Serenity

[Mallister Keynion]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Tranquility. It means to breathe clearly. To be free from distraction. To be calm. To be quiet.
Disturbance, the thing that breaches peace, is cast away, given way to so serene a silence.
Tranquility. A man thinks. To himself, alone, in a private room on a ship, a vessel that has him.
Carries him, guides him, gliding without the wind, without air in its wings, but it brings such bliss.

He breathes in. Breath is a ceremony, a vision behind closed eyes, reminding him of a life lived.
He breathes out. Clarity is like holy matrimony between husband and wife, and he knows of this.
I am alive. He tells himself. It is no lie. He is beyond those echoes of the galaxy’s bygone agony.
I am living. He tells himself. All is fine. It is okay. A man who lives for Tranquility and for serenity.

-BANG!-
-BANG!-
-BANG!-

“Mal, ya there?”
Kill me painfully.
“Yes, James. I’m there.”
“Huh? In the room, ya mean?”

A man sighs behind the door that was supposed to be his own private chamber.
It still is, given that it’s the captain’s quarters of his ship, but quiet no longer.
“Hold that thought,” he speaks in a lower tone to another, to one woman.
She sits before him, sighing. “Mal. You promised me some meditation.”

“I know…” Mal knew, blinking. “...But I didn’t promise you no interruption.”
“Can I come in?”
“No.”

Mal knows who it is. It’s James, resident henchman, public relations officer.
Who am I kiddin’? “This is me time, James. Why are you breaking me time?”
“Sorry. Just…Cook cooked up this really delicious fish…something or other.”
Fish? “Fish?” “Fish?” Even Lara couldn’t deny it. “Is there…any…white wine?”

“I dunno.” Came the almost echo from the other side of the door.
“Tasty though.” If there was the sound of chewing, Mal can hear it.
In his room, he sits cross-legged, and Lara is kneeling on the floor.
“Please tell me there’s still salt in the kitchen.” I’m having a vision…

It was uglified by no salt in the kitchen, no pepper, no spice for this guy.
As much as he loved fish he loved it even more when it wasn’t so dry.
“IS THERE ANY SALT IN THE KITCHEN!?” Came a yell from the door.
“I THINK SO” came a fairly faint response. Okay. I need hear no more…

“Can I come in?”
“NO."
They left in a moment.
Mal and Lara, elbow to elbow.

As much as this man had a mind to meditate, there’s no escaping fish.
“Which is it?” Mal asked the galley of patrons sitting and dining within it.
“Cod? Salmon?” He looked left, looked right. “Really not feeling the tuna.”
“It’s troutinerel,” smiled Cook. “Troutinerel?” Mal blinked. “Sounds made up.”

“Made up in the sense that I made it up in the kitchen, yes.”
Mal looked right, looked left. “Good enough. I’ll taste test.”
Not so oblivious to the other guests already eating away.
Mal pulled out a seat at the head of the table with a plate.

Lara sat beside the others, all of Waltz, Chloe, Katie, James and Cook.
The seven contestants of the universe, after a fashion, and no mistake.
“Oh man. Oh damn. This is delicious.” Mal confessed, casting his look.
One that read ‘Oh man, Oh damn, this is delicious.’ “And I need a break.”

“Hey,” stabbed Liara. “You’re the one who wanted to meditate.”
“I…” Mal hesitates. “Agreed because…” I thought it was a date.
“...A captain has to contemplate the makings of the universe…”
The table seemed to blink at him. “...Like fig trees…and…dirt…”

He swallowed a bite of fish, stared off into the distance, enjoyed his dish.
“I hear those Rim belters are gettin’ greedy,” James interrupted gleefully.
“Those belters have to scrape for a living,” Chloe attempted to correct him.
“All I’m sayin’ is where there’s greed there’s money.” He’s right. Unfortunately.

When James was right the universe tended to stand still. But he’s also wrong.
As wrong as an anthill trying to build a tower of freedom in an empire’s yard…
“Chloe’s got it right. It sure takes more than a mite of bravery to reach for the stars.”
“Hear, hear,” Katie agreed, sipping tea. “‘Specially when they say you don’t belong.”

“Well…” Piped Waltz, looking at his wife beside him, and Chloe seemed to read him.
“All I know is I’m a pilot, not a mechanic like Katie here, but I’m content with flyin’ ship.”
“Hear, hear,” Chloe agreed, sipping a glass of whiskey. First mate’s got taste. Think I’ll have some.
Mal raised a toast. “Ladies. Gentlemen.” Eyes into eyes. “We’re flying. Ain’t much. But it’s enough.”

 

[Mallister Keynion]

Spoiler: Music OOC

It wasn’t much. But it’s enough. Captain Mallister Keynion would tell himself just as much.
In the mess hall, or some makeshift excuse of one when it came to observers looking in.
From the outside, that was, because you never knew this ship until, well, you were in it.
In the cockpit, with Waltz as the pilot, the captain would tell himself, flying down or up.

And there is a difference. It wasn’t just in his imagination. Hell. Katie would say it was…
Yet, the Captain of Tranquility had long since come to an understanding amid his crew.
There were those who were loyal to him, supported him, without question, just moved.
And they were in his imagination, because what truly served him was one wild bunch.

Their captain? Well, he would have it no other way. They share breakfast, dine in hell.
“You gonna eat that?” James asked his captain about his fish. “What? Yes. It’s mine.”
Shit. “Just…you’re standing there with glass in hand…all speech-ready, hard to tell.”
“No need to be crotchety, buddy.” Were they buddies? Not really. “And I don't lie.”

Especially when it came to Mallister’s breakfast, lunch and dinner. “We’re winners.”
He waited for everyone else to raise their beverage to him, whether whiskey, coffee.
Nobody actually did. A mite awkward. Cursed. “I mean, we’re gonna be winning, ‘least.”
His crew looked to him, and to one another. “Agreed,” Waltz said. “But we need money.”

Trust the judgment of the pilot of your ship, trust in him, or die flyin’. “No wiser words framed.”
“You a painter now?” Came James. “What? No. You do know ‘frame’ also means to create?”
Stupid question. For the likes of him, anyway. “Anyway, I’ve got a job you may yet appreciate.”
Everybody on this ship like jobs in some way. “Yeah?” Said Chloe. Then Katie. “And the pay?”

Captain Mallister Keynion set his empty glass of polished whiskey down and looked around.
“Consider this figure.” He gave it. That raised some eyebrows. “Granted, we ain’t terrorists.”
“My uncle was,” James proclaimed. “Blew up a Union museum for your Browncoats anyhow.”
“An epic story we’ll consider boring,” Mal continued. “Now, this will entail a bit of kidnappin’.”

-PING!-PING!-
Mal blinked.
“Guess that ain’t a space whale?”
“Nope.” Waltz sighed. “That’s a hail.”

 

[Mallister Keynion]

Spoiler: Music OOC

“Awwh all hell and sucked nuts.” Yup. Well, James could be forgiven for that little expletive, such as it was, considering who was hailing them.

It was a ping that could not simply be ignored on account of the person at the end surely getting crotchety in the event that captain and crew even made the attempt.

“What do we tell ‘em, Cap?” Waltz asked after they were back in the cockpit.
“Lemme think a minute. Need to take this situation under advisement.”

One thing was for certain: That ship in the near distance was registered as law enforcement.

Now, while Mal’s ship wasn’t necessarily registered as criminal (they weren’t criminals by any means, right?) they did have a bit of history with law enforcement, from routine patrol swing to being caught smuggling red-handed to promptly leaving after a salvaging sweep.

“We don’t tell them anything. Surely.” James reminded everybody. “I mean…we tell them the cargo we’re haulin’ and they’ll haul our asses in jail and, lemme tell you, I’ve seen the backside of a sector cell and it ain’t pretty.”

That made just about everybody blink. “I’m pretty sure I meant what kind of dialogue do we open up with for this communication we have to engage in. Not the contents of our basement.”

Between the two of them, Mal tended to agree with Waltz over James when it came to what Waltz meant with his own words.

-PING!-

“Ship isn’t going to wait forever, Captain, and the longer we sit here twiddling our thumbs and James sucks on his thumb—”

“Hey!”

“Okay.” Chloe spoke no less truthfully like. Double-teamed by the married. Good reminder to not marry. Too solid of an alliance. He liked an allied unit but not like that by any means. “Put me through to the badge of black, gold and green.”

“White.”

“What?”

“There’s white too.” James looked between the group like he was the only smart person in the room. “White letters beneath the three gold stars? Ya’ll tellin’ me you didn’t see them things?”

“...Put me through to the badge of black, gold, green and white.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and Mal sighed. He did so for two reasons:
One) James had a tendency to irk his nerves;
Two) Everybody in this cockpit, from the smart ones to the not-so-smart ones, knew who the owner of that other ship was, and that owner knew who they were too. Let’s see how just his justice is this fine and dandy evenin’.

“Greetings. You have reached Tranquility. I am its pleasant and polite captain. May we assist you in the capacity of complimentary fruit cake, maybe?”

“Reeeeaaaal smooth there, Cappy.”

“Thanks. But I already ate. Now open your doors and prepared to be boarded. Don’t make me wait.”

Today is not a good day to aim to misbehave.