Prologue
Captain Kaylee Frye stood on the deck of her ship, pale and trembling. Serenity had never felt so cold. Not to her anyway. The merry beat of the engine sounded dim and far-away from the bridge. Serenity was lonely. The stars were cold. Kaylee shivered. A metal clasp clanged in the distance, heralding her worst nightmare. Serenity was hers.
The last shuttle flew away. In the darkness of the rim, its gray paint looked jet black. It waggled once- probably to the annoyance of at least one of its occupants- and sailed away. In seconds, it was just a dot, and then nothing.
Kaylee sat down heavily on the cot she'd made from what had been, until today, Wash and Zoe's bedspread. A couple of Mal and Jayne's belongings were also woven in, adding color and smell. It smelled of her family, who were gone, possibly forever. Kaylee sobbed.
Facing the Black
Mal Reynolds was grim and silent. Over Wash's shoulder, he could make out the sensor contact with his- Kaylee's- ship. He seemed to have aged ten years. Behind him, Zoe watched critically. Sooner or later, Mal would need a pat on the shoulder, a reminder of why this was happening, and possibly a stiff drink. Not now though. Not until their home had disappeared off the screen.
Jayne was, quite possibly, the happiest member of the crew. True, he had left his most prized possessions behind, but- Hell, he still had Phillipi, and was he ever going to get a chance to use her! He cradled the gun lovingly. He'd made a point of breaking it down and cleaning every last piece. Still, he hoped Kaylee would remember to dust Vera once in a while. Guns need cleanin', after all.
Wash sighed, his hands cradling the controls of the shuttle lovingly. He was going to miss that Firefly. Not as much as he was going to miss the people on her -especially Zoe- but he trusted his captain. Kaylee might be the captain on paper now, but the crew knew better. He looked over his shoulder and gave his wife a weak smile, which she returned before reverting to her cold patience.
As Serenity vanished off the sensor grid, another ship slowly came into focus. An Alliance gunship on its patrols spotted their approach. Invisibly signaling its mothership, it swooped in on the small shuttle like a bird of prey.
"Unidentified shuttle, please state your names and intentions!" The pilot glanced down at the firing button wistfully.
"This is Malcolm Reynolds." Mal hesitated, a lump forming in his throat. Pushing it aside, he continued: "We've come to volunteer."