Chapter Text
Truth be told, most folks had balked when she entered the training house. The teachers, the other students, her own family. Sometimes Zoe wasn't sure why they'd even let her in. She wasn't the student who'd grown up furthest out on the Rim, but Celestine was the daughter of a steel manufacturing director and she'd grown up in a villa that rivaled the ones on Bernadette. Zoe and her Coalition army brat upbringing was a novelty on Sihnon. She usually told people she couldn't explain why she'd made the momentous decision; it had just felt like her calling! In truth, it had been a difficult one, made only with pages and pages of pro and con lists. She'd sent off her application with an expectation that they'd give her a very diplomatic no and she'd shrug and continue on with life. Instead, she'd received an acceptance to begin training and found herself taking several short flights in order to make it to Sihnon on her tight budget.
“Do you know what the foundation of the Companion vocation is?” Asked one of the House teachers, Kianna, early on in training when Zoe had wondered why she'd been accepted for education.
“I—”
“People think it's beauty, or charm, or sensuality. They're all wrong. It's certainly good that you're very beautiful and that you know how to talk to people, but the foundation of a successful career as a Companion is control and discipline. The best, most famous, most prominent Companions working today were once training as dancers or elite athletes before injuries or bullying got to them. Someone who grew up with the strict routine and mindset of a military household and school, no matter the affiliation, has a leg up on thriving at House Madrassa.”
“What about the heiresses and socialites?” Zoe asked before she could stop herself. Kianna smiled at her.
“They'll do well if they have the will to dedicate themselves, of course. But there's something about the job that will come naturally to you, if you embrace it.”
And so Zoe tried her very best to embrace it. Kianna was right; some aspects of Companion culture came naturally, like sitting or standing still for long periods of time in classes and lectures or at formal ceremonies, or staying sober and clear headed at some of the wilder parties that Sihnon's upper crust could throw, or listening to uncomfortable critiques from teachers or experienced Companions.
“She needs to work on tact,” her etiquette teacher Gino said in one of her monthly meetings. “Not to say that you're rude, Zoe, because you certainly aren't, but sometimes you can be…blunt. You need to try to deliver even the worst news with a smoothness that makes it gentle.”
“Some folks don't like that,” said Anna, the former house priestess who had stepped down two years earlier in order to devote more time to her koi fish. “Some men in power want someone who will tell them how it is. Maybe they're businessmen who only got to the top by having honest partners and associates so that's what they're used to and prefer or maybe they're socialites who are craving someone who won't fawn over them. I think Zoe can carve herself a niche market.”
Anna was right; Zoe finished her training and began her Incomer phase of the job, and after two evenings with a Rim-born meat packing tycoon who liked that she didn't pretend to be impressed by his watch, the hopefuls started lining up and soon there was a comfortable roster of clients that kept her working.
But despite it all, Zoe felt restless. There was certainly an appeal to living in House Madrassa, with the luxury and excitement of Sihnon at her fingertips and the familiarity of routine and the sea of potential clients, but she missed visiting planets and moons that very few people ever saw unless they were born there and she missed the thrill of risk that came with living on a ship.
“I've been considering taking my work on the move,” Zoe told them. “On a ship.”
“A cruise liner?” Gino asked, already tapping away at his tablet.
“Something smaller,” Zoe corrected. “Something that will get further out, maybe. There are industry bosses and retired military men all over the Rim. I'm sure they like it out there, but maybe some of them miss the comforts of the Core.”
Gino ended their meeting in a sort of confused daze, but Zoe knew that his reluctance to firmly advise her against it meant that there was some potential there.
“You should do it,” Zoe's best friend Nandi told her when they finally managed to align their schedules for a late night snack and chat session. “There aren't any Companion Houses in the Kalidasa System at all yet, never mind anyone working out there save for the ones on cruise ships. You'd be blazing the trail for the rest of us.”
She said it a little wistfully and that cinched Zoe's decision. She would do it for herself, firstly, but also because she knew there would be others who wanted to push the envelope of independence despite the plethora of rules, and she wanted that for them too.
A quick check of just the ships that were scheduled to be at the Vonwe Docks on Sihnon in the next month told her there was no shortage of options. There were plenty of rooms for long term lease on any number of ships of varied sizes, from empty crew bunks to passenger suites, but there was only one that had a short range shuttle available, and it was that sort of daring freedom that enticed her. The ship was listed as mid-bulk, an old Firefly model called Serenity, and Zoe was at the docks the next afternoon during the posted available hours, wearing her favorite blue silk dress and a dark gray capelet that she hoped conveyed business. The ship was easy enough to find, with its elegant twining nose art of hanzi set over blue and green interlocking diamonds. It was also just as rundown and shady looking as Zoe anticipated. Good. She missed the bit of danger that came from life outside of the Core.
The captain met her on the ramp. He was a pretty little fellow with unnervingly huge blue eyes who was so slender it looked like his brown leather coat was in the process of eating him alive. He set Zoe's teeth on edge. No man who was that small and soft looking and also running a “transport” ship got his power from outright confrontation and threats. There was something else going on. After a brief introduction, he took her up the rickety stairs and let her into the shuttle with a salesman's efficiency and then stood silently as she looked it over. No bravado. No attempt to flirt or peacock. She adjusted her energy accordingly.
“What's her range?” Zoe asked.
“Short range. Will break atmo from a wide orbit.”
“Sort of small,” Zoe commented.
“I do not control how big the shuttle is,” he replied.
“It would serve me well, though,” Zoe said quickly. “If the terms can be agreed upon.”
“Such as?”
“I would expect independence, with no interruptions or intrusions.”
“As far as I'm concerned, if your rent is on time, you own the space.”
“I do not intend to service anyone on the crew.”
“Understood.”
“I would also expect to be able to make appointments and keep them.” She turned and looked him in the eye. “Even considering the unpredictable schedule that I assume this ship adheres to.”
“Excuse me?” His brow furrowed and his chin tilted up at her in a way that immediately reminded her of one of the dance instructors at the Training House.
“Captain Tam. I may live on Sihnon, but I grew up closer to the Rim and I was born vesselside. I know what sort of business a ship is in when I see it. I could be good for your ship, if in exchange the shuttle arrangement is good for me.”
She could practically see him weighing the pros and cons in his head before he gave her the barest of nods.
“I'd love to rent,” Zoe told him. “It has everything I'm looking for, and it would be a comfort to fly with a crew who values serenity.”
“She's named for the valley, not the value,” he said bluntly. “But I'm glad to hear that the shuttle is to your standards.”
That shook her even more.
He was Core-born. She could tell that at least, after all those hours of classes on reading people and comportment and fashion history. While the barely hidden double shoulder holster said smuggler, the tilt of his head said old money and the patterned brocades of the worn but clean vests he wore under his political statement of a coat said social elite, though from Osiris or Sihnon Zoe couldn't tell. How an aristocrat from one of those worlds had ended up in Serenity Valley—and survived—was beyond her.
She didn't meet the first mate until she'd already shaken hands with the captain on the terms of her lease. The Companion house coordinated the movers for her, so all she had to do was organize her things and then supervise as they were loaded onto the cart and driven carefully to the Vonwe Docks.
The captain was standing stock still on the ramp just like he'd been the day they met, along with three other men who were far larger than him. Instead of introducing them to her, he directed them to start helping the workers unload the cart and haul everything up to the shuttle.
“Anything breakable in the boxes?” He asked. “Or can we stack them?”
“Stacking will be fine,” Zoe assured him. “But the movers—”
“The faster we get everything up there the faster we can take off,” the captain interrupted, and then he took a hold of one of her wardrobe trunks and gestured for one of the other men to take the other handle.
Zoe hovered around them as they moved her things, trying not to micromanage too much. The other men—she assumed they were the rest of the crew—were efficient and she was relieved that two of them gave her friendly smiles as they passed her. She contented herself by standing on one of the catwalks out of the way and taking in the cargo bay. They were halfway through moving her things when she heard footsteps on the steps to her right and turned to see a woman with long black hair wearing cargo pants and heavy-soled brown boots making her way down to the platform Zoe was on.
This woman only increased Zoe's confusion about exactly how this smuggling ship functioned. She may have been dressed in workwear, but there was a thick lavender jade bangle on her left wrist; the kind that could not be taken off and was also definitely the price of a down payment on a Londinium townhouse.
“Si?” She called down to the ramp. The captain looked up at her. “We're confirmed for that meeting on Persephone.” She waited until he gave her a nod in acknowledgement and then turned to Zoe.
“Hello,” she said. “You must be the Companion who's renting our shuttle.”
“Zoe Alleyne of House Madrassa,” Zoe said. The other woman shook her hand firmly. Her smile was warm.
“Alleyne.” The woman tilted her head. “Any relation to a Lieutenant Julian Alleyne?”
“My brother,” Zoe said. She hadn't heard from him for a few months, but he was miraculously still alive last she'd knew. He'd named her as a contact during his Alliance reeducation and reintegration process.
“Mm. We were with him in New Kasimir during the winter campaign,” she said fondly.
“Taught me how to catch rats,” the captain recalled absently as he carried one of Zoe's smaller bags up the stairs.
“Sometimes the 'Verse is small,” the woman told Zoe. “I'm Inara Serra, Captain Tam's first mate. Welcome aboard. If there's anything you need as you settle in, please don't hesitate to ask me.”
There was just the barest emphasis on me, and Zoe smiled at her gratefully. At least the captain's own staff were honest about the fact he seemed to have a knack for alienating people. Better that than blind loyalty.
More of how the ship worked fell into place for her the moment she was introduced to the third crew member, an older man who offered his name as Book. He was cagey about what his actual job was; eventually settling on saying I do anything the ship requires that the captain and Miss Serra can't do themselves.
She very rapidly learned that this often meant shooting wily contacts before they could shoot the captain but also meant tracking down targets, stepping in to diffuse tense business deals, and gently telling the captain and first mate that a ship ran better when its whole crew got enough sleep. While the captain and Miss Serra were not incapable, he clearly had a wealth of experience that kept the ship running.
Something about him felt familiar to her, not in the way that she thought she may have met him before, but in the way he spoke about the crew's jobs and technology and weapons. It smacked of a long career in a formal military setting, though try as she might, Zoe could not tell if that military was Alliance or Independent. She eventually decided that it didn't especially matter. He was here now, unaffiliated, and the captain clearly trusted him.
Zoe could tell that the first mate was from Sihnon—the accent in her Mandarin was indistinguishable from the voices of Zoe's teachers at the Training House and other guests at Sihnon's parties, though her slang and cursing was very jarringly Silverhold Colony specific and outdated in a way that told Zoe that Inara had likely been mentored by an older man from that planet. Her gait and posture said that she'd once worn sweeping skirts and high heels and all that black hair had been artfully twisted into updos to show off the elegant line of her neck. Zoe could easily picture the other woman in the latest Sihnon trend of brocade dresses and velvet shawls. She must have been from a good family on that planet.
Maybe that was where the captain was from too. It stood to reason that they were married, or lovers at least. A young couple from Sihnon, forbidden to love each other in the way that a young man and young woman from rich families on the Core could be. Maybe his mother thought he could do better. Maybe her mother thought a marriage to him offered no upward mobility. Maybe her father's business was competing with his father's business. Maybe they'd run off, headed for the romanticized freedom of the Rim and ended up caught in the conflict of the Unification War. Two Core-born kids who'd hardened up fast in the face of war, who had turned their backs on all the ideology they'd been born into simply because their love had taken them to a place where it was either adapt or die. It was perfectly romantic and despite herself, Zoe found that she relayed the general idea of it dramatically during her wave back to the training house. Nandi certainly seemed to like the story.
As she spent more time aboard, there was nothing really to contradict this impression. They spoke to each other in nearly inaudibly soft voices, calling each other Si and Nara (Zoe was Miss Alleyne to both of them still, though she hoped the formality would loosen up a little). Twice she had spotted them in the cargo bay in the dead of night, sitting silently with their legs hanging off of the lowest platform and dressed in elegant but out of fashion clothing that she never saw them wear in the light of day. She was fairly sure they'd been sharing a pot of tea but she couldn't be sure. Something of a date night, probably, a moment stolen in the middle of their new chaotic normal, featuring what trappings of their former lives they still had.
Zoe believed in her little story of runaway star crossed lovers who still longed for their Core upbringing, certain that was the case until she went drinking with some of the crew and watched the captain throw himself bodily across a pool table at a man who proudly mentioned doing a tour of service for the Alliance. He got two bloody bites into the man's forearm during the tussle before the crew's mechanic (a farm boy who wore his boots and suspenders every day like he was still herding cattle) hauled him out of the bar.
Frankly, Zoe was a little surprised that it had fallen to the mechanic to do something; she would have thought that the first mate or the mercenary or even the pilot would step in, but they seemed happy to let the captain blow off steam. Malcolm seemed averse to going to bars and also to conflict in general. He was a little nervous around her at first in a way that Zoe could tell was because he didn't approve of her line of work. He kept his mouth shut about it, though, and when they were flying he was maybe the most fun crewmember to spend time with. He introduced Zoe to dice games and she tried her best to teach him Surakarta.
“She's single,” he told her one afternoon as they watched the mule return from a thankfully uneventful job on Paquin. Zoe flinched and he flinched back.
“Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. But I just…I see you lookin'. She and the captain ain't…you know.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he confirmed. “Not even exes or anything. They're just…like that. But I don't blame you. Everyone thinks they're hitched when they meet them.”
“What about you?” Zoe asked him. “Surely you've gotten to know her during your time on the ship.”
He pointed at the captain like that explained everything, and maybe it did, but Zoe wasn't sure exactly how. Maybe the captain forbade the men on his crew from making advances on Inara, because he may not have been involved with her, but she was still his friend and he probably still wanted the best for her. Or maybe the mechanic was getting into heated arguments with the captain every other day about compression coils because it was the only way he could have the other man's undivided attention for a little while.
“Sorry to bring it up,” Malcolm said after a moment. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Oh, you didn't,” Zoe assured him. “Don't worry.”
It felt necessary to tack on that don't worry when it came to the mechanic sometimes. He'd clearly been raised to be a traditional sort of gentleman back on that Rim home planet, but besides his fear of offending her, he was skittish and constantly terrified that something would happen while the captain and first mate were out on jobs or the crew had shore leave.
“He's a refugee from off of Shadow,” Inara told Zoe one evening after a dinner where the mechanic had pitched a fit about spending their fifth consecutive day on Greenleaf and the captain had destroyed any possibility of resolving the issue calmly by coldly telling him he was being dramatic. “He made it out alive by sheer luck on the lotto system they used to assign spots on the rescue ships. Every time he sets foot on a planet for too long he's convinced it's about to be firebombed. It's best to keep a man like that floating through the black so he stays calm, but we still have to stay planetside long enough to make deals.”
The mechanic's background checked out when Zoe considered it. She'd heard about Shadow of course; while she'd arrived on Sihnon bare months before the conflict broke out, the bombing of an entire planet as an example had been a news story that remained on her mind for obvious reasons. Experiencing something like that would stick with a person. Zoe could not imagine watching her entire homeworld be rendered into blackrock, so Malcolm's anxiety made sense to her. But the fact that the captain apparently carried a very real, very deep, and very fervently held hatred for the Alliance that led him to bite men in bars rather than being an unmoored young man in love who'd been swept up in the conflict meant that she had to reevaluate her impressions of him and the first mate.
No easy answer came to mind until the job on Beaumonde. Zoe had an appointment with a repeat client and prepared herself for that while the captain, Inara, and Book prepared the mule for their meeting with a contact. As the ramp hydraulics screech echoed through the ship, the captain turned to Malcolm.
“Let's go,” he said.
“You said you'll be gone two hours, right?”
“I did. But I mean you're coming too.”
“Out…on a job?” The mechanic asked. From the shock on his face, Zoe guessed that he'd not been informed about this until the very last minute. She could see where the captain was coming from; springing the plan on Malcolm when the mule was literally already running was certainly one strategy.
“Out on a job,” the captain confirmed, jerking his head towards the mule. “The contact is a manufacturer. I need you to take a look at the parts we're meant to transport.”
“I can't…I don't…are you sure that while we're out there on the dirt—”
“Just because it happened one time—” The captain began, at volume.
“Beaumonde is an Alliance-aligned industrial powerhouse,” Inara interrupted evenly. “No one is going to do anything to Beaumonde out of the blue. Especially today, because right now, the Minister of Commerce is doing a five day press stay in New Dunsmier. Okay, Malcolm?”
“…Okay. Okay.” The mechanic nodded, swallowed nervously, and then squared his shoulders. “Okay. I'll just go get my toolkit.”
“Si, you have to be gentler with him,” Inara admonished as soon as the mechanic was out of the cargo bay.
“He's a grown man,” the captain snapped. “He can stomach leaving the ship to rummage through junkyards perfectly fine. What's the difference between that and working a job?”
Book was quiet, but his face said everything. He caught Zoe's eye and she returned the expression. Malcolm returned, toolkit in hand, and they loaded up the mule, with Inara staying inside to close up the ramp before she slipped outside as well.
The ramp had barely even closed before Zoe's client waved her and regretfully told her that something had come up in his family and he would have to cancel their appointment. She was gracious about it—he was a repeat client for a reason, but this meant there was no time to book an alternative. She considered going for a walk on the docks, but Beaumonde was not known for its clean atmosphere and today was particularly bad. Instead, she decided to explore Serenity a little.
She'd not had the chance to simply exist on the ship very much, so Zoe went wandering. She'd been given permission to go almost anywhere except the bridge, which was find with her, because the less time spent near that crude man they had as a pilot, the better. She'd been formally introduced to him upon first renting, and while he'd seemed to be on his best behavior (likely due to the mercenary giving him a prolonged stern look), Zoe had still noticed his eyes rake up and down her body as well as the disturbing amount of knives he had laying around on the console.
“He just likes knives,” the captain had told her when he noticed her look of alarm. “He's only ever cut himself when they go flying.” It didn't soothe her entirely. To his credit, he stayed outwardly respectful during the ship's sit down meals; a combination of genuine respect for and desire to impress Book and some odd, complex fear of the captain, but she still felt a prickle of uneasiness around him. Whatever was going on with him, when the rest of the crew was away on jobs Zoe preferred to keep her distance.
She stopped briefly in the galley to stack a few washed plates and put them in a cupboard, then looked over the plain walls. They could use some decoration, but Zoe wasn't sure that she'd be allowed to do anything as a renter. She walked the stairs down into the cargo bay and back up towards the galley again; there was just something about walking circles that felt meditative. In some way, it felt like walking the paths and bridges of the gardens of House Madrassa. Zoe made it all the way back to the door that led to the crew quarters, catching a glimpse of the pilot messing around with all of his knives, when she heard footsteps that could only be coming from some catwalk over the cargo bay.
There was someone on the ship.
Maybe she should have been more worried, considering the kind of business that the crew engaged in, but instead, she decided on confrontation.
There was a young woman with long brown hair wearing a billowy patterned dress and standing close to the door of Zoe's shuttle, tapping on the little porthole window like she was a toddler looking at a fishtank.
“Hello? What are you doing on this ship?” Zoe demanded. The girl jumped a mile in the air and for a terrifying moment, Zoe was worried she'd fall right off the catwalk. Zoe waited for a response, but the girl just gestured wildly back towards the bridge and then managed to spit out a string of syllables that very nearly sounded like words but didn't quite make the cut. Zoe immediately switched gears.
“Sweetheart? Are you alright?” Zoe asked. She was treated to another few moments of frantic nonsense and decided the best course of action was to wait to do anything conclusive until the rest of the crew got back. Maybe this girl was supposed to be on board and it wouldn't do to shoo her out, especially not in the state she was in. Zoe had a sudden fleeting thought that this was someone the pilot had brought on board, but nothing about that made sense. He didn't seem like the type to shelter random women in distress but he also didn't seem like the kind of monster to take advantage of her.
Zoe gently corralled the girl into her shuttle and gave her a cup of tea after it had cooled off a little, because that felt like the right thing to do when one found a young woman in distress wandering around. She either didn't speak English or Chinese at all or she wasn't in a state of mind where she could. What she could do was point at Zoe's perfume vials in their wooden stand, and so Zoe spent the next two hours carefully dabbing drops of perfume onto strips of her fancy patterned paper and letting the girl arrange the vials in order of favorite to least favorite.
The distant metallic noises of the ramp opening startled the girl, and she slid off of the little couch and rolled under Zoe's bed.
“It's okay,” Zoe assured her. “The crew is coming back and we'll get everything sorted out for you. Will you come out?”
No response. Zoe crouched down beside the bed until she could see the girl.
“Are you comfortable there? You want to stay there?”
That got a nod, and Zoe just handed her the strip of paper with the drop of the winning perfume on it. Zoe wasn't able to sort herself out and leave the shuttle to ask the crew why they thought a stranger might be wandering the ship before the captain appeared in her shuttle, foregoing knocking politely for the very first time. He was out of breath and even paler than usual, which Zoe had previously thought impossible.
“I—”
“The girl?” Zoe asked. He nodded tightly and Zoe pointed.
“River?”
The girl—River—shimmied back out from under the bed and was in the captain's arms in moments.
Zoe raised one eyebrow at Captain Tam.
“This is my sister,” he told her.
The priority was making sure that River was settled and comfortable, so Zoe accompanied him as he guided his sister out of the shuttle and back towards the crew quarters. She couldn't think of what to do other than follow along with the rest of the crew. Eventually she found herself (along with Inara and Book) in the captain's bunk as he helped River collect art supplies from their shelves. The bunk looked more like a dormitory room at a university than the private quarters of a ship's captain, with two twin beds pushed up against opposite walls and a large beanbag in the middle of the room. Zoe briefly wondered how they'd managed to fit that thing in through the ladder chute.
River was soon settled into the common area outside the medbay to draw, allowed to wander freely again now that the renter knew of her existence, and Zoe watched her for a moment before turning to the captain.
“You look like you could use a cup of tea,” she said. He hesitated for a moment before following her to her shuttle. Once there, she set about putting water on to boil and there didn't seem any better course of action than to gesture at her little couch and let him sit down to explain.
She was bracing herself for tragedy of some kind: they would not have hid River from her so thoroughly if she'd simply been a family member who needed extra care. However, once he started talking, she found that she wasn't bracing herself enough. It was a horrific explanation, one that started with a wistful recollection of child genius and natural talent and took a turn into code breaking and medical torture. Captain Tam continued, telling her about underground movements on Osiris and how he funneled a not insignificant fortune to them in order for the chance to get his baby sister to safety.
“And they were telling the truth,” Zoe realized.
“They were telling the truth,” he confirmed. “They did get her out and they got her into cryo and I picked her up on Persephone.”
“And then?”
“There was nowhere else to go but the Rim. We couldn't go home, that was for sure, and the further we went, the fewer retina scanners and facial recognition cameras and regular patrols there were. So I took her as far out as I could get, but of course, that was—”
“In the middle of the war,” Zoe finished.
“All I wanted was for her to be safe. I had enough saved up to start a life and enough skills to make a living, but what they did to her meant that…well, you saw how she is. Psychological trauma on top of medical experimentation, to be sure, but I'm not a doctor, so I had no idea what I needed to do to help her. Eventually I learned that every spare medical professional in every system was working for war effort. On both sides. So I followed them to the war. The Independent medics took care of her in exchange for my enlistment.”
“And after the war you didn't stay with them?”
“Hard to do, when the only man with the neurology qualifications who was willing to spend the time and effort helping her got torn in half by grenade shrapnel.”
“Did your enlistment feel like a fair trade off for what they could do for her?”
“There is nothing I wouldn't do for my sister,” he said immediately. “And it felt good to be allowed to fight against the Alliance like that.”
“I can't say I know exactly what that feels like, but I also can't say I don't relate at all,” Zoe told him. He gave her a stiff nod. “You hid her for these past two months?”
“You keep to yourself,” Captain Tam pointed out. “You have clients that take up your time and you always gave notice when you were going to join us for dinner. It was easier than you might think, and I thank you for that.”
“Why take me on at all?”
“What kind of question is that? We needed the money from your rent. Margins are slim out here.”
“And it's helping? Me being here? Is there anything else I can…I mean, she must need medications, surely.”
“We keep a stash of smoothers,” the captain admitted. “And I've looked over what little medical info and research papers are available to me, but I simply don’t have the knowledge to help her the way I need to.” He stared at his cup for a moment before apparently realizing what she'd said to him. “You are helping. The cushion of not being flat broke when the work is slow has been a blessing.”
“I'm glad,” Zoe told him. “And if you're comfortable with it, River is always welcome to spend time in here, drawing or looking through jewelry or whatever she'd like to be doing.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. His voice was its usual formal, clipped tone, but his eyes were wet. He cleared his throat and stood, brushing imaginary dust off of his coat. “Well, Zoe. I've taken up enough of your time and intruded on your space enough today. I'd better get up to the bridge to talk routes with Jayne before he starts stabbing the control panel. Thank you for the tea.”
She stood to follow him out the door and knew that if she hadn't been so sympathetic and understanding, he would have dropped her without a second thought.
Inara was standing outside the shuttle, waiting for them. She squeezed the captain's hand as he passed her, but it was apparent she was there to talk to Zoe.
“Poor thing,” Zoe started, and found she didn't know if she was referring to River or the captain.
“I'm sorry that you found out the way you did. It shouldn't have fallen to you to watch her for so long. Usually she wanders quietly when we're all out, but she doesn't like Jayne very much and he doesn't have any interest in chaperoning her.”
“She was trying to wander,” Zoe assured her. “My client cancelled so I was on the ship too and I was a little harsh with her when I first saw her. It must have shaken her. Can I entice you in for some tea?”
“I would, but I need to run some numbers and clean my guns after today.”
“Oh? Oh, is Malcolm okay? The job—”
“He's fine; he did very well out there. We were just in a very dusty warehouse for longer than I'd like and while I have a reliable weapon, it needs its maintenance.”
“Well…can I sit with you? I feel like I'd prefer company for the rest of the day.”
“I understand,” Inara assured her. “And you're welcome to. I'll be in the galley.”
Zoe collected her journal and a few sheets of decorative paper and found Inara at the dining table. Book joined them briefly, making himself a snack and squeezing Inara's shoulder before heading for the bridge.
“I assumed you were from Sihnon,” Zoe said after a long minute of silence.
“Did you?”
“It's in the accent.”
“Ah. Yes, I can see that. I was born on Sihnon, but we moved to Osiris for my father's work when I was young.”
“What sort of work?”
“Oh,” Inara waved a hand dismissively. “Technology development. My father was in the contract negotiations department, Simon's father was in the finance office. They were both from old money and liked expensive textiles and fine dining and strategy games, so Simon and I grew up together.”
“And you followed him to the Rim? To the war?”
“I followed him first to the Academy to get River out of there, but then after we got her, we went to Boros and then on to Whitefall, and that's where we had to sit down and really decide what we were going to do.”
“Why'd you go with him?”
“It's hard to explain,” Inara said. “A lot of folks we meet assume we must be in love if we've stuck with each other so long.”
“I also assumed that,” Zoe admitted.
“I had guessed. I don't know. He's my best friend. And River has always been like my little sister too, in a way. Besides, I wanted to do something…meaningful with my life.”
It was a bizarre thing to hear coming out of the mouth of a woman who had, presumably, been rich and beautiful and connected and likely not even twenty five years old when that thought had first occurred to her. Surely there were other avenues for a socialite on Sihnon to make a mark on the 'Verse. Charities, volunteer work, high profile jobs.
“Does your family know that you're alive?”
“No,” Inara said. “They don't even know I enlisted, let alone made it to Serenity Valley. I don't care to think about what my parents might have said about the whole thing, but Simon's…the disownment was very swift. It happened the instant he stopped showing at work; they didn't even wait for him to be put on interpol's most wanted list.”
“That's very brave of you, to stick to what you felt was right, despite the opposition.”
Inara glanced at her sideways.
“If you were anyone else, I'd think you were being sarcastic,” she said. “But I'd like to think that I know you at least a little, even if I haven't returned the honesty.”
Zoe could hear the hope in Inara's voice.
“There was a good reason for it, and there's always plenty of time to get to know each other better,” she said. Something dark flickered over Inara's face but did not last long enough for Zoe to understand it.
“Thank you. And I would like that.”