The light flickered once or twice before finally being solid in its illumination. The lamp provided minimal light, but it was enough for Kurwai to do his work. He slipped some papers around on his desk until he found the file he was looking for, an old-style manila folder labeled “Serenity, Firefly Class.”

Kurwai opened the folder. A small data disk and a couple of papers were all that was there as well as the fruit of his efforts for the past several weeks.

Damn hard thing to find, too, Kurwai thought to himself.

He slipped a long, homemade cigar into his mouth and lit it with a match. A couple of his friends had once criticized him for his lack of innovation, the old manila folders, and the matches. He could at least use an electric lighter. But Kurwai found that there was something more personal by using the antiquated methods for common tasks. It was these subtle things that helped him complete his job: finding people.

And anyone and everyone subscribed from his services. Politicians, gangsters, family members, business people. All over the ‘verse, there always seemed to be people who needed to be found. After they were found, he asked no questions, which made him one of the most trusted men in his occupation.

This particular case had been intriguing. An old woman came into his office nearly two weeks ago, requesting that he find a Firefly Class vessel named Serenity. Not too polite that one, he thought. Abrasive, demanding, but more than that, just downright creepy.

But as was his custom, he did not ask questions as to why.

It was a decision he regretted. There was something different about this case that just plain stunk, and it wasn’t the old woman. Upon searching into the Firefly vessel, he found numerous things that could be a reason for wanting to find it: several Alliance flags on it, stolen property, resisting arrest, the list went on. Still Kurwai could tell this woman wasn’t Alliance. Their kind hardly ever contracted with Kurwai, and when they did, it