"What separates us from the Darkness? It is neither our technology nor our strength in battle. It is our minds, civilization and potential. Why else would the Traveler have chosen us? The Last City can be more than a cradle of refugees. It cries out for a guiding hand that can bring out its best."
— New Monarchy recruitment speech
Waking up, however seamless it could be, was never quick. Over the course of human history, many attempted to defy sleep, in keeping mental pace from it or chasing it from their minds, but sleep always won. Exhaustion always triumphed. As annoying or hated as it could be, it was necessary to all, human or otherwise. The human body, like any other body, needed rest, the brain most especially. It was unavoidable.
Waking was always taken at it's own pace. If you got up, attained alertness, attempted to cheat it, you'd fail. It would persist, as long as it wanted. If one embraced it, however, as Corsair had unwillingly done, it was far gentler. All that registered was a haze as the darkness of sleep clung futilely, slowly letting go. Then, the senses began working. The air was acrid, the mouth dry, sharp noises in the ears, and finally, the eyes opened to a new darkness, the kind peppered with spots of light in every direction that did nothing to abate the surrounding black. Corsair sat in his one person jumpship, looking at the stars.
He coughed, realizing the smoke in the air. The source was a small console fire on the roof of the cockpit, and Corsair patted it out hurriedly. How long had he been out? He surveyed the cockpit, ruined as it was (but still intact), as a small tetrahedral object materialized before him.
"Finally!" His Ghost replied, rims spinning gently. "You've been out for about half an hour. Last I checked, you had a concussion and several broken ribs." A bright beam of light from the Ghost's eye scanned over Corsair's body briefly, "Seems to be fully healed now. That jump took a lot out of both of us, it seems." He said, floating back an inch or two.
"Yeah, feels great," Corsair grumbled, albeit feeling relatively fine, "I take it you put out a distress call, Gale?" He narrowed his eyes. If he'd been asleep for as long as Gale implied, help should've come by now; he didn't need to be a warlock to know that. Hell, Epsilon would've been right behind him. Corsair had expected when the NLS drive test went wrong at first to wake up in the tower, or at least solid ground.
Epsilon-4, his fellow fireteam member, had come to him with a new drive core Dead Orbit had been working on, wanting to make nice with New Monarchy before asking for one of their own endeavours (A fact Epsilon was not supposed to have told Corsair, but seemed happy to share regardless. Friendship overrode political boundaries most of the time). Dead Orbit had wanted results, not just for the test, and had chosen Corsair to approach. Corsair, Epsilon, and their titan, Zinara, had torn the heart out of the black garden and murdered a hive god, which made them celebrities, and it was only natural for Dead Orbit to utilize those bonds.
The test had gone well, until the tail of an unforeseen solar flare had affected the warp corridor, sending Corsair off at unprecedented speed. Epsilon had said something over comms about gravitational displacement, or distortion, Corsair hadn't really been paying attention, instead focusing on not being blown into a million little pieces. When the warp corridor finally broke down, he'd been thrown from the deceleration. The size of the cockpit, and the integrity of the plexiglass, had ensured his own personal flight was a short one.
Gale hesitated, "I have but...we've travelled several million light years, Guardian." He admitted, "Beyond our solar system, and then some."
Corsair frowned, letting that sink in, "and I presume our fancy new warp drive is operating in pristine condition?" He mused, taking a glance at The Visible Hand out of the window. Several pieces, and if Corsair guessed, an engine had been torn away, the pieces somewhere back along their route give or take a thousand light years...or two.
"Very funny," Gale mused, scanning the burnt out controls of the craft, "It's burned out completely. Even if it weren't, it'd take decades to get home."
"We have time," he smirked, trying to make light of the situation by pulling Gale's metaphorical leg. He couldn't imagine his friends' faces in 50 years, claiming the drive test to be a complete success, but only once.
Gale gave his best equivalence of an eye roll, impressive as he had only one, "That's if it was working. We have one working engine, half the ship is missing, we're leaking fuel-"
Corsair took this opportunity to cut in, "You're tenser than usual," he looked Gale straight on, "What's the biggest issue right now?" He asked, trying to get his loyal friend on track. Sometimes he could ramble.
"Oh," Gale said, not missing a beat, "you're about to run out of oxygen and die in the vastness of space."
Corsair paused, blinking at the news. "So," he said after a moment's contemplation, "a Dead Orbit fanatic's wet dream come true."
"I'm sure Epsilon would enjoy this immensely," Gale chirped nonchalantly, "probably helps he doesn't have to breathe." Corsair's helmet vanished onto him, "your armor should have an hour or two of air. I'll depressurize the ship to spare what little we have." With that, he vanished into thin air, Corsair feeling his movements slow in response to the new lack of atmosphere.
"Alright." Corsair said, "let's keep broadcasting our distress beacon, can't hurt." He pulled the cockpit release lever, letting zero-g take him, "in the meantime, let's fix what we can."
Corsair had been in many stressful situations. He was only 7 years old, but that time was spent as a Guardian, which was hardly idle. He'd traveled all across the solar system, fought countless enemies, faced down true darkness, cheating death all the while, either by skill or by Light.
Out of all that, including the black garden, Crota, and the Hidden Swarm, this had to be the most stressed he had ever been.
Sure, there were plenty of times he had nearly died, but this was different. The ship's CO2 filtration system was limping, even after repairs. Gale estimated they had around 4 hours of oxygen left, unless they somehow acquired the parts to build a completely new life support system. The engine had some parts they could use, but a scan from Gale told them taking it apart in zero gravity could blow up the entire ship...or rather, what was left of it.
Every other time he was in danger, Corsair had something he could do, but ultimately, he was at the mercy of the universe. If a ship didn't pass by (something possible, but highly unlikely), Corsair would die. Sure, Gale would resurrect him, but only for him to asphyxiate and die once again. It wasn't only an exercise in futility, dying over and over on his way home, but it was something Corsair definitely wasn't looking forward to.
As he attempted to at least get the one engine running before his timely demises, Gale chirped into activity within his helmet. "Corsair!" He said, "I'm picking up a transmission!"
"Seriously?" Corsair lost his grip on the wing almost immediately, only just managing to get it back, "And here I thought the Traveler's Light didn't shine out here." The arrival of a ship was lucky. If they weren't hostile, they'd help. If they were hostile, he'd try to negotiate before killing them all and taking their ship. Their mistake for trying to pick on a Guardian with the foreverness of space as an alternative. He would take the latter, if it guaranteed a lasting survival.
"I'll patch it in now," Gale chirped. Again, Corsair glanced around the blackness, attempting to spy their would-be rescuer.
"-epeat, unidentified ship, this is the transport ship Serenity. Do you read?" A man's voice came through in clear English, surprising Corsair. Was Dead Orbit out this far and didn't tell anyone? Unlikely. "Our captain wants to make sure you're alive, before...you know. If you're there. At all. In this deep and utter vastness of-"
"Gale, open comms. Yes!" Corsair said, "this is the New Monarchy ship Visible Hand, we're alive!" He said, letting out a breath of relief.
"Oh, thank God!" The voice on the other end exclaimed. "We're about ten minutes out from your location, and we couldn't be sure you weren't a pirate or something, or, you know, dead."
Corsair had to smile at that. He honestly had been dead not too long ago. "I don't know, it sure felt like it for a while there. I have enough air to last, Serenity, Corsair out" He said, Gale chirping again as the connection cut out.
"Guardian..." Gale piped up, "I've made contact with their ship's mainframe during your conversation, and it seems they're not from the city." Corsair had relaxed for the moment, slipping his arm around some part of the ship to hold himself in place. No use wasting energy. The fuel line was patched, some important pieces were accounted for. If not for the oxygen, he'd be content to drift back to Earth himself.
"Considering how far out we are? I guessed that."
"They also seem to be human."
"I guessed that, too." Nevertheless, it had gotten Corsair's attention. "Humans? Out here?" He asked, slightly incredulous in his tone.
"Well, we're already in a Dead Orbit fanatic's wet dream come true, why not?" He muttered to himself, "didn't others do the same thing, got hit by the Darkness, and became the Awoken?"
"They did," Gale floated around his head, "I can't get a deeper understanding of their history until we get closer and interface with their computer."
"Maybe one of the exodus ships did survive the collapse. All sounds pretty straightforward to me" Corsair said, finally spotting movement in the blackness, pulling his scathelocke auto rifle out of his inventory. "Well, there's our ride." He said, looking down the scope. It'd be better if he had a sniper rifle, but he never used them. To the others in the tower, it was simply not his style. To him and Zinara, it was because he was the absolute worst shot. "No weapons I can see, looks to be pretty small."
The ship itself was about twice the width of a standard jumpship, and three times as long. The entire thing was gray, with the exception of the back, which was bright yellow. The whole thing looked like a Firefly. "I mean, it is a Firefly-class transport, I guess it's aptly named." Gale said, when Corsair remarked on it.
The voice came back into Corsair's ear, "Serenity on approach. We have you in sight, Visible Hand. We can...oh, you're outside." He said, with a hint of mild surprise.
Gale had vanished already, as he'd learned to do at a moment's notice in combat. "Had to do some repairs," Corsair waved to the man, "open your airlock, we can discuss the salvage of my ship," he said, seeing the pilot in the window wave back.
"Copy that," the man said, "half of it looks to be missing, though. It really worth keeping?" he asked as a ramp on the front of the ship began to lower.
"Unfortunately, it's not mine." Corsair pushed off from his ship, drifting towards the open door, and the fresh oxygen beyond, and he felt his scathelocke vanish into his inventory. "Corsair out."
His boots hit the ramp directly, magnetically connecting, Gale chirping to life in his helmet, "so how exactly are we going to play this? I don't suppose we can introduce ourselves as a noble Guardian from Earth, and his Ghost"
Corsair thought a moment while he took a few steps up to the inner door, tapping it three times. "Not at first," He said as the ramp began to rise behind him. "This is a first contact situation, but we know nothing about these people. We can do some recon before we tell them who we are. For now..." He thought to himself as the ramp rose behind him, "how about, I'm a stranded traveler whose ship was blown to pieces, working for a humanitarian agency known as New Monarchy. Would that be suspicious?" He asked as he heard the ramp click shut, then a new thought occurred to him. "Gale, we can't use transmat in front of these people. Can my helmet be removed manually?"
Gale actually sighed, "your armor already does. Every Guardian's does. No one ever actually does it manually." He said with a slightly resentful tone.
"Oh." Corsair felt the awkwardness, but was cut off from any further comments as the inner door opened.
Three figures stood before him. The one in the lead was obviously the captain of the ship. He wore a gun on his hip, hands clear of it, but something told Corsair they'd be ready to move at a moment's notice. He wore a dark red shirt, pants with suspenders, and his hair seemed neatly combed. The others, a man and a woman, held an auto rifle and a small rifle, respectively. The woman had dark skin, wore a vest of some kind, and her dark curly hair fell down past her shoulders. The man wore a simple shirt and pants, had short hair, and seemed generally unassuming and properly menacing. They held their guns openly, albeit at ease due to numbers and arms. The unspoken deference to the captain was thick enough to cut with a knife, at least from the woman. The man was a bit harder to read, if there was anything.
The man Corsair suspected as the captain also stood in the center, in front of the two. Always a dead giveaway.
Corsair reached up, quickly finding the seam in his helmet, and pulled gently. It took a light tug, but it disengaged relatively quickly. He lifted his helmet off his head for what seemed like the first time, as it was, and let it fall to his side.
Corsair took pride in his appearance when he could. The benefit of having a helmet being transmatted on constantly was that he never got helmet hair, a fact that would likely change with his new circumstances. His hair was short and brown, dissimilar to the menacing guy's by about 2 inches.
After an awkward moment of silence, Corsair decided to break it, "thank you," he said, then extended a hand, "Corsair."
"Captain Malcolm Reynolds," came the stern reply as he took Corsair's hand, in a startlingly familiar voice, "welcome aboard the Serenity, Mr...Corsair," he said, slightly uncertain about the name, but Corsair couldn't care less. His mood was morphing back and forth from curiosity to mild shock.
"J-just Corsair is fine," he stammered out quickly after a second or two of moving his lips without talking, and the captain must've sensed his unease by the expression on his face. Whatever gears were in his head quickly grinded to a halt at the impossibility of the voice he heard in his ears. "I'm sorry," Corsair managed, "but your voice is...exactly the same as one of my bosses."
Reynolds raised his eyebrows, mildly shocked at the idea, more surprise than offense. "Huh," He said, a suitable response, "that a fact?" He asked, clearly not sure how to react to that. His companions were exchanging confused glances, and Corsair didn't blame them.
"It is," he replied, not caring how crazy he looked, "could you say the words, 'get me out of this tower'?" He asked, probably going off topic, but it was too insane to not address.
"Erm..." Reynolds hesitated. It was probably nowhere near the list of things he thought he'd be dealing with today when he woke up this morning. "Get me out of this tower?' He said, with a bit of reluctance.
Corsair couldn't believe what he was hearing. It had been slow, it had been reluctant, without any of his energy behind it, but it was a dead ringer for the famous hunter Cayde-6. "Okay, this? This is insane. It's probably the oxygen deprivation."
"Got a brother we don't know about, sir?" The woman to Reynolds' left spoke up, her tone lacking in emotion as she regarded Corsair. The entire way she stood and analyzed things screamed military.
Unfortunately, her words just made it worse. His eyes widened further, "no way." He said, more to himself than any of the others in front of him. After another moment, he caught onto the room's confusion. "You're not going to believe this. She sounds exactly like my other boss." Corsair had to take a step back. The trio were still looking at him as if he was crazy, but he stopped caring. He turned to the man on Reynolds' right. "Alright, so if this is three for three, I will go ahead and shoot myself now. Say something, please." He said tentatively, not sure if he wanted to be right or wrong.
The man sneered at him in a way that dismissed him while looking right at him, "I ain't your boss, pretty boy." He said in a gruff, uncultured voice, the polar opposite of commander Zavala. "'Less of course you want me to be." He said with a grin.
Corsair was unimpressed. "Evidently not." He said, not breaking eye contact, and thankful he was wrong. He honestly would've shot himself if he found out these three were the voices of the Vanguard leaders. One was a weird coincidence, two was suspicious, three was the part where you started running.
A moment passed before the captain coughed into his hand, "these here are my crew members, Zoe and Jayne." He gestured to reach one respectively, obviously trying to move past the exchange. "We're currently on our way to Boros, with a detour past whitefall. We can let you off at either one, though Boros might be more your type." He crossed his arms, "Dohn luh ma?"
Corsair blinked at the Chinese, careful not to ask any questions that would give him away. "Boros is fine," he decided out loud, not knowing a thing about either planet Reynolds mentioned, "I'll have to contact my superiors, apprise them of my situation. Would it be possible to take my ship with us, captain?" He asked, holding his arms behind him as he stood up a little straighter. It didn't matter how long he'd be here, he was not leaving a New Monarchy prototype out in the middle of nowhere for anyone to find.
Jayne scoffed, "looked like crap to me. Wash said it ain't even yours." He had lowered his gun, as had Zoe, but she'd holstered hers. Something told Corsair that guns were the man's main skill set. The man was a crayon eater if he'd ever met one.
"Jayne, your mouth is moving, might wanna look to that." Zoe countered. Mal hadn't introduced her as his second in command, but she clearly was. Reynolds had more than her loyalty, he had her respect.
"To answer your question," Corsair butted in before Jayne could shoot back, "this ship is special, to put it simply. It has valuable prototype technology, first of...well, third of its kind, but first that actually worked."
"Seeing as how half your ship's missing," Reynolds shrugged, "I'd be a mite disagreeable on that."
Corsair gave him a look, then continued, "failed prototypes are still valuable. If you were to help return it, with my good recommendation..." he looked between the three of you, "I suspect my superiors would make it worth your while."
Finally, it seemed he spoke a language the captain understood, his entire figure relaxing as he saw the opportunity of the situation. "Well," He said, giving a charming, if slightly overt, smile, "who am I to stand in the way of progress?" he offered his hand, and Corsair took it. "You have a deal, Mis...uh, Corsair."
"Thank you captain." Corsair smiled back, "if you have spacesuits, we can get to work."
With the help of Jayne and the pilot, named Wash, the remaining half of the Visible Hand was now safely inside Serenity's cargo bay, and thankfully not taking up too much room. Thankfully, Corsair and Gale had managed to get the one remaining engine working temporarily, just in time for it to blow out (with no adverse effects on Serenity) as the cargo bay doors were sealed.
The captain, further cooperative with the promise of a fine reward, had regardless assured him that they had a schedule to keep, but Corsair dragged his feet by way of a few essential repairs. The captain had begrudgingly agreed, especially after Corsair mentioned the leaking fuel line. In truth, he'd already fixed it in his earlier spacewalk, but enough fuel had leaked that Wash could pick it up on sensors. Under the pretense of those quick repairs while Jayne and Mal suited up, Gale told Corsair about their new friends.
"Their history is publicly available. What used to be called an internet, they now call a cortex, for some reason. I guess because it sounds cool. There's a part that's like the old Earth website, wikipedia, but it's mostly a public use communications network that spans multiple planets." Gale hovered by Corsair's face, right outside the helmet, "from what I can tell, American and Chinese spacecraft left Earth after a great cataclysm of some kind, they don't say what, and set out to terraform new worlds and settle there"
Corsair was idly organizing some of the debris, whatever was useful, while Gale talked. He didn't worry about losing his grip. At one point, he did, and he simply used his hunter jump to push back to the ship. "Cataclysm, huh? I take it, since we haven't heard of them, they never looked back?"
"Not really. It seems everyone's written Earth off in favor of everything they currently have. As I said, mostly American and Chinese ships. Both cultures have unified completely, though there was a war 6 years ago between the Anglo-sino alliance and the independents. It's funny, they were fighting over the expansion of government power," Gale explained, ending in an almost teasing tone of voice. Corsair had joined up with New Monarchy shortly after the black garden. Expansion of government power, though they didn't like to tout it too much, was their thing.
"And how did that go?" He asked, mentally timing Serenity's patience. He didn't want to keep them waiting, and as Reynolds occasionally glanced out the window, he had to at least look busy.
"The Alliance had the support of the core worlds." Gale said, "industry, money, influence...to say the Alliance had the better hand is an understatement. The Independents practically didn't have a hand at all. A few manufacturing centers and infrastructure, but nothing significant enough to matter."
Corsair nodded, "so, three guesses who won," he thought to himself. "That's all on their public wikipedia?"
Gale looked at him, "when you read between the lines."
The ship itself was a Firefly class transport ship, something that actually traced back to Earth, or Earth-that-was, as the people here called it. Serenity was the most recent iteration, and apparently the last. For what looked to be a beautiful ship, her uniqueness and relative rarity made her even more so. Cayde had mentioned one time, when Corsair and his fireteam visited the main chambers, about his own Firefly, but Corsair hadn't been able to pry much out of him. There was still the mystery of Cayde and Reynolds having the same voice, as Ikora and Zoe did, but honestly? Both Corsair and Gale had no clue whatsoever where to start with that.
After a little less than half an hour of 'repairs', Gale feeding him relevant information, and guiding the Visible Hand into the cargo bay, Corsair felt ready to integrate himself with this new society, provided no one threw him any curveballs. It was a bit dishonest, but he felt, for the sake of both societies, his true identity might benefit from some secrecy for now. Gale had been able to formulate a basic identity for him, but wouldn't be able to insert it into any military or police database unless by local insertion. Thankfully, Corsair wouldn't need to do so until he needed it anyway, so there was no rush.
Once the cargo bay was repressurized, Corsair removed his helmet once again to hear footsteps coming down the catwalk. The footsteps belonged to a smaller man who whistled as he looked over the Visible Hand, Zoe in tow right behind him.
His chinese was too quick for Corsair to catch, but his voice was just enough to identify him as his radio friend, Wash. "I haven't seen a ship like this in..." He spoke, eyes drifting over the traditional crimson frame of the craft, "...about never." He looked at Corsair, "she looks fast, how fast is she?" He asked, his piloting enthusiasm bleeding into his voice as he slipped his way down one of the stairways. Zoe was less verbal, but she too had a curiosity in her eyes.
"It's a bleeding edge prototype," He replied, as Wash got down to walk around the other side of the ship, "I'm not allowed to say."
Wash stood still and thought for a moment, "so...very fast then?"
Corsair actually had a good chuckle at that, nodding, "faster than yours, that's for sure. Definitely not as pretty, though." He glanced to his left, where the captain and Jayne had fully doffed their spacesuits.
The big mercenary eyed him cautiously. "Say there, what kinda gun is that on your hip?" He asked, and immediately Corsair became confused.
Corsair glanced down at his right side and immediately felt his heart sink in his chest at the sight of the gun. The weapon of sorrow, whose name was Thorn. Keeping his composure as best he could, he looked back to Jayne and shrugged, "just a hand cannon. Never know what you might encounter out here." He said quickly, wanting desperately to take the gun, march over to the airlock, and throw it out into the abyss, never to be seen again. Unfortunately, they'd already seen him with it, and now their eyes were upon him.
"Hand cannon?" Jayne asked, obviously confused.
"Fancy word for a pistol, I reckon." Zoe said, looking rather suspicious of the gun.
"Very weird looking," Wash said, peering at it, then back up at Corsair, "almost evil, isn't it, honey?" He looked back to his wife, who nodded skeptically. "Where'd you get it?" He asked, and Corsair saw the captain taking a look from where he stood by Jayne, though he didn't say anything. He was curious just like his crew was, though, Corsair could tell.
"It was a gift," he supplied, "one I honestly wasn't planning on keeping. It would probably even fetch a nice price." Corsair smiled, the lies coming as easily as lies could.
"Gotta say," Reynolds chimed in, putting his spacesuit away, "gifts are meant to be taken advantage of most of the time."
"Well, this was from someone...you wouldn't want a gift from," Corsair thought of Xûr, and why he might've given it in the first place. "But enough about it, do you have any tarps to spare, captain? As I mentioned, brand new stuff, I'd prefer not to take any chances." It was actually old technology, by the city's measure, but it was at least a century ahead of anything onboard Serenity. Keeping it hidden was his top priority at the moment.
Reynolds nodded in turn, "might need more than one, but it's doable," he said, Jayne immediately moving to a cabinet somewhere, his eyes now glancing over the ship in his cargo bay, then back to his mysterious visitor. "That is, if your employers make mighty good on that reward you promised on their behalf..." He trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Corsair.
"They will, captain," Corsair assured him as Jayne tossed Reynolds the other end of a tarp he'd grabbed, "we may be a small organization, but we pay our debts, however unofficial they may be." He gave a pleasant smile, helping to cover as much of the Visible Hand that he could.
Reynolds nodded, "Alright, well, dinner's in about an hour. Jayne'll show you to your quarters." He gestured to the big man, then offered Corsair a hand, "in the meantime, just stay out of trouble, and we'll get you back to civilization before you know it." Jayne started to grunt something in protest, but his captain silenced him with a glance.
Corsair shook the outstretched hand, "of course, captain. Thank you for everything." He smiled back, although it seemed the captain was primarily interested in his reward than simply being generous.
The captain left, though Wash approached in the meantime, Zoe lingering nearby, and Corsair could tell she was eyeing him in a tactical sense, "are all New Monarchy flight suits so...flashy?" He gestured to Corsair's outfit, which Corsair actually took pride in. The armor he wore was a Raiden Flux vest, thundergod variant, and everything else was Spektar Aspriet. He thought it suited him rather well, being honest.
He smiled at the eager pilot, "it's a custom piece, actually." He explained, "flight suit, space suit, and combat armor. Even did the paint job myself."
Jayne scoffed, "sounds even more expensive," He sneered, though he was eyeing it just as Wash was, "how much it cost ya?"
Corsair thought back to shortly before he found the Raiden Flux, getting torn apart (literally) by a Vex minotaur, only for Epsilon to vaporize it and Zinara to put a bullet in his head to 'make him heal faster'. "About an arm and a leg." He told Jayne, remembering that day fondly.
"It's awfully shiny though," Wash couldn't help but tap the shoulder pauldron curiously, "how could-"
"WASH!" The captain's voice came through the hallways above, "you're supposed to be flying my ship!"
The smaller man cursed in more chinese, "be right there!" He called back, moving towards the staircase, "ah, duty calls." He smiled at Corsair, before running up the stairs at top speed. Corsair had to chuckle at that.
Zoe must've seen something in the way Corsair reacted, as she smiled, "I'll make sure the captain don't yell too much at him," She said, moving to follow, "bridge, cargo bay, and the engine room are off limits. If you need, just have Jayne give you the tour."
Corsair turned to Jayne as Zoe ran up the stairs, though not as intently as Wash. Jayne, unlike the others, seemed rather indifferent to it all. He could feel the hum of the ship's engines intensify, taking them further on their journey. "So, shall we?"
Jayne didn't say a word at first, walking towards the lower doorway. Corsair didn't sense any of the loyalty or kindness you'd get from Zoe or Wash. He was truly a mercenary, and though he understood it, he didn't respect it.
"So, Jayne," Corsair attempted to make conversation, "how long have you worked for Reynolds?"
"'Bout a year 'er so," The man said gruffly, "why? You recruiting? Cause, if I get a nice suit like that..."
Corsair shook his head, "custom piece, remember? I'm not letting go of this one so easily." He assured him. They'd come to a small living area, leading to a small room which looked to be a medbay. From there, they'd walked onwards to a hallway of small rooms, one of which Jayne opened without hesitation.
"Here ya go, most private place onboard," He smirked, "trust me, I know." He gave a chuckle at that, leaving Corsair's mind to make the implication. Given the amount of respect he had for Jayne, he ignored it.
"By the way," Jayne looked down at Corsair's hip, "that gun of yours, how much ya think you'd be selling it for?" He asked, a curious look in the man's eyes.
Corsair shook his head, "not for sale, at least not yet. It's said to be cursed, and hey," he gave a shrewd grin that might've been unbecoming of him, "people might pay lots of money for something that's cursed."
"Cursed?" Jayne shuddered, "ain't gonna be me, that's for sure." He shook his head, then walked off, leaving the gun to Corsair.
Not that Corsair wanted it, anyway, as he threw it onto the bed in disgust the moment he had the door closed. "Gale?" he asked the empty room, his ghost appearing the moment he did so.
"I know," he floated down to the gun on the bed, "how is it here?"
"You dismantled it, didn't you?" Corsair asked, pacing around the bed.
"I did!" Gale insisted, "although I didn't get any materials or weapon parts from it. Not even glimmer. I didn't think anything of it, until now..." He turned back to it.
Corsair sighed. "A gift, indeed." The Nine had ensured it came into Corsair's possession, and evidently it couldn't be simply tossed away. "It was gone, though. How long was it gone?"
Gale thought for a second, taking a break from scanning the weapon, "well, you got it right before we left, and we've been out here for almost two hours. What are we going to do about it?" Corsair didn't have an answer, racking his mind. For what seemed like forever, he just stared at it.
Eventually, he decided, "dismantle it again for now." He said, trying his best to be resolute. In truth, seeing it on his hip had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. "We'll figure out what to do to destroy it, if it comes back again."
Even so, as he watched the weapon disintegrate into nonexistence yet again, Corsair wondered if such a thing was even possible.
Corsair and Gale were still coming up with ideas, as quietly as possible, when there was a knock at the door. Gale vanished, and Corsair stood and opened the door to find a shorter, perky, smiling young woman standing before him. She stood at least a head shorter, auburn hair going straight down her back, with a striking resemblance to Amanda Holliday, the tower shipwright. She'd obviously cleaned up, but her brown overalls, complete with a teddy bear patch sewed on, held many a grease stain. It was a bit obvious what her job here was.
"Hi there!" She said happily, "You must be our new guest. Cap'n said I wasn't to go near your ship. I'm Kaylee," She offered a hand, which Corsair took without hesitation. Corsair had changed into more civilian clothing, a general shirt and pants, in order to not draw as much attention.
"Corsair," he narrowed his eyes, "what do you do here, Kaylee? You seem awfully nice to be working on a ship like this," He made an effort to smile back at her, not that hard as the woman's cheerful demeanor was rather infectious.
Kaylee frowned slightly, "I'm the mechanic," She said, something in her voice displaying a challenging tone, "you sayin' somethin' about my ship?" She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.
Corsair paused, then quickly realized what he'd said wrong. If there was anything he'd learned from Holliday, it was to never insult a mechanic's ship under pain of a socket wrench. "Oh, the ship? Absolutely not. I meant that your crewmates, at least the ones I've met, seem a bit...rough?" He wondered aloud if that was the right word, but thankfully Kaylee seemed to understand.
"Yeah, they're like that sometimes. They're really nice once you get to know 'em, and the captain's just tense." She said, "they're all really nice to me cause I keep the ship from falling out of the sky." Corsair had the brief idea of introducing Kaylee to the famed Amanda Holliday. Either it would be the greatest friendship in the history of time, from what little of it he'd spent with Kaylee, or the universe would implode. The two were rather similar, although Holliday was a bit more rough and tough. That at least could be attributed to living in the last city.
"If I am going to say anything about your ship, it's that she's absolutely beautiful." Corsair told her, having learned that trick from Holliday herself. He'd at least make one new friend here.
Kaylee grinned proudly, her warmth almost brightening the room, "why thank you!" She said, relaxing a little bit.
He smiled back at her, realizing he was a bit relaxed himself after that incident with Thorn. "So your crewmates, what did they do in their lives to get that aura about them?"
Kaylee sighed, "Cap'n and Zoe fought in the war, independents side. Jayne's just Jayne."
Corsair nodded, then decided to move things along, "I take it dinner's ready? It's been about an hour." He asked, the idea of food appealing at the moment. He'd expected a quick warp test, not a full blown adventure in the darkness of space.
"That it is! Me and the shepherd made a little somethin'" She informed him, walking along the ship's cozy corridor, then up a flight of stairs for Corsair to follow. "Ain't often we have a nice cooked meal, most of the time it's just protein."
Corsair followed dutifully, not wanting to overstep any hospitality rules they might have here by wandering off. Kaylee actually waited for him to catch up at the top of the stairs before they advanced into the dining room. "Whenever I was deployed, it was protein packets, plus whatever game we could catch or gather." He mused, deciding to give them a little bit of his life to think about. It would at least make them trust him a little bit. The best way to lie, most of the time, was to tell the truth. Had Corsair been stranded in the middle of nowhere? Was he military? Did his bosses bear an uncanny resemblance to Mal and Zoe? All of those were true, and thus Corsair could answer them truthfully. As long as no one asked if he was an immortal warrior of the Traveler from Earth-that-was, he would probably be fine.
"All changed when we headed back to base, we called it the Tower." By now, people had begun to pay attention to him. Mal, Zoe, and Jayne were there, though Wash was noticeably absent (he was, after all, the pilot). More so were three men he hadn't met yet. One was in the kitchen, Zoe and Jayne were helping set the table, where the other two already sat down, eyes drawn to the newcomer. Corsair, unabated, continued, "it was on the outside of a small city, and whenever we weren't deployed, we'd get a meal something like this." He nodded to what was being set out, "always sent us out with a smile, eager to return home." He smiled at the thought, then he wondered if he'd ever see it again. At the very least, he was immortal. He'd have all the time in the universe to get back.
"I take it you served in the alliance?" One of the men at the table asked, the one who held himself akin to a refined gentleman.
Corsair nodded his confirmation. He'd realized pretending to be a veteran of the independents would be easily seen through, especially with two veteran independents onboard. "Sergeant in the 106th, specialising in reconnaissance," He sat down in one of the chairs, then noticed Captain Reynolds in the doorway, giving him a serious glare. "That was during the war." He said, giving a diplomatic look in turn, "it hardly matters now." He noticed Zoe had been paying attention to their wordless exchange, and either wisely chose not to say anything or simply had nothing to say. The captain, though his resentment was obvious, evidently decided not to make an issue of it.
The other man, the one who seemed a bit more skittish, spoke up, "well, there are some who still believe otherwise," he said, offering a hand, "Dobson, by the way."
Corsair took it instinctively, "Corsair. Yes, that's my name," he said, seeing the men's looks of confusion, "and you?" He asked the first man, offering him his hand as well.
"Uh...Simon." He said, "the captain tells us they rescued you?" He asked, a cautious edge to his voice which Corsair couldn't fathom the reason for. Gale could probably tell him, but Corsair had ingratiated himself with the crew, he couldn't simply leave to spy on all his dinner party.
Corsair nodded at that, "my ship was drifting," He said, "I honestly didn't think anyone would come." He said as the third unknown man, likely the shepherd Kaylee had mentioned, came to set the last of the plates on the table.
"The light finds a way," He said in a deep, melodious voice, "Book." He shook Corsair's hand without hesitation.
Corsair raised an eyebrow, quickly figuring the man out. Shepherd was a title, not a name, and the light he referred to probably referred to a religious nature, though Corsair hadn't asked Gale how close to his Light it was. "So what brings a shepherd out here? Spreading the good word?" He asked, knowing he was probably answering his own question.
Book smiled, "more or less." He said, passing one of the dishes per Dobson's request, the entire table filling their plates. Zoe took one and excused herself to give it to Wash. "Does the food look appetizing?"
"Absolutely," Corsair said, several of the others voicing their agreement. He may have been immortal, but he still needed to eat.
"It's the spices," Book said, sitting down, "a man can live on packaged food from here till judgement day if he's got enough rosemary." He looked up to where the captain sat at the head of the table, "Captain, do you mind if we say grace?"
Reynolds looked back to Book blandly, "only if you don't say it out loud." He said, with a degree of finality.
The air around the table went almost awkwardly silent as Reynolds began to eat like nothing happened. Book lowered his head, as did Kaylee, Dobson, and Jayne. Corsair didn't really think Jayne the spiritual type, but evidently the man had a layer or two of complexity he either hid or didn't care to show.
Corsair himself made eye contact with the captain for a split second, not feeling the need to pray. Guardians didn't have to pray to their god, though plenty of people in the last city did.. The Traveler had already chosen them to wield it's Light. Prayer, all guardians agreed, was superfluous at that point.
After the prayer, Corsair took a bite, "wow," he admitted aloud, "you weren't kidding about the spices," he said, attempting to break the awkward air around the table.
The captain actually coughed, nodding his agreement, "we looked up New Monarchy on the Cortex." He said, without much prompting, "it's new, right?"
New Monarchy's cortex presence was relatively recent, and mostly done for the sake of a cover identity, though Corsair thought it would be a nice side project, not knowing how long it would take to fix the warp drive. Through a few loans and investments, courtesy of Gale and his online skills as fast as the connection, though still faster than any human could. A bot could do things just as quick, but Gale had the luxury of being what everyone considered a fully evolved AI. While he could act quicker than any human, he could think just as well as one, making him far more talented than any bot than anyone with a rudimentary computer science education could put together.
"That it is. It's a humanitarian agency." He informed the others around the table who wouldn't have known. "I was brought into it because of my charming demeanor, also because my boss is an old war buddy of mine." Corsair looked around the table, not having intended on becoming the main topic of conversation, but he'd expected it.
"What exactly does New Monarchy do, then?" Book spoke up, intrigued. He'd been intrigued about Corsair since he introduced himself, now that Corsair thought about it.
Corsair paused for a moment, thankful he had some food in his mouth to allow him the time. "Generally, helping people here and there, as well as raising the standard of living for those within the system."
Jayne let out an inquisitive groan, due to the food in his own mouth before he swallowed. "So whaddya do? Build roads 'n stuff?"
He cleared his throat, "well, first step is general infrastructure. Not actual roads of course, but ships." Corsair explained, orchestrating his thoughts in his head on the fly.
"So that's what a humanitarian agency is doing with a test fighter?" Zoe asked astutely, having returned and gathered food for her own plate. Her tone matched Ikora's whenever she was curious about something, and Corsair would be lying if he said it didn't put him off at all.
"Well, I...probably am not allowed to talk about it, but I think my superiors can forgive me." He slowly decided out loud, though not with too much grief. "Ships are like better roads. If you can decrease the cost of a ship, interstellar travel becomes more feasible. The systems are more connected, more resources can flow..."
Book nodded, having seemed to follow along in his head, "everyone finds life a little easier." He finished Corsair's sentence.
Corsair nodded his assent, "exactly. The fighter itself is a cheap buy from a...bankrupt aerospace company, so we're using that to test a prototype engine. It's the third version. First didn't fly, second blew up on the runway." He remembered the second one, he just didn't mention he was in the second one when it blew up. "That's one of our side goals, but we focus mainly on general infrastructure, funding of utilities, hospitals, agriculture, that stuff. Everyone deserves a fair stake, and someone has to give it to them."
The group around the table seemed to agree with it, at least generally. Simon was the first among them to say something, visibly seeming to have been thinking it over, "sounds like quite an endeavor."
"Yeah," Mal muttered, "if it worked."
"I hear the border moons are in bad shape," Dobson chimed in, "plagues and famine..."
"Well, some that's exaggerated, and some of it ain't," Zoe began, but Corsair had begun to lose interest in the conversation, but for the sake of his own epiphany.
In truth, the Visible Hand's engine was entirely for military purposes, dropping guardians into combat in seconds, whereas some ships did so in 2 minutes or more. Warp drives could get finicky sometimes, the city having to take what it could get but now...Corsair had just realized the immense opportunity of his situation.
The city was boxed in, as it always had been, always put on the defensive. They made baby steps towards taking back their home planet, but ultimately were prevented from standing up on their two feet by the four alien races residing in their solar system.
The people of the alliance, luckily enough, had no such restriction. There were industrial centers and shipyards and, from what Gale told him, an immense farming world. A fantasy suddenly struck him of going to their government and asking them for help retaking their home planet. Corsair resolved, at that moment while Jayne excused himself from the table, that when he returned home, it would be with an army at his back.
"There is, of course, the small matter of the somewhat authoritarian government in charge." Corsair told Gale when he'd adjourned to his room. "New Monarchy might have to become a more permanent idea." He sat at the edge of his bed, suddenly wary of Thorn appearing somewhere, anywhere. Luckily, it stayed gone.
Gale nodded, as best a ghost could, "I already have several opportunities lined up for us. Some are a simple as giving proper funding, others would require some hands on presence, like ourselves." An information pad transmatted onto the bed, which Corsair readily picked up.
"Hmm..." Corsair read over the list that was on it, a few items added right before his eyes, "a request for medicine on Regina, pirates harassing transports near Silverhold, reavers wiping out another settlement on Aberdeen..." He paused, looking up at Gale, "reavers?" He asked, the term not having come up in their previous conversations.
"From what I can tell, men gone wild on the edge of space, mutilating corpses, eating people, campfire stories, really." Gale explained, "there truly isn't much about them. I doubt they're very talkative themselves."
Corsair perked up slightly, "do you think maybe they mean Fallen?" He asked, some elements of Reavers sounding familiar.
Gale shook himself in a negative gesture. He'd done it before, but it always looked weird. "There are small accounts of reaver encounters, and they seem to be exactly as described. People, but...crazy, I suppose is the right word." He said, "besides, these reavers seem to fly in captured ships. The Fallen would scrap any ship they acquired and modify their ketch with it."
Corsair nodded, then looked at the pad again, "uh, Gale?" He asked, "you just added sev-" he cut himself off, "eight more items to this list." He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, as I'm looking more closely, it seems like there's a surplus of people that need help." Gale said, rims twirling in interest, "I trust we won't be making contact with their government, then?" He asked, looking up at Corsair, who shook his head.
"Oh, absolutely not." He scanned down the pad again as more things appeared on the screen, "we've got a long way to go, but at the very least, we can fix one or two things before we get to Whitefall." He laid back in his bed as he tapped the first item on the pad. The next hour would barely be a warm up.
Thankfully, the new New Monarchy wouldn't have to do as much work by itself, at least at first.
Most of the reports were on border planets, so that's where Corsair concentrated New Monarchy's logistics. The core worlds, from what they'd read, had more than enough resources for everyone, it was just a matter of getting them to part with it, either with words or the ultimate persuasion technique: money.
Money seemed to be the primary issue, with everyone not a core world lacking it. It was a shame, really. The city, large as it was, had a small economic system that was only just big enough that one could theoretically exploit their way upwards, making themselves rich at the expense of others. No one had. The city stared down extinction for several centuries, and the residents had learned more important things than avarice in that time. Love, family, good food, sports, science, and many more. Even so, what was the point of vast wealth if it could all be snatched away at a moment's notice by forces beyond mortal control?
At least, that was a romantic way of putting it. As one of his warlock friends, Nuramon, had informed Corsair multiple times, it was the city having a non-fiat currency system that prevented that from ever happening. For once, Corsair was trying to remember all of what Nuramon had said about economic systems, as he'd hardly paid attention the first time.
His train of thought was interrupted when suddenly, without warning, Corsair and Gale found their cortex access cut off.
Gale was naturally on it, "guardian, I'm tapped into Serenity's systems, and they just cut off the Cortex access deliberately." He said, "highly unlikely it was because of us. I've been masking our activity. There was another transmission right before they did, to the nearest alliance cruiser."
"Shit." Corsair stood, putting the pad away as it vanished from sight. He stepped up to the door, now wary of whoever might've sent the signal. He didn't think the alliance would take issue with him, though they might definitely take an interest in his ship, and he couldn't let advanced technology fall into their hands. Without further ado, he slipped from his quarters as quietly as he could.
"Shit, indeed." Gale rarely cursed, but this was one of those times. "The message had the authorization of a federal marshall, and requests docking for prisoner transfer. It was cut off before it could transmit anything else."
Corsair racked his brain, mentally eliminating the potential candidates in his mind as Gale vanished from sight, "if the alliance discovers the ship...we're going to have some questions to answer..." He whispered, hearing noises from the cargo bay. He pulled a knife from nowhere, only making it look like it was from his sleeve. He peered into the doorway of the cargo bay, slipping the knife around to grasp it by the blade, in case he needed to throw it.
Dobson was on the catwalk stairs, holding a gun on Simon and Mal, with Book in the background, walking a bit awkwardly around the wing of the Visible Hand. Mal dropped his gun to the ground in response, raising his hands as Simon did. "Simon Tam, you are bound by law to stand down."
Mal seemed to light up at that, "What? The doctor. Oh." He relaxed slightly, then tilted his head, "hey, is there a reward?" He asked. Three guesses what his greatest concern was.
"Get on the ground," Dobson insisted, his gun levelled at Simon, "get on the ground!"
"Lawman, you are making a mistak-" Simon began.
"Best get on the ground son," Mal mumbled gently, "the man seems a mite twitchy."
Book began to inch forward as he spoke, "I think everybody could stand to calm down a bit."
Dobson barely gave the man a glance, "this isn't your business, Shepard!" He said sharply.
"The boy's not going anywhere, lawman," Book kept a straight demeanor, despite the circumstances, "as I understand it, it's pretty cold outside." He pointed out, giving a nod to the airlock behind them.
"Not to worry," Mal said, almost too relaxed for the situation. He leaned down to grab his hand cannon again, "put lord Fauntelroy in one of the passenger cells, he won't make a peep"
"Get the hell away from that weapon!" Dobson turned his gun on Mal now, "Do you think I'm a complete back birth? You're carrying a fugitive across interplanetary borders!" He almost shouted, "You think I believe I believe you're bringing medical supplies to Whitefall? As far as I care, everyone on this ship is culpable!"
"Well now," Mal replied darkly, "that has an effect on the landscape."
Corsair had listened enough. Especially for a federal marshall, Dobson seemed to be behaving erratically. There was doing your job, and then there was...whatever this was. He would have to step in, if only to make sure nobody got hurt.
He leaned out of the door frame carefully, and flashed his knife demonstratively, just enough to get Mal's attention as he stuck to the sidelines, just out of Dobson's view. Mal only glanced over at him for a second, but he gave the slightest of nods as if he understood.
Now was Corsair's time to shine, as the situation devolved into chaos. Like a shadow, he slipped behind Dobson, hooking his arm around the man's neck and pulling. After that, he had nowhere to go but down.
Corsair snatched Dobson's gun from him, holding it in his face before he realized...he'd heard the gun go off. With a moment of panic, he turned his head to see Kaylee, standing with a hand on her stomach that grew red as she held it there as others rushed towards her. Shouts followed, and Corsair suddenly felt a hand on the wrist holding the gun. Dobson shoved him upwards, the gun clattering out of his hand, but Corsair had fought much worse than this one human -and mortal -lawman.
He moved quickly, tackling Dobson as he drew his knife to the man's throat, "stay still." he hissed, allowing his knife to draw ever so lightly against the man's skin. Thankfully, he complied.
Jayne rushed in his direction, but Book stepped in his path, Dobson's gun in hand. "Out of the way." He said, fists clenched.
"You're not killing this man." Book insisted, and Corsair forced Dobson up and onto his knees, keeping his knife where it was, in plain view.
"For the record, Jayne, neither am I." He said, then looked to the man he had in his grasp, "we'll resolve this peacefully, Dobson. Until then, you'll stay quiet, dohn mah?" Corsair tilted his head, allowing the one chinese phrase he'd learned to slip through.
"Damn it, Corsair!" He struggled lightly, but not too much, "let me go! I'll-"
A swift punch to the jaw shut him up, Dobson's body dropping to the deck. Corsair nodded at Book, "nice punch." He observed.
Jayne grinned, "alright, now move."
He tried to advance, but Book was unrelenting. "Not gonna happen." Corsair moved beside Book in solidarity, keeping his knife in hand. Everything was falling apart, and he had half a mind to reveal himself now just to keep the peace. Something told him a golden gun would get their attention.
"Jayne!" Corsair looked up, internally wincing at the voice. Zoe stood on a catwalk above them, rifle leveled at Jayne, "just tie him up. Do it." Jayne looked up a moment, then turned away with a grumble, moving to find some rope.
Corsair nodded to Book, then directed his attention to the more urgent matter at hand. Simon knelt over Kaylee, with Reynolds and another woman that Corsair hadn't met yet.
"The infirmary working?" Simon asked, urgently. He'd mentioned he was a trauma surgeon, at least all that tension was being put to good use.
Mal nodded worriedly, "Yeah, we got it stocked."
The two men moved to pick her up, and Corsair stood by, silently offering his help by doing so, when the intercom went off again. "Captain, we've been hailed by a cruiser ordered to stay on course and dock for prisoner transfer." Wash said. The air suddenly grew quiet, but after a moment, Simon broke it.
He stood, "change course. Run."
Mal's eyes were full of fire, "Hell with you. You brought this down on us, I'm dumping you with the law."
"Mal-" The woman tried to break in, but Simon had more will at the moment.
"She's dying." Simon stared down the captain.
"You're not gonna let her." Mal gritted.
"Yes I am"
"No you can't." Mal growled, standing.
"Enough!" Corsair shouted, gathering everyone's attention, "she's dying, captain, do it!"
Mal rounded on him, "don't you dare tell me what to do on my ship!" He shouted. His body language was aggressive and dangerous, and any normal person might've acquiesced, not Corsair, not the man who had slain a dark hive god with his own blade.
Corsair stood tall, looking him right back in his eyes, "I'm not afraid of you." He said quietly, taking his knife and visibly putting it away. If he did have to fight Reynolds, he'd have the advantage anyway. "Simon's her only chance." Corsair nodded to her, "we can always go back to them, but for now, we need to run."
Mal fumed, obviously feeling attacked for once, what with the loyalty he usually commanded. "You think-" He began, but cut himself off as Kaylee let out a cry of pain. His face turned grim, from what Corsair could see, as he watched for a long second. "Zoe," his tone was a bit gentler, but still firm as he made a long moment of eye contact with Simon, "change course. Help me get her up."
As Zoe relayed the order, Corsair and the other woman followed the two men, Kaylee in their arms, to the ship's infirmary, lights coming on as they laid Kaylee on the bed.
The next half hour was tense. Corsair helped as best he could, but not very much to begin with. Guardian medical treatment, most of the time, involved a bullet to the head or a warlock's magic. The former would definitely not help, and the latter was several thousand light years away. Mostly, he waited off to the side with the woman, whose name he learned was Inara. Unfortunately, that was all he knew about her. It wasn't really the time for chatting.
When all was said and done almost a half hour later, Kaylee laid unconscious on the medical bed, her wound stitched up, and most of the blood wiped away. Simon had done his job, and he had done it marvelously. At the moment, he took off his gloves and apron, looking down at Kaylee. "Can't do any more until she stabilizes."
"Will she?" Reynolds asked, most off the edge taken off his voice after the ordeal. Corsair couldn't blame him. Watching them operate on Kaylee, when he could do practically nothing to help, was a sobering experience.
"I can't say." Simon said, putting away the last of his equipment. He actually seemed somewhat relaxed for the first time Corsair had seen him.
Inara had crossed her arms sternly, "I want to know what's going on here."
Reynolds nodded at that, "Well, then why don't we find out?" He said in a neutral voice, though the direction he started walking indicated exactly what his intentions were.
"What are-" Simon began, but it didn't take him too long to realize what Corsair had just seconds earlier. "No! No!" He followed, "stay away from that!" He shouted, before Jayne came out of nowhere and caught him in a headlock.
"Where's the fed?" The captain asked, not looking back as he strode to the box intently.
"Secured." Jayne held Simon despite his groans and struggles, "Shepard's with him. He seems to think he's not safe alone with me."
"No!" Simon pleaded, and for a moment, Corsair saw the panic in his eyes and was tempted to help. Tempted, at least. For the moment, he stood by, waiting to intervene if things got too hot.
Reynolds reached down, pulling the latch on Simon's case, turning back to the grappled man as Wash and Zoe made their way down one of the staircases. "Well, let's see what a man like you would kill for." Then, despite Simon's further protests, he opened the box.
Corsair had to crane his neck to see past the cold smoke that came out, as did everyone around, to see...the figure of a naked girl, curled up inside.
The captain looked at her, then at Simon, then at the girl again, his pace ground to a halt from the sight. "Huh."
Simon broke away from Jayne, or at least tried, the burly man seizing him by the arms. "I need to check her vitals!" he insisted, his breath deepening.
"Oh, is that what they call it?" Reynolds responded, facing Simon while not moving an inch from where he stood.
"She's not supposed to wake up for another week! The shock-"
"The shock of what?" Mal asked, "Waking up? Finding out she's been sold to some border world baron? Or I'm sorry," his tone strayed into a teasing one, gesturing back to the girl in the box, "was this one for you? Is it true love? You do seem a little-"
Before he could say any further, he was interrupted by a scream, the girl's hair flailing as she sat up, looking around frantically. Stumbling, afraid, she did exactly what her first instincts told her: leave the box.
Simon broke away, running to crouch in front of the girl, who cowered against one of the crates. She barely looked 16. "River," was the only word Corsair heard him say as he focused on her eyes, the girl whispering his name before breaking into nonsense. At least, it was nonsense to Corsair.
"What the hell is this?" Mal asked as Simon hugged the girl, apparently giving no thought of the audience in the cargo hold.
Simon slowly turned his head, still locked in the embrace, focusing his eyes on Mal, "this is my sister."