"Ok," Simon said, putting down his pinchers and picking up the scissors to cut off the remainder of the thread. "It's done."
"She'll be all right?" Book asked.
"Fine," Simon sighed, looking at Kaylee's beautiful, unconscious, face. "She won't be able to use her left arm for a while, but she'll be fine." He took a sharp breath and pulled his eyes away from the girl and onto the Shepard. "We should move her."
"Maybe we should get the Captain's permission first," Book said. "We don't know what's going on out there, if they found the person who did this or not."
"Serenity's not big," Simon said softly. "She couldn't have gone far. Besides, she doesn't know the ship well enough to hide."
"You sound like you know who did this."
"I do," Simon said looking up at the Shepard. "Mrs. Kubat. She went mad, killed her husband. Kaylee must have stumbled into her, maybe seen the blood on her cloths . . ."
"Did you just say she killed her husband?" the Shepard asked, horrified.
Simon nodded. "Probably with this knife."
"Those poor children," Book said with a hushed voice.
"Well," Simon mused. "They are now more or less orphans, which is tragic. On the other hand their father was an inattentive rapist and their mother was a homicidal psychopath. So who's to say they aren't better off?"
"Doctor," Book said, a little shocked. "I never figured you for the judgmental type."
"I'm not judging them," Simon said, taking off his sanitized gloves. "But I'm not going to ignore the facts. Evangeline was being starved."
"What?"
"She was being given just enough food to keep her alive."
"That's why you wouldn't let the mother see her daughter?" Book asked.
"That's right."
"And why the girl improved so much under your care."
"All I did was feed her," Simon said as he slipped his surgical apron off. "I don't . . ." he started weakly before his voice faltered.
"Yes?" Book prompted.
"Children should have good parents," Simon asserted. "Parent's who love them, who want to protect them."
"Unlike River's parents?" Book asked. "And yours?"
Simon turned away without answering under the pretence of having to wash his utensils in the kitchen sink.
There was a thick silence, when Book finally broke it he felt like his words were echoing through the whole ship. "I'm sorry son, I didn't mean too imply that . . ."
"You don't have to apologize," Simon said, looking up from his fastidious rinsing. "You're right. My parents didn't care enough about us to believe me when I told them about River, about the academy."
"Still," Book apologized, "What I said was cruel, thoughtless. I'm sorry."
"If the truth is cruel it's not your fault," Simon said. "My parents were bad, they just were able to hide it until we were grown and could understand exactly how little they cared. At least these kids are still kids; they'll be able to adjust."
Book opened his mouth and considered asking Simon what exactly the boy meant by that, if he didn't feel as if he or his sister had properly adjusted to the actions of his parents; actions that the Shepard could only label as abandonment. But it had been a long night and every sign pointed toward it being an equally long day. "Maybe I should find the Captain, make sure that everything's all right to move Kaylee," Book said after a moment. "Then I could go talk ta the kids, see what I can do."
Simon nodded, "Good, I'll stay with her 'till you get back."
Book nodded and walked out the door leading towards the cockpit, closing it behind him. Simon sighed and started making a pot of coffee. He had a feeling that soon it would be in high demand. As it peculated Simon walked back to the table and stood over Kaylee, looking at her dirty face, stroking her grubby hair. She should be wakening up soon, he knew. He didn't want her to think for a second that she was waking up alone.
He smiled down at her as her eyes started to flutter open, "Hey there, Kaylee," he said sweetly, slipping his hand into hers now that she was awake. "How do you feel?"
"Kinda like I'm glowin' inside," She said, smiling back up at him unabashedly. "Don' spose I am, though."
"You always seem to be glowing inside," Simon said kindly. "But I did give you a healthy dose of pain killers, if that's what you mean."
"The world looks fuzzy," Kaylee observed.
"Shhh," Simon said, stroking her cheek. "You should rest."
"You're so nice," Kaylee said. "Even when I'm mad at you you're nice."
Simon glanced away and swallowed, he was about to apologize for what River had said and apologize for not doing it sooner, but before he could Kaylee spoke again.
"Burnt my thumb," she said, lifting her right hand up so Simon could see her injury.
"So you did," Simon said, letting go of her left hand and pulling away from her face so he could hold her right hand and examine the small blister. "This looks like it hurt."
"I wasn't thinkin' tried ta pick up the micro-welder 'for it cooled."
"Why didn't you come and ask for a bandage?" Simon asked, lowering her hand and turning back so he was looking at her face.
"I want you to kiss it an' make it better," the girl said.
"Kiss it and make it better?"
"Yeah," she said, a sweet, innocent, almost silly smile spread across her face.
After considering her very seriously for a moment Simon nodded, "Alright," he said, pulling her hand up again and giving her thumb a very gentle kiss.
"Thanks," She said with a soft sort of giggle. "Feels better."
Simon chuckled softly, "Well that's the kiss they teach in school. Guaranteed to work. Now you really should rest."
"Ya know," Kaylee said, a little more seriously, but still clearly very, very drugged. "I've kissed a lotta guys."
"Have you?" Simon asked, a little uncomfortably.
"Yeah," She sighed. "I like kissin'."
"Oh," Simon said. He had to fight his instincts to retreat from this conversation.
"An' I ain't never wanted ta kiss a guy more'n I wanna kiss you," She said with a sort of clarity that cut through her very drugged state.
"Kaylee, I . . ." Simon started.
"An' yer the only guy who's not wanted ta kiss me."
"Its, its not that," Simon stuttered. "Not like that."
"Naw," Kaylee insisted with a kind smile. "I like it. 'Cause, it's like, kissin' is somethin' ta you. An' someday you'll kiss me, I mean, really kiss me, when yer sober an' I'm sober, an' it'll be somnthin'. An' if ya kissed me b'for that, well, it wouldn't be somethin' and I kinda want somethin', ya know?"
"You need to sleep, Kaylee," Simon said, running his fingers gently over her temple.
"Alright," the girl sighed, closing her eyes. She took a deep, contented breath and let out a soft happy moan. It was only a matter of seconds before Simon was sure the girl was fast asleep
"Sweet dreams," the doctor told his patient softly, before leaning over placing a tender kiss on the girl's forehead.
* * *
"This is it," Wash said, pointing to a more-or-less blueish blip on the space chart. "This has to be where they are."
"That a planet or an ocean?" Zoë asked.
"It's called Poseidon," Wash said. "It's a fishing colony."
"Moon must have been covered with ice when they terra formed it," Mal mused.
"Makes it easier," Zoë pointed out. "Can't land a shuttle in water."
"True 'nuff," Mal said. "What kinda land they have in the middle of their ocean?"
"There's thousands of itty bitty islands. Little things bout a mile long."
"Chi dai xing xing," Jyane muttered. "This could take days."
"Naw, Prefects wife in a nice shuttle, she ain't lookin' ta hide out," Mal said. "She's goin' ta the biggest show in town ta start her new life. What kind a cities we got, Wash?"
"Well, there's about thirty assorted fishing villages on various islands, ah, but if were looking for actual civilization . . ."
"Or some close approximation," Mal said.
"Then we're looking at the twin cities of Pegasus and Minotaur. There on the two of the larger islands and connected by bridges. About six-hundred-thousand people total."
"Can Serenity dock?" Mal asked.
"Both cities got docking facilities. I'll see what I can do."
"Good, holler once you find something," Mal said, straightening up and turning to Zoë and Jayne. "Zoë, I need you to pop on the Cortex, let the big wigs over in New Dallas know that we are going to be a little late."
"They're gonna wanna know why, Sir," Zoë said.
"Don't lie," Mal ordered. "But be vague. Say we ran into some trouble and were forced to land on Poseidon. If they wanna send a patrol out ta help us they're plenty welcome, otherwise we'll explain everything, as well as deliver the family soon as we can."
"Yes sir," Zoë said.
"Jayne, you got a tranquilizer gun?"
"Tranquilizer gun?" the mercenary asked. "What's that for?"
"I'll take that as a no," Mal sighed. "We need to catch Mrs. Kubat but not kill her. She's our proof that one a us didn't go crazy an' kill the old man."
"Do you really think they'll believe us sir," Zoë asked. "Even if we have the old woman?"
"We gotta hope they will," Mal said. "We got nothin' else."
"Ah, Captain," Book said as he entered the cockpit. "Is everything all right?"
"No, everything is all wrong, thanks anyways for askin'," Mal said, his stress showing in his voice.
"How's Kaylee," Zoë asked.
"She's just fine," the Shepard answered. "Doc stitched her up. He wants to move her to her room, but we weren't sure if there was still someone about who might do her harm."
"No," Mal clipped. "Ship's safe enough. All the psychopaths did us the great favor of runnin' away, so's now we gotta chase after 'em."
"Running away?" Book asked. "Did Mrs. Kubat steal a shuttle?"
"That she did," Mal said with a sarcastic smile, "Bet you can't guess which one."
"River," the preacher said softly. "What are you going to do?"
"Find the murderess alive," Mal said. "Hope we find the girl the same. You can tell the Doc it's ok to move Kaylee, fact, I'm sure it's best. If you could help him with that preacher?"
"Of course, I don't suppose I could solicit Jayne as well?"
"Ta carry her? Fine."
"Hey, don't I get a say in this?" Jayne protested.
"Nope," Mal said quickly to Jayne, "Go."
"Right all right," the large man muttered, pushing his way past Book, who turned and followed, leaving Mal, Wash and Zoë alone in the cockpit.
"Yeah, ah," Wash said to port control on the sea planet. "We need to dock, just for a few hours. . . . Gotta pick some stuff up and leave again . . . No, nothing to do with that . . . well yes, I suppose everyone does like saltwater taffy . . ."
Zoë was very carefully composing her wave to the authorities of New Dallas, "We regret to inform you, no, wait, scratch that. Unfortunately we ran into some unseen, no scratch that, Unforeseen events have forced us too . . ."
Mal turned and looked at the stars, the seemingly endless stars, and sighed.
* * *
"Poseidon," River said very softly as she eased the small shuttle down at a short-range ship dock. They were the only space-worthy vessel parked there and River wondered if her Klytemnestra knew just how conspicuous they were. "He has nothing to do with this."
"Zhu kou," Mrs. Kubat snapped. "I'm sick of your ranting feng zi."
"Things look right, but are really all wrong," River said, swiveling around in her chair so that she was looking at Mrs. Kubat. "Or maybe it's all right and looks wrong."
"If you don't still your tongue I will still it for you," Mrs. Kubat said with a vicious rage in her voice.
"With an ax," River informed the older woman. "You'll chop me up with an ax."
"I told you to be quiet," Mrs. Kubat's voice was shrill and nerve racking. It would have made anyone but River's skin crawl. "I need to think."
"Think," River muttered. "Think think think thoughts that need to be thunk. Work so hard to think straight, think in a line, think from point alpha to point zed and no pauses for a foxtrot with Charlie."
"I could sell this shuttle," Mrs. Kubat said, trying to ignore River. "Live conservatively off the profit."
"People don't like prophets; people don't want to know the future. They think they do but they don't."
"Set up in a nice hotel, look for a new husband, a proper husband. Start a new life."
"If you know the future, you know something. If you have the book, have the story, you know your part. But the parts, they get mixed up. Phryxis shouldn't have been in Penelope's bed, no, that was wrong. And Hippomenes saw it. And the Eriny, you can't . . . you can't kill a daemon."
"All I'll have to do is get rid of her," Mrs. Kubat said, turning to River.
"The book doesn't change, the book can't change, but the words and the world, they stopped being the same, or maybe they never were."
Mrs. Kubat started looking around the shuttle's interior for something to silence River with.
"If it's written down, if it's printed, then it is, it can't not be. But what if it's wrong? Then it is wrong. Plato's model of the universe was truth until Galileo and Galileo until Newton and Newton until Einstein and Einstein until Hawkins . . ."
"Here we are," Mrs. Kubat purred, picking up a large, heavy vase made of thick, carved crystal. It could easily bash a pretty little girl's head in and shut her intolerable mouth for good.
"Too much," River whimpered, "Too much truth, her head will explode with lies that are true and truths that are lies. And the Gods laugh, because that's what they always do. They give gifts without mercy and the gifts cut like an ax and you bleed and bleed and no one has a bandage and you're infected . . ."
Her tirade was suddenly seceded when Mrs. Kubat swung the crystal vase not unlike one would swing an ax, and hit River squarely on the jaw. The girl went flying and collided with the shuttle's wall. She lay still, dazed for a moment, as Mrs. Kubat took a step closer so she was once again standing over the girl.
"I told you to hold your tongue."
"'...the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others...Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.' John Stewart Mill."
"If that didn't hurt you enough I'll hit you again."
"Pain is a neurological indication that there is a physical default. I know from force exerted, arch, density and point of impact that the vase produced a hairline fracture in my jaw an inch and a half long. Pain is irrelevant, obsolete."
"I'm going to kill you."
Despite the eye watering, obsolete pain in her jaw, River smiled, "See, I told you! And you didn't believe me!"
* * *
"Found it!" Zoë said loudly. Mal hurried over to her and looked at the cortex screen over her shoulder.
"Looks like they docked not ten minutes ago," Zoë said. "About two miles from here, short range lot."
"Great," Mal said, turning away from the cortex and hurrying out of the cockpit. "We take the mule, hurry on over. Small town like this, trakin' down a big city girl should be easy as beating Jayne at checkers."
"Here's hopin'" Zoë said, following him as they hurried down to the cargo bay. "Wash," Mal yelled. "We're takin' the mule. She ready?"
"Just waitin' on you, sir," Wash yelled back up.
"Good," Mal said. "You're driving. Once we find the shuttle you fly it back and get it docked."
"No problem."
"Jayne, you're with us. Bring a gun but no bullets."
"What the hell kind a good is a gun if you ain't got no bullets?" Jayne demanded, even as he detached the clip from his shotgun.
"It's good for scaring little old lady's is what," Mal said. "We need her alive, and if we got no bullets in our guns we ain't nearly as likely to shoot her by accident."
"Aw, Mal . . ."
"No bullets!" Mal
said again as he hit the deck. "If we don't bring her back alive the Alliance
is just gonna assume we killed them both because
we're Alliance-hating Independents."
"Which some of us are," Wash mused.
"But none of us are murders," Mal said then, glancing at Jayne, amended. "Well, murders of that man in there. And today that's all that counts. Zoë, you hold down the fort. Handle any official-type communication wave we happen to receive."
"Yes, sir," Zoë said, nodding to her captain.
"All right," Mal said, climbing onto the back of the four-wheeler next to Jayne as Wash drove.
They were almost out of the hatch when Simon came running down the staircase, red med kit in hand. "Wait," the boy yelled. "I need to go."
"Hold up Wash," Mal ordered.
"Aw, Mal," Jayne whined. "We ain't gonna drag along the doc are we? First no guns, then him, 's like Canton all over 'gain."
"You're staying here, Doctor," Mal yelled, not moving to get off the mule. "Kaylee still needs you."
"Kaylee is stable and sleeping," Simon asserted as he reached the deck, walked past Zoë and headed towards the mule. "River's the one who needs me."
"Look here, Doc," Mal said very seriously. "This woman we're goin' after, she killed her husband, she stabbed Kaylee, and then she locked herself in a shuttle with your sister. Now I ain't sayin' the girl's dead but just take a moment and think of how she cast herself in those Greek tragedies."
"If you find my sister hacked to death I want to be there," Simon said. His voice was firm, unmovable, his jaw was set in determination. "River means everything to me. If she's dead, if she was killed, I think I have a right to see it first hand. And if not, she's going to need me, you know that."
Mal nodded, "You're right, hop on."
"Thank you, Captain," Simon said, climbing on the back of the cart.
"Wash, move us out," Mal ordered.
"'Bout gorramn time," Jayne muttered, glaring at Simon, who seemed to be struggling with holding on to both the mule and his med kit.
Mal nodded, "I must admit, each clock tick do seem mighty important."
To be concluded . . .