Disclaimer: Don't own Firefly or Serenity. Just playing in Joss's sandbox.

Author's note: Yes, the slave trader quotes rules #34 and #35 from the Star Trek Ferengi Rules of Acquisition. (My personal favorite is #235: "Duck! Death is tall!")

Heart of Stone

Chapter Thirteen

The Jóngsè Huangdi, Chairwoman of the new Republic, sat in the ready room on board Queen's Gambit, the fleet's flagship. She was revising the speech she had to make in a few hours when they landed on Alberich where she would be speaking in their capital of Wagnerberg to assure the newest member world of the Republic that she was looking out for their best interests.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," Mrs. Burgess said in her best authoritative voice, expecting her recently appointed members of the newly created Ministry of Commerce with drawn up trade agreements she was trying to make with several large businesses back in the Core.

She had an agreement with five generation old jeweler store chain in the Core looking to buy raw diamonds from previously un-mined Rim moons that just needed her counter signature.

She had almost been appalled to see weapon manufacturers practically tripping over their own feet in their haste to offer her the opportunity to buy their finest weaponry and armament. Under the table, of course.

She gave the opportunity some serious thought, but in the end decided she wanted everything as much as possible to happen above board. It would important to show the 'verse that her Republic was going to be a serious and legitimate political entity – not some street gang or illegal rebellion that skulked in darkness and operated underground.

There was currently a deal being finalized with a publishing company from Persephone. That world was still waffling about which way to go, but the printers there were looking to set up shops in other Border worlds that already declared for the Republic, knowing a young government needed flyers, pamphlets, broadsheets and books to get the word out. She was also working on negotiating a deal to sell home made furniture made on Brunhilde to markets in the Core.

She was pushing to make trade agreements like these happen as fast as possible between Core, Border and Rim, regardless of anyone's political status – the more people working with the Republic, the harder it would be for the Alliance to object without getting its own constituents upset – not that they weren't already.

Along with her own propaganda, she was still playing footage of Miranda, adding facts to the video about nasty things the Alliance had done, all dug up but her trusty spymaster.

Caroline looked up from her paperwork as the door opened. A young man with a gun aimed straight at her heart burst through the door. He was dressed nondescriptly in a loose tunic and pants, his eyes blank as two coals, his face hard and determined.

I am going to die, was her immediate thought. Ai yah Tien ah. She felt a surge of anger that she was about to be forced to be shuffled off, when there was still so much work left to do, and she was not best pleased at the thought of meeting Rance again.

Before her thought process could get any farther than that, the man's torso jerked and he spun around involuntary, revealing the tiny figure of River behind him, leg still extended from the kick she had just given him. The next kick knocked the gun from his hand and the two began fighting hand-to-hand, almost becoming two blurs as they locked in combat.

Kicks, blows, thrusts and spins were exchanged between the two, almost looking like a dance as they competed fiercely for physical dominance in the tight space.

For a moment it looked like the man was getting the upper hand, but River managed to side swipe him with a very hard kick to his right leg that caused an ominous crunching noise, loud in the small cabin where the two combatants had been eerily silent as they fought. The assassin collapsed on the floor in front of Caroline as his leg went out beneath him and his face went ashy grey with pain.

Caroline was still drawing breath to call for security, but it was already over, River standing over the prostrate assassin, panting slightly.

"Hello River," Caroline said in as bland a voice as she could maintain, taking a deep breath to keep herself steady. She ordered herself to get under control, trying to force her flight or fight response to stand down.

River gave a curt nod, her eyes locked on the man who was wincing silently in pain, her own expression as hard as a diamond.

"Well…" said Caroline, trying to collect her thoughts. "Ah, do you have more information for me on the Alliance we can use to convince the citizens of Alberich they made the right decision?" she managed to ask calmly, as if this was just another briefing meeting.

River shook her head 'no,' still looking down at the man she had just defeated. Her hair was hanging loose. Although lately she had taken to tying it into intricate braids pinned up to crown her head.

She looked up, hair swaying. "I'm sorry I let him get so far," she apologized, her eyes hard. She gave the prostrate man another kick for good measure. The little spy then placed her arms behind her back and stood at parade rest as she questioned, "What would you have me do with him, lady?" She sounded like her blood was still up; she seemed eager for the next order.

Caroline drew a breath and the words 'shove him out the air lock' hovered on her lips for a moment. She let out her breath as she dismissed the desire for immediate indulgent violence. Their must be a better use for him then just turning him into space trash.

She considered, and dismissed, a public execution. While it would show everyone that she meant business, the possible political ramifications, whether or not the Alliance acknowledged the existence of their assassin, could easily blow up in her face.

She put on her coldest mask and leaned down to glare at the man at her feet.

"So, they tried to bury us in bureaucratic paperwork," she told him brusquely, like a teacher scolding a student for failing an easy test, "but we kicked the bureaucrats out. They tried to send their "peacekeeping" forces, but we made them breathe tainted air, just as they had forced those of our own to breath their wretched concoction. And now… now they send an assassin." She paused and asked coldly. "Why?"

"What?" spluttered the man through his pain, clearly surprised at the question.

"Why did they send you to kill me?" she repeated slowly. "Surely you are not some tian di wu yohn cannon fodder infantry soldier to simply take an order without knowing the why behind it," she mocked. "So, I want to hear, out loud, why my death was considered necessary."

River chose that moment to stomp down hard in her combat boots on his kidneys.

"They are scared of you," grunted the man, a spasm of new pain dancing across his face.

"Scared?" Caroline asked in the same mocking tone. "Of a little old widow like me just trying to make her way in a cold 'verse?"

"They're scared because you make it look easy," he grimaced.

She smiled. "Rule number two – never let them see you sweat," she murmured, more to herself than to him, then questioned him again, "So why not during the rally? A public assassination? There'd be a lot of confusion and noise there; the perfect occasion, really." She turned slightly: "River, make a note to have my security beefed up at all future public speaking engagements," she said, as if telling the girl to remember to pick up milk at the store.

"They didn't want to risk turning you into a martyr and having the public rallying around that. That just wanted you to… disappear," said the assassin. He got enough of his composure back, even while lying on the floor, to sneer up at her, "Trust me, after you kill me, they will simply send another."

Caroline smiled broadly, leaned down, and said with bright eyed enthusiasm, "Who said anything about killing you?"

"I just spent six hours in surgery-" began Simon heatedly, still in a surgery coat with blood on the front as he stood in the Chairwoman's onboard office.

"And you were marvelous, as always," interrupted Caroline in a soothing tone.

"And," snapped Simon, not mollified, clearly building up a full head of steam as he ranted on while tearing off his surgery gloves, "I still haven't been told just why you deemed it necessary to hail the Hippolyta, insist we change course and intercept our course with yours with all speed, despite the many, many other things on both our schedules."

He paused to throw his gloves in the bin by her desk, and then went back to a speech he had clearly been rehearsing in his head while in surgery:

"And as soon as we are docked you and my sister," he nodded to where River stood in the doorway, like a centurion on duty, "the two of you present me with a man bleeding, beat up, unconscious, and with his left patella, tibia, and femur bones broken as well as the lateral meniscus ligament torn completely in two, and you demand that I 'fix him up,' as you so blithely put it, and yet refuse to tell me what's going on!"

Caroline let a beat pass to see if he was done. When he added nothing else she blandly said, "All of that is true."

She paused, weighing her options, then plunged ahead, "You strike me as someone who finds the truth a refreshing novelty, so hear it is: the man whose leg you just saved tried to kill me earlier today, but was foiled in his little attempt by your darling little sister."

Simon blinked, nonplused.

She grinned without humor, "The Alliance sent me an assassin as a little joke on their part. Funny as hell, yes?"

"He's an assassin?" Simon asked, goggled eyed in shock.

"You're sister assured me you were smart. Please try to keep up," she admonished him.

"And you wanted him with all of his facilities to stay in order?" asked Simon, less stunned as he pulled himself together, but still sounding surprised.

"I believe he will have his uses. Of course he'll need some proper rehabilitation after that surgery."

"Duh ruhn," said Simon dryly. "And how, exactly, do you propose to do that?"

"First, he'll need a nice long rest. I am sending him to the Heart of Gold to recuperate. Just keep him sedated until we get there."

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Whai wrin bu jwo," he muttered in exasperation. "I… am going to go lie down," he announced to no one in particular. "And I am going to try very hard not to think about how crazy my life has gotten."

"Kaylee is in the canteen back on the Hippolyta," piped up River. "She just re-routed the entire air pressuration system to prevent everyone in the recovery ward from asphyxiating tonight. She'll probably give you a back rub if you tell her what a good she did," suggested River.

"I don't need dating advice from you," he told in her mock-offended big brother tones, clearly getting back his equilibrium.

River grinned at him, entirely the naughty little sister, not at all like the practiced fighter who had just taken down a man twice her size.

Later, after the rally, after the meeting with leaders on Alberich, after getting back on Queen's Gambit and heading back to Liberty, accompanied by several ships in the Republic's fleet, after a briefing with high ranking members of the fleet, and after a meeting with several of her council members where the debate continued on which world would be the best place to declare their new capital, she had a very quiet debriefing with River.

"The assassination attempt is proof positive that the Alliance is on the move. You got what you wanted – as he said, they are scared of you." River's voice was flat, neither approving nor disapproving.

"This is good," said Caroline firmly. "Scared people make mistakes. Mistakes like this."

River absently stretched a leg behind her and hummed under her breath for a moment before replying, "Mistakes can mean death."

"Thiers or ours?" Sometimes when she was speaking to her, Caroline felt as though she was consulting the Oracle of Delphi or some other sort of ancient pagan prophetess.

River tilted her head to the side, looking younger as she did. "You keep saying there is no 'us verses them'. Be careful not to trip on your own lies," she lectured.

"Thank you, mistress spy," said Caroline dryly. "To stay on point, what does your spy network tell you about the Alliance's movements now? More assassins?"

"Most likely. Also, they don't want to waste time using the same wooing tactics as you. They have plans to use force in order to remind people that the Alliance owns them."

"The Alliance is behind the times," smirked Caroline, pleased.

So Caroline was not entirely surprised when, a week later, one of her younger council members burst into her study, looking as though she was in love.

"Oh, Madame, such news!" she declared happily, practically in raptures. "Wondrous news, fantastic news, the very best news! Oh Madame Chairwoman! Who would have thought? Oh Madame, Madame!"

"Yes?" she asked calmly. "News?" she prompted.

"It's Ezra!" the young politician exclaimed.

"Ezra?" asked Carline, trying not to sound too expectant about that resource-rich planet. She had been making overtures since the beginning that it would be profitable for that most self-sufficient of worlds to join in.

"Ezra! Can you believe it? We got Ezra! The Alliance pushed Ezra straight into our arms! We got Ezra! I just received their communiqué formally asking for permission to join the Republic! The Alliance just tried to attack them today! A 'landing of peacekeeping forces' the purplebellies called that bie woo long," she scoffed, "but Ezra, duh ruhn, sicced their private fleet on them and sent them all running!" The girl paused to catch her breath. "Do you want to Wave them back?" she asked, trying to sound formula, but still excited at this dramatic turn of events.

"Call everyone who is either on Liberty now or in immediate air space," Caroline ordered. "Tell them there will be a public assembly tonight. I will Wave back to graciously accept Ezra to our Republic." Caroline tried not to grin like a fool, tried not to let herself get too carried away with the implications of this, reminded herself that, yes, this probably meant that war could be averted and the Republic was well and truly legitimate, but there was still a lot of work to be done. Her eyes fell on her To Do list and one item in particular jumped out at her. She had a loose end to tie up.

Chari knocked politely on the door as she entered the parlor.

Caroline Burgess stood next to a wiry, middle aged man. The Chairwoman of the Republic was dressed in an afternoon dress, a stack of papers on her desk. The man was dressed in traveling leathers, clearly having either just arrived or just about to leave. He did not look like he was there for the now week long celebrations that looked like they weren't ending anytime soon to celebrate the official ratification of the Republic's government.

"You sent for me, Madame?" Chari asked. They both turned to look at her.

"There she is, just as I showed you in the captures I sent," said Caroline, addressing the man.

"Yeah, pretty as her picture," he agreed. "And she'll live up to her work description I hope?"

"You can have no doubts on that score," she reassured him. Neither took their eyes off of Chari as they talked to each other, like two cats eyeing a mouse.

"Madame?" asked Chari nervously, a little quiver in her voice betraying her nervousness at their words.

"Chari," said Caroline briskly, "this is Frank Randall, your new owner. He has just bought your indenture contract from me. You'll be going with him when he goes off world in," she casually looked at her watch, "about fifteen minutes."

"Yeah," drawled Randall, looking her up and down with hooded eyes, "she looks like she'll do fine. I reckon I'll get some good work out of her over the next couple years."

"But… but…" stammered Chari, "I'm almost done with my indenture! I signed that new contract, we agreed!"

Caroline smiled coldly as she pulled a sheaf of papers from her desk. "These? Stupid child, you were already bought and under strict contract; property can't sign agreements. It's clearly stated in the original papers you signed, section five, paragraph g, that you were unable to sign any new contracts while still indentured to me, including new indenture terms. This new contract is worthless."

Caroline tossed the papers that would have given Chari early freedom into the fireplace and went on briskly: "I owned you, I signed your bond papers over to Randall, and now Randall owns you."

"But you promised!" wailed Chari, like a child denied a treat, as the contract went up in smoke.

Caroline shrugged her shoulders casually. "I lied."

"Lied? But- but-" Chari stuttered in shocked protest, still trying to deny the way things were headed.

"Silly girl," sneered Caroline harshly. "Your contract states that I am legal guardian to you and any children you might have while bonded to me, executor of all legal and medical decisions pertaining to you and yours. The baby was already mine - I just wanted to make sure you handed her without a fuss. You really should read things before you sign them, Chari."

Chari stared at her, mouth agape, shell-shocked.

Another cold smile crept onto Caroline's face as she went on, "I would have promised you anything, you jien hwo. You were a fool then to believe me, and you are a fool now to think you have any say over your fate. You'll go with Randall, who was more than happy to hear about your prior work experience. He specializes in finding new bond owners for girls with your type of… qualifications."

Randall smiled, enjoying the show.

Chari's eyes widened as she realized the implications of that. "Madame, please!" she burst out as the shock waves finally hit. She literally threw herself at Caroline's feet, clutching her skirts as she begged piteously: "Please don't do this! Have a heart, please, Madame don't do this to me, please! Please, for the love of God, I gave you my baby!" she pleaded.

Caroline frowned down at her. "Belinda is mine. The child is mine legally, always was, always will be, so don't try and make me feel ungrateful with some foolish notion of honor or some such nonsense, you da sha gua."

"But… you were so nice to me," said Chari in a bewildered voice, tears spilling down her checks, clearly overwhelmed with the rapid turn of events.

Caroline narrowed her eyes at the girl crying at her feet, disgusted at her stupidity. "I treat my breeding stock right, because of what they can provide," she said coldly. "And now, since you are no longer useful to me, I'm trading you for something I can use."

"I… I can be useful! I can help here with the war effort!" Chari tried to plead.

"In case you haven't noticed, we're a little overrun with volunteers these days," said Caroline, allowing herself to smirk at the coup of getting nearly all of the Rim and Border worlds to rally under her flag.

"People will notice I'm gone!" protested Chari, clutching at straws as she clutched Caroline's skirts. "People will wonder why I'm gone a sudden-"

"And why would they do that?" Caroline interrupted, "When I've been telling people for the last few weeks how you're getting ready to leave with your indenture payment to try your luck at the gaming tables on Pelarum?"

Chari stared up at her, mouth agape.

Caroline leaned over and said to her in a confidential tone, "I'll be honest with you, girl. You are in my way. Things are going much farther than ever I imagined possible, and the way things are headed, who knows how far I can take this? And an adopted orphan foundling I choose to raise makes for much better PR than some whore's brat I bought."

"Perhaps it's a little early to think of the history books," went on Caroline confidentially, "but still, it's best to erase you early on. A few years time, no one will remember you, especially when I move to wherever we establish the Republic's capital. Fahn-shai, I'm establishing a dynasty here – this child will go on to heights you couldn't even dream of."

She straightened up. "Besides," she went on briskly, "war or no war, commerce must continue." She brusquely wrenched Chari to a standing position by pulling her up by one arm.

"My old man used to say 'War is good for business, peace is good for business,' " said Randall philosophically.

Caroline turned to the slaver. "Remember, I want her as far away as possible."

Randall chuckled. "No worries about that, ma'm, I've got a buyer in mind on the other side of the Rim."

He pulled a metal collar from his satchel. Slave collars were used when an owner was worried about an indentured servant running off, or when someone was just plain sadistic. The thin strip of metal had both a locator and an electoral conductor embedded in it. Collared slaves could be easily tracked and punitive shocks could be administered by whoever held the control. Sometimes owners would use collars made to resemble cruel parodies of fancy jeweled necklaces to grace the throats of their personal pretty play things.

"No," said Chari, shaking her head in stunned disbelief as she stared at the collar. "No." She took a tentative step backwards towards the door, despite the fact that Caroline still had one had on her arm.

"Hold her," grunted Randall as he fumbled the lock open. Caroline clamped both of her hands onto the girl's arms and gripped her tightly, her fingers clasped onto Chari's forearms in an iron grip.

"No, no, no, no, no," the girl continued to cry as Randall snapped the collar around her throat, and then quickly ran his hands clinically over her body to do a quick health check. He stuck his fingers in her mouth to open her jaws wide enough to do a spot check on the state of her teeth, forcing her to practically gag on her own cries. Satisfied, he drew out a hypodermic and sunk the needle deep into her neck.

"My baby," she whispered piteously before she sank into unconsciousness.

"I would have drugged her beforehand," mentioned Caroline off handedly as the slaver prepped the unconscious Chari for transport. "But I had her finishing breastfeeding up to the last minute and I didn't want the drugs to affect my daughter."

"Very wise of you ma'm," said the slaver politely, "It's no skin off my nose – I always carry a nice supply of sleepy-time for when I'm in a position of labor negotiations with my workers."

"Well, good day sir," she said to him, her mind already moving onwards to tasks left undone, but glad to have this business taken care off.

He tipped his hat polity, "You have a nice day now, ma'm. And good luck with the Republic. My business has been up these days."
"Yi lu shwen fohn," she bided him goodbye pleasantly as she closed the door behind him. There was work to be done. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day.

Translations

Jóngsè Huangdi – Red Queen

Tian di Wu Yohn – Completely useless

Duhn ruhn - Of course

Whai Wrin Bu Jwo – Things never go smooth

Bie Woo Long – Blunder of great magnitude

jien hwo - Cheap floozy

Fahn-shai - Don't worry.

Yi lu shwen fohn - Good journey

da sha gua - fool, idiot

Ai Yah Tien Ah - Merciless hell

Rung txe fwo txoo bao yo wuo muhm – Merciful Buddha protect us

Jing chai - Brilliant

Joo how rin – Good luck