10
Mal wasn't fond of young folk. He commanded a few back during the war - stupid kids with dreams of glory, hardly weened from their momma's teat, thinking they would single-handedly take down the Alliance. They never listened- thought they knew it all- thought they were invincible. It was no surprise that they were just lining up to die. Too quickly they learned that war wasn't about being a hero...it was about staying alive. There was something in their eyes that changed upon the realization - like a bright bulb flickered, dimmed, and eventually smoldered - and it happened to all of them. Hell, maybe it even happened to him.
Hard memories balled up in the back of his throat, but it took nothing more than a quick cough to dislodge and swallow them down. That was then and this was now. There was work to be done.
Victor helped Mal hoist the heavy cases up onto the mule, and as scrawny as the kid seemed, he slung the cargo without the slightest struggle. He was a decent enough substitute for Jayne's muscle and far more pleasant to work with - he was obedient, didn't talk back, did the task with a smile. He was raised right, knew his place - it was easy to tell he was kept on a tight leash. A nice change of pace.
Wash skipped down into the cargo bay, his usual buoyant stride weighted down with concern until his eyes landed on Zoe. She stood at the edge of the ramp, listening so stoically as Mikas drew a map in the air with his finger and pointed out along the mountain's ridge. Her attention waned as she noticed her husband approaching from the periphery and with a dutiful nod, she excused herself from Mikas' company.
"Just checking in, Dear?" Zoe sighed, her full lips hinting at a smile. Ever since his encounter with Niska, Wash developed a pesky habit of making sure she was safe and whole after every run.
"I heard things got a little heated out there," he said under his breath.
"They always do."
"Just a little misunderstanding," Mikas interjected, suavely brushing his hair aside and extending for a handshake. "Mikas Ward- proprietor of these parts."
"Hoban Washburne - I pilot Serenity," Wash introduced himself stiffly, half-wondering why he suddenly felt the need to be so formal.
"A bona fide pilot, eh?" Mikas grinned as he threw his thumb over his shoulder. " Y'see Victor over there? He's got some mighty high ambitions...maybe you can talk him out of it."
The kid's ears perked as he overheard his name, his eyes glancing upwards with curiosity, though attempting not to eavesdrop so obviously. Mal was also astute to the exchange, wary of the outsider and the comfortable manner in which he approached the crew.
With a flick of his wrist, Mikas summoned Victor to his side, waiting impatiently like a master calling his dog. Setting down the last case on top of the pile, Victor bit his lip and looked to Mal as though to ask for permission. The captain granted his leave with a slight lift of his chin and trailed behind the boy's excitable steps with a casual saunter.
"Vickie wants to be a pilot, don't you boy?" Mikas said, pushing the kid into an introduction with a firm hand on his shoulder. Victor stumbled over his own feet, catching himself with a dopey grin.
"Is that so?" Wash attempted to smile as he shook the kid's clammy hand.
"Got accepted to a fast track program runnin' out of Londinum," Victor nodded, shrugging his shoulders with humble sigh. "They work ya hard but you get both a transport license and basic military training in 'bout eighteen months."
The corners of Wash's mouth dropped and he peered at the boy with skeptical twitch. "Wait- are you talking about the SAS Aviation Facility?"
"Special Alliance Support?" Mal piped in, furrowing his brow.
Victor gulped uneasily under the pressure of the dissecting stares, his response stalling into a meek nod that was unfitting for his body's stature. In the midst of the tension, he threw a panicked glance towards Mikas only to be ignored- his boss had become distracted by the slender figure of a mysterious girl snaking her way around the ship.
"Stop lookin' at him like he's a Purple Belly," Wash scolded his captain, slapping him playfully in the gut. "Those kind of credentials are like having a free pass. Just imagine...flight clearance almost anywhere you want it!"
Intrigued, but not entirely convinced, Mal cocked his head. "But you have to serve?"
Victor squared his shoulders as though to appear confident. "I'm opting out of the academy so it's just twelve weeks of active patrol -usually monitoring check-points 'tween sectors- and then twenty-four months on ready reserve."
Mal chewed on the information, squinting his eyes suspiciously and crossing his arms. Wash, on the other-hand, expressed a genuine camaraderie, if only to prattle on about the experiences of flight school that usually bored the rest of the crew.
"You choose a concentration?"
"Thinkin' 'bout avionic engineering. Like the idea of navigating with parametric interstellar sonar and electro-optics out in the black."
"I think this kid's after my own heart...don't tell my wife!" the pilot joked, meeting Zoe's eye-roll with a hearty laugh.
Flashing an uncomfortable smile, the light from Victor's eyes seemed to fade. "Don't matter anyhow. Momma said I can't go. Said we don't got the funds."
The words caught Mikas' attention, throwing him back into the conversation with a disgruntled shake of his head. "You don't worry 'bout no funds. Your Momma just don't want t' see her baby bird flyin' up over them mountains never to return."
Victor's cheeks turned flush with embarrassment.
"Well, uh, your goods are ready for transport," Mal changed the subject, turning the attention away from the kid and onto Mikas. "My mule ain't a part of the transaction, so I hope them caverns of yours ain't far."
"Not at all," Mikas replied. "If it's all right, I'll have Victor drive it out- give you and me a chance to further discuss my offer."
oOo
"Hell, Clydesdale, I think you got promise. But if you want t' run with my crew, there're some things you best be keepin' in mind..."
Bing sat behind a massive wooden desk, balancing on the rickety hind legs of an old splint chair. He threw his feet up to recline, kicking aside a stack of leather-bound ledgers as he struck a match on the sole of his shoe and lit a hand rolled cigarette. Jayne stood there humbly, folding his hands properly (just how his momma taught him back when she used to drag him to church) and watched as the weedy old man sucked on his cigarette, holding it firm it in the corner of his mouth.
"One - My word is law. There ain't no debatin' it. I'll treat ya nice and fair just so long as you don't go crossin' me. And believe me, you start playin' games, I'll know 'bout it. Two - which goes hand 'n hand with number one - You don't take anything that's mine. I pay well and provide all you need. But you ain't entitled to nothin' and you remember that. Three - Don't give Coop a reason t' hate on you. He'll teach you everything you'll ever need t' know, but don't underestimate his patience. He's killed bigger men than you, tougher men than you, smarter men than you, that's for sure. Do what he says, watch what he does, follow his lead, and stay on his good side. If you can handle it, well, then maybe you might prove to be useful."
oOo
River grimaced as her bare foot stepped from the smooth, cool metal ramp and onto the dry, pebbly ground. The new texture was welcoming- there was very little variance of surface characteristics on manufactured vessels- though the pinch and prick of tiny jagged stones and twigs was vastly unpleasant compared to the sensation of sandy dirt sifting between her toes.
She raised her eyes to the night sky, examining how the mountains enveloped them all. They stood so tall as though to try to pierce the atmosphere, surrounding everything like stone giants guarding the world beyond. Out in the black, everything was flat. Here was spledor. But no one else marveled in the wonder. Nor had they noticed she had "slipped away" (so they would call it.) It didn't require very much "slipping" - everyone's attentions were elsewhere. Doing a job. Working. Scheming. Watching. But never seeing.
Everything was behind her. The ship. The chatter. The captain and the pretty, golden-haired man. The colt. Then there was a rustling in the bushes. River's lips curled into a smile as she followed the sound, pulling aside a few branches and brambles.
"You've slipped away too."
The muzzle of sterling white alpaca poked through the leaves - lost, alone, so far from the herd. With careful fingers, River reached out slowly, but quickly withdrew as the animal let out a frenzied bray.
"Look what you found," a voice neared. "This one's been missin' since the week before last- tricky thing- weaseled through the weak spot in the gate. Come a long way, too."
Leaving the cargo packed mule a few paces behind, Victor approached with a carefree gait as he pushed his sleeves up his forearms and took a predatory stance towards the wailing beast. A vision of red shot through River's skull, her mind pounding, the surrounding world pulsing as she stared at Victor in horror.
"No, no, no..." River panicked, backing away and clawing at her temples.
"It's fine," he assured her with a comforting laugh. "You just have to know how to approach 'em, see?"
He raised a gentle hand to the creature and as he stroked along the soft wool of it's neck, it began to quiet. Enthralled by the calming motion, River cracked a smile- which in turn, drew a coy grin onto Victor's face. The red was gone. Pushed down, shoved away, distracted by his smile. His innocence. His eyes. Kind. Not judging. Didn't think she was crazy. Didn't know. Didn't care. Distracting.
A sudden gun blast echoed through the valley.
With a wheezing gasp, Victor clutched at the gaping hole in his chest, his hands quickly turning wet and red. His knees buckled beneath him, and like a discarded marionette, he collapsed abruptly to the ground.