Gen's attention shifted between Noah, Deputy Blue, and the gathered crew. Her arms rested across her chest, hands nestled in the crooks of her elbows. She kept toward the back of the cargo bay so she could see everyone and keep her back to a wall. The barest hint of a smile tugged at one corner of her lips as Noah and Blue wrestled for control.

At Blue's question, she exhaled slowly and tilted her chin up a fraction of an inch. "Captain," she started, her voice just loud enough to carry over the hum of the ship and cut herself a slice of attention from those gathered. It was also very intentional that she began by addressing Noah, and not Blue.

"Might help the newbies to know what precisely you'd like them to do. Specifically," she offered up, looking at Rory, then Nelly, and finally Hyde. All three of them had vastly different backgrounds and, from what she could tell, dispositions.

"How do you want us to form up?" she clarified. Typically, Gen wasn't the type to walk alongside their 'targets,' or to participate in the public facing show of force. And she wagered the younger of the bunch (while technically trained or at least briefed on this kind of job) would need a little additional guidance.

Who watches the watchmen? At this moment it was Mattie, perched on the catwalk above the cargo bay, her eagle eyes firmly fixed on the sea of restless sheep below and, more importantly, the security guard overseeing them. After getting bored of tailing the shepherd -- who seemed too oblivious to his surroundings to pose any kind of challenge -- Darling's resident huntress had shifted her attention to Caraway's hired muscle. Wherever the brute went, she followed, lurking in the shadows, peering behind corners, ready to step in if he attempted to take his intimidation of her crew mates beyond glaring and hovering.

It was very possible he had caught onto what she was doing. Likely, even. That didn't worry Mattie none. What exactly was he going to do about the ship's chief of security keeping an eye on him? As far as she was concerned, he was the one who had overstepped his boundaries by taking it onto himself to patrol the ship. That was her turf. His job was supposed to be watching Caraway's back, and he was currently not doing his job.

In other words, the whole thing was a power move more than anything -- albeit a sneaky and slightly passive aggressive one. Maybe she ought to take more direct action next. Maybe shank Caraway while the bodyguard was busy prancing about the ship or sitting in the cargo bay with his thumbs up his pìyǎn. That would teach him not to leave his charge's side.

While Mattie sat there entertaining herself with questionable daydreams of violence, Rian's announcement served as a reality check. She got quietly up from her squatted position on the grating and found her way to the nearest set of strapped seats. She wondered how many more near-death landings they had ahead of them before Rian got the hang of this whole piloting thing. Part of her wished she could see Caraway's face right now. The other part hoped the sheep wouldn't be too upset.

Rian is not a pilot. Rian is not a Captain. He's not even an XO. Rian Carpenter is not even Rian Carpenter. But here he is. Flying this gorram space-ship with some damned blue-blood pestering him for more juicy details on his "exotic life of labor and hardship" or whatever. The continued act was exhausting him, and the stand-in Captain eyed his approach to their destination through strained, bloodshot eyes. Good rest had been hard to find.

Not-Captain Carpenter wasn't sure how long Noah had been talking. It sort of just faded into the background hum of all the Darling's many different systems. Then a warning noise blared. It took a good five seconds of it wailing for Rian to snap out of his detached state.

Warning: Air brakes

"What about the damned air brakes?"

Then he realized he was meant to be using them.

"Shit! Seat-belts!"

The skill-deficient pilot started slowly pumping the air brakes as they started to pierce the atmosphere. If he came down onto them too hard they'd shear off. But if they didn't slow down they'd all be pink smears on burning rubble.

Trying to think quickly as he tried to salvage the landing approach, he got on the PA to warn the crew of the impending turbulence.

"All crew and passengers, get yourself to a seat with straps. Now!"

Meanwhile, Ick continued to brace the SF6 conduit while reciting away at the Shema. So far, the sulfur hexafluoride hadn't changed his voice bassward. He tentatively relieved the weight of the conduit from his shoulder. It seemed to be holding. He needed to check the unbraced conduit, but so far so good.

But then...

Ick's Hebrew came to an awkward, terrified stop as an animalistic groan filled the engine room. Somehow keeping his skin on after jumping so high, he frantically spun around, trying to get eyes on whatever the hell was coming for him. Had the feds boarded Revenge using genetically engineered mutants? Surely it wasn't Reavers. Whatever it was, Ick didn't see it.

But it was there. An even more animalistic roar that sounded attested to that fact. The roar was too much for Ick's nerves. Once his feet finally touched the floor, he used them to hide behind a bulkhead. Only then did he have the wherewithal to draw his roscoe. The weight of the revolver did little to comfort him. Whatever that thing was certainly wouldn't be intimidated by a pistol.

A low rumbling sound told Ick just how close the creature was getting to his hiding place. He was trapped. He pulled back the hammer and leveled his gun head-height, ready to plug the beast in the chest.

And come it did. The ship's cat picked this time of all times to come out and give Ick a proper welcome. The cat lithed around the bulkhead, looked up at Ick (who still held his pistol straight out trying to process exactly what he was seein) and let out a mighty "MMMROWW!"

Ick finally understood. Though his terrified shrieks and yelps confirmed that SF6 hadn't impacted his vocal chords, the cat's annoyed vocalizations clearly had. SF6 is much heavier than air. The cat was much closer to the floor. The other conduit had leaked. The gas just hadn't gotten high enough to impact Ick.

Ick politely put the cat on a higher surface before it started to asphyxiate.

"Thanks for the heads up, boss," said Ick, kicking on the ventilation and grabbing a spanner to fix the leak.

Jedikiah looked quickly in all directions. Cooper was hurt but for the moment he could fend for himself. Pele was behind them and their very green opposition was in turmoil.

"Pele." He said calmly. "Seal the ship please,"

Jed knelt then as he reached into his medical bag with an eye on the woman. She seemed no longer a threat. As he felt the dermal patch he pointed to the woman, "Quickly, that belt."

The dermal patch could slow the bleeding but the injury looked as though it was a femoral artery. Not good. He kept pressure on the dermal patch and the bleeding man's leg. If he was given the belt he made a quick tourniquet between the injury and the hip. Pulling tight, "Keep this tight if you want him to live."

Then stood back, offered his staff to Cooper.
A check to see if Pele had secured Odette, if so, "Call Medical."

As he waited for Cooper to gather himself or perhaps he would need to assist him:

He spoke to the token security someone had left to prevent their departure.
"Best leave the details sketchy or you will be the one's arrested. And find some other means to earn a living. This is not your vocation."

Home Team:

Jed and Cooper lashed out almost simultaneously, their instincts and reflexes similarly honed but in vastly different arenas. The Leather Hounds, we'll call them Leg and Head for reasons we'll get to in a moment, each received a helping of punishment that was doled out by Odette's defenders. Pele watched on from behind them, her hand going for the gun hidden in her bag.

The hammer flew with little effect, other than to force Head to flinch and receive a blow to her namesake. She fell backward, holding her wounded face and rolled in the snow.

Unfortunately for Leg, he took a pistol shot to the inner thigh, which sent him to the ground holding against a geyser of blood, turning the frosted ground red, steam rising into the air. This was bad.

Head turned to see her comrade bleeding out and, dropping her weapon, crawled across the ground to help stem the flow. "You've killed him! You gorram bastards have killed him!"

---

Away Team:

Once everyone was dressed, a quick tap on the door would reveal the waiting guard, waiting to take them to dinner. The sun was beginning to set.

The Wyatt

As Nelly and Gen filtered in with the rest, the screen popped up and, instead of a map, they saw a beleaguered sort of guy with dark hair and a handsome, if tired looking face. "MacArthur? Hello? Hey! I've been trying to call you all week! You ever pick up a wave? Jesus." He looked annoyed. Deciding to ignore Noah for now, he turned and waved at the rest of the crew. "Hello. Some of you know me. For those of you who don't, I'm Lead Deputy Lorenzo Blue. I'm your, uh... well I'm your boss. Kind of."

"I'm still in operational control... With Gen of course." MacArthur quipped.

Lorenzo gave him a look and went on. The holo display changed to show the Blue Sun system, which anyone with a half-decent education would recognize. Blue narrated. "Haven. A diamond in the rough, so to speak. It's hot. Dry. Dusty. Full of rocks. But some of those rocks are valuable." His face reappeared. "That sounded better in my head."

"It orbits Deadwood, the seventh planet of the Blue Sun system. This is as Raggedy as the Rim gets, ladies and gentlemen. Eighteen-months ago, the Sable Point Mining Company leased all mining rights on the moon from the Alliance."

MacArthur seemed surprised at the new ownership. "I was not aware it was under new management." He seemed disappointed. Introspective.

"The Independent mining operation that had existed on the Moon since its terraformation abruptly ended um... well..." He struggled to find the words. "Well, The Miranda Transmission." The weight of that word hit everyone like a wave. Miranda. "Ok. So. Your mission..."

"We're here to put the fear of god in these slavers." MacArthur cut in.

"No. You are not. That is not your mission. Do not do that. This is a peaceful mission. You are there to monitor the situation and..." Lorenzo stressed.

"If things get violent, though, we will..."

"Things will not get violent, okay? If they do, it's your ass, MacArthur. You hear me?" Lorenzo was serious, but anyone who knew him, knew he was more bark than bite.

Noah nodded at Lorenzo, and then quickly gave a slight shake of his head at his crew with a playful wink. They would do what was needed.

"Now, to Deputy MacArthur's point, the miners have made some... complaints. And riots. The Alliance has seen fit to intervene by sending Investigators to... investigate the facilities and living conditions for the workers." Three faces came up on the holo display. "These are the Federal Inspectors who you will be escorting. They will meet you at your landing zone. My intel says they're already there."

MacArthur turned from the holo display and Lorenzo and addressed his gathered crew. "Haven was a proud, tough colony. But she got her teeth knocked out and she can't bite like she used to. We are here to protect the investigators but these people..." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Composing himself. "They've been through enough. Watch out for each other, scan the crowds. Don't let the security box you in, which they will try to do. We're the law, they're the thugs with badges."

Lorenzo tried to peek over Noah's shoulder through the holo display. "Hey! Wait, that's not what I- We have no indication of- You are there to protect the investigators. Period. You are not getting to the bottom of anything. You are not fighting for a cause. You are not, under any circumstances, saving the day. Is that understood?"

---

Haven- Yardley Mining Territory

A balding man with a well manicured beard stepped out of a shuttle and the wind immediately overtook him, sending his necktie and suit coat flapping against his body. He struggled to gain his bearings and shouted above the din of the dust storm. "Richard Cohen, Lead Investigator for the Federation of Allied Planets Department of Labor's Occupational Health and Safety Administration." He reached out his hand to the man who met him at the landing dock, not far from Mine Shaft A, Sheriff Karlo Kovachek.

"Welcome to Mine Shaft A." Said the Sheriff with a devil's grin. "That's quite a mouthful. Is there an acronym for that?"

Bret White, another inspector, shouted. "No!" His smile was the kind you wanted to punch.

The third inspector stepped forward. "There was supposed to be some Marshals to meet us. Have you seen them?" She said. Her name was Darlene Simone, as emblazoned on her name badge, which hung from a lanyard around her neck, just like the others.

Karlo's face fell. "Marshals?" He looked at Bob with a concerned look. His lackey shook his head. "Ain't seen no Marshals. Can I ask why you summoned them?"

Richard stared at Karlo matter-of-factly. "Protection. There have been riots here, have there not? Riots you failed to stop. We are investigating the Sable Point Mining Company for Human Rights Abuses, among other things. There are angry people here, Sheriff, and a lot of them. We're here to see if they have a point. Now, can you take us out of this storm while we wait for the Marshals to arrive?"

Karlo exchanged another look with Bob and then nodded to the investigators. "Of course. Come on in to my office."





The Investigators

Noah dialogue provided by HumanHyperbole

Holliday stared after Moira and tried to hide his flinch when she shut the door behind her. "Fine! I will have a good day!" He lied. Holliday dropped into his thoughts for a moment and allowed himself a self-destructive spiral for good measure. What was I thinking? Going all macho hero bullshit artist. You do this every time, Hercules. What a joke. Wait, what am I talking about? She's the crazy one. Moira was the one who started the secret agent stuff. I was just playing her game. Well if she thinks she's gonna win, she's got another thing coming.

So lost in his inner monologue, Holliday didn't even hear Octavia.

"...regrettable."

"Yeah, it is regrettable. But sometimes things don't work out." He muttered, stamping out his cigarette. To his credit, he immediately realized she wouldn't have heard him. He looked at Octavia regretfully and picked up the device. He began typing out, "Sorry your friend is a-" He raised his eyes from the screen and met Octavia's again. Pleading. Desperate. He deleted what he wrote and started again. "Sorry I screwed up-" Delete delete delete.

Finally he left the device on the table, got up from the chair and opened the door. Before he lwent through it, he threw an apologetic look Octavia's way. The screen just said, "Sorry."

HOME TEAM

There was no decision-making process for Cooper. The former soldier's training and experience made the calculus more of a motor reflex. He pulled the pistol from his hip holster and disengaged the safety in one fluid motion. Aim for the head, pull the trigger, shift targets, rinse, and repeat. Well that was what he tried to do.

The stab wound from his last altercation had some words to say to him about trying to move like that. Unkind words. The mechanic's right shoulder locked up and he squeezed off a round too early, with the weapon aiming, at best, at his first opponent's leg.

"Fuckin' hell!"

Mr. Brown's right side was locked up in pain, and his next best instinct was to pull the hammer off his belt and just wing it at the next guy with his left arm. It was in this split moment that Cooper wondered what was waiting for him on the other side. His faith faltered.

Location: The Bridge

Jo was beginning to think he should have doubled up on the pain killers after all. He had the paradoxical urge to pinch himself, as if that negligible pang of pain would somehow distract him from the much greater pain throbbing in his shin. He tried to focus himself on the task at hand which, unfortunately, was just waiting for now. Jo hated waiting. Waiting didn't give him anything constructive to occupy his mind with. All he could do was hope for the best, although what he usually ended up doing instead was running through various worst case scenarios in his head.

It's not like Jo expected Holger to bungle the task he'd given him. He did have faith in Holger -- okay, he had faith in Holger's good intentions. He wished he had as much faith in him being able to follow them through, but truth be told, he wasn't completely convinced. It had taken him several tries to explain the seemingly very simple concept of plugging a data carrier into a terminal, and at the end of it he still wasn't one hundred percent sure the message had gone through.

It would've been easy to dismiss Holger as being too stupid to get it and just give up, but Jo tried to be patient with him. The look the giant got on his face when Jo went through the step-by-step instructions reminded Jo of how he'd felt when his ex had tried to explain her parents' dinner party etiquette to him. Jo had ended up skipping that party. Probably one of the reasons why he was single now.

"I remembered to plug it in. I did not forget. Do you see it?"

The technician sprang to life at the sound of Holger's voice -- wincing a little as his leg protested the sudden movement -- and leaned in towards his terminal. It took a moment for the connection to be formed... and there it was; he was now linked to the Blue Sun vessel's comms system. From here, he was free to worm his way through their firewall and hijack the signal, provided their opponents weren't on full alert for cyber attacks, and that was highly unlikely, considering they were currently under an actual, literal attack.

"Yes! Thank you!" he radioed back and then, as an after-thought, "I knew you could do it!"

Was that patronizing? No time to dwell on that. Jo finally had something to do.