A Little Information Is a Dangerous Thing

"I'll bet that really smarts," commented West. His tone of voice was borderline smug, but not unsympathetic. Every time he looked at the rough scrape covering most of the right side of Max Vasser's face he winced in sympathy.

"Ya think?" snapped Max. The whole right side of her face had turned purple, little bits of skin hung loosely from her cheek, and it stung so bad it made her eyes water. She was rummaging through the lockers at the rear of the Rocinanté's cargo hold. "Where's the damn dermal regenerator?"

West sighed and grabbed hold of Max's elbow and gently but irresistibly pulled her away from the lockers towards the nose of the *Rocinanté*, into the cramped but cozy living compartment. Max didn't resist as he pushed her gently into a chair. She watched in sullen silence as he went to a desk drawer and pulled out the sought-for medical device and returned to her side.

As he began applying the soothing beam to her raw cheek, Max forced herself to relax. "Aren't you going to ask me what happened?" she asked eventually.

West smiled and said, "Nope. I figured you'd tell me when you were good and ready."

Max frowned. West wasn't going to make this easy on her. Fine. Two could play that game. "It's a long story," she said.

West's reply was an aggravating, noncommittal grunt. He finished with the dermal regenerator and set the device down on the tabletop, then stepped back to survey his handiwork. "There," he said. "Back to your lovely, smiling self."

"I didn't get the bounty," said Max, ignoring his sophomoric attempt at flattery.

West sat down on the other chair in the small room. "So what happened?"

Max shrugged. "The cops said I wasn't the one who brought down the Snark, I just happened to be standing there when he landed, so I wasn't entitled to the reward money."

"So who *did* get the Snark?"

"The Boojum!" spat Max.

"What?!? How the hell did that happen?!?"

Max told West the entire story. She finished with the strange words the Snark had spoken in her ear right before he died -- 'Help him.'

"Oh -- and he gave me this," she said, suddenly remembering the small object the Snark had pressed into her hand with his last remaining strength. She had forgotten to tell the police about it. She reached into her pocket and retrieved it and tossed it to West, who caught it deftly with one hand.

He held it up in front of his face and examined it critically for a few seconds, then delivered his assessment. "It's a marble."

"The man's powers of observation are uncanny," quipped Max, a measure of good humor creeping back into her voice.

From his perch atop the replicator panel, Gromit squeaked in sarcastic agreement.

West pretended to ignore the barb, but in reality he was glad that yesterday's argument and Max's solo op last night hadn't permanently ruined their relationship. He leaned back in his seat and mused, "I wonder why a dying man would place so much importance on a marble..."

Max stood and said, "There's more going on here than we know about, and I know just the person to ask. But first I'm gonna take a shower... wash off the blood and police station stench..." She paused by the door of the cabin and turned back, intending to suggest that maybe West would like to join her, but when she saw him still sitting staring at the enigmatic marble and lost in thought, she changed her mind and disappeared through the door.

Max leaned casually on the front counter at Serenity City's favorite fast food restaurant, the 'El Taco'. It was the middle of the afternoon, so there was only one other customer sitting at the far end of the dining room. Across the stainless steel surface, the ruggedly handsome manager had his back turned to her and was busy putting the moves on one of his young female employees, a sporty number with shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair, a tight chassis, and dimples from here 'til next Tuesday.

Max watched in wry amusement for as long as she could take it, then cleared her throat noisily.

The ruggedly handsome manager stopped in mid-sentence and turned. On laying eyes on Max, a genuine smile quickly shouldered out the slick, Casanova veneer he was wearing for his young female employee's benefit.

"Of all the taco joints on all the planets in all the galaxy, you walk back into mine," he paraphrased charmingly. "How's it hangin', Max?"

"Not too bad, Rick," replied Max. "I see you’re still bothering the female help. Having any luck?"

"Same as always," replied Rick with a lopsided grin.

"That bad, huh?"

"'Fraid so. Speaking of which, heard from Lieutenant Beckett lately?"

Max shook her head. "It's been a while since I talked to any of the old Banshees, but last I heard, Sam was still on Earth working on her Starfleet Medical schooling."

"Well, good on her," said Rick. Max thought she detected a trace of wistful longing flash across the man's face, but when she looked again all she saw was the usual self-assured grin. "But enough chitchat," continued Rick. "Can I get you something? Hasperat burrito? Or how 'bout a nice cold schplict?" He waggled his eyebrows in deliberately comical parody of lechery.

At the mention of the noxious beverage, Max found herself suddenly in the alarming situation of simultaneously being about to lose her lunch and wanting to laugh at the juvenile antics of the El Taco manager. Luckily for all concerned, Rick's face was funnier than schplict was disgusting.

"You sure know how to wine and dine the ladies, but I think I'll pass, thanks," she managed to say after she'd regained control. "Sam was the only one of us who could ever stomach that stuff, and only because her olfactory sense was mostly cybernetic and she could switch it off."

Rick smiled and shrugged. "Okay. Since you didn't come here for the usual gastronomical obstacle course, then to what do I owe the superfluous pleasure of your inimitably beauteous presence in my humble restaurant?"

"I just need a little info," replied Max. She lowered her voice and leaned further over the counter. Rick automatically leaned in from the other side until he and Max were almost nose-to-nose. "What do you know about the Snark and the Boojum?" asked Max.

Rick's eyes widened in surprise and his cocky smile wavered for a second. He quickly straightened up again and tried to cover over his momentary display of discomfort with a carefree chuckle. "What do you think a simple restaurant manager knows about two such dangerous criminals?"

Max waved off his evasion. "You're a lot of things, mister restaurant manager, but 'simple' isn't one of them." She cast a quick glance at the only other customer in the place to make sure he was still minding his own business, and lowered her voice to a near whisper before continuing. "I have no idea who you really are or who you really work for -- and I don't *want* to know," she added hastily on seeing him about to protest, "but you know things that no one else knows, including the police and Starfleet Security. When Sam was kidnapped by the Mind Rippers last year, you seemed to know what was going on and you helped us find her. Surely what I'm asking of you now is peanuts compared to that!"

Rick had grown completely serious during Max's impassioned plea. He closed his eyes and sighed as though the weight of the multiverse bore down on his shoulders. When he opened his eyes again, Max saw something in them she could ill define, though the memory would haunt her for years. It had been an epic sorrow, or the foreknowledge of an inescapable fate perhaps. She almost shuddered.

"You don't know what you're asking," Rick said so quietly Max almost missed the words. Then, louder, he said, "If you really want my advice, walk away from this now and forget about it. Please, for your sake!" His eyes were almost pleading with her.

Something inside Max screamed at her to listen to this man's advice, to just beam back up to the *Rocinanté* and West and fly away to Tosnoqua like West had planned yesterday. But another part of her couldn't take that road. A life was at stake.

"I can't do that," she replied simply. "I have to find out what the Snark's last words meant. He asked me to do something and I have to find out what the hell he was talking about. More importantly, there's a young boy involved, and I have to make sure he's all right."

Rick sighed again, this time in resignation. He said, "Well, I know there's no talking you out of something you've set your mind to, so I won't try anymore. Just be careful, Max. You run the risk of losing more than just your life if you follow this course."

Max frowned darkly at the dire, mysterious warning, and would have demanded an explanation, but Rick cut her off.

"Here's what I can tell you about the Snark and the Boojum..."