Chapter Three
Blazedown City, Athens
Zoë had stayed behind too easily when they made landfall. Mal couldn't put his finger on it, but something just didn't fit right. Granted, most of his worry was for the task at hand, but some small section of his mind always feared for his crew. They had checked everything out repeatedly, and still everything came up roses, right down to the license from United Reclamation that Badger had slipped them.
But that still didn't mean Mal was about to let his guard down. The events of St. Albans, and the near loss of his crew to exposure on the frigid planet sat too clearly in his mind. Since then, someone handy with guns had always stayed behind in a potentially hostile environment. Still no one, least of all Zoë, had ever just up and volunteered. Something was going on that he didn't see. And that never made him comfortable.
But, he trusted Zoë. Even if she didn't share them, the former Corporal always had her reasons. She'd eventually come out with it, even if it took her weeks. While he kicked that worry for Zoë out of his head, another one surfaced in its place. He caught sight of River, slouched and petulant in her seat on the mule. Her zest for life, her eagerness to always help out, seemed drowned by the same bug that was eating Zoë. She was wordless as she adjusted her ridiculously large goggles on her tiny face.
Simon lingered by the mule's side, talking quietly with his sister. He was suddenly jostled, and shoved by the larger bulk of Jayne Cobb pushing by with the last few bits of salvage equipment. Glaring at the doctor, Jayne strapped the box into the seat in front of River. Mal's brows drew down; even the mercenary seemed that much more sour.
It's all Badger's fault, Mal believed. None of the crew trusted the fence-man, and the job seemed too easy.
Mal pulled himself up into the pilot's seat on the mule, as Jayne stowed a gun or two in the rear hatches. Simon reached up to pat his sister's arm.
"You're worrying about nothing, mei-mei." He assured her, with a smile. The expression looked strained; Simon still hadn't learned how to lie. "It could be worse. Jayne could be driving."
"Hey!" Jayne barked his protest, leaning a bit over River to point at the doctor.
"Jayne," Mal cut him off with the tone of his voice, before any argument could arise. Shaking his head, he turned toward Kaylee. "Keep the engine hot; can't be too careful." Even as he swung back to resettle himself, he caught sight of warm maroon silk, and gold trim. Inara watched from the catwalk. When he caught her gaze, she smiled in a soft, reassuring way.
Suddenly, Mal felt like he could take on the world.
"Let's get movin'!" Jayne muttered, lowering his own goggles. Mal grinned wryly at his enthusiasm. At least someone would have some fun today. With a slight salute, he put the mule in gear, and eased it down the ramp.
Mal took his time maneuvering the hovering skiff through the outskirts of the bombed out city. He'd never actually served on Athens during the war, but the stories he'd heard didn't do the horror justice. He carefully kept his eyes forward, and his mouth shut. Even Jayne had the good sense to keep his lips clammed.
Even seven years after the war, the cities of Athens still hadn't been touched. They remained bombed out shells, half-standing buildings rocking precariously in the winds. That wind bucked over anything in its path, keeping nearly everything dust free. It scoured away footprints, and stole the sounds of the living. Even though machinery loomed at the edges of the city, the interior was still largely untouched.
While Mal was looking for the church, Jayne was watching River out of the corner of his eye. She was shaking. Her whole little body was quivering like she were cold. The same urge that had caused him to buy the bear seized hold of him, and he fought against reaching out toward her.
If she was having one of her fits, he figured, she'd use it against him. He knew he would if their roles were reversed. She must have caught him looking at her, because she started suddenly, her whole body lurching away from him. When she fixed him with that wild-eyed stare, he felt about four inches tall. She knew so much.
Before he could feel like she was laying any more of his secrets bare, Jayne leaned forward to talk into Mal's ear against the wind. "More'n the middle," he suggested, not even thinking. "Church's center 'a life."
Mal's brow twisted weirdly at the suggestion, but he twisted the controls and directed the mule over some of the worst of the rubble. Leaning back again, Jayne caught a mumble from beside him. River was talking to herself again, her fingers moving as though she were counting frantically. He let the movement linger on the edge of his vision for long minutes, as the mule drifted between shorn buildings, and burnt out husks. Finally, unable to take any more of it, he reached out to grab both her hands inside one of his.
"Easy, pixie." He didn't dare to speak louder than a whisper; he didn't dare risking Mal's attention. She heard him; he knew it from the way she looked up. "Ain't nothin' here's gonna hurt ya." Her fingers still moved inside his grasp, and she suddenly leaned into him. Her voice was so tiny and small, that he had to bend his ear nearly to her mouth to hear her. He was so gorram dead if Mal so much as glanced back…
"They're all still here, all still screaming… like static on a wave…"
Jayne stared down at her, completely clueless. And suddenly, she jerked away, pulling her hands free and sitting straight up again, just as Mal settled the mule down on an empty piece of rock.
"This would be it." Mal muttered, before turning halfway around to check on Jayne and River. River's eyes were latched on the fallen in roof of the church, while Jayne was already strapping on his weaponry. "Don't like stealin' from the religious types much," Mal was talking, just to hear himself talk. "Even if they've been dead 'n gone seven years now."
His boots crunched across the busted up concrete and plastics. Seven years, and no one had been allowed to come in and clean up. Seven years since the cities had been bombed to dust and skeletons. Seven years it had taken the Alliance to clean out the civilian corpses, and the most sensitive pieces of work. Mal knew a cover-up when he saw one, but somehow, Athens seemed much less important since the days on Miranda.
He glanced to see River slowly sliding off the mule, touching down lightly on the ground as though she was loathe to touch it. She had pushed her goggles up until they sat atop her head, like a giant set of bug eyes looking into the unseen world. Her boots crunched lightly as she picked her way over to him. Jayne was much, much less delicate in his approach, and something shattered beneath his tread. Picking his foot up quickly, Jayne caught his myriad reflections in the shattered pieces of a chunk of glass.
Raising his gaze, he caught Mal's pointed look. The mercenary fell into easy step behind the slip of a girl, while Mal took point. Jayne kept a low grip on his gun, while Mal kept his own pistol loosely held by his thigh. River needed no weapon. She was the weapon. Jayne mentally smacked himself for thinking that way, especially after what she'd told the bear the day before. He glanced toward her to make sure she hadn't picked up on his slip.
But River was too concerned with the static of ghosts in the air about her. Her eyes followed unseen movements, shapes flitting through the shadows. The doors of the church hung open on busted hinges, allowing the three to slip inside. The interior was dust filled, the window howling in the busted bell tower. The bell itself lay on its side in the center of the floor, rusted and cracked in two from it's fall. River hugged herself.
"So many ghosts," she whispered into the stillness.
Jayne stifled a nervous chuckle. Her creepiness was rubbing off on him, as his eyes jumped from shadow to shadow, expecting the worst of things to leap out. Mal coughed softly, and gestured for Jayne to move up.
"Some sorta cellar, we're lookin' fer. Well hidden, else the Alliance woulda already cleaned it out." He gestured to the corners behind the hunk of marble that must have served for the altar. "We best be ge—"
River looked up sharply as Mal cut himself off mid-sentence. His head hung loose on his neck, chin touching his chest. His pistol seemed almost ready to slip out of his lax fingers. Idly, as she slipped up to stand beside the rightfully bewildered Jayne, River wondered if the captain had come down with a severe case of narcolepsy. Jayne laid a hand on Mal's arm, ready to jostle him.
But River laid her hand on Jayne's arm, stopping him, and lifting her eyes to meet his. Her lower lip hung open, like she felt the need to speak, and while she looked up at him, she must have realized something. River dropped her hand without so much as a word.
"Mal?" Jayne found his voice the moment her fingers left his arm. He continued through with his motion, grabbing Mal by the left bicep.
River didn't even have time to blink. Mal snapped from standing lax and loose, to an immediate threat. In the split second it took Jayne to grab hold of his arm, Mal had pivoted on one foot, his head jerking up, as his gun-arm came around to bear. Jayne hardly had the forethought to draw a breath before he found himself staring down the wrong end of Mal's piece.
"Oh, now, Mal, easy…" Jayne finally got the words out, releasing Mal's arm, and taking half a step back.
River had frozen. She was staring at Malcolm's face. Yes, it was the captain's face; the captain's trademark grimace of concentration… but those were not the captain's eyes. Those tiny, hard flint-colored specs had never been there before. The captains eyes should be blue… soft and blue… kind and blue… not like tempered steel. Those eyes flicked toward her.
"Oh, River. River. River." Mal's voice spoke the words, but he had never used that chiding, disappointed tone with her. "You were supposed to be the best. We were going to be a team…" Mal was using proper English as well, which got Jayne's attention. "The best. You and I."
Slowly, River began to shake her head in response. Mal's lips twisted into a sadistic little smirk, not a becoming expression on the captain's face.
"Mal?" Jayne had to ask again, taking that half step forward once more.
"I'm afraid you'll have to leave a message. The captain is a little… indisposed right now." Mal's gun hand tensed.
River felt the action before it was ever made. She leapt, grabbing Mal's right arm and pushing hard. He gave a cry of outrage, but it was drowned by the explosive report of the pistol's discharge. River felt the pain, felt the shock and betrayal ripple through her system. But they were not her own thoughts…
"NO!" she shrieked, her lungs filled with the scent of cordite. She brought her weight to bear, and cracked Mal's wrist into her knee. The gun clattered against the rubble. Turning quickly, River knew the blood drained from her face…
How Jayne was still standing, she couldn't tell. But the expression on his face, brow wrinkled in helpless pain, confusion staining his eyes cloudy. His hand slowly came away from his chest, dripping scarlet onto the already desecrated ground. For a moment, he stared at Mal.
"You…" Jayne's lips flecked with blood at the creation of the word. "You… shot me?" Jayne's knees buckled slowly beneath him, as he fell senseless to the ground.
"Eight little monkeys… jumping on the bed…"
