And Promises to Keep
By Mike Smithwick
A year is an odd thing in the 'Verse. An abstraction. An historical artifact dragged along with so many others onboard the giant ark ships. On Earth-that-Was, a year was a precise measurement of the time it took for the planet to spin around its sun before it would repeat the journey. The new 'Verse, full of dozens of planets and moons, bore no such luxury. One might have a "year" of 229 days, each being only 21 and a half hours in length. Another's would be 1289 days. And if you were on one of the many moons, Lilac, Haven, Mephisto, your single "day" might be equated to a dozen Earth-length days, thanks to gravitational locking with the parent world.
A year is an odd thing. An abstraction. On old-Earth, the ancients would mark their growing and harvesting times by which star might flicker into morning twilight on which day. School children knew that if it was October, they should look for falling leaves, if January, they should bundle up in their warmest clothing. In the 'Verse, there was no interlinking of the weather or stars to the time of the "year." It was just numbers some would say. And they would go on and create local times and calendars for their own worlds, decide how many months a year would have and how many days a month would have, and grumble whenever some outsider would call for an appointment on May 3 at 11 AM, wondering whose "May" and whose "AM."
Even without the stately regular march of the constellations across the heavens, without the telltale brush of the first crisp October morn whispering up against her cheek, Zoe knew that a year had nearly passed. She would stare at the wall, then at the ceiling sometimes for hours on end in her cabin, deep into the night, desperately trying to remember every detail of their lives together.
"I'm not going to forget you, my man," she'd whisper to the empty half of the bed next to her…
As much as the crew liked to think of Serenity as their own family, only Zoe had a true family. Before Simon and River came onboard of course. And after each little adventure, be it dropping off some -ahem- "building materials" (with Alliance markings neatly sanded off), Zoe knew that the arms of her Wash would be there to greet her. At that moment, she could go from being hardened warrior, to soft woman thanks to him.
"Has it been a year?"
She had debated early on whether to toss out all of his stuff and start anew. She had seen many men die in the war, knew what it took to close their eyes with her hand, rip any dog-tags off for the next-of-kin and say a rushed farewell before she had to pick up her gun and continue shooting others across the valley whose friends in turn would have to repeat the very same ritual. Move on. "Keep fly'n."
All of that practice should have prepared her for the empty bed next to her. But it did not. She once thought that clearing out his lockers might do it. She went so far as to toss his collection of the ugliest shirts in the 'Verse, not to mention toys, harmonicas and books outside the ship a few months ago as they were preparing to leave one rock. (She did keep his ukulele, God knows why.) It took her only a scant two days to regret her actions. That night she found a large box wrapped with what passed for a ribbon in those parts, sitting neatly on her bed. It would appear that River had grabbed Wash's stuff right before they pulled up stakes and hid it away. Just in case.
It was good to have a "reader" on board sometimes.
She moved her gaze from the side wall to the bulkhead at the end of the bed, and listened to the sound of her own breathing. In the distance she could hear the low hum of the environmental system keeping them all alive, the heartbeat of Serenity. The ship rattled briefly as one of her small thrusters fired, silently, automatically setting their course straight as Mal
And now the voices began again. The Black does that to folks, it speaks to them through their memories, dreams, and little dancing ghost-like images in the night.
There was one voice she wished she could put out of her head. But it was branded into her mind forever. The haughty, vaguely Czech voice….
"…so you now have a question to make an answer. It is for you pretty lady, and only you, now to ch…."
"Him!"
She surprised herself by speaking out loud in the dark. "Him." she whispered again.
Zoe knew that Wash didn't have a chance with Niska, who would toy with him like the toughest alley cat with a baby mouse. Only Mal did. Malcolm Reynolds could last a day or two longer then her boy, and choosing Wash over her captain was the only way to possibly save both men. What would Jayne have said? "Hell, it'd take less brains then a walnut if a walnut even had, uh, brains."
Wash could be such a child, in both the good and bad ways. Innocent and temperamental, carefree and clueless. With Niska, he was clueless. But he would ultimately have the last laugh by outliving that madman.
"Him." She whispered again aloud, closing her eyes and watched the little ghosts dance again.
"HIM?" Mal shouted, loud enough to be heard on the dark side of Shenandoah. "You want to marry …. Wash?".
"That's right sir."
He raced down the corridor, chasing her, as they headed towards the dining area.
"Well…" Mal stammered, catching up her. "I can't…well…why?"
"Don't rightly know myself sir. He kinda grows on you."
"Like fungus on a sponge. You want to marry him?"
"I think we've already established that."
"I thought you hated pilots."
"All but one."
Mal slammed the door open to the dinning room. Wash sat there oblivious to the turmoil from outside, strumming his ukulele trying to sing something about a tulip, or a blackbird, nobody could really figure out what.
Mal stopped, faced Zoe in the doorway, pointed directly towards his pilot and repeated "HIM?"
His second in command smiled softly. "Yes Mal. Him."
"I really liked that 'taa-daa in the nick of time' routine you put on back at Niska's sweetie. Really turns me on." Wash said as Zoe gently bathed his wounds.
"Owww! Did Jayne supply you with some extra-pointy chunks of salt? Jayne! You adorable little pixie! You out there laughing?" Wash shouted towards the door.
Zoe smiled, rubbed just a little harder, hoping to remind her husband that her sandbox was a little more dangerous than his.
"If you are going to play with sadists dear, you got to get used to the pain," she whispered in his ear.
"Did I tell you I was sorry, lambie toes?"
"Not nearly enough."
"Well, then I AM SORREEEE!...Owww!"
"Oops. I missed a spot." She dug a little harder.
"OWWWW!"
Zoe was thankful that she didn't have to close his eyes shut as she had to do with so many others years before. She continued in silence for the next few moments, slowly dipping her sponge into the warm water, squeezing out the scarlet red of her husband's blood.
"So, what would you do without me?" Wash asked, with the usual kidding tone in his voice. Zoe stopped, unable to think the unthinkable.
"Hush!"
Her husband was not one to know precisely how to hush. "You could marry Mal ya know. You'd make a cute couple." He lowered his voice "In the day, 'Pardners in crime! In the night, Pardners in love!'. Heck, I'd even buy that book. No wait. I couldn't cuz I'd be dead!"
Wash's voice drifted out into the night.
Zoe now rolled to her other side. The clock said it was about 4:30 in the morning, whatever "morning" meant in the Black.
Up on the shelf she spied some of his beloved toys: The hula girl, a "drinking bird," a kewpie doll and of course, those damned dinosaurs. No one on the ship but she knew that those were perhaps Serenity's most valuable cargo.
When the original settlers left Earth they weren't permitted to bring many personal belongings. After the basics, the necessities, most brought pictures and a few family heirlooms. Space was precious and few things made the journey. One ark, the Alexandria, was the designated heritage ship. She did carry artwork and other cultural items from Earth that can be seen in the some of the museums to this very day. But the day-to-day stuff was rare, the common chaff of life, and usually kept within a family to serve as a touchstone with the past. The rarest were children's' toys. Things meant to be played with and usually broken or lost by tiny hands. These were highly prized by collectors.
Wash's toys were not made in the 'Verse.
"…wacky adventures….you two could have your own wacky adventures together, " Wash continued.
"Quiet! Don't talk like this sweetie." She put a finger on his mouth. He winced as he lay down on the bed, his flesh still tender and raw.
"At least now I have a good story to tell the kids and grandkids when my teeth are falling out. Grenades? Land mines? Hah! I spit on your landmines! Let me tell you when daddy was tortured to within an inch of his life…"
"…and mommy had to rescue his sorry little rear end." Zoe calmly added.
She was glad he stopped talking about death and instead turned his attention to a future that did include him.
"Pookums?"
She HATED when he called her that. He knew she hated when he called her that. He loved annoying her.
"Remember, how I could hurt you with my little finger dear?"
"Pookums?"
"Little finger?"
She raised her left arm, her fifth digit outstretched like an over-zealous society lady.
"Uh…Zoe? If I were to die, for real. None of this lame torture stuff but a real honest to-God death, I want you to promise me one thing, on the first anniversary of my no doubt glorious demise…"
Serenity shuddered again, waking Zoe out of her dreams. They might be approaching their destination. That means River would likely be up already, carefully guarding the cockpit.
"…please my little Nubian goddess?"
"…no…dear. Anything but that!"
"No….no……" her voice faded out.
"Just for me? I promise to give you foot rubs every night for the next two weeks." Wash pined. "You know what I do with the second toe on your left foot…"
Yes….yes she did. She rolled away from him, smiled as he nudged her.
"Com'on…pleeeeze? Ok. How's this. I promise to never let myself be tortured by a giant sadistic space monkey again. From here on out, I'll let you be the one to be tortured."
"Well, since you put it that way….ok." She immediately regretted her promise.
"YESSS!" Wash shouted, thrusting his fist in the air.
Zoe couldn't get any more sleep and pulled herself out of bed. She left her trademark vest in the closet, too much trouble to pull on at this time of morning. Hitching up her pants, she glanced back at the bed, always with the whisper of hope that "her man" might be there, and that Miranda was in fact the dream. It remained empty.
The glances were one of the things she missed. The knowing glances across dinner, or when she came home from a job. They were a language all their own. She and Wash could almost have a complete conversation with nothing but raised eyebrows or an upturned mouth. That and the jokes of course. Wash was definitely the comedian of their little family. No matter how bad she felt, how tough things were, he was there with a wise observation followed by some punch-line delivered with mock seriousness. And she missed telling him jokes. Yes, she could tell jokes, but rarely did so in public, unless it was at Jayne's expense. Even now she would remember something funny she heard River say, or she'd see while on a job, and think to herself, "I need to remember to tell Wash that" only to realize that he wasn't there.
"Get over it girl!" she scolded herself as she climbed up the ladder out of the cabin. Get over it.
Zoe loved the ship at "night," the loving clutter of her crew tucked away for a few peaceful hours. She slowly made her way to the bridge and walked through the entrance. River sat, knees folder up under her chin, relaxed. She was gazing out as the sun just started to rise, breaking the thin delicate deep blue of the upper atmosphere of their quarry's horizon.
"You never get tired of that" River stated, in her still-young voice.
"I know little one."
While space was cold and empty, the few things that could still inspire someone to song were the sunrises. No matter what time of day. The cabin was bathed in a rainbow of colors and shadings from dark blue, to light, followed by crimson, orange, yellow and ultimately a brilliant silvery white all in a matter of a few seconds. At times like this, the little ship lived up to her name.
"I like it when you call me that…'little one,' makes me feel loved." The young pilot said pulling up her knees even tighter, without moving her gaze.
"You are dear, you are."
"Even when I am a psychotic murdering killing machine that could rip your heart out in mid-beat?" River turned around and grinned, knowing Zoe would get her little joke. Not all did. Jayne was still spooked by her. But that could be fun. She could keep him in line by a mere wink.
"You're troubled" she commented.
"Don't go read'n my mind girl." Zoe said sternly.
"Didn't. Don't need to. It's on your face." River turned back to the windows.
Zoe paused, noticing how she chose the left pilot's seat, leaving Wash's untouched.
"We'll be entering orb in about 10, landfall when all are up."
Zoe sat down in the other chair, and watched the dusty landscape of Haven wheel in silence below them.
"Jayne? You up?" Mal shouted as he pounded on Jayne's door, more to annoy him than anything else. They knew the routine all too well. Kaylee in her freshly cleaned jumpsuit gave an overly perky "Good morn'n" wave to the captain as she rushed down to check on her engines and generate a morning report. Reports which typically read little more than "Look'n good" or " she's purr'n like newborn kitty."
Hep Carter, their current passenger, was a reporter heading on out to Aberdeen. He wondered what all of the fuss about, why they had to make this detour to Haven of all places, and if his company would pick up the tab for the extra days. He turned over in bed, and covered his head with a pillow to block out the morning tumult. "Are all transport shuttles this cheerful in the morning?" he thought.
Malcom made his way up to the bridge, stood straight and tall, to affect his best captainy-type pose reminiscent of his favorite literary characters when growing up.
"All's good sir. Next chance for landing is about an hour from now." River said, without so much as a looking back.
"Child! You reading my mind again? I told you not to do that!"
"Damn. You found me out captain." River said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. She had to explain, again, that she knew the distinctive clomp-clomp of his boots, and wasn't reading his thoughts.
He was amazed at how good a pilot the young woman had become. Not nearly as good as Wash, few were, but since Miranda, their adventures had quieted up just a bit, so they rarely needed to make a run from the government, the bad guys, or anyone straddling the all too narrow in-between. Took a little fun out of the smuggling, it did though.
Serenity came slowly over the plains, extended her landing pods, and settled down in a tiny valley. River locked up the yoke, shut down the engines and made a quick sweep of the status enunciators. All looked good. She spun her chair around, and exited the bridge to join the others in the hold. Kaylee was dressed in her favorite ivory and gold Chinese tunic, a gift from Inara before she left. She clutched some flowers in one hand, Simon standing next to her side. Mal wore his normal duster, being not much on the fancy dress. Zoe had since changed into her white "funeral gown" last worn exactly one year ago.
"Where's Jayne?" Simon asked, showing rare concern.
"Com'n!" they heard as the hulking gunman flew down the stairs. "How you tie one of these gorram things??" he asked trying to cinch up an all too small bowtie around his neck.
"Why I do declare Jayne Cobb, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're getting yerself ready for some church'n" Mal remarked.
"The Preach deserves it."
Kaylee rushed up, and gently helped him with the tie, as a mother would with her little boy on Sunday morning.
The Preach of course was Book, who had made an odd couple with Jayne shortly before he left. Jayne would help Book workout and in turn the shepherd would give Jayne counseling of whatever type, be it help with letters to his mom, weapon handling tips, or on occasion, a Bible story or two. Outside of Mal, Jayne was perhaps the one most singularly affected by Book's death. Few knew that the shepherd had given Jayne his Bible before he left. He'd rarely opened it since then, but if he had, he would have read a special inscription left by the preacher to Jayne in the margins of the 23rd Psalm.
Mal pounded the cargo hold's button, and with a grinding sound, a slit of sunlight emerged around the ramp as it lowered. It was evening where they had landed, the air was silvery and misty just like it was a year ago. The sun shone into the dark utilitarian ship, momentarily turning it into a warm glowing habitat.
Mal couldn't help but wonder why they landed so far from the site. It was still a couple of small ridges towards the west and clearly out of view.
"Ta me de child, couldn't you have landed a little closer? Now Wash, that tyen tsai, he could land this thing on a flea's fanny if need be."
River had grown used to the Captain's kidding. He was like an older brother in that regard. A much much older brother. She knew it really showed his affection for her.
"Yes sir. Flea's ass. Check." She responded in kind.
They grew silent as they neared the site. Finally in the distance they saw the three white pylons, only a couple of feet high, their video-markers still blinking out their messages. The crew simultaneously wondered if anyone had ever seen them since they were erected, one year ago.
Kaylee did a very Kaylee-like thing, and knelt down to place her flowers on all three graves. The others couldn't help but notice how she gave Mr. Universe one additional bud.
"Not many cared for him, he needs some extras" she said under her voice.
Mal realized that the others would expect him to say some words of comfort. He turned and faced his crew, his back towards the sunset. "The Black has too few good folk in it" he said. "Ain't right that these three were taken from it. It's our place now to make up for them."
One by one, the others had their say, some profound, some not. But all heartfelt nonetheless. And one by one they turned and headed back to the ship.
Except for Zoe.
"Yess!" Wash shouted, thrusting his fist into the air.
"I know I'll regret this." Zoe mumbled.
"Zoe? You coming?" Mal shouted, looking back over his shoulder.
"Go ahead without me. I need some time alone with my man."
"Well, don't take too much time, we're keeping a pay'n passenger from his appointed rounds of spreading slander and half-truths to the world."
"Don't worry sir."
She watched out of the corner of her eye as the rest of her friends left. The sun had now set and the gloaming was settling in. The video-markers were just bright enough to start casting their own glows across the surface of the plain. When she could no longer hear the others' voices, she looked back at Wash's marker. Taking out a tiny green stegosaurus she knelt down and placed it at the base. "Here's someone to keep you occupied for the next eternity dear. Don't want you to get bored wherever you are."
She glanced around again to ensure they were truly alone as she straightened up.
"Well honey, I promised you. Book? Mr. Universe? Forgive me."
Taking a deep breath she looked up into the sky as the first stars were starting to wink in. Then she started to sing.
"You put your left foot in, you put your left foot out you put your left foot in and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey-Pokey...and you turn yourself around…..
"I wonder what Zoe is doing. I bet she wrote an intimate love poem she doesn't want anyone to hear." Kaylee said as they pulled into the cargo bay.
Jayne headed for his bunk, as Simon and Kaylee moved upstairs to start working on dinner.
"River? We're outta here 10 minutes after Zoe returns. Can you do that?"
"Hah! 'Brain the size of a planet'? Puhleeezzeeee!" River joked from somewhere above them.
In a few minutes they spotted Zoe strolling by herself towards them from across the valley floor. Graceful and serene, she looked more peaceful then ever.
"Come on Mrs. Washburne." The captain said as she strode back into the ship. "You okay?"
"Okay as I can be."
"Good, cuz'n we're outta here." He punched the door's switch and the gangplank closed behind the two. "No matter what, we still got ourselves some deliveries to make and promises to keep."
"And maybe that's really what it is all about sir."
Up above River fired up the engines to put the wind in Serenity's sails sending her back into the heavens. There she joined up with hundreds and later, thousands of other anonymous transport boats, each making their way from someone else's point A to someone else's point B. Each with their stories, and their families and even with their very own promises to keep.
And that's really what it's all about.