Bathgate Abbey had settled into the foothills as if it had been there for a hundred years. Which it had, give or take a decade. Its warm stone walls radiated calm.
Freya climbed the hill back to Serenity, then paused at the base of the ramp, looking back at the low buildings.
"Want to stay?" Mal asked, stepping into the sunlight and leaning on the open door.
Freya glanced over her shoulder at him. "No." She returned her gaze to the Abbey. "But it is very peaceful." She smiled and turned back towards him. "I'm glad you let Kaylee go. It'll do her a powerful deal of good. Help get her hormones back under control."
"I know it."
She walked up the ramp towards him. "River's already enjoying herself: she's found they have horses."
"That girl likes to commune with the beasts," Mal said, standing straight. "And Simon? How's the young doctor fairing?"
"Not sure he approves of the accommodations … bit too sparse, even compared to us." Freya shook her head. "Although the hair shirt is a bit much."
"Hair …" Mal realised she was making a joke and smiled. "You say things like that with a straight face and people will be beginning to believe you. Come in, I'm closing up." He hit the com. "Hank, take us out of the world and back on course."
"On it, Mal."
---
A border moon that had actually supported the Alliance, Parth was more like the core planets than its neighbours. Heavily industrial, it also had two cities of large size on the main continent, and a dock that rivalled several of the larger planets.
Hank settled Serenity into her designated space, and a short while after the ramp lowered, and Mal and Jayne walked down to meet the man waiting for them.
"Briggs. So, where's our passenger?" Mal asked.
"He's coming. Had one or two little things to do first." Briggs, short, spare with a perpetual cold, wiped his nose on his large hankie before stuffing it back into his pocket. He handed over a bag. "Half now, the rest on Osiris."
"Fine." Mal gave the bag to Jayne, who opened it and started to count.
"Don't trust me, Mal?" Briggs said in a hurt tone.
"I trust you well enough, Briggs. Jayne, on the other hand …"
"All here," the big man announced.
"Shiny. So now all we need is our passenger."
"Here he is." Briggs pointed to somewhere in the crowd that was passing. A man stepped forward, tall, skin the colour of a polished chestnut, looking like the slight bulk he carried was muscle, not fat. "Captain Reynolds, Jeremiah Smith."
Mal put his hand out but Smith didn't take it. "Mr Smith." He lowered his hand.
"Captain."
"Welcome on board Serenity."
They sized each other up, until Smith said, "You'll have no trouble getting me to Osiris on time?"
"None at all. Straight run."
"Then I would be glad if we can get going. My man is bringing my luggage." He clicked his fingers, and a short man, no taller than Briggs, but wiry, hurried out of the crowd, carrying two large suitcases and a back pack.
"Your man?" Mal asked, surprised.
"Will that be a problem?" Smith asked. "I assumed –"
"No problem. We've more than enough room."
"If it's a case of money –"
"I'm sure we can come to some arrangement." Mal turned to Briggs. "Right?"
"I'll …" He saw the look in Mal's eye. "I'll get something sorted."
"Good. All set up the other end?"
"All done. They'll be waiting at the co-ordinates."
"Then I'm closing up." Mal followed his passengers inside and hit the com. "Hank, take us out of the world."
"On it, Mal."
As the cargo bay door closed Briggs called out, "Good trip."
Mal held up his hand, then turned back inside. He felt Serenity shudder slightly as her thrusters tilted and blasted from Parth's surface.
"Captain," Jeremiah Smith said. "If we can be shown to our rooms, I would like to freshen up."
"Of course." Mal looked up to where his first mate was coming down the stairs. "Zoe, show our guests to their quarters."
"Yes, Captain." She reached the floor. "This way, gentlemen."
Mal watched them leave the cargo bay then climbed the metal staircase to join Freya, standing on the overhead gangway. "Seems a respectable sort," he commented. "But somehow I don't think he's going to be the life and soul of this trip." He leaned on the handrail next to her.
"Who does he say he is?"
"Jeremiah Smith." He looked at her. "Why? You think he's lying? He wouldn't be the first on this boat."
"Not sure. He reminds me of someone, is all."
"Is this your instincts, or just a vague recollection? Because if you think he's going to be trouble I can tell Hank to turn us around and put him back off on Parth."
Freya looked at him, her gaze somewhat calculating, and it made him feel a mite uncomfortable. "I don't know, Mal. I just get the feeling Simon was right not wanting to be around at the moment."
"You think he's Alliance?" Mal was surprised. Ever since Freya had lost her ability to read intentions, she'd been careful not to let her instincts get too out of control, so this was something of a rarity, and one he was inclined to take notice of.
She shook her head. "Not sure." She half-smiled. "And we can't put him back on Parth. We need this job."
"No change there. So we'll keep an eye on him."
"It's a small ship, Mal. Difficult not to." She turned to head towards the dining area. "I'm just glad we're not carrying anything else," she added over her shoulder.
---
Smith and his companion declined to join them for the evening meal, asking that food be brought to them instead. Mal, not too unhappy over this, as he'd have felt obliged to make his crew mind their p's and q's, let Inara take a couple of trays to the guest area.
Smith bowed slightly as he took the food. "Thank you. I am in your debt."
"You are welcome."
Smith put the trays onto the small table. "You are a registered Companion?"
"Yes." Inara smiled at him.
"And yet you live on board this ship."
"Serenity is my home." Inara went to leave but Smith stopped her.
"Would you mind … a conversation with someone who has something more of an intellect than many on board would be welcome."
"I think many of them would surprise you," Inara pointed out, but didn't leave. "They may not seem like it, but some of them have had an education."
"Please, sit." Smith indicated the bed.
"Thank you."
"I admit, they are a little rough around the edges. They seem to fit into their life, though. But how did you come to be on board?"
Inara smiled. "I needed a shuttle, and this Firefly appealed to me."
"Just the Firefly?"
"The people too, I admit. They've become like my family."
"A strange family."
"Not really."
"Captain Reynolds seems to be … somewhat prickly."
Inara laughed, a soft sound in that small room. "Yes, I would have to admit you're probably right about that. But he is very protective of his crew."
"And they are very loyal to him?"
"Very. "
"And you? Are you loyal to him?"
Inara stood up. "Mr Smith, the captain is the captain. And I am keeping you from your food."
---
In the middle of the night Freya sat up suddenly from a disturbed sleep, saying, "Tzao gao!"
"Wha ... who – huh?" Mal struggled to consciousness. "What is it? We on fire?"
"I remember who he is."
"Who?"
"Jeremiah Smith." She looked down at him. "Mal, he is Alliance."
"Alliance?" Mal was now wide awake.
"Just not 'in favour' Alliance."
"Sorry – it's too late to be talking in riddles." He yawned and rubbed a hand through his hair.
"His name isn't Jeremiah Smith, either. He was a Parliament member, ousted in some coup or other."
"How come you know this?" He leaned on one elbow to look at her.
"When I was a guest of the Alliance, at the end of the war, he came around the medship. Talking to the patients. Even talked to the few Independents on board. Kept saying that it was good the war was ending, that too many good men had died over a handful of moons."
"Can't disagree with that," Mal said. "Although not sure about the reasoning."
"He'd been against the war, I remember that. Right from the start. Said the Alliance shouldn't be so … acquisitional."
"You mean interfering?"
"Something like. Then I recall seeing on the cortex something about a charge brought against him, racketeering or some such."
"I think I like this man more and more."
"Don't. His rep wasn't good before." She shook her head in the dark. "He just kind of sat on the fence, I think. Telling whoever what they wanted to hear."
"Think he's still that way inclined?" Mal couldn't see her face, but the small light in the cabin had lit her tattoo, and he gazed at it, captivated as always.
"I've no idea. But maybe he's got friends back in the Alliance, and they want to get him back in."
"Sounds plausible." He lifted a hand and ran his fingertips lightly down the flame on her back.
"What are you doing?" she asked, shivering slightly.
"Well, you've woken me up now. I'm going to find it real difficult to get back to sleep."
She smiled in the dark. "Is that all you think about?"
"In this bunk, with you … yeah, often."
"Well that's okay then." She turned and leaned over him, looking into his eyes. "Just so long as it doesn't interfere with captainy things."
"Oh, never does that," he replied putting his hand around her waist and pulling her towards him.
---
"You have a well-stocked infirmary," Smith said, looking in.
Freya, cleaning a cut she had just inflicted on herself in the cargo bay, looked up at him. "Always does to be prepared."
"Yet you don't seem to have a medic."
"No call for one." Freya dried off her hand. "Most things we can deal with. Anything else, well, there's always the Alliance." She smiled, but there was no humour in her eyes.
"Hmmn." Smith was non-committal. "Do you need a hand with that?" he asked, pointing to the cut on her palm that was still bleeding.
"No, it's fine. I'll put a weave on it, it'll be okay."
"But doing it one-handed isn't going to be so easy."
She looked at him, then nodded. "All right. It probably would be better." She took a weave from the drawer and held it out to him.
Very carefully he opened the pack and removed the contents, gently pressing the weave against the cut. She winced a little.
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault. I should be more careful."
He looked into her face. "Do we know each other?"
She shook her head. "I don't think so. And I'm sure I would remember." She studied the weave, making sure the edges had adhered properly.
"You don't trust me," Smith said.
She gave a half laugh. "I don't know you."
"And you don't intend to."
"That's the way of life out here. Just a few days on board then you're gone. No time to get to know anyone." She smiled briefly at him. "Thanks."
"My pleasure," he replied, watching her walk past him and out back towards the cargo bay. "Lee?" he said quietly, and the small man appeared as if by magic.
"Yes sir?"
"The battle of Dhu Khang. Find all the information on it, will you?"
"Of course, sir. Would you require the truth?"
"Absolutely."
"Yes sir." Lee vanished towards their quarters.
---
"I'm just saying it's something we should think about." Freya was helping Mal tidy one of the cages.
"Frey, I'm not sure it's even up to us." Mal jiggled a flagon. "Almost empty," he said, putting it to one side.
"Not our decision, no, but you should suggest it."
"Me?" Mal shook his head. "Oh, no. She's awful fond of that bunk, and if I start suggesting she move out she could do all sorts of damaging things to me."
Freya laughed. "You know she wouldn't do anything like that. She loves her captain."
Mal stood straight and stared at her. "You recall what she threatened when I told her she had to replace the ventilator in Jayne's cabin instead of going to the theatre?"
"She didn't mean it." Freya thought for a moment. "Well, she probably wouldn't have done that. Much."
"Right. Just unscrewed the bunk so when I sat down on it …" He mimed a mighty crash with hand.
"That was a one off. And it was Jayne."
"You talk to her." Mal picked up the jug. "And I'm gonna finish this."
Freya watched him leave the cargo bay, stepping through the infirmary door whistling something. Then she laughed and shook her head, following him.
Smith watched the interchange from the gangwalk above, noting the closeness of the captain and this woman, this Freya Nordstrom.
"Sir," Lee said, appearing next to him.
"Well?"
Lee handed over a pad. "The battle of Dhu Khang, sir. The authentic version."
"From whose point of view?" Smith asked. "After all, history is written by the victors."
"Sir …"
Smith smiled briefly. "Oh, I know you've done your best." He took the pad and began to read. "Ah yes. That was a particularly bloody battle. Possibly the bloodiest until Serenity Valley." Then his eyebrows raised. "So it is her?"
"Yes sir."
"This calls her a murderer."
"But as you said, sir, history …"
"Hmmn."
"She saved a great many lives, sir. Admittedly, all Independents, but it was just her and a handful of men with her."
"And you find that appealing?" Smith turned to look at his man.
"No sir. But I think it only right to put these things into their proper perspective."
"Rather than that as written by the victors?"
"Yes sir. Besides, she was pardoned with the rest."
"Indeed." Smith nodded and went back to the pad. "The medical ship Galen. Of course. That's why she seemed familiar."
"Is this going to cause a problem, sir?"
"No. No, I don't think so. But it's as well to bear it in mind."
---
"Won't you join us this evening?" Inara asked.
"I'm not sure I would be welcome, my dear," Smith said, inclining his head slightly.
"Because you're Alliance?"
"Ah. I did wonder if she'd told you." Smith smiled.
"Of course she did. But I don't think anyone is going to hold it against you. Well, perhaps not too much. But it should make for lively conversation over dinner."
"Don't you mean an argument?"
"Mr Smith, it takes two to argue."
"And you? Would you be taking the opportunity to ask me some probing questions?"
"I think you should know I supported Unification at the time," Inara said quietly.
"At the time?" He studied her, her poise, her dignity, her calm air of natural authority.
Then she smiled and a little of the real her shone through. "Out here, Mr Smith, things are very different from the Core. Not so simple. I've come to see that the Alliance doesn't do so well out here." The smile faded. "And sometimes …"
Smith saw the pain and loss cross her beautiful face. "I'm sorry. Whoever he was, I'm sorry."
Inara shook her head sadly. "They weren't mine, Mr Smith."
"They?"
"Do join us," Inara said, changing the subject quickly. "I'm sure you'd find us an interesting group."
"I'm sure I would, but …"
"At least think about it. Give us the chance to cross examine you."
Smith laughed, a deep sound complementing his colouring completely. "I will consider it."
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me …" Inara smiled graciously and headed for the door.
"Of course. And … thank you."
"For what?" Inara asked, surprised.
"Trying to make me feel welcome. I know what your crew really thinks of me."
"Come and have dinner with us. Find out." She swept out of the room, leaving just a trace of her cinnamon perfume.
---
"… so the Companion says 'That's the only way to handle it.'" Mal grinned at his own joke, and the others laughed appreciatively.
"You know," Jayne began, "that's truer than –" He stopped, looking up at the door.
Mal followed his gaze: Jeremiah Smith and his man, Lee, were standing watching. "Mr Smith. You going to join us?" he asked.
"I was invited." He nodded slowly towards Inara, who smiled at him.
"And you're welcome," Mal said, indicating to the others to move up a little, and giving Inara a hard glance. "Plenty of space at the table."
Smith and Lee took the seats offered. "Thank you, captain."
"Help yourself."
"Thank you."
Lee filled a plate for his master, then one for himself and everyone went back to eating. There was silence for several minutes.
Smith coughed. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea," he said finally. "I appear to have spoiled the mood."
"No, just tend to get quiet sometimes when we're busy with food," Freya said, lifting another mouthful.
"'Specially if there's Alliance on board." Mal gave a half smile.
"I see. And you don't like the Alliance, Captain."
"They ain't given me cause to," Mal admitted. "Tend to always be getting in a man's way."
"Even when the work you are doing is legitimate?"
"Are you suggesting it isn't?"
Smith laughed. "Captain, I am not stupid. I know the kind of things people like you have to do to keep flying."
"People like me." Mal was beginning to bridle, and Freya put her hand on his arm.
"I am not intending any offence, captain. Merely indicating that I understand. When I needed a ship to get me to Osiris, I didn't want to travel on one of the liners. That would be too … obvious. So Lee found this." He lifted a hand to indicate Serenity.
"This is my home," Mal said, his eyes hardening.
"Were you on Parth long?" Inara asked, trying to ease the tension.
Smith turned to her. "It was merely a stopover. I've been in many places since I left my home." He looked back at Mal. "And I was not being disrespectful to yours, captain. The Alliance has made it hard for people to earn an honest living, particularly out in the borders. So if an honest man has to do dishonest things, well, I won't hold it against him."
"You really are a politician," Mal said, shaking his head and smiling ruefully.
"And you are a smuggler, captain. But at the moment, I'm just glad it's me you're smuggling."
Serenity juddered.
"What was that?" Hank asked, feeling the tremor beneath his boots.
Mal nodded at him. "Check it out."
"Probably just a glitch," Hank added, getting up and walking towards the bridge.
Freya sat up straight, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore on account of the hairs on the back of her neck raising.
