Title: Eye of the Beholder – Kaylee (2/6)
Author: CC62827
Length: 2,638 Words
Summary: Five times River scared the crew, and one time she scared the Captain. Series of six short fics with a definite Mal/River bent.
Once upon a time, I didn't just believe in the presence of an almighty, I knew it was there. Then once upon a slightly later time, I knew it wasn't. Now, once upon the present time, I pretty much choose not to think about it one way or the t'other, and mostly that suits my subconscious just fine. Days like today, though, I have to admit to leaning a little on the side of belief.
I was getting paid to fish.
It could have been sheer blind luck, or it could have been God's attempt to make slight amends for some of the wrongs of the 'verse. Either way, I wasn't complaining.
The first leg of the job had gone smooth as silk. River landed us on Stax with the gentle touch of a musician laying a bow across new fiddle strings, and when we delivered the cargo—100,000 glass honey jars—to the buyer, they'd been pleased to find all their merchandise in the condition they paid to receive it.
"We've been bottling and selling honey to the Core planets for near to a decade," John Becraft told me, looking into the crates and taking note of the unbroken condition of his jars. In the background, I could hear shouts as Zoe and Jayne supervised the unloading of the rest of the merchandise with the help of some of John's hands, but for the moment Becraft and I were alone in Serenity's belly. He continued. "The fancy in the core planets, they'll pay twice the price if it comes to them in glass jars with glass spinners to dip it with, and we've not got silica enough to make the glass. So we buy these damn bottles from Trier and bring 'em here. It's a pain in the tuckus, and that's no lie. Between getting them through the solar winds, storms, and geomagnetic clouds that give us our fine weather, then breaking atmo to land, we usually lose three quarters of the order to shattering. But it's what the fancy wants, so it's what we do."
I shrugged and flashed a smile. There was something about the man I liked, something that reminded me, I guess, of home. But like or not, it was never a good idea to relax and consider a job done until you had cash in hand. "To each their own, I reckon. Whatever the case, y'all have plenty of jars to fill this time around. We lost one case to a clumsy gorilla on my crew, but other than that, you'll find them all in fine condition. As to the payment, you can deduct—"
Becraft tossed a heavy brown satchel over the top of an open crate. I caught it instinctively with a grunt that cut off my words and raised my eyebrows when I got a feel for the heft of the bag. "Not that I've ever been known to turn down a tip, but by the weight of this I'd say you're over paying by around 50 percent."
"Not over paying. Your crew brought in enough jars to last me three honeying seasons. That means you've either got a friend in the business of making interstellar weather predictions, or you're damn skilled. Don't matter to me which one it is. I'll have a quarter of these jars filled and ready to go inside a week. If you'd like the contract to take them to my dealer in Tamil for me, it's yours. That bag has your full payment for bringing me the jars and one quarter of what I'll give you to deliver four rounds of them."
I managed to keep my jaw from hitting the floor, but it was a near miss. Tamil was the agriculture hub of this section of space and as close to a core planet as you could get and still find green things growing in patches bigger than a postage stamp. It was a risk to be sure, considering that the planet was a might more civilized than we were comfortable with since Miranda, but the money. It would take a better man than me to walk away from that kind of cold, hard cash. Before I could open my mouth to agree, Becraft interrupted.
"You can spend the week thinking about it. Move your ship out to one of my fallow fields, take in some air, do a spot of fishing, and avail yourself of my camp cook. Bottling gets finished and you decide you don't want the load, you can just consider the week vacation as part of payment for bringing in my shipment in good condition." Becraft finished by sticking out his hand.
I shook it enthusiastically. "You have yourself a deal, Mr. Becraft. Now lets get the rest of this off-loaded." I turned to go check on Zoe and see how the delivery was going, but my mind was on my pilot. I couldn't wait to see how she reacted to the feel of clover under her bare toes.
And now here we were. River's reaction hadn't disappointed one bit. After a few cautious steps—she was still a core girl at heart and more accustomed to glass towers than blades of grass—she'd let out a delighted whoop and taken up a twirling dance through the field that kicked up dandelion puffs and sent them whirling around her in a cloud that was as magical a thing as I'd ever seen. One by one she pulled us all into the middle of it and had everyone twirling with her before we knew she was doing it, even her cranky old captain.
We all of us but her were half-staggering with dizziness when the spinning stopped. The clover field spread halfway from here to eternity. Smack in the middle of it, a treeline marked the banks of rock-bottom creek filled with clear water and teeming with fish. Best I could tell, the creek snaked off into infinity. Becraft had claimed it was as close to paradise as you could get without making the acquaintance of the almighty, and seeing it first hand, I had to wonder if he was right. There was no such thing as perfection, though, and he'd given me a few warnings to heed, which I passed on to my crew in my best Captain-y voice before they could break for the oasis.
"I know you all are looking forward to the rest, but keep in mind we're guests here. Whatever we take off our boat, we take back on with it. The bees are sturdy, but you never know what might upset their balance. If you unwrap a protein bar, make sure the wrapper goes in your pocket not on the ground."
I waited and got nods all around for my trouble.
"Second, you're welcome to swim if you've such a mind, but keep a sharp look out for the blue rocks when you step. Anyplace they have an edge is razor sharp."
"And the green ones'll turn us all into orange polka dot horned toads—c'mon, c'mon. The morning's half gone already. You keep yapping, we'll miss all the gorram fish." Jayne's voice was impatient, muscles bulging under the weight of borrowed fishing rods and tackle boxes.
I shot him a look and he fell into sullen silence. Behind me, River chanted. "Jayne got in trouble, Jayne got in trouble."
Jayne glowered around me at her. "Little crazy, I'll turn you into a horned toad you don't shut that mouth."
Kaylee giggled before she could stop herself. "Jayne you seem real preoccupied with these horny toad things."
"I'm not—"
"Enough." As much fun as riling Jayne was, he happened to be carrying a rod with my name on it, and he wasn't wrong about the time of day. "Toads you don't have to worry about, but snakes you do. For the most part they shy away from people, but if you see a pile of rocks or hollowed out tree trunk, don't go poking your noses in it."
We fished the morning away, then cooked our catch for lunch. The afternoon sun cast a sleepy spell over the field, and with full bellies, we were all relaxing in our own way. Jayne was snoring on a blanket on the grass. A few feet away, shooting him dirty looks when he got too loud, Inara was doing some sort of fancy weaving thing with long thread loops attached to a frame.
Zoe and Simon were talking softly about something—I didn't know or care what—and little Kaylee had found herself a big flat rock to stretch out on beside the water. The sun made dappled patterns over her where it slipped through the cracks in the leaves overhead.
I was slumped down in a low wood chair, head lolled back. Best I could tell between swimming and dancing, River had managed to tucker herself out as well. She'd taken the spot at the foot of my chair leg and leaned her head on my knee. When she sat down, I'd offered her a blanket to lie on in the sun, but she just shook her head and grinned.
"Pilot. Have to stay beside the Captain." Then her eyes closed and her breathing deepened with sleep.
That sounded perfectly reasonable to my sun addled brain, and she clearly wasn't uncomfortable, so I grunted and went back to relaxing myself. I didn't sleep, but I let my eyes drift to slits and enjoyed the quiet. I thought Kaylee was napping until Simon stood up and she broke the silence, calling out softly to him. "I'm pretty sure this rock is big enough for two if you want to share."
He glanced over at River and smiled when he saw her sleeping. I raised my hand to wave him off when he looked a question at me.
(Do you want me to make her move?)
I shook my head.
(Leave her be. She's fine.)
Simon gave me a half nod, turned and started across the grass toward Kaylee. He hadn't had time to take more than a step when a warm wind rustled through the trees. The branches over Kaylee shivered. The snake that fell out of them was at least four feet long, fat and black with mottled brown marking.
It didn't land beside Kaylee. It landed on her.
Time stopped for a second that felt longer than it was, and I had a crazy flashback to the shudder that went through the cockpit when the Reever spear pinned Wash to the chair. Then Kaylee was screaming. I lurched forward, to do what I don't know. Everyone else was moving, too, and Simon yelled, "Kaylee—!" But none of it mattered. The snake reared back, showing a mouth lined with bright white. It was going to strike her. Becraft's words flashed through my brain.
"One last thing you got to keep in mind above anything else--the Cotton Vipers. They'll do their level best to stay away from you, but if you or your crew happen to stumble on one, you stay still as can be and let it go on it's way. They're a cowardly snake that's a fact, but if they bite you it's fatal. Not occasionally. Not sometimes. All the time. You remember those three things, and you'll find Stax to be as close to paradise as you can get without having to meet your Maker."
Then he told me what the Cotton Vipers looked like.
Three, maybe four feet long.
Big bodied, fat for their length.
Black with mottled brown markings.
Fatal. Every. Time.
Kaylee was going to die, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
The rock caught the snake mid-strike. It smashed into the black, diamond-shaped head with a wet sounding crack. The viper collapsed into a boneless pile on Kaylee's chest before my brain had a chance to process what had happened. Instinct made me turn my head. River was standing beside me, relaxed and alert. She was holding two more rocks in her other hand. In a flash, I understood what happened. Then I was up and along with the rest of the crew rushing toward Kaylee. She was sobbing now, clutching Simon. He'd pushed the snake off of her and gathered her up in his arms.
"It just came out of nowhere," she whimpered into his chest. "It was going to bite me. I know it was going to bite me. And then—I don't know what then." She pulled away and looked up at Simon, shivering. "What happened to it? It just—died." Her voice was ragged.
Over her shoulder, Simon met my eyes. He looked as confused as Kaylee sounded. "You probably scared it to death, screaming like that."
Kaylee was shaking her head. "No there was—"
She broke off when River loosened her grip on the other two rocks. The sound they made hitting the ground was unnaturally loud in the sudden silence and drew everyone's attention.
"I—didn't have a choice," she said, eyes roiling a little, finally landing on me. She looked at her crew, almost pleading. It made something in my chest squeeze in a not-at-all-comfortable way. "Agkistrodon piscivorus, a species of semi-aquatic pit viper usually found in or near water, especially slow-moving lakes or streams. Genetic errors during the terraforming process left it with venom of unusually high-toxicity on agricutlure planets Stax, Ramos, LMX6, and Cayo Loco—"
She broke off and looked at Kaylee. "I didn't mean to kill it, but I didn't have a choice. I just—"
Whatever else she had to say wasn't meant to be heard right then, because instead of going on, she whirled on her heel and ran back toward Serenity.
"River—" Simon's voice was strained. He sent Kaylee a sympathetic look, then started ot pull away from her.
"No, I'll go. You stay with Kaylee. I conjure she'll want to—wash up—and won't want to do it alone." I swiveled my head. "The rest of you see to cleaning up and getting our gear back to the ship. Everyone pitch in, and make sure nothing gets left behind." No one moved for a heartbeat, so I barked, "Jayne, get moving." That broke whatever spell was holding them frozen, and they got to work.
Simon sent me a grateful look and stepped away from Kaylee. "I'll get a towel," he said.
I turned to go after River, but Kaylee's voice interrupted me.
"Captain," Kaylee sounded like she was pulling herself together, but something in her tone still wasn't quite right. "Tell River—um—thank you." I nodded and started to go, but she spoke again. "She was sleepin' Captain, wasn't she? I mean, to throw a rock from that distance, and—"
She paused, biting her lip.
"What is it, Kaylee?" I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice because I knew she'd been through a powerful fright, but I wanted to check on River.
"Are you ever—afraid of her?"
I looked a Kaylee for a long moment. "No."
Her eyes dropped. "I—yeah—you're right—I shouldn't have thought—you best go see to her, then. I'm ok now, and," she took a big breath and sent me a bright Kaylee smile that almost reached her eyes. "Let River know I want her on my team next time we play ball. That was some shot."
I let my lips twist into the suggestion of a smile and nodded, satisfied with her answer. Then I turned and went after my pilot. I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but I thought maybe I'd mention that her solution for the serpent in the garden was a lot more effective than the one in Shepard Book's Bible.
She'd like that.
It would give her a chance to explain to me why the concept of a talking snake was full of logistical impossibilities.
Logistical impossibilities always cheered her up, I'd had occasion to notice.