Inara prided herself on her ability to feel at home in any situation, from the Sihnon New Year's Ball in the Palace of the Eternal Thousand Lotus Petals to the dark corner of unnamed bars out on the border and rim. Perhaps her time on Serenity had changed her; surely she had admired more majestic and extravagant decor in the riches of her homeworld, the shining lights and culture of the core.

Yet the lavish display of wealth for the welcoming reception seemed ostentatious to her. The interior of the Councilor's estate was Londinium style, a neo-Victorian with expensive pastel prints and imported wood carving. To further divorce this world from the reality outside, baroque colonnades clashed with the arabic arcades of the exterior, and armed security guards patrolled the hallways. Amid all of this: bondage, indenture, excesses of wealth of the worst kind.

There was the Councilor out on the terrace, in a conservative black dress with blond hair styled high and adorned in pearls to stand out from the white gossamer of her attendants. There was a brown-haired marine in navy greys with two silver rank bars on his sleeves, the apparent leader of the taskforce assigned to Ezra, bringing with him civilization through suppressive artillery fire.

What might her other clients have hidden? How common were functions for the military like this catered by slave girls? How many others were there, silent and invisible and suffering? Two of the students during her stay at the Training House had been raped by Alliance soldiers from an otherwise reputable core regiment. Her call for help had been answered by the Operative, who had threatened more of the same if she refused to cooperate.

That a crime of this magnitude could happen with any degree of regularity was almost unthinkable, and thoroughly unacceptable.

She had agreed to the dangers of this infiltration hoping to find some way to help. Her decision wasn't about Mal, much as he wanted to believe she was just being contrary. When he couldn't diss