months ago...
Agent Prince, a tall, lean man with spiky blond hair, had broken into the facility just fine. He was on some awful little company planet. One big, evil corporation had hired him to steal production information from a smaller, eviler-er corporation that ran this horrible planetoid. Since the moon was technically outside of civilized authority, he'd been killing his way through an entire office building.
His fe fe pi goh excuse for coworkers had tried to kill him. Again. His intel on this place said to expect minimal resistance from building security and he'd walked right into an ambush. He'd started killing with his rifle and ran out of ammo by the time he made it to the top floor. Having been in a bit of a "mood", he'd beaten someone to death with the empty rifle, mangling it to uselessness. He'd taken several bullets in his Ghenji style trek to the CEO's office, but only the one that had grazed the outside of his shoulder was bleeding and it was just a flesh wound. He silently praised himself for thinking to put on full body armor, and not just the thin, light stuff he always wore. If he survived this, he swore he would go freelance. He was going to take his fiance, Nadine Sue Yang, and move to a border planet. He'd always heard Persephone was nice.
Rounding a corner in a hallway, the agent saw a dozen armed men, all holding him at gunpoint screaming "Freeze!" in both English and Chinese. The blood spattered man smiled to himself, a terrifying apparition to his would-be captors. He was smiling about something else though. In an old Earth That Was movie, a different man with a sword had said "It's just a flesh wound!" while hopping up and down on one foot, having also been relieved of both of his (literal) arms. Funny...right?
The agent took in the situation instantly, a product of a lifetime of training. These men must have been ordered to take him alive, but they were pointing actual rifles at him, not pulsers. They were scared of him, but not quite scared enough to flee in terror. He always thought he should give his enemies more gruesome deaths to discourage this type of behavior, but his old sensei, Hiro, had trained him too well. Hiro had always gone on and on about dignity and honor. Part of that included quick, clean deaths for one's "worthy" opponents. The agent had paid attention as much as he could, but he'd always been more interested in learning the sword than learning about a long dead Japanese religion called Bushido.
The agent considered his options for dealing with his new friends. He could let them take him in to their leader, which would actually make his job easier. He'd discarded his own rifle some time ago and now only had a polymer pistol on his hip and the sword on his back. It was the short, straight wakizashi. He also swore to himself he'd start carrying his "big boy" sword off ship on jobs after this.
So, the man could have let the dozen goons live, like a smoker who claims he can "quit anytime I want". Instead, he felt a flash of gratitude these men had brought him a collection of rifles and (more importantly) ammunition. His sword flashed out of the scabbard. His opponents were wearing body armor specifically designed to stop bullets that did little to help with the sword. After the mission was over Victor was most irate at how difficult it was to sharpen the blade, though. The sword flew through arms and necks, and punctured chests, stomachs, and skulls. Victor mowed down the men so quickly the last one was dead before the first one hit the ground. They all collapsed at the same time, as though they were dogs who'd just received an order to "play dead".
Victor took a second to admire his handiwork. He always said that one must stop and enjoy the little things every once and a while. At least, he would have had it ever come up in conversation. Either way, it was important to relax and enjoy life a little bit. It was the only thing that had kept him sane for so long.
Standing over his conquest Victor spoke out loud, even though no one was around to hear him. He had no idea who Julius Oppenheimer was and he'd never read the Gita. Reciting what he assumed to be a line from a movie, he declared in a low growl, "Now, I am become death! The destroyer of worlds!"
Sometimes you just have to make your own fun.
then and now...
Mal stood in front of Inara's full body mirror, practicing his draw with his favorite pistol. He'd been lightning fast since he was fifteen and put the old shooters that worked for his mom to shame at every shooting contest the ranch had thrown. Two motions made the pistol seem to teleport from the holster to his hand. First, apply mostly rearward pressure to the grip of the pistol. Once the pistol started sliding, grab and point. Simple really, but even the best needed practice.
"Are you having fun?" Inara asked from the bed. She'd been watching him do this for the past fifteen minutes. The novelty of seeing her man naked except for his leather belt had worn off. It was starting to get boring.
"Not liking the view?" Mal asked, wiggling his bottom a little. "Bwah!" he said, drawing yet again. His hand was getting tired and slowing down.
"It's just lovely," Inara said, rolling her eyes. Despite herself, she smiled. She liked seeing Mal relaxed and comfortable for a change.
"Alright, then," he said, done practicing. He walked over to the bed. "Tomorrow, we touch down on New Corona for the meet with Monty. He's in good with the locals there so that means honest-to-goodness shore leave."
"Won't that be fun?" Inara asked, sarcastically.
"If we can convince everyone to get off the ship, we can have the whole ship to ourselves."
"Maybe we could play naked tag?" Inara asked, reaching up and giving "little Mal" a shake.
"Maybe we could just have lots of sex until we pass out?" Mal asked.
Inara rolled her eyes again. This time Mal could see it. "You have no imagination."
Mal was perplexed. "Huh?" What would one need to "imagine" about sex? That was time and energy one could spend actually having sex.
"You'll see," Inara smiled.
.
Zoe climbed from her bunk, intent on obtaining coffee. Her ears heard the sound of explosions and swearing from multiple voices coming from the bridge. Panicking, she hit the hall communicator and broadcast to every room. "Captain, we have an emergency on the bridge!"
Zoe sprinted the few feet to the bridge as hard as she could. Entering the cock pit, she saw what appeared to be an epic space battle going on in the view port to the ship. Explosions and loud noises swamped her senses. Then, she realized Jayne and Victor were already on the bridge floor, and in front of the control consoles, no less. Simon and River were just sitting and watching the "battle" unfold.
"You cheating whore!" Victor shouted.
"Don't pitch a fit cause I beat you at your own stupid game!" Jayne retorted, laughing with glee.
"A video game?" Zoe asked Simon and River, figuring out what she was looking at. The HUD on bridges main view port was split down the middle and what appeared to be two star fighters were locked in a dog fight with each other.
"I got the winner," River said, grinning.
Simon rubbed his face. "They've been at this all night."
"What's going..." Mal's voice asked as he bustled into the bridge. His brown shirt was untucked, his suspenders absent, and his pistol belt in his hand. His hair was in disarray, suggesting he'd just sprang from his bed.
"My mistake sir," Zoe said by way of apology. "Your Public Relations officer and pirate ninja have the situation well in hand."
"You rigged up a vid game on my boat?" Mal demanded of Victor after he passed his controller off to River.
"Yeah and Jayne's been kicking my ass up one side and down the other all night," Victor replied. He looked around. "Aren't Fireflies supposed to have couches in the entertainment area?"
Zoe suppressed a laugh and turned her head.
Mal fixed Victor with a stunned look. "Are you outside your mind?"
"What?" Now Victor was confused. "If you hate video games, you don't have to play, but the bridge has all the entertainment hardware. Or do you just have a problem with fun?"
Zoe stepped out of the bridge, now laughing in full.
"Excuse me?" Mal asked, fixing his belt to his waist.
"I mean..." Victor scanned his brain. A lot of his former coworkers had been veterans. Between them and his brother, he'd picked up the culture. "Seeing as how team building and ship morale is so important, I thought I'd do my part and donate some software to the cause." By the time he finished his spiel, he was standing up perfectly straight and speaking in a clear and bold voice.
"GET SOME!" Jayne shouted, to a cacophony of explosions. River stomped her combat boot to the ground and growled in frustration, not used to losing at something.
"If this gets in the way of work, I'm ripping it out," Mal said grumpily, leaving in search of coffee.
Victor watched Mal leave then turned to Simon. "It's software. He knows he can just delete it, right?"
Simon just shrugged.
.
Later that day, the crew crammed into the bridge area. River was in the pilot's seat with Zoe standing behind her. Mal was in the copilot's seat, with Inara standing behind him. Jayne and Victor had gotten hold of two bean bag style chairs and had them on the floor in front of either console. Snow was laying flat on the floor in between them, pretending to be a rug. Simon and Kaylee were hovering in the doorway.
"Anybody here ever been to New Corona?" Mal asked, as River started the landing sequence.
No one was surprised when Victor raised his hand.
"You want to give everyone the debriefing, then?" Mal asked.
"Heck no."
"Do it anyway."
"Okeydoke," Victor said. He cleared his throat. "New Corona is a border planet closer to the Rim than the Core. Aside from some light tourism for surfing, it's mostly an agricultural planet. The majority of the galaxy's oranges, lemons, and bananas are grown there, as well as the best tobacco... ever. The eastern sea is great for surfing, but the western sea has the Agave Islands which (as everyone knows) is where one hundred percent of all of the agave in the Verse is grown-"
"What's agave?" Jayne interrupted.
"I'm glad you asked, good sir!" Victor continued, without missing a beat. Mal started to wonder if he'd missed his calling when he didn't become a tour guide. "Agave is an amazing plant used to make an even amazinger-er drink. Tequila!"
When no one reacted to the good news, Victor decided to help out by making trumpet noises with his mouth. Two notes repeated in sets, three times, then...stop. When Victor stopped, River joined in and said "Tequila!" Still, no one was impressed.
"You people are out of touch with your cultural heritage!" Victor said, crossing his arms and legs in disapproval.
"So is tequila like moonshine?" Jayne asked.
"Blasphemy!" Victor spat. "Tequila is the hot girl that moonshine wishes it could one day become in a horrible teenage romantic comedy!"
"Speaking of culture," Mal interjected, "the whole planet is run by Dons and we don't want to make waves so watch your manners."
"Who's Dons?" Jayne asked.
"No, it's like..." Mal began, "Like a commercialized feudal system. The Dons are the highest ranking members of 'families' who get voted in for life sentences when their predecessors die. The Families are the people who call the shots to their respective industries/districts."
"So the Don of the agave islands would be Don Agave Ramosa. Ramosa being the man's family name," Victor added. "If you act up on one of the islands and one of the donsmen report you, he'd be the one to cut your testicles off." After a second's thought he added. "Metaphorically speaking... usually."
"Sounds more like a mob," Jayne said.
"The only difference between a mob and a government is popular support," Mal said. "On New Corona, the Dons' words are law, so we behave."
Jayne raised his hand even though no one else was speaking and began speaking before his hand was all the way up. "So do they-"
"Yes, you're allowed to wear your guns on New Corona," Mal said, cutting him off.
"Thank God," Jayne said, relieved. Every time he left the ship without his usual compliment of pistol, knife, and grenades, something bad happened.
"We're about to start our landing sequence, Captain," River announced.
"Take 'er away," Mal said. "We've already got clearance in a town that won't ask questions."
River dropped into atmo perfectly, flying by instruments due to the heavy cloud cover. It was monsoon season in the district they were landing in, which was good. That meant there would be no Core tourists. River landed Serenity as Mal kept talking.
"Zoe, you want in on this one?" Mal asked. In her condition, he was less inclined to bring her into an unknown environment.
"Between Jayne and the giant, I think you'll have enough muscle," Zoe answered. She had already been feeling the effects of her pregnancy. "I'll watch Serenity."
"Can I come, too Captain?" River asked.
"Sorry, girl, but this place is too heavily populated. If we need to get gone in a hurry, we need you on the ship." Serenity landed and Mal stood. "Jayne and Victor have to come. The doc, Zoe, and River are staying in case things go south. Kaylee, want in?"
"There will be Mexican food," Victor droned, enticingly.
"What's that?" Kaylee asked.
"It's like really good food, but better," Victor said, grinning his hungry grin.
"Actually," Simon said in a lower voice, "I was thinking we could spend some time together."
Kaylee crossed her arms and moved a few inches away from Simon. "I'm sorry... did you just say we should spend some more time together?" Kaylee was making no attempt to keep her voice low.
Simon sensed that he was in trouble again for some reason. "I..."
"Because I seem to recall someone (not saying any names) would rather spend the whole night at a whore house than with his girlfriend."
Mal, as a dignified Captain, kept his face blank. Most of his crew took his example and looked appropriately embarrassed to have to witness a domestic dispute. Jayne and Victor were giggling like small children, however.
"Alright, it's settled then," Mal said, when Simon's stuttering response became too painful to endure anymore. "Me, Jayne, Victor, and Kaylee: planet side. Everyone else: hold down the fort."
Simon didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he was fairly certain he was going to be wrong either way, so he didn't object. Of course, Kaylee was none too happy about his apparent desire to spend yet another night away from her.
.
Mal led his entourage away from the hangar to the easiest to access public gathering point, where Monty knew to meet up with him: an old fashioned, Mexican style, Catholic church. Heading inside, Mal dipped his fingers in the water bowl and crossed himself. Even he was surprised. It would seem old habits die really hard.
Victor held Jayne back by the shoulder as Mal made his way to the front of the sanctuary. "Wait," he whispered. Victor believed in a singular higher power (at least, he thought he did), but found organized religion to be a waste of time. Even so...
"What are we waiting for?" Jayne whispered back, taking his hat off. He'd left his favorite hat on Serenity (it was a little warm for wool) and was wearing an olive drab green floopy hat.
Victor just shrugged. He was acting on instinct. He took a seat on the back pew and picked up Snow, placing him on the seat next to him. He'd only had the dog a couple of weeks, but he was pushing forty pounds, despite being still a puppy. He hoped no one took exception to a dog in a church.
Mal and Kaylee slowly made their way up the rows of pews to the crucifix and candles. At this time of day, the only other person in attendance was a priest sitting on a pew, unobtrusive but available, should any need him. Kaylee had grown up protestant, and a lot of this was new to her, so she took a seat on the front row.
Mal, however, figured if he was in for a dime, he was in for the dollar. It had been years since he'd prayed. Deep down, he'd always been comforted by hearing what Sheppard Book had to drone on about faith in God, even if he knew his own faith was way too broken. Taking a knee on the short bench in front of the candles, he looked up at the crucifix. It was what he'd always considered the "graphic" version. Instead of a simple cross, he was staring at a white, alabaster statue that showed Jesus nailed up, bleeding and in obvious pain.
Jayne and Victor still stood next to the door. Jayne whispered angrily at Victor, "You expect us to just sit here while the Captain prays?" he demanded.
Victor sighed. He liked Jayne. If Victor were less of a freak, he would consider Jayne to be his new best friend, but sometimes... "That man tells us what to do. I want him to be as 'at peace' with whatever God he believes in as possible. Doh ma?"
Jayne grumbled something that might have been an agreement. His mom had taught him proper manners as well.
Up front, Mal wasn't praying. He was reflecting on the Sheppard and how a man of God could have suffered such a cruel fate; dead at the hands of someone who'd been after a friend of his. It didn't seem right. It didn't seem right, because it wasn't right.
In his own head, Mal said to the statue You hear that? I'm done with you. Just don't say I never gave you the chance to explain your own side of this mess.
Feeling better, he kept going. I mean, it never mattered, did it? No matter how much faith I had, or how hard I fought, the Independents were always going to lose weren't they? Faith has nothing on superior numbers.
The statue, unsurprisingly, said nothing. Mal's thoughts wandered to the deaths of Sheppard Book and Wash.
Granted, it wasn't the worst way they could have gone out. I've seen enough death in my time to figger that out my own self.
Jesus said nothing, but this time... Mal felt that the statue was just letting him speak his piece, once and for all. He knew that feeling was just his own imagination and wishful thinking, though.
I mean, Wash died flying, like any spacer would want. His piloting is the only reason the rest of us lived. Even Book went down preaching the value of faith... but for what?!
Jesus let Mal continue his internal rant.
You never did anything to help, did you?! Well, guess what? I'm done caring what your think! You wouldn't help me win, so I'll win my damn self! If you're all powerful, I've got half a mind the only reason you don't appear to people no more is 'cause you don't want the ass beatins you got comin!
Something strange happened. For just an instant, Mal thought the statue moved. For the barest second, the face of pain and suffering was... smirking. For as long as he lived, Mal would only ever tell Inara about the time he thought the statue changed. He knew it hadn't really happened.
What happened next was strange though. Mal didn't hold with psychology the way Inara, Simon, and Victor did. Weren't no point in pondering the ways of a man's thinking. Only thing that matters is what a man does. Even so, Mal had to wonder why his next thoughts weren't of his fallen friend, his betrayal at the hands of God, or anything at all related to his disappointment and rage.
He remembered... a story. A simple story his Ma had told him that he'd later read himself.
.
Once, a man named Jacob was on his way home to meet his brother, who wanted him dead. At one point on the journey, Jacob and his family needed to cross a river. Jacob sent his whole family and all his belongings and servants over without him, though. That way he could spend the night alone.
See, at that time, a man as rich and powerful as he would never be allowed to just spend the night alone in the wilderness. Too many people depended on him. Still, Jacob did it. In the middle of the night, he was attacked by a stranger who wrestled with him for hours, until the sun started to come up.
The stranger realized how long the two had been fighting and demanded to be released. Jacob realized the man was more than he appeared to be and demanded to be blessed, first. The stranger agreed, but he was a sore loser and decided to poke Jacob in the hip, so he had to walk with a limp for the rest of his life.
Long story short, Jacob didn't get killed by his brother after all and went on to found on of the most powerful and influential nations on Earth That Was.
.
"You're smiling."
Mal came back to himself and looked over his shoulder at Kaylee, who'd spoken. "No I'm not," he said, his face blank.
"Yes you were," Kaylee said, her own face smiling.
"Kaylee, soldiers don't smile," Mal said in his most patient and understanding tone. "Unless of course it's at a mission well done or over the bodies of our fallen enemies." He stood and went to sit next to her. "Wouldn't be proper, just smilin' for no reason."
"My mistake, Captain," Kaylee said, leaning over to kiss Mal's cheek. "I'll have Simon check my eyes."
"You do that," Mal said. "We can't go havin' a mechanic who can't see what's what."
The doors to the church opened up, admitting a large man with a bushy beard. The last time Mal had seen Monty, he'd been going bald on top. He seemed to have given up on having hair on his head altogether. His head was completely shaved now, making him look even more intimidating. On his left he was flanked by a tall, lean man with dark skin. On his right, a pale man with red hair and freckles.
"Well if isn't Bigfoot himself!" Mal said, getting up and walking over to Monty.
Monty grabbed Mal up in his traditional bear hug, lifting the smaller man off the ground in the process. Setting him back down he said. "How you been you crazy pirate?"
"Better," Mal said, surprising himself by meaning it.
"Yeah I heard about your little party out on the edge," he smiled. "You're a bona fide hero now."
"Well... I'm alright," Mal said, looking around. The priest had left, but he wanted to keep an eye on what he said. "Let's just keep this 'hero' stuff between us, yeah?"
"Oh," Monty said, remembering his manners. He pointed a thumb at the black man on his right. "This is William, the other one is Theodore."
Mal waved and said "Hello."
"Yeah, I had to go out and get myself some honest-to-goodness bodyguards," Monty said.
Mal knew Monty had a legitimate shipping business in the name of an associate from the Core. It made being a full time smuggler that much easier. However, Mal had no idea his business was that good. "Shi Ma?"
"Oh, yeah," Monty went on. "I got ten ships running round the clock and twice that number on the up-and-up side of things."
"That's impressive," Mal said. "Maybe you shouldn't be doing small time business with me if you're already riding so high up on the food chain!"
Monty scoffed. "Oh, please. Smuggling is the spice of life. I don't run a little contraband myself, I'm apt to go stir crazy."
"And take the rest of the Verse with you," Mal said, laughing at Monty's oldest joke.
"Ahem." Victor had walked up while the two were talking.
"Right," Mal said. "Monty, this is our newest recruit, Victor."
Victor shook Monty's hand. "It's nice to meet someone else who comes in 'grown-up' size for a change."
"Likewise," Monty said.
"And I think you already met Kaylee and Jayne," Mal said of the other two people who were taking up the church.
"Hey, kids!" Monty said. "Kaylee, you still work for this bum?"
"What can I say?" Kaylee said, smiling. "I'm just a one ship kinda girl."
"You know you can still come work for me anytime, right? I gotta' whole fleet needs your skills," Monty said, only half joking.
"Hey, now!" Mal said, pulling Kaylee in front of him and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, as if to keep her from escaping. "Don't go trying to steal my mechanic."
The rest of the meet went pleasantly. Mal made arrangements to have supplies dropped at a remote location on the nameless moon where The Heart of Gold was located. Serenity would be responsible for storage and final transportation at Petaline's convenience, taking the smallest cut of the profits. Which was fair, considering they would be doing the least work. Besides, Mal had a war to start, which has a way of consuming one's time.
.
After parting ways with Monty, Mal and his crew made their way to a nearby Mexican restaurant. They sat outside under the cloudy sky and marveled at the chance to just eat at a restaurant like normal, boring folks. Victor had Snow sitting beside his chair. The waitresses (mostly young, pretty Hispanic girls) let it slide, given that they were outside and Snow was adorable. It may have also had something to do with Victor flashing his gold.
The waitress came up to the table. "Hello, what can we make for you today?" she asked in heavily accented English.
"Tendremos una botella de su mejor tequila y una ronda de puros. Puedo hablar a Español Si lo prefieres," Mal said. The waitress giggled, saying "Si" and went off to (presumably) fill the order.
"What was that?" Kaylee asked. Both she and Jayne were wide eyed and surprised. Victor had understood "botella de tequila", which was the important part, so he was fine with whatever else Mal had just done.
"What was what?" Mal asked.
"You ain't never said nothin 'bout speakin' Spanish before," Jayne said. "And don't you say it's cause-"
"You never asked," Mal finished for him. He looked back and forth between Kaylee and Jayne. Were they really surprised? "Look, my mother was a cattle baroness. Who do you think bought most of our beef?"
"The Dons," Victor said. When everyone looked at him, he took his hand down quickly, drawing attention to the fact that he'd been picking his nose.
"Exactly," Mal said, ignoring Victor's lapse in table manners. "So I learned the language. It's not that complicated."
Kaylee smiled. "Well ain't you just full of surprises?"
Mal shrugged and grunted. Lot's of people speak different languages.
The waitress returned with a platter holding a bottle of tequila, four precut cigars, an ashtray, and taco chips. Jayne immediately went to work on the taco chips.
"We're gonna' need more of those," Victor told the waitress. "And enchiladas!" The waitress smiled and nodded.
"It looks like a storm's coming," Mal said, taking in the overcast sky.
"Fine by me," Kaylee said, eating chips and salsa. "I can't remember the last time I seen rain."
The four enjoyed a nice, relaxed dinner. Tequila was a rare treat. Even on Core worlds, import and export taxes kept the price around 125cr, which was ridiculous for a bottle of liquor. The four of them finished their dinner, drinks, and cigars (except Kaylee, who gave hers to Jayne) before the trouble started.
.
A small woman in a long, black Mandarin style dress walked down the street of the quiet little town. She had a black, silk cowl wrapped around her head, specifically designed to keep her face from view of anyone not standing in front of her while not drawing attention to the fact her face was covered. An onlooker would assume it to be an off world fashion statement. In her right hand, she held a sensor. Not an electronic one, either. A long chain that looped around her wrist and went most of the way to the ground. At the end of the chain was a small, metal box with vents all around. The box was designed to hold incense, which one would light. Then, the carrier could swing it all around, spreading the incense over a wide area.
Once the woman in black found a suitably crowded square, some three blocks from her targets, she lit the sensor and began swinging it, spreading a fine mist. Several people nearby stopped to watch, thinking she may be some kind of street side performer. Most just went about their day. The decision to stay out of range saved some of their lives that day.
Some. Not "all".
The crowd began to grow. The watchers in front were blocking foot traffic in the area, which caused more people to be curious, which caused more people to stop and watch, and so on and so forth. The woman in black waved the sensor in wider arcs, spinning it all around. The sensor continued to trail smoke, making fancy patterns in the air. Right about the time the audience started to grow bored with the simple trick. Something happened. They started to feel sick. All of them at the same time. Everyone withing range began doubling over and vomiting. Then, they began convulsing. People who weren't in range began to back away, slowly, but stayed close out of simple, human curiosity. The woman in black was now standing over a congregation of convulsing, sick people. She still waved her sensor, despite the smoke going out. She was singing an old hymn in Chinese, waiting for the change.
A man close to her feet reached out and grabbed her by a high heeled leather boot. "What did you do to us?" he demanded.
"Oh, don't worry," the woman replied in a beautiful, musical voice. "You won't mind as soon as the discomfort fades."
It wasn't long before the people fell unconscious. The onlookers began to scramble. Some went to get the donsmen, some left in fear of their own safety, some looked like they were thinking of harming the woman. Ultimately it didn't matter. The crowd laying on the ground unconscious began to stir.
Not all of them, of course. This new strain of the Pax was designed to not accidentally turn people into Reavers. It was designed to turn as many people as possible into them. The woman in black was pleased with the results. The people turned were consistent with all laboratory tests. 90% of men and 10% of women were susceptible to Reaving. She'd once asked a scientist about the gender disparity. He'd given her a very intelligent sounding answer about part of the transformation process increasing testosterone and adrenaline. It had something to do with muscle mass and size keeping the excessive hormones from causing nervous or organ shut down. Fascinating.
The woman in black stretched her mind out in a blanket over her new followers. "Hello my children," she said.
The Reavers roared in acknowledgement, sounding similar to fans in a sports stadium. Coming from the angry, red eyes of once human monsters, the sound was less exciting and more terrifying.
"I plan to hunt tonight," the woman continued once the cheering had died down. "Who's with me?"
The new Reavers roared again. Louder this time with the promise of death and bloodshed.
The Reaver Queen relaxed. Now the fun would begin.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
I swore up and down I'd include the fight in this chapter, but I'm too pressed for time. I had to scrap what was going to be this chapter and write "Church" instead, to keep things actually happening. I was falling into the trap of having people just sit around and talk about things instead of actually doing them.
I hope noone's upset about Mal getting in touch with his spiritual side again. It was a strong part of the character and I couldn't justify leaving it out for fear of offending anyone. Also, Firefly is a Space Western. Western's have a lot of Mexico in them, so of course I always intended to have something about Space Mexico and the Space Mexicans. Everything just kind of tied itself together.
I love feedback, it keeps me working. I'll also be starting a forum thread soon so we can all recommend fanfiction stories and authors to each other. Trying to find good stuff to read is a bit too hard. The filters on this sight don't have a setting for "author's writing ability" and it gets old sifting through ten stories written by horny middle school students to find ONE that's entertaining.