Epilogue

Haven is a dustbowl, much like the other terra-formed dustbowls all along the rims. It ain't right pretty t' look at but there's something' 'bout the remote mountain village we set down in.

Our slaves stand at the door o' Serenity lookin' near as frightened as when we first opened their coffin, near half o' them bandaged from our firefight, but the local folk o' Haven welcomed 'em as though they already belonged. They got themselves a little paradise goin' on an' they invites us all t' dinner in their communal kitchen. They explain how they ain't got no need fer money 'cause ev'rythin' they do is for each other. I notice a few of our crew contemplatin' that an' I guess after last coupla days we had I can guess why, but it ain't us t' be stuck in one place, we all o' us runnin' from somethin' an' we need t' keep t' the sky t' do that.

When came t' us leavin' they all came t' wave us off. "We can't thank you enough for what you've done." A tallish man, the most bold o' the new freemen says. "We are forever in your debt."

"Don't be sayin' that," Mal joked. "You never know when we might come a knockin'."

"You're welcome any time." He came up and shook all o' our hands warmly. Ain't regular fer me t' be thanked fer nothin'. Still, this time it feels like I earned it, an' I wonder if there might be something' in this hero stuff after all. It ain't good fer self preservation though so I'm sure the moment'll pass.

I ain't even noticed the Preacher weren't there 'til he comes down the ramp wheelin' his suitcase wi' him.

"Where you going Shepherd?" Mal asks. "We're about ready for off."

"I thought I'd stay here a while. All these gun battles are hardly the place for a man like me. And I think I could be of some benefit here."

"Aww. Well hey, I think you could be right." Mal's been pretendin' this whole time not t' give a damn 'bout the preacher but now he seems almost disappointed.

He goes round t' say goodbye t' us all, Lil' Kaylee's near in tears as she hugs him farewell. When he gets t' me he shakes my hand then pulls me inta a quick hug too. I don't think I ever been hugged b'fore that weren't my ma, an' I ain't sure how t' take it.

"Kinda got used t' havin' ya aroun'." I know how awkward I sounds.

"If I didn't know any better I would think you've just said you'll miss me."

I shrugs. A shrug ain't no way t' say goodbye t' a man who you got along wi' but neither of us knows what t' say.

"Well I guess we'd best be leavin'." Mal says. "Wash, get her in the air."

"Aye aye Captain." he says an' rushes off t' the bridge, hittin' the button fer the doors on his way up.

The rest o' us watch an' wave 'til the door slides shut an' we leave 'em in our dust

xxxxxxxxxx

Athena's a right pretty name but it ain't a right pretty world. They discovered when they done terra-formed it that its largely made o' this stuff used in circuit boards an' since then near the whole planet bin turned inta one big mine.

It were only two months 'fore I made my escape. I was twelve an' by then considered an' adult by most contractors. 12 hours a day down the mines diggin' out the ore wi' all manner o' primitive tools.

We were lucky we was still t'gether. Most times the miners jus' take men but my Ma by now had got reputation for bein' a fair cook an' the fella who bought us wanted her t' cook for him in his big ol' mansion of a house. Lil' Rosie were eight an' was sent t' cleanin' it.

We was kept at all times under supervision, from our dorm rooms t' the mine an' back again at the end o' the day where we'd get locked in an' left 'til morning. But I'd found a way o' sneakin' out an' up t' the house at night t' see my Ma. Probably woulda killed me straight off if they'a caught me but it were worth ev'ry risk, we reckoned our chances o' stayin' together 'nother time were near non-existent. We never tol' Rosie, nor each other, but me an' Ma was sure next time we was moved we'd be split up an' never see each other ag'in like what happened t' Pa.

I'd go at night, when the men was already asleep. Folk sleep early and deep when they're wore down after a day o' smaskin' rock an' when there ain't none else t' do, Ma'd be jus' finishin' up the dishes from dinner an' Rosie'd be done fer the day. Our living quarters were basic an' badly kept, so as I'd found a hole in the tin roof, jus' big enough fer a boy my size t' fit through if I held my breath an' squeezed. I could get out this way an' climb along the roof, droppin' down inta the bushes at the back o' the building'. There was always a guard on duty but I quickly learnt t' avoid his flashlight an' make no noise as I crept along in the dark fer a half mile 'til I got t' the house. I slipped passed the guard there too an' inta the kitchen through the back door.

Then one night as I crept up t' the kitchen door I could hear a man's voice all muffled an' angry. I shoulda stayed hid but I got all full o' worry an' had t' go up t' the window an peer in t' see. The voice I could hear was that o' the contractor whose house it was an' he had my Ma bent o'er the kitchen table, his fat han' o'er her mouth an' her skirts hitched up t' her thighs.

My Ma saw me hidin' through the window an' there was panic in her eyes. The contractor weren't payin' no attention though, only in what he was doin' t' her. I wanted t' yell, t' get him offa my Ma but I didn't. I kept quiet an' snuck in through the door an' grabbed the sharpest knife outta the rack.

He noticed me an' pulled away from my Ma, turnin' t'wards me wi' murderin' in his eyes, an' something' else too which I figure now t' me shame but I didn't pay no attention to it then. He came at me but saw the knife too late an' I plunged it inta his chest right up until the hilt. He fell back a screamin' wi' the pain o' it, makin' so much noise someone was bound to come a runnin'. He then fell quiet an' lay still, soaked in his own fluids, his pants around his knees. There was blood ev'rywhere, all over the floor, the knife an' my hands. I had just gone killed a man but I didn't feel a gorram thing.

"Go se! Jayne what have you done?" My Ma was panickin'.

"Where's Rosie?" I asked. There was a gun in a holster hanging offa the contractors belt an' I took it offa him.

"She's servin' coffee in the drawin' room." She said gettin' herself t'gether.

"Go wait in the bushes at the back." I tol' her.

I dashed off inta the house hopin' my Ma would have enough sense about her t' do what I said. I raced inta the hallway, I ain't never been in a house so big b'fore nor since. I tried ev'ry door, but then my sister comes running back t' me, having heard the screamin'.

I grabbed her han' an' dragged her wi' me. There were other folk comin' out o' the rooms after the screamin' too, an I shot at 'em t' stop 'em fer following' us but it were the first time I ever held a gun an' I didn't hit nothin'.

I dragged my sister through the kitchen fast, hopin' she didn't see the contractor but I figure she did. The folk chasin' us only got as far as the kitchen an' I guess what they saw there stopped 'em dead in their tracks.

We found my Ma, clear headed an' focused. "This way." She lead us off acrosst the field in the direction o' the port that were o'er 10 miles t' the west. The guards was out an' was shootin' at us. I could feel bullets buzzin' passed us an' then Rosie screamed an' fell. I picked her up an' cradling' her in my arms kept on runnin' but she was silent an' I could feel her blood soakin' inta my shirt.

We kept runnin' 'til we was sure we wasn't being followed no more, an' 'til the adrenaline left our legs an' we collapsed. My Ma crawled t'wards us an' t'gether we held the body o' my sister 'til the heat left it.

Eventually as the sun came up on the horizon my Ma stood up.

"Come on Jayne."

I don't think I said nothin', I jus' remember bein' too tired an' numb t' even think.

"We gotta get up."

"An' go where?"

"Anywhere. Anywhere in the 'verse. They can't take the sky from us, not again. I won't let 'em and you've gotta promise me that you won't let 'em either."

I dragged myself t' my feet, an' I promised.