"Till The River Runs Dry"
By Mara-DragonMaster
Chapter One
"It wasn't our fault!" Simon protested as they made their fast way through the bay area. "It just happened."
"Seems to me a lot of things happen around you." Mal said, his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight. "And those things have a tendency to bring down harm on me and what's mine, and I don't exactly approve of that." He started to turn away, to head up the stairs and out of the bay. "You are off at our next stop."
Simon's eyes widened. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Captain, you can't do that…" Simon ran up the stairs after him.
"Well I am doin it!" Mal roared, turning around so sudden that Simon almost ran into him. "I am tired of the Alliance always being just a hair's breath away, and sick of havin people I've been on unsteady good terms with turn on me for the promise of reward." His face and tone left no room for argument. "The next time we land, you and your sister will get off. Is that understood?"
Anger and confusion and desperation warred on Simon's face. "What about what we've gone through together? What about Miranda? You stayed with us then."
"Yeah." Mal agreed. "And two of us almost died for it. I ain't puttin the lives of my crew on the line like that again." He voice dropped. "You will get off on Hieraz. No more questions asked."
Mal stepped into the pub and took a deep, satisfied breath of air, looking around. "Nothing like a good drink," he announced, making his way to the bar. "After a good job."
"No, there isn't, sir." Zoe agreed, taking a stool at the counter.
"Bartender!" Mal tapped the counter top with his finger as he sat down. "Two, please." Taking up the full glasses given them, him and Zoe took a good drink, then set the glasses down, and he sighed. "Life is good."
Zoe looked at her glass, silent, and then raised it to take another drink.
Mal glanced at her. "What? You don't agree?"
"I didn't say that, sir." Zoe said, her eyes rising to look at him pointedly.
Mal rolled his eyes and groaned. "Oh, come on." He exclaimed. "That was over a year ago. You ain't still all up in a twist about that, are you?"
"I didn't say anything, sir."
Mal stared at her disbelievingly. "Right. Okay." He said, nodding though his eyes had narrowed slightly. "Bartender! Another one, please."
As the man filled another glass and set it on the counter Mal looked around, feeling at home and relaxed in the dimly lit room filled with traders and smugglers and other fine businessmen. Then his eyes fell on a table in a corner, where a group of men sat playing cards and drinking. There wasn't anything particular about them to hold his interest, but for some unapparent reason his attention was drawn to a young man at the table, dealing out cards and slapping them down when he got a good deal. His black hair was long on his shoulders and his beard a couple months old, and he laughed and jested with all the others there. Yet there was something dark about him, as though the laughter and easiness were just a front– a very good one, at that– to cover the danger and hardness underneath. Mal watched his movements, the steadiness of his hands, the way it appeared that he drank as much as his fellow card players but really hardly drank at all, the way his eyes were clear and calculating and betrayed nothing but saw everything. He was not someone a person would ever want to cross, Mal decided, taking another drink.
As though feeling eyes on him the man suddenly glanced up in the middle of laughing, searching for who was watching him, and as the light of the room shined fully on his face Mal felt his heart stop dead in his chest.
It was Simon.
"Mal? What is it?"
Moving slowly, so as not to attract attention, Mal turned back to the counter so that his back was mostly to the corner table. "Card table," he said quietly. "Back corner, first player on the left."
He knew when she identified Simon by the slight stiffening of her body.
"Yup." He said, still quiet.
"Well," Zoe said casually. "He looks different."
"He does, doesn't he?" Mal said. "Never figured him for the bad-boy look, but…"
"Who you talking about?" the bartender asked. He looked to where Simon sat playing cards. "Him? Oh– you don't want to mess with him."
Zoe looked at him. "Why not?"
"That's Simon Rio; most round here just call him Rio for short." The bartender said, keeping his voice low. "He's a hard dealer; does one-man jobs better than anyone out there. He's got guts, skill, and a mind like a steel-trap, and he don't mess around. One time an employer tried to short him when it came time to get paid, and he shot the guy in the leg. Was ready to start shooting other parts, too, except the guy gave in. Hasn't killed anybody that I've heard, but…" he paused, and glanced at the card table. "Just cause I ain't heard…" he raised his eyebrows in meaning. "You do business with Rio, you better know what you're doing." He glanced at the table again. "Obviously, these men don't."
"He's moving." Zoe whispered.
Mal turned and looked. Simon had gathered his winnings and was standing, sliding on a brown, weathered jacket, and he shook the hand of each man there, still talking and laughing and apparently leaving on good terms. It seemed the other men were too far-gone to realize they'd been completely cleaned out.
Turning back, Mal looked at Zoe. "Well," he said chipperly, draining his glass. "Let's go say hello."
"You sure that's wise?" Zoe asked.
"Why not?" Mal asked innocently, standing.
As they left the pub they saw him walking away down the street, and followed him to the mostly empty landing field. There were only three ships there: Serenity, another larger ship, and then a small, one-man ship vessel that had been modified to be a deep-space flier. It was to this ship that Simon was heading.
Mal started to jog, and opened his mouth to call out a greeting. Then the world exploded, and the air roared around him, full of hot wind and dust and smoke. When his ears finished ringing and his body realized that it was no longer flying, the fast rat-tat-tatting that followed registered somewhere in his brain as gunfire. Mal blinked, realizing he was on his back in the dirt looking up into a sky quickly filling with smoke. Sitting up he saw Zoe rising to her hands and knees beside him, and then he saw the men in the alley. Simon's ship was a large orange fireball before them, pieces of broken and charred metal lying all around. Simon was behind the side of the other large ship. He waited, mouth set in a grim line and his eyes blazing, and then he spun out and fire spat from the guns in his hands, taking down two of the men in the alleyway. There was shouting, and dirt spat up around his feet, and he dropped the empty cartridges and reached behind and under his jacket, reloading from the six or so extra cartridges he had on his belt.
Pulling out his own gun Mal shot a man coming up on the doctor's blind spot. "Simon!"
Hard eyes turned to him, shock evident for only a moment before he returned to shooting. He jerked as a red line suddenly cut across his cheek, and spinning around he shot the man behind him.
"Simon! Get over here!" Mal yelled, spinning and shooting another guy, retreating as the attackers turned some of their fire on them. Zoe hit a man who decided to make a daring and very foolish charge out of the alley and into the open, and then she pulled out her radio.
"Wash, get ready. We're coming in fast."
Giving a final burst of gunfire Simon reloaded his guns a second time, and then he turned towards Mal and began to run. Dirt clouded and spat behind and around him, and as he ran he raised one of his guns and took out another enemy.
As the engines of Serenity roared to life and began to glow orange above them Mal and Zoe backed up to the ramp, guns firing. Simon barreled into them, and they all turned and ran up and into the belly of the firefly, and with a heavy sound of wind and engine power the ship rose into the air and took off.
Simon skidded to a halt inside the bay, emptied guns still gripped tightly in each hand, and he stared at the bay door as it rose and clanged shut. Jayne stood on the stairs between the bay and the catwalk, holding Vera, frozen when he saw who had come in with Mal and Zoe. Kaylee, who had come running as they took off, stood on the forward walkway and stared, hands gripping the railing, her eyes wide. Wash appeared on the stairs, having set the ship on autopilot. Stumbling to a stop beside Kaylee his mouth opened in a question that died on his lips at Zoe's warning hand, just as Simon gave a frustrated bellow, eyes blazing as his teeth bared. "Zǔ zhòu!" he yelled, throwing his gun at the door where it banged and bounced off, sliding across the floor.
"Nǐ bèi pàn zhě! Nǐ ér mǔ jiào shǎo shān yáng! Yú jiāng yào xiǎn nǐ!"
Mal raised his eyebrows.
"Tā wǒ chuán, nǐ shǔ!"
His explosion over, Simon spat on the ground, then jerked his head, shaking his hair out of his face. He only partially succeeded, because some of it stuck in the blood on his cheek. Giving a final glare at the door as he pulled the trapped strands free he turned his head to the right, and his eyes settled on the captain.
Mal stared for a moment, then he smiled and spread his hands. "Simon! It has certainly been–"
Simon moved faster than Mal could react, a murderous gleam in his blue eyes, and a moment later the captain's head snapped back as a fist collided with his face. The next thing he knew he was on his back with a nose that hurt to high heaven and a ringing in his ears, and Simon standing over him.
"Hey, Captain!" Simon smiled cheerfully down. "Long time no see, huh? Here." He reached down and grabbed Mal's hand, pulling him up to his feet. Then his brows drew together, and he pointed to Mal, who was holding his nose with one hand. "Want me to look at that for you?"
Translations:
•"Zǔ zhòu!"Curse!
•"Nǐ bèi pàn zhě! Nǐ ér mǔ jiào shǎo shān yáng! Yú jiāng yào xiǎn nǐ!" You traitor! You son (of a) mother-less goat! I will kill you!
•"Tā wǒ chuán, nǐ shǔ!"She (was) my ship, you rat!