Serenity lurched to port. Mal staggered slightly, but kept his balance. Wash was grappling with the ship's wheel, veins bulging from his forearms. From the aft they could hear the tinkle of bullets on Serenity's hull. Jayne's head appeared round the cockpit door:
"What in the gorram hell is goin' on?!"
"We're under attack!" Mal replied.
"Well can't we outrun 'em?"
"Not a chance," said Zoe, from the co-pilot's seat.
"It's a Mantis-class gun ship," she continued, pointing to a display screen on the console in front of her. It showed a long, thin ship with two large pods fixed to spindly 'arms' that extended from her prow. Each pod was mounted with an engine at the rear, and twin assault cannons at the front.
"Tzao gao!" Mal cursed as Serenity lurched again. More bullets bounced from the hull.
"Couldn't we try and talk them down?" Wash suggested, "You never know, it could a case of mistaken identity(!)"
"Who do we know could afford a Mantis?" Mal wondered.
"McShane?" suggested Zoe.
"This far out?"
"How 'bout Olyphant?"
"What'd we ever do to him?"
"You do still owe him that drink," Jayne pointed out. Mal ignored him and, crossing the cockpit, activated the communicator on the console beside Wash.
"Y'know, there're easier ways of gettin' folk's attention than shootin' at them," he began, but was quickly cut off by a voice at the other end:
"Malcom Reynolds you ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng! Don't think you can try and sweet-talk your way outta this! This time, I'm gonna gettcha and I'm gonna make it stick! I'm gonna…"
"Rembrandt!" said Mal and Zoe, in unison.
"I thought you dropped him down his own mineshaft," said Wash.
"Musta crawled out," said Mal, with a shrug, "You how it is with cockroaches."
Everyone in the cockpit staggered as Serenity gave her most violent shake yet. Now Kaylee's voice could be heard on the intercomm.
"Cap'n? What's goin' on?"
Mal reached for the transmitter hanging from the ceiling.
"It's alright, Kaylee" he said, "Just standby. We may need some of that mechanic's magic pretty soon. The rest of you, hold on to something."
"I take it you've got a plan, then?" said Wash, sweat beading his forehead as he fought to keep Serenity under his control.
"How far are we from Persephone?" Mal asked Zoe.
"About four thousand clicks."
"Too far," Mal muttered.
"Sir," said Zoe, reading from the console in front of her, "there's a small moon not five hundred to starboard. It's called Asphodel"
"Never heard of it. Wash, hang a right and gun straight for it," Mal ordered.
"Kaylee, give me everythin' you got," said Wash into the intercomm.
Serenity's gentle hum quickly rose, growing to a dull roar as she sprang forwards, glowing energy trailing from her exhaust. Rembrandt's Mantis gave chase, running close behind her.
The green-brown mass of the moon Asphodel loomed large in the cockpit window.
"You see that cloud there," Mal said, pointing to a greyish blur above the moon's northern hemisphere, "Head for it. No fancy stuff, just fly straight."
Wash nodded and pushed the wheel as far forward as it would go.
"Sir?" said Zoe.
"Junk yard," Mal explained, "Thought maybe we could lose 'em in there."
"That gun ship's a damn sight nimbler than us," said Jayne grimly.
"She's also twice the size, and not half as compact," Mal retorted, "Trust me, it'll work."
"Gee, where've I heard thatbefore(?)" said Jayne.
The orbital junkyard was much closer now. It was like an elephant's graveyard: a place where old ships came to die. Although it was more difficult to guard against scavengers, orbital junkyards did not have to worry about rust or erosion.
Serenity hurtled past the guard posts, the Mantis just behind her. Immediately, the junkyard was surrounded by a string of red lights. They had only a few minutes before the 'guard dogs' (automated drones mounted with magnetic grapplers) were released.
"OK, Wash," said Mal, gripping the doorframe tightly, "Time for some of that fancy stuff I pay you for."
Wash didn't reply. Eyes fixed on the cockpit window, he heaved Serenity to the left, nearly tipping her on her side. She slipped through a gap between two ancient barges. The Mantis didn't even try to copy her and simply hopped over the top.
So began the game of high-speed cat-and-mouse. Wash was pushing Serenity to her very limits. Over, under, round and one time through the junk (this particular manoeuvre caused Mal to swear loudly and order Wash never to try anything like that again), but the Mantis was always one step behind them.
Suddenly, the radar screen began to flash red. Wash was too busy piloting to read it, so Mal leapt across the cockpit. Three red dots could be seen converging on Serenity from three different directions.
"Wuh de tyen, ah! Wash, it's the dogs!" cried Mal.
"Kaylee!" shouted Wash, "You think your baby could handle a good old fashioned barrel roll?"
"Oh… OK," was Kaylee's nervous reply.
"Hang on everybody," Wash yelled.
Mal quickly returned to the doorway, hands firm on the posts. They could see one of the 'dogs' now in the top left hand corner of the window: it was little more than a grappler with an engine strapped to the back, but it was fast and closing on them every second. Wash did not try to evade them, though. He kept Serenity flying dead straight, with the Mantis and the three 'dogs' gaining ground on every side.
"Wash…" said Mal nervously.
"Hold on, captain," said Wash.
The 'dogs' were right on top of them now. Mal could even see the power crackling across the grappler's big, flat head.
Suddenly, without any warning, Wash threw the ship hard over, spinning her right round. The two 'dogs' closing in from the side missed her, and crashed straight into one another. Now only two dots remained on the radar.
The Mantis had also noticed the 'dog' at her rear, and was making a valiant effort to outrun it. Her exhausts were running white hot, but to no avail. In ten seconds the grappler was firm against her stern. The Mantis began to fire wildly into space, spinning round and round, as the 'dog' sucked the energy from her circuits. Mal heard a few shots pinging from Serenity's hull, but she did not shake too badly.
"Nice work," said Mal, clapping Wash on the shoulder. Wash was about to reply when a light on the pilot's console flared red. Warning sirens blared.
"Chou ma niao! Why does nothingever go smooth?" Mal groaned, "What's wrong now?"
"It's the fuel!" said Wash, fingers dancing across the console in front of him, "We're low, real low."
"How?! We were full up three days ago!"
"I don't know."
"Can we make it to Persephone?"
"Not a chance"
"Well, do we have enough to make atmo'?"
"Maybe," said Wash, pale faced.
Serenity passed out through the far side of the junkyard. She was not far from Asphodel's upper atmosphere. Once again, Mal reached for the intercom:
"This is your captain speaking. If you would all like to hold on to something, we will shortly be landing on or, quite possibly, all over Asphodel."
The warning sirens became more urgent. Serenity was shaking again as she burned through the upper layer of the moon's atmosphere. Traces of fire streaked across the cockpit window. The sound was terrible: it was as if every nut and bolt in the ship were screaming. Then the ground appeared, moving very quickly towards them.
"Are we flying or falling?" Mal shouted over the roar of the ship.
"Interesting question!" was Wash's only reply.
They were going almost headfirst now. Mal caught brief glimpses of a wide river, rice paddy fields and mountains.
"Kaylee! Hit the landing thrusters, now!" Wash shouted into the intercomm.
"This far up? They'll burn out!" said Mal.
"It's our only chance!"
The two jets on either side of Serenity twisted downwards. The ship span round and round, like a sycamore seed caught in a gust of wind. The view from the cockpit alternated rapidly between sky and land. Then it was all land, and it was very close.
Serenity hopped as she landed, gouging huge chunks out of the earth as she went: once, twice and then silence.
Very gingerly, Mal picked himself up off the cockpit floor and reached for the intercomm.
"Everyone OK?" he asked tentatively. There were affirmative groans from Wash and Zoe, still firmly strapped to their seats.
It was Shepherd Book's voice that replied. He sounded concerned:
"Captain, I think you had better come down here."
In a few moments Mal was down in the cargo bay. The ramp was down. Jayne, Inara and Book were gazing anxiously through the opening. As Mal approached, he could see Kaylee kneeling in the mud just outside. Simon was standing over her, one hand on her shoulder. She was crying violently.
"What… what is it?" Mal asked, crossing over to her.
Kaylee tried to reply, but only sobs came out. She raised a trembling hand and pointed up. Three round bullet holes were punched in the bottom of the fuel tanks.
"They've killed her," sobbed Kaylee, "They've killed Serenity!"
Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me
Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't comin' back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me...
Taking the sky
Chapter 1
Three days had passed, and the crew of Serenity was gathered in the dining area. The mood was sombre, and there was little conversation. Even Wash's quips were half-hearted.
Mal rose from his seat. His face was unusually grim.
"You all know our situation," he said, "so I won't take the trouble to elaborate. We're grounded, plain and simple. We ain't got the parts to get us back in the air, nor the wherewithal to acquire more."
Simon spoke, tentatively:
"You're sure there's no possibility…"
"Yes, gorram it!" Mal snapped, slamming his fist down on the table. Simon flinched, but said nothing. After taking a deep breath, Mal continued:
"Like I said, we don't have the parts to fix our fuel tanks. Rembrandt didn't just puncture the shell: his bullets played merry hell with the mechanism inside and that's what's going to cost us.
"There is one bright spot, though: there is a dealer on this rock who has the parts we need and is willing to sell them to us at a not-quite extortionate price."
"Which is still far more than we can pay," Zoe added.
"Right," said Mal, "and that brings us to the really bad news"
The crew perked up at this. Mal and Zoe had only lately returned from their shuttle trip to Oxbow, the largest settlement on Asphodel, and the crew was anxious to hear what they had discovered.
The journey had been a tedious necessity. Serenity had never visited Asphodel before, meaning that they had no local contacts to send work their way. They had avoided landing in the trackless wetlands that covered much of the moon by a combination of good luck and good piloting. However, the major urban centres were on the far side of the sphere. The hilly region they had crashed on was green with rice paddy fields, but sparsely populated.
Oxbow had proven depressingly respectable: a clean, civilised town built on the meticulous grid-pattern standard to all Alliance settlements. Everything was neat and ordered and law-abiding. Even the saloons were respectable: they had even seen an old woman drinking alone in one of them. Worst of all, there did not appear to be a single criminal bar in the whole town. Mal and Zoe had visited the seediest dives they could find (even these could have passed for classy on many worlds). They used the standard signals known to every crook in the 'verse: buy a certain drink, sit in a certain seat, give certain code words combined with certain gestures. None of these things had earned them more than a polite smile, followed by an uneasy glance.
"Upshot is," said Mal, "there's no work for us here."
There was silence in the dining area as the crew exchanged baffled looks.
"Whut," said Jayne, "you mean there's nothin'?!"
"Nothing," said Mal firmly, "least ways, if there is, nobody's hiring."
"Hell, if there ain't no jobs goin', I say we make our own," said Jayne, hand falling to his knife, "There's gotta be a decent-sized bank somewhere on this moon."
"Bank job requires a fast gettaway: something we don't have," said Mal flatly, "Even if we could pull it off without Serenity, the law would be on us before we managed to get her in the air."
In fact, Mal was not so sure about this. Both he and Zoe had remarked on the lack of Alliance presence in Oxbow. There were the usual statues, posters and public buildings but the street corners were noticeably free of the jump-suited marshals common to every other Alliance town. Now he thought about it, Mal couldn't remember seeing anyform of law enforcement, not even a local sheriff. Not that this made Jayne's suggestion any more plausible; Mal didn't doubt that the fed's would be lurking somewhere on the moon.
"The time has come," Mal continued, "for us to take a drastic step. There's a town on a hill, other side of the next valley. Name of Easy. Zoe and I flew over her on the way back. It's quiet, respectable-looking and, according to local bulletin we picked up, there's work there."
Jayne's jaw dropped. Everyone else looked stunned.
"You mean… you're suggesting…?" Wash murmured. Mal took a deep breath. He had hoped he would never have to say this:
"We're goin' to have to take honest jobs."
Jayne shook his head.
"You mean like… robbin' somebody when their back ain't turned?"
"No, Jayne. I mean honest, ordinary, paid employment. Regular jobs, like regular folk."
Jayne looked bemused, even for him.
"But… I ain't never done no work like that before."
"I believe you," said Mal, unable to suppress a smile at Jayne's confusion, "I reckon it's been a long time since any of us have had what you might call 'honest' work, but there's no help for it. Besides, there are plenty of jobs for a big guy who ain't hard of thinking. And there are those among us who have skills that could be put to uses other than crime."
"Captain, how long are you planning to spend on these… jobs?" asked Simon, looking only a little less confused than Jayne.
"Well, I ain't done all the figurin' yet," said Mal, "but, takin' into account basic cost of living, rent for rooms in Easy and the like, we could be here for two months, at least."
Jayne was now positively pale at the suggestion. The rest of the crew seemed resigned. Simon was frowning:
"Do you think it would be safe for River to spend three months on an Alliance-friendly moon, living in an Alliance-friendly town?"
"No, I don't," Mal replied, "which is why you and your sister are goin' to play babysitter to Serenity."
"You mean we're going have to hide on this ship for two months, while the rest of you go out to work?" said Simon.
"I ain't sayin' it's an ideal arrangement," said Mal, "but it's the only one that's guaranteed safe."
Simon continued to frown but he nodded and did not raise any objections. Now Inara rose to speak.
"Mal, I don't understand," she said, "This isn't necessary. I have money. I can pay for the repairs. Just…"
"I don't recall askin' you," said Mal, avoiding her eye.
"Mal!" Kaylee snapped. Mal avoided meeting her eye too: the brief light of hope Inara's words had kindled there had been almost too powerful for him to resist.
"This is foolish," said Inara, "I can pay. I can get it to you in cash in less than a day."
"We don't want charity," said Mal firmly.
"What we?" Inara snapped, "Mal, I'm part of this crew…"
"No!" Mal snapped back, cutting across her, "No, you're not. You rent one of our shuttles. Your rent pays towards the upkeep of this ship. We don't need any more of your money."
Mal recognised a depressingly familiar fury building in Inara's eyes, but her demeanour was still calm.
"Mal," she said, a note of pleading in her voice now, "you know I wouldn't insult you. It would be a simple loan. Once you'd made the repairs you could get more work and pay me off in instalments. That's all it would be: a loan."
"I'd still be beholden to you," Mal said softly, "I ain't never doing that, not to no one."
Inara's whole body trembled at those words. Mal braced himself for a blow. A breath later and Inara had turned on her heel and swept out of the dining area. Several angry voices were raised from the crew:
"Mal, go after her!"
"Talk sense, Cap'n!"
"We need the money!"
"No!" Mal shouted, "No! I ain't discussin' this. We ain't takin' no handouts from nobody. We're doin' this off our own backs, like we've always done, got that?
"Now, you best all get packing," he said, suddenly weary, "we'll be leaving for Easy at sunup, day after tomorrow. We'll take the Mule. Our story is that we're migrant labourers lookin' for work. No one mentions Serenity, or what we're workin' for. We're just simple folk, looking to start a new life."
With a heavy sigh, Mal turned from the table and headed toward his bunk. The others exchanged resigned looks: they knew that they had no other choice.