, Shepherd," Abernathy nodded and disappeared behind his door. Zach shouldered his weapon and trotted off towards the hold while the other two soldiers shuffled about up in their rooms, making their quarters ready. "I'll go get something to eat for you two," Book told the Andreyevs and started toward the commons again.

"I'm not hungry," said Raissa.

"Are you sure?" Book checked with her. "We have plenty."

"I'll be fine."

"How are you not hungry? We haven't had anything to eat since before we got here," her brother challenged her.

"I said I'm fine," she snapped at him. With a scowl, she ducked back into her room and jerked the door shut.

"She's like that sometimes," Jaron shrugged in apology at the Shepherd. Book returned a small smile of understanding.

"I'll be right back," he said and disappeared up the stairs.

After returning from the galley with a protein bar for the lad and one for his sister just in case, Book saw to it that Jaron was settled before checking on the soldiers one last time. Assured that both their civilian and military passengers were taken care of, he collected his Bible from his nightstand and headed into the commons. Settling into a chair, he simply sat there for a few minutes with his tome unopened on his lap. The momentary interlude gave him time to finally assess the situation. This was going to be difficult several days and they all would have to tread very carefully. But while the arrival of the soldiers was the most pressing quandary in the immediate term, now that he had a moment to contemplate the larger picture, the deeper concerns he had harbored since first hearing about this emergency had only grown given the day's turn of events. It was likely he could be wrong, and he deeply hoped that he was, but with the emergency declaration, the port closure, the now the conscripting of private ships, it was impossible for him not to conjure one reason for all of these things to be happening. And if it was as he suspected, would it be like the last time? The thoughts arose with swell of regret and self-loathing. He tamped them down, taking a deep breath at the same time. No matter how much he wished it, he could not rectify all of the wrongs in the Verse. He would keep all of those people on Harvest in his prayers and provide what help he was able to in his given circumstances, but that was all he could do. If he was meant to do more, the Lord would find a way for him to do it. Otherwise, it was not his battle to fight.

That was a hard notion for someone like him to submit to, especially when he first arrived at the abbey. But once he did, he finally found some of the peace that he had been desperately seeking for years. Some days it was still a challenge, like today. Fortunately, he had someone else to rely on now when he was feeling weak. "But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (1) The familiar passage that had given him comfort so many times in the past popped into his mind, and he opened his Bible to it, reading it again. It had taken years in the cloisters at Southdown before he truly understood what it meant. Not that he ever thought he would literally be clothed and fed by a hand from heaven. But even after he could recite every historical, intellectual, and literary nuance and interpretation of that passage, it still meant nothing to him until the day he finally felt it. The first time he experienced that, the extraordinary sensation of knowing without being able to explain it, that anything he could ever need to weather any storm the Verse threw at him was right there, that was when he found his faith. And only after that burden was lifted from his shoulders could he fully appreciate the staggering weight of it, and how astonishing it was to be free of it. It still threatened to fall back on him every now and then, but he knew exactly where to turn when it did.

Folding his Bible up in his hand, he rose from his chair and headed back into the dorm area, a fresh sense of serenity ensconcing his thoughts. A part of him never ceased to be amazed at how inconsistent it was to feel so serene when he and his shipmates' lives were most certainly at risk right now given their circumstances, but that was the power of faith. Of course, it was at times beyond ironic that the ship he was on was named for that very feeling and yet seemed to endure so much trouble. On the other hand, perhaps that was the point, that she was able to endure so much with the peace and confidence that she would see it through safely. Sliding open the door to his room, he heard the whispers of the two young soldiers in their bunks up above cease at the noise. One peered down, but when he saw who it was and that sergeant's room next door was dark and quiet, he returned to his hushed banter with his comrade. Their susurrations disappearing behind the closing door, Book laid his Bible on his bedside stand and undid his hair from its binding. After a quick scrub of his face at the basin, he changed into his night clothes and climbed onto his mattress. Moments after he turned out the light, a sub-audible trembled around him, followed by the steadily rising whine of Serenity's jets spooling up. Settling his head on the pillow, he let those familiar noises lull him until he drifted off into unconsciousness.

(1) Matthew 6:33-34