author's note: Geography of the 'verse is as accurate as possible (planets/stars/moons/protostars/etc). I know very little about weapons, and military rank so please be kind and just deal with the inaccuracies until I get the motivation to learn actual things.
"Ma! Ma! Ma, I did it! I shot a coyote!"
The kitchen smelled like bread and chili, his mother's blonde hair tied back in a thick braid that was coming a little loose after a long day. She stirred a pot and spoke in mandarin to the other women cooking. If you thought keeping house was a lot of work, try keeping a whole ranch. Ms. Reynolds could do it with a hand tied behind her back.
"Malcolm, I told you not to go with Chin and John-Hu." Her beautiful face was tired and creased by constant work. She looked at her son, he was dirty and there was grass in his hair. John-Hu came into the bustling kitchen, his hat in his hands.
"Ms. Reynolds, Mal followed us, we didn' take 'im. But it's a good thing he was there; got a rabid stray that was sneakin' up on Chin and me."
She smiled, "Malcolm Reynolds, the hero of Shadow."
His ten year old heart swelled and he smiled a shit eating grin.
"Now wash up and grab the prayer book for dinner, sweetie."
BOOM!
The wheat fields at harvest. Golden rays from Georgia making the fields glitter as Murphy dipped below the horizon.
BOOM!
The first calf of the spring standing on wobbly legs. Bottle feeding the unfortunate orphans.
BOOM!
"SARGE!"
The barbecue pit roaring hot on holidays as the ranch hands twanged out music and the hard packed dirt dance floor.
BOOM!
"MAL!"
Burning fields of wheat. Slaughtered livestock. Huddled in the ruins of his mother's ranch.
BOOM!
"What in the hell are they lobbing at us?"
"Standard mortars, sir. They've just got a hell of an aim," Zoe Aileen never sounded panicked. It was Jack Caprice that was screaming.
"Mal! If they hit any closer we're all gonna be as good off as those cows," he pointed at a heap of rotting carcasses. They weren't all bovine.
"That's 'sergeant', Caprice!"
"Well sarge, what are we going to do?"
"Where is are snipe team? Why ain't they got this covered?"
"Blown to hell by said mortars, sir." Her calm was beginning to bother Mal.
"Goddammit! This is the last blockade keeping the HQ safe, did no one think to WAKE ME UP WHEN WE STARTED LOSING?" he roared at the shaking men and women. "Charles, Hwang, you 抽搐 (Chōuchù) get up to that nest in the bluffs and you take out whoever is shooting those mortars or you don't come back." He threw a bag filled with .308 rounds at them and glared as they stumbled out of the back of what was left of the ranch house. He could see by the light of the burning barn pouring through the windows, that what was left of his platoon was battered and bruised.
He never expected this when he volunteered. He wanted to keep his mom safe. He wanted to keep his freedom. A few months of showing those purple bellies we won't lay down for them and they'll back down, he thought. Three years later and the end was nowhere in sight. They'd lost one key planet already. Shadow and Hera were the only strong holds they had left against the alliance, but he was not going to lose. He looked to the pile of corpses and animal carcasses out of the window. His mother was in there. His family was there. His home was burning to the ground.
"Caprice, Johnson, you two get on whatever vehicle we have left that goes faster than walking and you get to HQ and tell them to get out now."
"Sir, the speeders were hit by mortars and the engine of the truck is beyond repair."
"Then you better run fast. Go!"
Zoe knew him well enough that this battle had become beyond personal to him. She saw the hate in his eyes. A week ago, he was talking about going home to his mom on leave. He said it was almost harvest time. Now the fields burned around him and he couldn't bury the piles of family that lay dead around him.
"Zoe! What's their next move looking like?"
"Well they seem to just feel like bombing the shit out of us, sir."
"Not helpful."
"Well they're being commanded by Xang, and his style is to bomb until we break and try to counter. Then slaughtering. He's not a fan of the Alliance POW Reformation camps, sir."
"What a nice guy. Shall we go over and shake hands?"
"Sir?"
"The rest of you, get the supplies and injured ready for transport. Look busy and don't get blown up."
He slung a semi-automatic rifle across his back, he tightened his thigh holster and checked the mag of his Moses Brothers Model B and grabbed more ammo. He said a small prayer and kissed his cross before storing it under his fatigues with his dog tags.
"Zoe! Let's go!"
They moved under cover us dust clouds from the explosions. Behind refuse heaps and burned down buildings. Images of the once pristine ranch flashed through his eyes as he ran from one charred pile to the next. There was a lull in the mortar fire. They waited. It was sustained.
"Looks like our snipers did their jobs."
"Or they ran out of shells."
"Have some faith."
"That's your job, sir."
"You said he likes to slaughter groups? What if the two of us walked up there?"
"Xang respects balls, but that's ridiculous, sir."
"This whole war is ridiculous. Come on. Keep your piece holstered."
They walked out of the dust cloud. Fifty yards from the Alliance lines. They walked straight up to them, guns pointed in their face.
"Knock-knock. Xang, home?"