EPISODE 1 :: PLOT

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Episode 1

A Wing and a Prayer[/font][/center]


Another dusty, backwater little Rim planet -- this one's name: Mann's Landing. There was a frontier town sprouting from the barren red-dirt landscape like mould on a rock, nothing especial, just a few falling apart wood-and-thatching houses, a general store, a saloon, some posts and water troughs where a man could tether his horse. And right in the center, a church, built of sturdy brick painted an off-white, its bell tolling the hour. Midday. Sunday services were underway.

Not a living soul could be seen out in the street, nor a single sound heard save the ringing bell. It was quiet.

One might say, too quiet.

And Malcolm Reynolds, never a man to conform to the status quo, chose that moment to rumble into town on his mule, a fancy piece of hovercraft technology that seated four. Beside Mal, in the passenger seat, first mate Zoe. Behind them, Jayne Cobb, toting as ever some very unpleasant-looking ordnance, with sweet little Kaylee on his right. As the mule whispered over the dirt like a gentle breeze, three of the four wore expressions of grim determination; it didn't sit right with them, stealing from folk who didn't have too much to begin with.

The fourth, however, was grinning ear to ear around his rancid cigar. To Jayne, any pay was good pay.

Gliding to a halt round back of the chapel, all of them climbing out and gearing up, someone really straining themselves might just hear Mal saying, "Inara. We good to go?" He held two fingers to his ear as he spoke; an earwig.

Inside the church, as an older, black Shepherd preached to the assembled masses, a beautiful young woman -- Inara -- replied softly, seemingly to herself, "We are." Dressed not in her usual finery today, but instead a dull, frayed dress, and with her Companion training put to a different use -- repelling attention, rather than drawing it -- she looked every bit the docile frontierwoman. There was a glint in her eye, though, of exhiliration. Any of the churchgoers would mistake it simply for religious fervor, but that wasn't the case. It was the thrill of the crime, of a kind of inclusion which came rarely to her. Inara knew the Captain's reasoning behind her little venture, but was in no state of mind to complain.

Back outside, Mal nodded, although his woman on the inside couldn't see. "Good," he grunted, turning to his other people. "Li'l Kaylee, you know where the vault is, get to it and be sure'n don't be seen, we clear?" She shot him a smile of confirmation and bounded off. "Jayne, you go with her."

When Jayne started to grumble a protest, Zoe coolly leveled her sawed-off at him, a warning smile playing about her lips. "Captain gave you an order."

"Why I gotta sneak around like some low-down, dirty hun-dan..." he growled, but went. He was sure to have more to say when they got back to Serenity, but Mal could just placate him with cash when that time came.

"And no grenades!" Mal called after him, to more distant grumbling. "Zoe, you're with me, diversionary tactics. Fair sure I don't need t'tell you this, but don't go shootin' no civilians. Exactly what we do not need here on this job is undue violence."

She cocked her weapon and her eyebrow. "Yes, sir."

The two of them strolled in the direction of the front doors, old soldiers in every aspect; every word, every step, every breath. Calm. Even solemn.

As they made their way inside, firing a few warning shots into the ceiling, ignoring the screams of panic as Captain Reynolds barked out commands, they failed to notice one very important detail. The saloon across the way from the chapel -- it had a rickety balcony, set out with a small table and a couple of chairs, for a nice spot of al fresco entertainment. Someone sat there now, alone, clad in a saloon girl's frilly-skirted get-up, feathers adorning her short, red hair. She reclined lazily, taking a sip of what was obviously moonshine while she watched the scene unfold through a pair of tiny binoculars.

And she had an earwig of her own. "They're in. You might wanna hurry with that vault, sweetie, unless gettin' shot in the face is on your immediate agenda."

A pause as she listened to the reply. Then Saffron lowered the binoculars, smirking and predatory, and said, "Just you leave Malcolm to me. Us two, we go way back."