The course change was completed without incident; they parked themselves a discrete distance from the rest of the system. The month went quickly. Mal and his crew were interviewed exhaustively, the Cortex data transferred and analyzed. Despite the hours of interviews Mal felt better than he had in years. He was eating fresh food daily; his crew looked fit and happy. Even Jayne was less surly than usual.
The platinum (all 324 glorious kilograms of it) had been transferred, and was sitting safely in Serenity's hold. The total in coin, Mal was given to understand, was just a hair over five million. Jayne just sat and stared at the crates like he was seeing the promised land.
Mal was still trying to figure out how to safely deposit the platinum without losing it to Alliance taxes or moneylender greed. Five million in platinum was more money than he'd ever had to deal with. He was finding the idea strangely intimidating.
True to their word Enterprise had supplied all the spare parts they had needed. Geordi and Kaylee had crawled through every bit of his ship, fixing the broken, the ready-to-break, and the outright missing. From the sound of it they had had the time of their lives.
Wash was gloating over Serenity's newly restored sensors. Truth to tell, Serenity had been nearly blind, half her sensor package missing or broken. No longer would anybody be able to sneak up on them without warning. Serenity's sensors were now as good as anything else in space, she could spot a shuttle under power at 10 A.U.
Her cry babies had been restocked too, and her tanks topped off. Mal didn't know who was happier about the state of his ship, him, Wash, or Kaylee.
Of course the 'verse wasn't perfect. Not even Enterprise's superior medical technology had been able to do much for River. The doctor said he now knew what had been done to his sister, in detail. Enterprise had also been able to tell him which drugs would help stabilize River's condition, but nothing could undo the damage the Alliance had done.
On the positive side Enterprise had been able to stock Serenity's medical bay with all manner of drugs and equipment. Of course, because of the Prime Directive none of it used Federation technology, but it was far better than anything Mal could have afforded.
Sheppard Book had been enriched too, he said. Not caring overmuch for material possessions the Sheppard had instead concentrated on learning about the non-humans onboard Enterprise. While he couldn't bring anything back that would reveal the secret of an alternate universe, he could and did gain a wealth of material to contemplate how wondrous the hand of the Creator had been, fashioning not one universe but an infinity of them.
Inara, too, had spent a great deal of time with the non-humans onboard Enterprise, but in her case she was trying to live up to the role of ambassador that had been thrust upon her. Her reward had been exposure to art and culture of a thousand different worlds, worlds she couldn't even have imagined. She counted herself blessed beyond her wildest dreams.
Jayne was happy with the platinum. But he'd also obtained (how, Mal wasn't sure) a working replica of Jesse James's Colt .45 Peacemaker, along with holster, gun belt, and enough ammunition for a small war. Mal had had no idea Jayne knew any history of Earth-that-was, much less had a hero from an obscure part of ancient history.
Zoe was content. Her ship was in far better shape than she'd ever believed possible, her husband was happy as a clam about Serenity's newly regained abilities (and made sure to share his happiness athletically at every opportunity). Even her captain was loosening up and letting some of the bitterness out of his soul.
To put the cherry on top, when the month ended Enterprise threw them a party. After the party Mal met privately with Captain Picard in his quarters, and they shared a bottle of Saurian brandy.
"So, Captain Picard, I hear the job is done." Mal said, sipping his brandy appreciatively. Picard had told him it came from a system a few hundred light years from here, and Mal was treating the drink with the deep respect it deserved.
"Yes, Captain Reynolds. We've done an extensive analysis, but I'm afraid first contact is out of the question."
"Oh, why is that?" Mal was sprawled comfortably on the couch. Picard hesitated.
"To be frank, our anthropologists have uncovered some disturbing issues in your culture."
"Coulda told you that." Mal chuckled. "Truth be told the Alliance don't hold much appeal for me, and I gotta live here. I imagine the war didn't help matters."
"Well, it confuses the issue certainly, but we've dealt with cultures recovering from civil wars before. What concerns me more is the Machiavellian nature of your government. There are too many unanswered questions, too many secrets that simply don't make sense. Our intelligence gathering has of course encountered typical data restrictions: military deployment, budgetary data, that sort of thing. But seemingly harmless data has also been placed under tight security, for no reason I could possibly imagine."
"Maybe some bureaucrat is covering his pigu. Got his fingers in the cookie jar." Mal suggested. Picard shook his head.
"I wish I could believe that. Let me ask you, Captain, how many planets are in this system, not counting moons?"
"Uh, lemme think." The brandy was spreading warmth through him. "Fifteen."
"Are you sure?" Captain Picard leaned forward in his chair. Mal frowned, counting in his head.
"Yep. There's fifteen."
"What if I told you there were actually sixteen, Captain?" Captain Picard asked.
"Well, maybe there's a black rock on the edge of the system." Mal shrugged.
"No. It's a class M planet." Picard said. "Uninhabited, but there's a swarm of ships orbiting it. The odd thing is there are no records of this planet in your database, and the ships don't seem to land on it. In fact for the most part they stay in orbit. Occasionally a few ships come in-system, usually by themselves, stay for just a few hours, then return to the swarm."
Mal had a sudden chill that brandy wasn't going to cure. "These ships, they happen to emit more radiation than is healthful?"
"You know something." Picard guessed. "Yes, they have a much stronger radiation signature than normal."
"Reavers." Mal bit the word off and sat up, putting his brandy on the table. "My suggestion to you, destroy every ship in that swarm. From as far away as you can possibly be."
"What? Why?" Picard was startled at the bloodthirsty suggestion and the cold passionless tone it was delivered in.
"Reavers ain't men." Mal said. "They used to be men, but somethin' happened--nobody knows what. Reavers are--horrifying. Like boogey men outta stories. They take a ship, they almost never leave survivors. And that's a blessin', trust me. 'Cause when they do leave somebody, the poor hundan's been forced to watch. Never right after that. Most times they turn into Reavers their own selves. The rest either die or commit suicide."
"Once they take a ship, they rape the crew to death, skin them and eat the bodies. And if the crew was very, very lucky they do it in that order." Mal was staring at something Picard couldn't see. "We've run into them a time or two. Managed to get away the first time, out-maneuvered their ship and caught 'em with a full burn in atmo. Hope we blew 'em into flaming chunks, the hechu sheng zajiao de zanghuo."
"Second time, we come across a ship they hit. 'Bout the size of Serenity. Settlers, headed for the outer planets."
He looked at Picard, face blank. "Sixteen families, Captain. Men, their wives, children. More than one baby." He picked up the brandy and tossed it back in a single gulp.
"We cut down the bodies. Some had been hung, upside down and gutted. Others, just torn apart. Specially the little ones."
"My God." Picard breathed.
"Yeah. So you know where those Reavers are, you do the 'verse a favor and you end them. Wipe them from the face of creation." Mal was breathing hard.
He was interrupted by slow clapping. Both men turned, startled.
"Bravo, Captain Reynolds!"
"Q!" Picard hissed.
"You could learn something from this one, Jean-Luc." Q said, smiling. "He's such a sterling example of your race! Savage, ruthless. Did you know he's a smuggler and a train robber? A masterstroke in this so-called advanced civilization."
Watching Q grin gave Mal a deep sense of rightness. He'd been fooled into thinking the universe was smiling on him. Yeah, smiling to distract him from the knife in its other hand...
"Whatever he is, Q, he's a far better man than you'll ever be." Picard snapped. "Captain Reynolds has scrupulously upheld his end of the bargain, as have we."
"But you heard him, mon capitaine! End them he said." Q looked over at Mal.
"You're right you know. The Reavers are a hideous stain upon the universe and should be exterminated like vermin." He cocked his head. "Just like the rest of humanity, really. No difference."
Mal felt his blood boil.
"Mister, I don't know where you came from but calling me the same as a Reaver is a good way to get yourself stomped on. I seen what those things did to folk who done nothing to nobody." He strode up to Q, who looked amused as the smaller man literally got in his face. Mal hooked a foot behind Q's leg and smashed Q across the face with a forearm. Surprised, the supposedly invulnerable and superior being hit the floor, hard. Mal stood over him, breathing hard.
"Get up." Mal snarled.
Q touched his nose and winced. "I'm bleeding. You hit me!" He accused Mal, wonderingly. "You actually hit me."
"Yeah, and I aim to do it again, so stand up."
Q vanished from the floor in a flash of light and reappeared, standing completely unharmed. But--Picard couldn't help noticing--Q was just out of Mal's reach.
"Jean Luc never hits me." Q complained.
"Yeah, well he's a nice guy. I ain't." Mal was sure he'd smashed Q's nose, he'd tried for maximum damage. But there was no sign of it now. He began to wonder if he'd just done something terminally stupid.
"Enough. Q, what do you want?" Picard asked.
"I was getting bored. Aside from that one ship you haven't been very entertaining." Q pouted. "Sitting out here, doing nothing much. I was sure you'd have conquered this system by now, Jean Luc. Militarily they're helpless before the might of this ship."
"We aren't conquerors, Q." Picard said tiredly. "We're explorers. Not killers."
"Tell that to the ship you destroyed." Q said.
"We did nothing of the kind. They destroyed themselves while trying to destroy us." Picard snapped.
"A matter of semantics my dear captain." Q waved the objection away airily. "But now you have a real moral dilemma in front of you, don't you? These Reavers. Tisk." Q looked solemn. "Such a difficult decision. If you do nothing, the Reavers will continue to, how did Captain Reynolds put it? Ah yes, hang their victims upside down and gut them." Q stared coldly at Picard.
"Can't have that, can we mon capitaine? Baby's torn limb from limb and eaten as their mothers are raped to death? No, the Federation can't have that!"
Q turned and paced, stroking his chin. "But then there's that pesky Prime Directive. Can't interfere in the internal affairs of another culture. What to do, what to do?"
"Miracles, Jean Luc. They're never free. Time to pay the piper." He vanished. Picard stiffened, fully expecting to hear the alarm klaxon. But the room stayed silent. Mal watched him.
"I begin to see why you don't cotton to that fella." Mal said. "What did he mean about payin' the piper?"
Picard looked out the window, at the stars that shone untroubled by human concerns. He sighed heavily and refreshed his glass, silently pouring Mal another glass as well. He settled into his chair and rubbed his eyes. Mal waited, sensing now was not the time for words. Picard had a look Mal had seen before. It was the look of a man that had seen one too many friends die.
"The first time we met Q he put the Enterprise crew on trial for crimes against intelligent life. The second time we met him he tested my second in command to see if he was worthy of becoming Q." Picard snorted. "As if Q is a fit judge of anything. The last time we met Q he hurled the Enterprise several thousand light years, to a system known to us only as J-25. It had been devastated by attacks of a species known as the Borg." Picard looked at Mal.
"Captain, meaning no disrespect to you or your ship, but the Borg were as far beyond us technologically as our ship is beyond yours."
"No harm." Mal said. "Though I have to say the thought of something that could best this ship is a mite worrisome."
"Indeed. The Borg ship was a cube three kilometers on a side."
"Wait. You say three kilometers?" Mal asked incredulously. Picard nodded.
"They locked us in place with a tractor beam, drained our shields with laughable ease, and then carved out a chunk of the saucer section. They took three decks. Eighteen crew members."
"Ouch." Mal winced.
"Just before the rift brought us here Q returned those eighteen crew members to us. Alive, and completely unharmed." Mal stared.
"Let me see if I understand you." Mal said slowly. "Q raised eighteen people from the dead?"
"His 'miracle'." Picard agreed. "Of course he didn't raise them from the dead. He merely snatched them from that hull section before sending us to J-25. The Borg took an empty piece of the ship. Now, for reasons only Q knows, he's presenting me with a moral dilemma I must solve."
"You do have interestin' taste in enemies." Mal observed drily. "But there are a couple of things I want to be clear on here. First, did I just hit somebody who casually tossed this ship through time and space?"
"Yes, you did. Well done! I've wanted to do that for months."
"Uh huh. And, not to expose my truly appalling level o' ignorance, but how did Q know ahead of time exactly which piece the Borg were gonna carve on? This being such a truly enormous ship and all?"
Picard blinked. "I don't know." He admitted.
"So now what?" Mal said.
"Now, I have to decide what, if anything, to do about the Reavers."
"Easy." Mal said. "Kill 'em all. Put 'em out of the 'verse afore they do some other poor hundan. And his wife and kids, most likely."
"It's not that simple, Captain." Picard said tiredly.
"You done right by me and mine, Captain. I ain't got no right to push you here. But I'm tellin' you, Reavers ain't human. They started that way, maybe, but now they're boogey men straight outta some nightmare. Only, thing is they're real. I seen 'em, been chased by 'em. Killed one of 'em with my bare hands. I seen the leftovers." Mal spoke in a flat voice.
"It's powerful hard, Captain, when you wanna do right by the dead, only they're in such a state you don't know how many bodies there are. How much is--missing."
"I believe you, Captain Reynolds." Picard said heavily. "I've seen my own share of atrocities. But murderous savages or not, I can't just kill them. That would make me no better than them."
Mal gaped at him. If he'd met this man on Ariel or Sihnon he'd dismiss him as a hopeless idealist. But he wasn't on Ariel or Sihnon, he was sitting onboard this man's ship, a mighty military vessel that no sane bureaucrat would entrust to an idealist. He was completely flabbergasted.
"But--" He started. "Look, let's say it was Councilor Troi about to get skinned. Would you kill a Reaver then?"
"If necessary." Picard nodded. He held up a hand. "Captain, I know the argument. We aren't stupid, if there's no other way we will kill an attacker. But it has to be the last resort."
"Just wish you could see a Reaver, up close and personal." Mal muttered. "Then you might not be so ready to turn the other cheek."
Picard stared at him, deep in thought. He seemed to come to some decision.
"Captain Reynolds, can I trust you?" Picard asked. "I mean really trust you? To keep secrets, even from your own crew?"
Mal watched Picard narrowly. This was familiar ground. Mal had made a hundred deals, kept more secrets than he cared to think about. In the shadowy seas Serenity sailed secrets were a smuggler's stock in trade.
"Won't lie to you Captain. There's some as would name me smuggler." He stared the other man straight in the eye. "Thief too. Man's gotta do what it takes to keep his ship flyin' and his bones inside his skin. But ain't nobody in this 'verse says Malcolm Reynolds don't keep his word. On top of which, I owe you. Won't speak of nothing you want kept dark."
"Then, Captain, I'll have to ask your indulgence for a while longer. Have your crew return to your ship and wait for us. You and I will be taking the Enterprise on a short trip, just a few hours. Don't worry, we'll make sure no ships can reach Serenity in the time we'll be gone."
"Where we going?" Mal asked.
"To meet a Reaver, face to face." Picard said quietly.