Okay, you asked for it! Here's Chapter 3 for your delectation. Again, a thousand thanks for all your shiny comments. It's for your enjoyment, and y'all make doing it worthwhile!

3

TRINITY STATION

Ossie had apparently been doing okay for himself, in spite of his location. He had a little office set up right in the heart of the station, and a couple of hefty-looking types to do his ‘paperwork’, as he put it, though as to what kind of paperwork needed brawn like that, Mal couldn’t rightly say.

The little hustler hadn’t changed much since Mal’d last seen him. A mite greyer around the face, maybe, and the little pencil ‘tache had gone the way of the whales, but otherwise it was the same old Ossie Chen who'd welcomed them in, offered them seats, and handed out shots of liquor.

Mal and Jayne had necked theirs straight, like the hard-ass hundan they were, but Simon still nursed his half-full glass, most like worried about what the fiery liquid might do to his educated brainpan. But that was shiny; they were here to talk business, and the good doctor’d proved in the past that he was, if nothing else, the smart sort. Saw between the lines, as it were. Probably ran in the family.

“It’s a cargo vessel.” Ossie punched a couple of keys on his large handheld and a schematic of a long, bulky transport appeared, rotating slowly on the flat screen. “Bound for Needell, out of Beaumonde, and it’s a ghost run – not listed on the official Alliance schedules. Should be an easy intercept.”

Mal’s fingers flexed around his belt. A simple job , Ossie’d said in his wave. Nothing too illegal . A smash-and-grab on Alliance shipping wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

There was a time when he’d have jumped at the opportunity to relieve the Alliance of its property, but the situation was less plain now. They’d been off the radar a while – no tellin’ what kinda welcome they’d get from any Feds they might encounter. Their assassin had made no promises regarding their future safety, and for all Mal knew,