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Nova and Rowan had entered many establishments like this one on many worlds like this one in many systems like this one. They'd only been thrown out of some of them, and this was a new one. They shouldn't be recognized here. They would eat while they waited for the delivery, then be on their way.
They were recognized immediately, but by a friendly-ish face. Well, one that wasn't unfriendly. Probably. Hard to tell, sometimes.
A familiar face. Yes, that would do. Sometimes all one needs is an anchor, a touchstone, to ground oneself in the vast expanse of the deep black, and seeing a familiar face at the bar you just walked into on the planet Adrian was just such a thing. Nova knew Zoe from back a while ago, and that all there was to it, as far as anyone else is concerned.
Before Rowan. Before… just, before. Before her life was upended, before the plans all went wrong, before she nearly lost everything and found something new.
Nova exchanged a nod with Zoe, her one-time companion and superior officer, and settled down as far away as possible at the other end of the bar. She looked around casually. There were a few tables, but the biggest one was occupied by three dusty-looking gentlemen in need of a proper visit to a real old-time barber. Shave and a haircut, perhaps a shower, could do with a sugar scrub and a mani/pedi while we're at it.
Rowan noticed the nod, but didn't know who Zoe was. She was more interested in the trophies on the wall, memorials of past big-game hunts, probably some weird taxidermied hybrids to bamboozle any tourists (not that they expected many) into believing that Adrian was home to the real-life Jackalope and other such wonders of nature. There were a few old rifles hanging up, long past their service lives, and they both figured there were a few more a little closer to hand that were not so rusty.
They ordered, paying for drinks and simple but real food. Grown in the dirt, or raised in a field, or hydroponics lab, whatever. It was something that was once alive, and now those nutrients would replenish them on their weary travels between the gravity wells that Humans called home. Much better than the bricks or pastes or Meal Ready-to-Eat bars (three lies for the price of one).
Nova saw an emblem on the wall. It was a patch, an old symbol from a resistance unit. Rowan had seen it too, but didn't recognize it.
If Nova had known about the significance of the trophies, or Rowan had known more of Nova's past, the next part of our tale might have unfolded differently, or perhaps stayed tucked away in the linen closet of possible futures, the fates weaving their tapestries through time without picking up this ball of yarn.
Nova spoke the words. "Balls and Bayonets."
Rowan, hearing them, closed his eyes. You just had to. He didn't know the symbol, but he knew what might happen next. It had happened before.
The man fixing their refreshments paused, facing away from them. He looked up at nothing, staring straight ahead, then turned to look at her. "Miss?"
She nodded at the patch on the wall over his shoulder. "That was their slogan. 'We have enough for any man's army!' Balls and Bayonets brigade, 57th Overlanders. Were you there?"
He shook his head, rather nervously, she imagined. "Gentlemen who founded the place left it there. I took over after his untimely passing, God rest his soul."
He delivered them two plates of cabbage, carrots, radishes, and two real apples, plus some garnishes and two tubes of Blue Sun branded "dressing" for their "salad". It was actually quite flavorful, and many spacers put it on everything they ate. Secret Sauce was the lifeblood of the spacer diet.
Two mugs of ale, two forks, all looking heavily used, joined their plates, and they found that the best place to sit after Nova's indelicate inquiry was probably over the in the darkest, furthest corner. They set their trays up on a simple wooden chest which looked like it was probably older than the human settlement this fine eatery served.
Brass buttons affixed to the front lent an affected air of naval history to the improvised table, and Rowan hopped up on a ledge closer to the rest of the place, his usual penchant for keeping a lookout leading him to high ground. Nova proceeded further into the darkness, sitting on the floor cross legged so as to minimize her profile. Nobody would expect her to be on the floor, certainly not on a floor that hadn't seen a mop bucket or broom in years.
They always aimed too high, led astray by Rowan's short frame being up so tall while Nova's bulk was compressed and relaxed. More than a few fights had begun and ended with a double team. Rowan hoped this meal would be free of any such incidents. He was getting hungry, and even with such a small build he needed the nutrition. Hauling cargo was heavy work.
Trouble came after only a few minutes. Rowan heard some chair legs scrape on the floor: one, two, three people getting up. He looked up from his bowl, setting it aside with a sigh. He was only two-thirds through it. He whistled a quick tone to Nova, high-low, the signal for 'heads up'.
She stood, setting her own plate on the edge of the table, her unbuttoned olive green jacket threatening to fall off her shoulders. She tossed it free, one sleeve landing in the Secret Sauce. No matter. There were more important tasks to be about.
Three dusty men stood in a line, not quite preventing her from seeing the door, but close enough that she wouldn't make it past them. Her black crop top was short enough that she felt their eyes drifting down, the same way Rowan's always did, the same way almost everyone's did.
She liked the way Rowan looked at her. She did not appreciate the stares she was getting now. Walking over a little closer to the wall, she positioned herself in front of Rowan, who'd taken one boot off the tabletop and was ready to jump, or to kick it out as a barricade. Not that it would help them, trapped in this corner. Nova winked at her companion, who rolled his eyes but kept still and silent.
She leaned casually against the ledge. "Hello boys. You looking for experienced guns? We're two of the best."
She didn't actually have a gun right now. Had to sell it for parts. They didn't know that.
The men looked at one another in turn, deciding that since they didn't see any guns, no guns likely existed. "We heard what you told old Esketine there. It's funny, I coulda swore you was wearin' a coat earlier, but it was green. But them words that come outta yer mouth, it sure sounded like that coat was more like to a brown color."
She cracked her knuckles, her gloves straining in protest. "Left my other one at the dry cleaners. Had to get some bloodstains out."
This did not require further consultation between the three amigos. "You're either workin' for the shiny hats from Londinium, in which case you ain't welcome hereabouts. Or you're privateers, in which case you's trespassin' on this here land seeing as we have the exclusive contracts heretofore, or you's deserters. Deserters bring a fine price in bounty, and two for one will get us extra payin'. Or you're Browncoats. We kill Browncoats round here. Didn't you see the trophies?"
The one who did all the talking, and probably the self-appointed leader based on his verbal gymnastics routine and self-effacing grandeur of mannerisms, leered at her, a few crooked teeth ruining a movie-perfect smile. He kept them clean and his clothes were well-mended and in good shape, which confirmed the rest of the look was possibly for show. That, or the man had a real job in addition to the rounding up of government officials, deserters, ne'er-do-wells, and other unwelcome folks.
"So, what is your business here, ma'am?"
He seemed to have forgotten Rowan completely, which was exactly what she wanted. His eyes flicked to the smaller man, shooting that theory down. The other two were totally focused on her, though. Good.
"None of yours, and you'll be none of mine if you leave me to eat my meal and go." Her de-escalation was at odds with her flexing her bicep, the bandolier across her chest regretfully empty of ammunition for her non-existent pistol.
"I don't like the tone with which you said that, missy."
Nova shrugged, extending her left index finger lazily. "Wanna fight?" She adopted a practiced casual air, loosening up her shoulders, letting her hair fall to the side of her face. "Or do you wanna have a drinking contest? Either way, you'll be on the floor and I'll be walking back to my ship."
Rowan stayed silent, ready and easy. He kept his left hand on his knee and his right loosely draped over his thigh, looking non-threatening. He was still being ignored. They'd regret it.
Nova, deciding that silence was acceptance of her initial offering, charged the first guy, then waited for him to swing. He led with a haymaker, which she caught in one hand, squeezing his fist. His left came up and she caught that too, twisting his arms inside and yanking him forward so she could headbutt him in the face, leaving the man stunned and stumbling back.
Everyone who was sensible scrambled up and away from the scene of what was going to be another incident that regrettably resulted in the authorities becoming involved. They liked to handle things themselves here, but the Smylie boys were their own law.
Nova threw the second man against the Jackalope's horns, inflicting a wound to his scalp that wouldn't be easy to fix without a lot of stitches. The horns, taken from some poor creature or another, ripped his jacket collar on the way down for good measure, cursing him to lose his balance and bang his head on a cooler as he went down. She whirled, grabbing a broken bottle and preparing to throw it at the third fellow. She froze, seeing a rifle pointed at her face. It was too far away to knock clear with the bottle, and even a rusty gun might go bang once. Once was enough.
The man laughed, his two fallen comrades forgotten. He had this upstart Browncoat bitch cornered, and he'd take her in after roughing her up a little. No sense in wasting the good time he'd planned just because his brothers were recuperating at the less-than-gentle hands of their meemaw.
The first guy had tried to get back up and shoot Nova, and found a booted foot smashing him in the mouth, resulting in some broken teeth and a ruined jaw, which would no doubt stifle his ambitions to run for political office. His speech-giving days were probably over. Rowan considered it a blessing.
He moved quickly, grabbing a possible weapon and catching up to the third guy as Nova was handling the second. Nova turned, and Rowan saw the rifle pointed with unerring accuracy at his partner. It was loaded, the chamber indicator raised and the bolt cocked. The safety was already off.
Nova watched, steadying her breathing, making sure her hands didn't so much as twitch. The asshole jerked the rifle to show her where he wanted her to move, out into the open where there was nothing for her to grab. She nearly tripped on the second guy's outstretched arm as he moaned and bled into the floor behind the bar top. At least it was instantly disinfected.
Moving around front, she gently lowered one hand and dropped the bottle on the floor. The idiot started talking but she wasn't listening; her eyes looked past him, over to the corner she and Rowan had been peacefully eating in earlier. It was empty, but he didn't know that.
"Hey, where's the little one?"
He felt the muzzle of a gun, cold against the back of his neck, provide the answer.
Thus they proceeded, Nova taking her leave, Rowan following her out the door, pointing his new gun back at the gentleman. When they were a safe enough distance, they turned and ran, fleeing behind some rocks for cover.
They stopped to breathe, panting. "Where did you get that?" Nova asked.
Rowan spun the pistol on his finger, testing the balance. "The first dude, the boss. He was gonna shoot you while your back was turned. Sterrion 47, nice one. 15 round mag, but only a .380. Nice and slim on the grip though, easy to conceal." He checked the magazine quickly, finding it was fully loaded, plus one in the pipe.
"Does he know that you took it?"
A resounding painful scream rent the air, and the duo locked eyes. "Guess so. Come on!"
They broke cover but had to duck down when they heard a rifle shot. It didn't impact anywhere near them, but the front door opened and shut with a loud metal squeal. Nova and Rowan gulped and turned to see the three brothers, one with blood covering half his face, one with his jaw clenched in fury and two black eyes, and the third with a rifle in hand, smoke coming from the barrel. He ran the bolt and a spent brass casing ejected, a fresh one seating itself and the primer waiting for the impact of the firing pin that would send the projectile on its way after many years of sitting idle. He'd shot through the window, and broken glass crunched under their boots.
Rowan already had the pistol aimed, Nova ducking low, knowing this was his fight, not hers.
"You think you can come into our town and start somethin'?" Rifle said. He must be in charge of the talking now. "You expect to just walk out?"
Rowan fired, the bullet clanging off the metal chain link holding the sign with the establishment's name overhead. It twisted but didn't break. He frowned. "Hmmm."
"You missed, bitch! If you was a real man you'd know how to shoot! You better git ready fer- "
Precisely what they would have to git ready fer was never made clear, as another shot rang out, sparking off the chain link on the other side of the sign, and this time the metal link did snap cleanly. The weakened link on the other side gave way, and the brothers looked up just in time to see a four meter long hunk of steel come hurtling down, smashing them all to the ground.
"Hallelujah!" Rowan muttered, still frowning. He was looking around, until he spotted a brown bandana waving low over the hill to their right. He pointed and Nova took off, Rowan following with gun ready and head looking behind him to see if anyone else followed.
After a few minutes of walking, they came upon a familiar face.
"So, you still picking fights you can't win?"
Nova chuckled. "Ain't been killed yet."
It was different from her usual tone, enough that Rowan raised his eyebrows. "Hello. Thanks for the help, but I had it handled. Another shot would have done it."
The tall black woman ignored him for the moment, raising her hand to grasp Nova's in a friendly shake. She said without looking, "Yeah. I can see how handled it was." Then, addressing Nova, she added, "Got yourself a sidekick?"
"A husband. You still puddle jumping around the galaxy with Hoban?"
Zoe held up her hand, a ring on one finger. "Married him and everything. We're on a ship together. Cap'n Reynolds would take you on, if you needed takin'. Not sure about that one." She jerked a thumb at Rowan.
Nova shook her head. "Uh-uh. Where he goes, I go. Hang on, did you say Captain Reynolds? Malcolm Reynolds?"
"Yep. I'm first mate, Wash is the pilot, got a few others. We take jobs and we do 'em as needs doin'. Sure I can't tempt you?"
Nova shook her head. "Sorry, Corporal. Ain't interested in taking orders, especially from Mal. Fly safe."
She turned her back on her past once again, having faced the ghosts that haunted her once more. She'd stop and rip that damn patch off the wall, but it was too dangerous. Her brown coat was stowed safely under the bed, her past tucked away, and she took Rowan's hand. His grip was loose but she knew he'd never let go.
"Who was that?"
They'd walked five klicks back to the ship. The delivery was waiting, an irritable merchant upset at the delay. They hoisted the cargo, tossed in an extra credit for the wait, and Rowan stashed his new gun in the cockpit before Nova answered.
"The woman who saved my life at the expense of my company. Only one of us could get out. I was it. She gave the order. Sargeant Reynolds told her to."
They lifted off in silence, the thrum of the engines a constant hum that told Nova she was safe. She was in the black where no power in the verse could touch her, except herself. And Rowan.
Rowan, who was there to help. Rowan, who always came to the rescue.
"We good to leave now?"
She nodded.
After they journeyed up the well and went into burn, Rowan asked through a mouthful of pork rinds, "Why'd you have to pick a fight? I liked that salad." It was teasing, they both knew.
Nova gave a worthy answer, at least in her mind. "They started it."