Reggie "Pops" Waverly sat silently in his old rocker, surveying the agrobots working busily in the plantation's fields.
However, the pungent smells of juniper, roasting coffee beans, and the Church's own exclusive strain of cannabis canaria did not provide the peace he sought, nor had it done so for months.
Mal was still missing.
Messages had been transmitted. Rewards had been offerred. Every lead and rumor had been exhausted.
Reggie sighed wearily, and patted at his vest pockets for his faithful Kyushu ivory meerschaum and pouch of Grenoble long shag. He paused pensively for a moment before tamping and lighting the strong Gallian tobacco.
Perhaps it was time to call in reinforcements. He knew that John Henry was still perturbed by Mal's abrupt departure. Doc had duties aplenty already.. his medical practice, his Ambassadorship for the TAZ, and a wife and toddler to cherish (and worry about). Reggie knew that the added burden of leading the TAZ had almost been too much for John; but a concerted effort was the only option he had left for finding his old friend and business partner.
Sighing again, Reggie tapped his temple with a finger, and began to dictate subvocally:
-------------
To: John Henry, Ambassador's Office, Shasta
From: Reggie, V.I., Port Canaria
John,
I am at wit's end, my old friend.
I have tried every approach to finding our "lost" Episkopos. Even those crafty Mandalores have not been able to pick up a scent. I fervently hope that you will be willing to put aside your "pique", and bring the full weight of the TAZ to bear.
Mal may be unpredictable, grumpy, and eccentric; but, he was my best friend and partner for almost a decade. I cannot rest soundly until I know his whereabouts, or his fate. Please. For me.
Awaiting your reply,
Reg
-------------
It was done. Tapping his temple again, he rose slowly, and gazed into the distance. Perhaps a visit to Alan's dolphins would raise his spirits. He was about to step off the porch when tow arms circled his waist from behind, and a warm check nuzzled his neck.