Mal wasn't sure quite what to think when River came into the galley hand-in-hand with their passenger. Well, that wasn't quite true. His first thought was mostly incoherent rage at the idea that, maybe, the reason 'the Doctor' hadn't shown much interest in Inara was because he preferred 'em younger–but then his brain caught up with his eyeballs. Even if the man had disreputable intentions, River was more than capable of plastering him all over the nearest wall. And it wasn't as if he was River's brother. Or father. Or anything else but her captain. But she was crew, and it was his job to be concerned...
Then the Doctor released River's hand and ruffled her hair, and the moment of worry passed. He turned a wide grin on the rest of them. "Hello!"
River sat down at Mal's elbow and gave him a Look. Always was a bit of a bother, worryin' over a girl when she could pick the thoughts right out of your brainpan...Mal wasn't about to apologize for it, and settled for raising his eyebrows at her instead. "Gettin' a bit friendly, there, aren't you, little one?" he said quietly.
River rolled her eyes. "Lost puppies have to stick together."
"Uh...okay." Mal sighed. He hated it when she got all elliptical on him. He never really knew what to say, and he knew demanding clarification only resulted in further ellipses. "So...not too friendly, then?"
"He's too old for me," she said seriously. "Really too old."
Well, that was a relief. Sort of. Made him feel old, too, though, since he was about the Doctor's age. He could still remember when thirty-something looked absolutely ancient from the ripe old perspective of seventeen.
At the other end of the table, Kaylee was fussing over the Doctor. She'd jumped up from Simon's lap and was rushing about, telling the newcomer to sit down and offering to get him some tea. He responded to the prospect of tea with delight, and took a seat next to Jayne, who shot him a look fair drenched with contempt. Jayne wasn't one to hold with them as used their heads rather than their fists. He'd only recently developed a tolerance for Simon. Mal wondered if he ought to start taking bets among the rest of the crew as to when the mercenary was going to start tormenting the new doctor.
Kaylee was chattering away fit to fry a man's ear. "–was gettin' real worried when you didn't come outta your cabin. I thought you might be sick–sometimes folks get a bit queasy, breakin' atmo after a long spell dirtside. But Simon," she shot her lover a frown, "said you was fine and there was no need to bother."
"Oh, there wasn't," replied the Doctor, smiling and accepting the mug of tea Kaylee handed him. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit tired, is all, and I didn't want to be tripping people up." He lifted an eyebrow at Mal. Then he took a swallow of the tea and his face froze. It was with some difficulty that he swallowed. "Nice tea," he said weakly.
Kaylee beamed at him, and resumed her place on Simon's lap. The young doctor, whose face had darkened the moment Kaylee started playing hostess, looked a mite happier. Beside Mal, River muttered something not entirely complimentary about her brother. Mal hid his smile in his own tea.
Jayne frowned at the Doctor. "What sorta doctor are you, anyway?" He turned his frown toward Mal. "And how come we need another one? Simon's bad enough we gotta have another fancy suit around."
Jayne the public relations specialist, Mal thought sourly. He himself was hardly polite, most days, but Jayne took the concept of 'speaking one's mind' to whole new levels. "He's a payin' passenger, Jayne. Reason enough for me."
"How do we know he ain't a fed?" demanded the mercenary. "Or a bounty hunter?" He seemed not to cotton to the fact that, if the Doctor were either of those things, Jayne was sittin' right where he'd come into gun sights if things turned hostile. Or, if he did cotton to it, was Jayne enough to think it didn't matter.
"Oooh, would that be a problem?" asked the Doctor, innocently. "I don't usually claim to be a fed, and I can honestly say I've never tried bounty hunter–though I've had a few after me. And did you really ask me what sort of doctor I am? 'Cause that's a bit personal, don't you think?"
Jayne's frown turned puzzled. "How'd that be personal?"
The Doctor's eyes widened. Mal pinched the bridge of his nose. He recognized the look on the Doctor's face–it was the delighted expression of a cat that's just had a particularly stupid mouse wander right in between its paws. Only blessing here Mal could see was the fact that Jayne was probably too dumb to notice when the other man started tyin' him up in verbal knots. And if he did notice, well...Doctor had to learn sometime not to provoke the muscle. And Simon was on hand to fix any broken noses. Or jaws.
It was gonna be a long ride to Three Hills.
Three Hills was a border moon with a reputation for shady dealings. Despite this, Mal never had much liked the place. Too hot, too dusty, and too damn full of folk looking to double cross him in some way. Fortunately, he wasn't planning on dealing with any of them this trip. He was planning on dealing with Zeke Harkness instead.
Zeke Harkness was Three Hills' unofficial headman, mostly on account of the fact that he owned the fueling station, and therefore controlled much of the colony's traffic. Zeke was mad, bad, and dangerous to know–but for all that Mal liked him well enough. A ferret the man might be, but he never had tried to shoot Mal in the back, figuratively or otherwise. Not yet, at any rate, and that was good enough for Mal to harbor a smidge of neighborly kindness toward Zeke.
River landed Serenity light as a feather–despite Mal standing over her shoulder and fretting–a mile or so from Zeke's station. (Mal liked Zeke; he didn't trust him.) The tricky business of landing finished, Mal left the bridge to pass around marching orders–which always took longer than he wanted, because unless it was an emergency, folk inevitably argued. Kaylee wanted to go to the station, Simon wanted to go with Kaylee, River just wanted to wander...at least Zoe, by now, had accepted that she wasn't going to be Mal's backup for some time. Mal spent a spell shouting down arguments and hammering the idea into everyone's head that he was the gorram captain for (probably) the millionth time. Mostly it was Kaylee doing the arguing; she just wanted a chance to go through Zeke's scrap pile–and Mal didn't feel like spending an hour or three looking for her amidst all the junk. He finally ordered her flatly to stay put, and she sulked off to the engine room, trailing a hopeful Simon. River accepted the order to stay on Serenity without flickering an eyelash, and wandered off herself. Probably, Mal thought, to harass Simon and Kaylee, which would result in him getting an earful of complaints (mostly from Kaylee) when he got back. Some days, Mal seriously wondered how folks coped with having more than one child. He felt like the parent of a bunch of rowdy teenagers more often than he felt like the captain of a group of supposed adults...
Zoe intercepted his exasperated gaze with a slight smile. "I'll make sure they don't kill each other, sir."
"I'd appreciate that. Was it ever like this during the war? 'Cause I don't remember there being so much arguin'."
She shrugged. "Not so much. Though I imagine all the bullets flyin' had a lot to do with it."
"Huh. Wonder if I rigged up gun turrets in the hold to go off when folks other than me started shoutin' would do any good..."
"Probably not." Though she smiled at the idea.
They both knew perfectly well that Mal allowed the arguing because he found it a comfort. When the crew followed his orders without question, it was usually because they were in a really bad spot. The rest of the time, it just felt like family–and Mal didn't mind admitting to himself that–only child and orphan that he was–he rather liked the feeling. "Keep my ship safe," he said to Zoe.
"I will, sir," she replied, and turned to walk carefully back up the ramp. She hadn't quite reached the waddling stage yet, but it was getting damn close. Mal tried not to think too hard about that, since the inevitable thought following was what the hell they were gonna do when she actually had the kid.
He turned to tell Jayne it was time to saddle up, and nearly fell right over Inara. She had the set look on her face that told him he'd better agree to whatever it was she wanted right fast or she was gonna make his life hell in a thousand quiet and subtle ways that never undermined his authority but nevertheless managed to set him twitching. And, recognizing as he did the wisdom of agreeing, he promptly said, "Whatever it is, 'Nara, the answer is no."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "That's really too bad, Mal. Because I'm coming with you."
"What? No, you are not gonna..." He trailed off with a sigh. "I don't suppose tellin' you it might get dangerous would help?" he asked, without much hope.
"Not really."
"Didn't think so. Not like I expect much trouble from Zeke, anyway. We're walking, though. No sense in wasting fuel on the mule, just for a mile and a bit. You up for hiking around in..." He noticed for the first time what she was wearing. Not a silk dress and sandals, but sensible hiking boots and a pair of heavy (if well-cut and obviously expensive) trousers. The blouse was one of her usual, though she'd thrown on a leather jacket over it. "Huh. Where'd you get boots to fit?"
"They're mine," said Inara coolly. "Companions don't spend all their time in a bedroom. I've had a number of clients in the past who liked going on hikes."
Mal resisted the urge to comment on that. She'd only just started speaking to him after their last argument, and he was coming to realize that he really preferred Inara when she wasn't furious with him. "I was sorta hopin' I could count on you to keep the children from killing each other..."
"Zoe told me she could use the exercise. And she gave me a list of things to pick up that, according to her, she didn't trust you to get right."
Mal drew himself up indignantly. "Didn't trust–! I've had that woman's back for near on a decade, and she don't trust me to pick up–" he hesitated. "What sorts of things?"
Inara gave him an arch little smile, and Mal knew he'd lost the argument. "Are you sure you really want to know?"
"Uh...no." It was a conspiracy, he just knew it. The women of the ship were ganging up on him, and finding it all sorts of amusing. "All right. Just...keep up." As a parting shot went, it was pathetic. "Jayne, let's get moving. Daylight's burnin'." He checked his pistol a final time, then grabbed his coat from where he'd dropped it and shrugged it on.
It was about ten minutes into the walk before he noticed they'd picked up a fourth person. He turned back to say something to Inara–something conversational–and promptly forgot what it was as he spotted the tall, lanky figure in the long brown coat trailing a bit behind the group. The Doctor wiggled his fingers at him. "Hi!"
"What the hell are you doing?" Mal demanded.
The Doctor looked around, his expression faintly puzzled. "Walking. Isn't that obvious? I was getting a little bit of cabin fever, and I heard there might be a shop..." His forehead wrinkled with concern. "It isn't a problem, is it? I mean, it's not like there was anything I could do on the ship..."
Mal gritted his teeth. From the startled looks on the other two's faces, they hadn't noticed him either. "No, it ain't a problem. Just see to it you don't wander off and get left behind."
The Doctor grinned. Again. Mal wondered if the man's face ever got tired. "Oh, I won't," he said cheerfully. "I never wander off. That's other people."
Zeke's station was a rusty ramshackle of corrugated metal siding and scrapped ship parts. At any given time there were a dozen or so ground or near-atmo vehicles in various stages of disrepair cluttering up the scenery, with members of Zeke's station staff working (or pretending to work) on them.
Zeke himself emerged from the office, a man nearly as tall and lanky as the Doctor, and dressed in what Zeke himself felt was the height of fashion. As this included a velvet coat and ruffles, Mal had his reservations, but kept them behind his teeth. Man could dress however he wanted, so long as he got the job done. Mal raised a hand in greeting, then froze. Zeke was smiling broadly.
Zeke never smiled.
"Malcolm, old buddy," Zeke cried as he drew near the little group from Serenity. "How are you?"
Mal shot a glance around the yard, belatedly noticing a number of things that were off. There was none of the usual loud laughter and horsing around. Instead, the mechanics were standing still, huddled in small groups of two or three, watching the newcomers with wary, furtive eyes.
"They're scared," said Inara, keeping her voice low. "Something has badly frightened them."
"I don't like the look of this, Mal," Jayne muttered.
"Hush," he hissed back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Doctor peering around. The man's stance was his usual hands-in-pockets, all casual and nonchalant–but Mal could see a sudden, subtle tension in every line of that thin body, like a hound just gone on alert.
"Zeke," Mal said coolly. He caught Jayne's eye. The big merc shifted his weight slightly, and tightened his grip on his big rifle. Inara, too, changed her stance. Mal recalled she'd had more than a bit of martial arts training. Hell, she'd taken on the Operative, back at the training school. Hadn't gotten far, but she'd bought Mal time enough to recover. Mal let his hand slide toward his pistol, not bothering to hide it from Zeke. "What's goin' on?"
The foppish man's smile wavered. "What d'you mean? Nothin's goin' on. Just bein' friendly."
"You ain't ever been friendly in your life," said Mal. "Not 'less you want somethin' you figure the other party don't want to give. So I'll ask again–what's goin' on?"
"I'm hurt, Malcolm," Zeke protested.
"I mislike repeatin' myself," Mal said, letting a hostile edge creep into his voice. He slipped his pistol out of it's holster, but was careful to keep it lowered by his side.
Didn't do any good. Weapons bristled all around them as Zeke's men drew iron. Mal kicked Jayne in the leg to prevent the idiot shooting someone on pure reflex, ignoring Jayne's glare. Inara let out a soft "Wonderful," and the Doctor settled for staring in magnificent affront at the gun currently leveled at his nose. He did, however, pull his hands out of their pockets and keep them carefully out from his side. Mal breathed silent thanks that the strange man hadn't done anything stupid. Yet.
Mal looked back to Zeke and raised his eyebrows. "I really wasn't lookin' for a fight, Zeke. Thought we were friends."
"I ain't lookin' for a fight, either, Malcolm," said Zeke seriously. "But you aren't gonna like what I've got to say, and I can't let you leave til I've said it. Put the gun away. I'd hate to have to take your pretty friend here hostage." He nodded at Inara. Mal risked a glance at her face, and suddenly felt sorry for any sah gwa who tried taking her hostage. Wasn't like she had to worry about anyone complaining to the Guild about assault at this point...
Mal glared at Zeke, but the other man didn't look away. A tense silence stretched. Finally he said, "Jayne," and holstered his own weapon. Jayne muttered something extremely rude in Chinese, but lowered his gun. Mal folded his arms across his chest, still glaring. "Okay, I'm listenin'."
Zeke rubbed his jaw tiredly, and Mal noticed for the first time how exhausted the normally immaculate station owner looked. Dark smudges marred the skin under his eyes, and he didn't look to have shaved recently. "I can't fuel you up, Malcolm." Catching the expression on Mal's face he hastily added, "'Least, not until you do somethin' for me first. I wouldn't even ask, or–or whatever–'less it was real important. Think of it as a job. There's even a free fuel up and some coin in it, you do this."
"Pointin' guns and issuin' threats ain't a way to win me over," Mal growled.
Zeke glanced around at his men. "Sorry," he said, and nodded to them. Guns were lowered, but not put away. He looked back to Mal, his face drawn. "It's just that we got ourselves a real problem, Malcolm. The sorta problem we ain't equipped to handle.
"Folk have been disappearing, past couple of weeks. Vanishin' right out of the towns hereabouts. We thought at first some pirates or somethin' had landed and were plannin' to ask for ransom–but then we found some of them as had disappeared."
Mal had a sudden, very bad feeling.
"Wasn't pirates," Zeke continued, his voice hoarse with remembered horror. "The bodies were...it looked like Reaver work, Malcolm."
A chill trickled down Mal's spine, and he felt more than heard Jayne's unhappy exclamation, just as he sensed Inara's soft intake of breath. But he shook his head. "Can't be Reavers. Reavers wouldn't take just a few, they'd destroy a whole town. Maybe the whole damn moon."
Zeke's eyes were troubled. "I know, but we think maybe it's just one or two, holed up in the woods between Guangxi and Helltown. Used to be a third town out there, but it got hit by a small Reaver party six months back. We bombed the town from the air, but it's possible a couple got out."
"No." Mal frowned. "Reavers don't work that way, not even if it was just one or two. They wouldn't hide out in the woods and take a few folk when they get hungry–they'd attack everything they could til someone stopped 'em." Remembering the chilling words River had once said, he added softly, "They never lie down..."
"You'd know about that, too, wouldn't you, Malcolm?" asked Zeke.
"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Mal angrily.
"That's why we want you and your crew."
"What for? Zeke, you don't answer me soon, I'm gonna break your nose."
Zeke sighed and fiddled with the lace at his throat. "We want you and some of your crew to go out there and find the cheong bao ho tze monsters doin' this–and we want you to put an end to them. Whether they're Reavers or somethin' else, you're the folk to handle 'em."
"No way!" Jayne burst out. "No ruttin' way! Goin' after Reavers is suicide!"
Mal's voice was cold. "And you want us to do this–why? 'Cause we're expendable? 'Cause I got a valuable ship sittin' there for the taking, we don't come back?"
Zeke looked unhappy. "It's not like that, Malcolm," he protested. "We can't handle this. Most of the folk around here are dirt farmers, you know that. They can drop a few bombs onto open ground from an air-skiff, but tracking killers in the woods? They can't stand up to somethin' like this." He squared his jaw stubbornly. "And I can't ask 'em to. But you and yours, Malcolm–well, we've all heard the stories."
Ai, ta ma duh. Mal scowled. "What stories would those be?"
"That Malcolm Reynolds and his crew flew into Reaver territory and came out again. That they fought an army of Reavers face to face and lived, while the Alliance fleet was torn to pieces in the sky above. Ain't ever heard of other folk who did such a thing."
God, I hate being seen as a big damn hero, thought Mal plaintively. It was such a gorram pain in the pi goh. "Not all of us lived," he said harshly, remembering how Wash's blood had made the floor of the bridge slippery, how hard it had been, afterwards, for him and Jayne to pry out the massive harpoon skewering the pilot's corpse to his chair while Zoe wept her heart out behind him. All those years of war, and he'd never heard her cry like that. He never wanted to again.
"Maybe not," said Zeke, "but you still won. One or two Reavers ain't beyond you. So here's the deal, Malcolm: you take care of our problem, whether it's Reavers or some crazy killer actin' like a Reaver, and we'll refuel your ship for nothin'. Even pay you what coin we can."
Mal felt his face heat as fury flooded him. He stepped close to Zeke, moving fast enough to catch the mechanics off guard, and fisted his hands in the lapels of the man's velvet coat. "I got a pregnant woman on board my boat," he snarled. "I got kids on board. I don't appreciate you threatening them."
"Mal, I'm not–"
"Shut up!" Mal roared. "It's your turn to listen to me, Ezekiel Harkness! I ain't gonna put them through that. Not again. They already fought the monsters, and we all came outta that with pieces of our souls missin'. I ain't askin' them to do it a second time. I'm not gonna take your deal, Zeke. You're gonna fuel up my ship, and I'm gonna pay you. Business as usual. You want those things in the woods stopped, you call in the gorram feds and make them do their jobs!"
"I'm sorry, Malcolm," said Zeke. "But I can't. The Alliance ain't comin'; we already asked. And I got whole towns of women and children in need of protectin'. My people can't do it. I got no choice. Your ship has been landlocked. It won't be released unless you help us."
His heart pounded out time to the rage coursing through him. Mal raised his fist, fully intending to beat Zeke's face in–but a hand closed around his wrist with unexpected strength, preventing him doing so. Mal twisted his head around to meet the Doctor's grave dark eyes. He saw Zeke's staff raising their guns again, and he stopped straining against the grip on his arm.
"If we go," said the Doctor to Zeke, "and we fail–what then? Do you plan to leave the rest of Captain Reynolds' crew to rot here? Or are you going to force them to face the monsters and die as well?" His accented voice was quiet, but there was an edge sharp as swords in it.
Zeke's brows shot together. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
"That really doesn't matter," said the Doctor coldly. "What is important, Mr. Harkness, is what you're going to do." His eyes narrowed, and his voice became harsh. "And I really, really suggest you make the right decision."
Zeke gaped at him.
Mal shook the man a bit, drawing the station owner's attention back to him. "I'll tell you what you're gonna do," he snapped, taking advantage of the opening the Doctor had left him. "We do this, then you refuel my ship whether or not I come back. You let my first mate take Serenity and leave peaceful-like. You don't agree, and not only will I not take care of your little problem in the woods, but I will drag you out there and feed you to them myself. Dohn ma?"
Zeke gulped and glanced at his men, but they stood in frozen fascination. Finally he nodded, his eyes darting back and forth nervously between the open fury on Mal's face and the chilling cold on the Doctor's. "All right. I'll send a fuel transport out to Serenity now." He pulled free of Mal's grip, managing to put some distance between himself and the Doctor at the same time, even though the Doctor had offered him no threat of physical violence. Tugging at his coat and straightening his cuffs, he tried to regain some dignity. "But I'll be posting guards at the ship, to make sure you don't try and sneak off first chance."
The thought had occurred to Mal–but deep down he knew he wouldn't do it even if handed an open shot. Reavers or not, the folk of Three Hills didn't deserve to be left at the mercy of nightmares.
He rubbed both hands over his face and turned to Inara. Her flawless face wore its calm mask, but he could see the worry in her eyes. "I'll need you to go back to Serenity with the transport," he said, reaching out to grasp her shoulders. "Fill in the others on what's happening, and don't let Zoe shoot anyone."
Neither of them was fooled. They both knew he was sending her back because he wanted her safe, because he couldn't bear it if something happened to her out there. He could still see very faint scars on her cheek from the battle five months ago, where a Reaver's claws had torn her open. He hadn't been there to see it, and he thanked the God he no longer followed that was the case. Been hard enough, seeing her blood afterwards, knowing he was the cause of it. A showdown with Zeke's men was one thing. This was something else entirely.
Inara held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "I will." She hesitated, a sudden uncertainty taking over her usual poise. She reached up to touch his face, a feather light brush with her fingertips. "Be careful, Mal," she said softly. "Please."
He swallowed. "I will." Before his brain could shut down he stepped away. "Doctor–"
"I'm coming with you," came the stubborn response.
Mal eyed him. Man looked like a skinny twerp, but he hadn't flagged once on the hike from Serenity to the station, and the ache in Mal's wrist said the man was a good deal stronger than he looked. "Fine," he said. "You need the loan of a gun?"
The Doctor shook his head. "I'm fine."
He didn't look armed, but with that big brown coat the man could probably hide a small arsenal away. And no one was dumb enough to travel unarmed, 'less they had bodyguards. "All right, then. Jayne, let's go." He glanced back to where Inara was being escorted toward a bulky fuel transport. She looked over her shoulder, met his eyes. Feeling a mite better, Mal focused his attention back on Jayne.
The mercenary looked unhappy. "Don't fancy goin' after Reavers," he grumbled.
"I don't recall it bein' a request, Jayne. Stop bein' such a little girl." He turned back to Zeke, who looked so satisfied Mal wanted to hit him. "We'll be wanting a few more things in the way of arms," he snapped.
"Grenades," said Jayne. "I want grenades."
Mal smiled humorlessly at Zeke. "Give the man some grenades. And we'll need a means of transport to the woods. Something quiet; horses are fine, if you've got 'em."
The Doctor's face lit up. "Horses?"