1.2
Malcolm lay on his bunk, gathering his wits. His hand came away from his face wet, and he gave it a shake sending droplets of sweat across the darkened cabin. The voice from his dream still echoed in his head, as he rolled up to a sitting position, his feet swinging over the bed.
He gave an involuntary gasp as the cold plastisteel deck of Serenity chilled his feet. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he placed his face in his hands, rubbing it vigorously as if to erase the dream. He sighed into his hands before reaching out for the pair of pants hanging off the end of the bed.
Slipping his feet into the legs he pulled them up to his waist, and tossed on a loose long sleeved shirt before pulling his suspenders up onto his shoulders. Stepping away from the bed he turned on the tiny sink in the corner of his cabin. A quick wave of his hand activated a trickle of water from Serenity's onboard wells. He patted the water against his face, gasping again as the water hit his face. Not nearly as cold a shock as the cold deck, but enough to completely rouse him from the memories that had resurfaced in his dreams.
He tugged on his boots, one at a time, hopping about the cabin as he pulled them on one-handed. Then, running a quick hand over his thin face and through his short dark hair he stepped to the ladder that was the entrance to his cabin.
He clambered up it, activating the cabin door at the ladder's zenith. It slammed shut again behind him as he moved into the corridor, which housed the crew quarters. He walked to the common/kitchen area hoping to find leftovers from the meal earlier that night, though he knew there wouldn't be.
Shepherd however was still there; he was bent over the table, poring over something. Mal realized it was his bible. The preacher was going through it page by page, reading, repairing and erasing the damages that River, their Doc, Simon's sister.
She was an odd bird, Mal thought, as he watched Shepherd tape a page back together, the man's long white hair, pulled back into its pony tail shook as Shepherd tried to contemplate the damage done to his precious book.
"A little late night reading, Shepherd?"
"Comforting and consoling an old friend, Captain," Shepherd replied, his dark skin crinkly in a self-indulgent grin.
"She really did a number on your book there didn't she?"
"The Book, Captain Reynolds, The Book."
Mal shook his head, "You know I don't go in for all that God-talk preacher." He smiled to take the sting out of his words.
Shepherd took a quick look at one of the chronos. "Little late isn't it?" Shepherd studied him for a moment. "Bad dream."
"Nothing my mom's cookies and a warm glass of milk wouldn't fix." Malcolm stepped into the kitchen, and opened the crisper. "We really need to stock up," Malcolm shut the door, "no cookies."
Mal took a quick look at one of the panels on the kitchen wall, giving it a few quick commands with his fingertips. "Eight hours before landfall," he said aloud.
"How long are we going to be there, Captain? Because I seem to be out of tape." Shepherd closed the leather bound book with a grunt.
"Just a few hours, long enough to meet our client, and load their cargo."
"What is it, if I may ask?"
"Dunno, but I reckon they gave me enough of a cash advance not to ask, and the payoff on the flipside is twice as good. Should be able to set Kaylee up with some extra fuel cells and plasma coils." Mal smiled, "and buy you some tape."
He headed out of the kitchen and towards the upper deck; "I'll be in the cockpit if you need me." He climbed up the stairs and the door of Serenity's tiny bridge slipped shut behind him as he dropped into the pilot's chair, Wash's chair. He looked out at the stars sliding by, and the chrono on the main board counting down until landfall.
He lost himself in the starfield, and tried to put the noises of war that were still haunting his head out of mind. He'd need to be focused before they reached Anterris, it was close to the core systems, and was in the process of being remodeled by the Alliance.
Malcolm lay on his bunk, gathering his wits. His hand came away from his face wet, and he gave it a shake sending droplets of sweat across the darkened cabin. The voice from his dream still echoed in his head, as he rolled up to a sitting position, his feet swinging over the bed.
He gave an involuntary gasp as the cold plastisteel deck of Serenity chilled his feet. Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he placed his face in his hands, rubbing it vigorously as if to erase the dream. He sighed into his hands before reaching out for the pair of pants hanging off the end of the bed.
Slipping his feet into the legs he pulled them up to his waist, and tossed on a loose long sleeved shirt before pulling his suspenders up onto his shoulders. Stepping away from the bed he turned on the tiny sink in the corner of his cabin. A quick wave of his hand activated a trickle of water from Serenity's onboard wells. He patted the water against his face, gasping again as the water hit his face. Not nearly as cold a shock as the cold deck, but enough to completely rouse him from the memories that had resurfaced in his dreams.
He tugged on his boots, one at a time, hopping about the cabin as he pulled them on one-handed. Then, running a quick hand over his thin face and through his short dark hair he stepped to the ladder that was the entrance to his cabin.
He clambered up it, activating the cabin door at the ladder's zenith. It slammed shut again behind him as he moved into the corridor, which housed the crew quarters. He walked to the common/kitchen area hoping to find leftovers from the meal earlier that night, though he knew there wouldn't be.
Shepherd however was still there; he was bent over the table, poring over something. Mal realized it was his bible. The preacher was going through it page by page, reading, repairing and erasing the damages that River, their Doc, Simon's sister.
She was an odd bird, Mal thought, as he watched Shepherd tape a page back together, the man's long white hair, pulled back into its pony tail shook as Shepherd tried to contemplate the damage done to his precious book.
"A little late night reading, Shepherd?"
"Comforting and consoling an old friend, Captain," Shepherd replied, his dark skin crinkly in a self-indulgent grin.
"She really did a number on your book there didn't she?"
"The Book, Captain Reynolds, The Book."
Mal shook his head, "You know I don't go in for all that God-talk preacher." He smiled to take the sting out of his words.
Shepherd took a quick look at one of the chronos. "Little late isn't it?" Shepherd studied him for a moment. "Bad dream."
"Nothing my mom's cookies and a warm glass of milk wouldn't fix." Malcolm stepped into the kitchen, and opened the crisper. "We really need to stock up," Malcolm shut the door, "no cookies."
Mal took a quick look at one of the panels on the kitchen wall, giving it a few quick commands with his fingertips. "Eight hours before landfall," he said aloud.
"How long are we going to be there, Captain? Because I seem to be out of tape." Shepherd closed the leather bound book with a grunt.
"Just a few hours, long enough to meet our client, and load their cargo."
"What is it, if I may ask?"
"Dunno, but I reckon they gave me enough of a cash advance not to ask, and the payoff on the flipside is twice as good. Should be able to set Kaylee up with some extra fuel cells and plasma coils." Mal smiled, "and buy you some tape."
He headed out of the kitchen and towards the upper deck; "I'll be in the cockpit if you need me." He climbed up the stairs and the door of Serenity's tiny bridge slipped shut behind him as he dropped into the pilot's chair, Wash's chair. He looked out at the stars sliding by, and the chrono on the main board counting down until landfall.
He lost himself in the starfield, and tried to put the noises of war that were still haunting his head out of mind. He'd need to be focused before they reached Anterris, it was close to the core systems, and was in the process of being remodeled by the Alliance.