"I don't know!" River screamed from her position, cowering beneath the shuttle controls hoping to avoid her own, personal, vase-wielding Klytemnestra.   "It was clear but now it's all dark, somebody spilled ink on the words and she can't tell what's a letter and what's a stain.  The stories are true, but I'm true and she doesn't know which truth is right and which is hearsay!"

                "Get out from under there you gan kaung niu!" Mrs. Kubat screeched, holding the heavy vase threateningly over the girl. 

                "I don't wanna die," River whimpered, pleaded.  "I don't want the stories anymore. If she's not Cassandra and you're not Klytemnestra will you let her go?"

                "Zhu kou, zhu kou, zhu kou!" the woman yelled right as the shuttle door hissed open.

                "Now, now, now, Mrs. Kubat," Mal said scoldingly as he pulled out his gun.  "Let's try for a little decorum, shall we?"

                The captain's words were like a switch that turned off insanity.  The woman cleared her throat and eased herself up almost gracefully. "Why, Captain," she said as she put down the crystal vase, which had fresh blood showing off its fine etchings.  "I didn't expect you."

                "I should say you didn't," Mal said.  It was eerie, watching the woman push the wisps of her hair behind her ears and smooth out the dress she'd obviously stolen from Inara, which was too big in the bust and too tight in the hips.  She looked very much like the aristocrat she was and behind her, River was cowering, trembling, and bleeding.  When Mal looked at Mrs. Kubat he saw a kind of madness that was more frightening than Reaver's because it had all the cool calculation of the Alliance. 

                "There's really no need for guns, Captain.  As you can see I'm quite harmless."

                "As I've seen you're anything but," Mal said.  "Step away from the girl."

                Mrs. Kubat glanced hatefully down at River for a second, before smiling back up at the Captain, "Do you mean Cassandra?"

                "Not Cassandra!" River screamed, reassuring the captain that his crazy little ward was just fine, or at least, just status quo. 

                "That's who I mean exactly," Mal said, glancing at the girl who was rocking back and forth as much as her somewhat cramped position allowed, chanting, "Not Cassandra, not Cassandra, not Cassandra." 

Mal took a deep breath and turned his gaze back to the psychopathic aristocrat, "Now I ain't in the mood fer parlor games. Step away from the girl and sit yerself on the bed here."

                "I'm not accustomed to being ordered about, Captain," Mrs. Kubat said, the commanding edge back in her voice. 

                "And I'm not accustomed to having my shuttles stolen and my crew assaulted," Mal said.  "So it's been an odd day for both of us.  Get on the bed or I'll have Jayne put you on the bed."

                "How dare you!" Mrs. Kubat gasped.  "I'm a lady.  I will go where I want when I want."

                "Jayne."

                "And," Mrs. Kubat said coldly.  "I have decided to do as you requested." She quickly stepped away from the console and sat primly on the bed, folding her hands on her lap and holding her head high, as if she had nothing to be ashamed of.

                "Fine," Mal said, uncocking his bullet-less gun and putting it back into the holster.  "Jayne, tie 'er up."

                "Captain Reynolds," Mrs. Kubat gasped as Jayne approached, clearly annoyed that there had been no shooting and no struggle.   "I protest!"
                "Go ahead," Mal said, turning around and heading back to the door.  "Jayne, be sure ta gag her too."

                "With pleasure," The mercenary said, pulling a dirty handkerchief out of his back pocket, stuffing it into her mouth before she could throw out any more appeals or threats that Mal would have to ignore.

                "Doc, Wash, all's clear," Mal called out of the door.  "Come on up."

                Simon was the first to appear in the door, his face was anxious, and he clearly didn't expect to hear good news, "Is she. . . ?"

                "A little worse for wear, but Cassandra is fine, I think," Mal said, patting the boy on the shoulder reassuringly.  "Under the counsel."

                Relief washed over the doctor's face as he hurried to the cockpit,  "Get her outta there," Mal said.  "We need ta get off this rock as soon as possible, that means getting this shuttle back on Serenity as soon as possible.  Wash can't fly if he's got a girl under his feet."

                "Well, I could," Wash said as he entered the shuttle.  "But I have a feeling Zoë'd object."

                "Yes, sir," Simon muttered as he very carefully lowered himself to his knees so he could look his sister in her eyes.  "Cassandra?"  He said softly, reaching out for her.  "It's all right, it's me, Phryxis."

                "I'm not Cassandra," River whimpered.  "Please don't, I don't want to be Cassandra."

                "You're not Cassandra," Simon said very softly, reaching out and touching her face, careful to avoid the large bruises on the left side of her jaw.  "You're River, you're my sister."

                "I thought," River said between her desperate, frightened gasps.  "I thought that if this was the book I could understand, I thought it would all make sense.  But the book, the book is only right some of the time."

                "Shhh," Simon soothed, reaching out with his other hand and pulling her out from under the console towards him.  "It's all right."

                "She just wants it to make sense, why doesn't anything ever make sense?"

                "It's ok," He said folding the girl in his arms as he scooted out of Wash's way.  "Everything's going to be ok.  You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

                River's ramblings faded into tears as she felt Simon's protective arm's around her and heard his soothing voice.  Cassandra never had this, but River always would.   The clarity that came from having everything written out, from having a guide to reality, was nothing compared to this, River thought.  Any amount of uncertainty, of confusion, of disjointedness in reality was worth it so long as she had Simon to wrap his arms around her and tell her it was all right.  He was really all she needed.

                "I'm not Cassandra," the girl said softly, once she'd cried herself nearly dry.

                "No," Simon said kindly, "You're not, thank God."

                "I'm River, I'm your sister."

                "Yes," he said kissing the top of her head softly.  "You are."

                River pushed herself away from him just a little so she could look him in the eyes, "You believe me?"

                He smiled at her, "To a fault."

                She nestled herself against his chest again and closed her eyes, "I'm River and Simon believes me." She muttered contentedly before slipping into an exhausted sleep.

*   *   *

                "She's lying," Inara laughed, shaking her head with a cool confidence.  "It's true that I did hit him on the head with a hot kettle, but that was in self defense.  I wouldn't, I couldn't, stab a man in cold blood."

                "Do you mind telling me why you couldn't?" The Alliance interrogator asked.

                "For starters, I just don't have the stomach for it," Inara said.  "If I really wanted to kill a man, I'd use a gun.  And, because I know you're going to check, I do have one.  But far more important to your investigation, I think, is the fact that I was locked in the Captains quarters, for my own protection, on the other side of the ship at the time of the crime."

                "Could you have gotten out of the quarters, gone down to the infirmary, stabbed Prefect Kubat, and then returned?"

                "I suppose," Inara sighed.  "But I don't think I would have stabbed my best friend."

*

                "She came at me with her knife, like this!" Kaylee said excitedly, holding up her right hand in a stabbing position.  "An' I screamed and threw my arm's up and she tried to stab me, well, she did stab me, but she tried ta get me in the heart, and 'cause I had my hands up she cut my arm a bit and missed.  I can show ya the cut."

                "I'm sure that's unnecessary," the interrogator said.  "And you did nothing to provoke her."

                "Not a gorramn thing," Kayle said.  "Offered ta make her tea is all.  Course I was kinda dirty, so she might notta wanted me ta make her anything, ya know, but didn't do anythin' ta be stabbed over, that's for sure."

*

                "I can tell ya why she did it," Jayne grunted.  "'Cause she was nuts."

*

                "You never knew what would set her off," Wash said, a little exasperated.  "One day the boys would be running all over the ship, and that was fine, that was educational.  The next day, no the next minute, they were scolded for cavorting with the crew."

                "Do you have any idea why?

                Wash shrugged.  "She thought we'd be a bad influence.  What with the not trying to kill people, I guess . . ."

*

                "He was dead, I mean, clearly dead, when I got there," Simon said nervously.

                "Look me in the eye."

                "Sorry," the boy said, forcing himself to follow instructions.

                "Is there a reason I make you so nervous, Dr. Tamborino?"

                "No special reason," Simon lied.

                "Why don't I believe you?"

                "I'm sure I have no idea," Simon said.

                "Are you really a doctor?"

                "Ah, well, they call me 'Doctor'."

                "But you are, in fact, just a medic."

                "Ye. . . yes."

                "And where did you learn your trade?"

                "I, ah, the war," Simon said quickly.  "I was a medic in the war.  That's how I met the Captain, and Zoë, actually.  In the war . . . you know."

                "I see," the man grumbled.  "Aren't you a little young, to have been in the war?"

                "Ahhh," Simon stuttered.  "I, ah, wasn't a registered medic, I mean, you're not going to find my name on any official documentation."

                "Independents," the interviewer grunted with clear distain, before regrouping his thoughts.  "So, you're telling me that any attempt to revive Prefect Kubat's life would have been . . ."

                "Useless," Simon said, with more confidence.  "He was really, very dead." 

*

                "Don't know that there's that much more to say," Zoë said.  "Didn't care to get to know her or her kids."

                "You spent nearly a week with them and you have no comments, no opinions?"

                "Well," Zoë said, searching.  "I guess I'd have to say that the parents were nuts but the kids were cute."      

*

                "I feel for the children, I really do, to have their father taken away from them by their mother nonetheless.  Will they be taken care of?"

                "I believe they have family here on New Dallas," The interviewer said.  "I'm sure they'll be fine."

                "Some have said they're better off, that their parents were bad."

                "Do you think that, Shepherd?"

                "I don't know, doubt I ever will," Book said.  "God is the only one who can judge whether a person is good or evil.  Still, it seems fairly clear that the children will be safer without their parents.  The whole thing's just so sad."

*

                "Yeah," Mal quipped sarcastically.  "Tears me up inside."

                "If any of your crew is found guilty of murder, they will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law."

                "You're saying they'll be executed."

                "Precisely, and you will be held as an accomplice."

                "Which means I'll be executed."

                "You're catching my drift.  Unless, of course, you want to tell me what really happened?"

                Mal considered this for a second.  Finally, he nodded and leaned in, "Fine, I'll tell you the whole truth, no secrets."

                "Good," the interviewer said.  "This will be much better for you."

                "Like we said, Kubat attacked Inara, so we lock her up in my quarters, right, and lock him up in the Infirmary and then I go to sleep in one a the passenger suites."

                "I've heard all this."

                "I get woke up in the middle of the night by my mechanic, Kaylee, who's got a knife stuck in her shoulder.  She says Mrs. Kubat shoved it in there for no reason."

                "Yes."

                "So Doc and I go downstairs to get what he needs to help Kaylee and that's when we see it."

                "Prefect Kubat's body?"

                "'Xactly," Mal said.  "In the infirmary, didn't touch a thing."

                "So you said."

                "Minute later I find out that Inara's shuttle is gone.  First thing I do is go check ta see if Inara's still locked up in my quarters.  She is.  We hunt down the shuttle and find it on Poseidon.  You got the docking slips right there."

                "So I do."

                "When we find the shuttle we find Mrs. Kubat, rantin' and ravin' bout some person named Cassandra who, so far as I kin tell, don't exist.  Point of interest, she was wearin' one a Nara's dresses and there was a bloody nightgown in the corner; I believe you got that,"

                "We do."

                "So, I told Jayne ta tie her up.  That's the whole story."

                "That's exactly what your crew told me."

                "I got me a truthful bunch," Mal smiled.

                "Mrs. Kubat denies it all."

                "Well, most likely I would, too, in her shoes."

                "But what you say does collaborate with much of the evidence."

                "The truth tends to do that."

                "So I don't seem to have much choice.  I'm releasing you and your crew.  You are fee to go."

                "Great," Mal said, "Glad to hear it.  But there is one thing I need to set straight before I leave."

                "What would that be?"

                "Where do I get paid?"
*   *   *

                "All right," Mal yelled to be heard over the creaking of the hatch as it closed, his voice boomed off the walls of the cargo bay.  "Here's the plan.  We got a wave 'bout two days ago said there could be a job on Summerset, up near Golden River way, so Wash, you get us up in the sky.  Dirt on this rock feels all kinds of unwelcome."

                "Yes, sir, Captain," Wash said, jogging to the stairs and hurrying up to the cockpit.

                "Kaylee, the engine's gonna need ta be prepped for full burn."

                "Gonna need a little help," Kaylee said, nodding to her left arm in the sling. 

                "Shepherd, I believe you've shown some expertise in that area."

                "I'll see what I can do," Book said.

                "Shiny," Kaylee smiled, turning around and heading to the engine room via the common area. Book followed.

                "Doc," Mal continued.  "I think now might be a good time ta get your sister outta her hiding place.  Sure she'd be grateful."

                "Yes, sir," Simon said, veering off from what was left of the crew and heading towards the cargo bay panels that cleverly hid nooks and crannies perfect for smuggling. 

                "Simon, I'll help you," Inara offered, before turning to Mal, "Unless you have a chore for me."

                "Sorry," Mal smiled down at her.  "But no."

                "What should we do, sir?" Zoë asked, after Inara walked away.

                "Well, Jayne, I'd be much obliged if you'd go start cleanin' up the Infirmary."

                "Aw, Mal," Jayne groaned.  "Ain't that the Doc's job?"

                "No, doctorin's the doc's job, cleanin's everybody's job.  I didn't say ya had ta do it all, just see if ya can't get some of the blood off a the operating chair and such."

                "Fine, fine," Jayne muttered. 

                "Zoë, you mind sendin' a wave off to Trevor at Golden River, tellin' him we'll be arivin' in 'bout three days."

                "Of course sir," Zoë said, "And what are you going to do?"

                "Well," Mal said taking a deep breath.  "Spose I'll do what Cap'in's do the best."

                "Wonder around and make sure everyone's doing their job?"

                "Pretty much that, yeah."

                "And after that sir?"

                "Well, Zoë, we'll be on our way for a nice, calm, three day flight with no passangers, nothin' much to do or worry bout 'sept countin' our money.  I figure I'll take a nap.  Fact, I think I might order the whole crew to do the same.  What do you think?"

                "Brilliant plan, sir," Zoë said, smiling at him.
                "Yes, well," Mal answered.  "That's why I'm the captain."

The End

(of course, there will be an epilog . . .)