I think you can figure out the disclaimer thing yourself; you're probably really smart. So, turn up "Come On Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners, and enjoy this chapter!

"What's goin' on, sir?" Zoë asked.

"Well, Zoë," Mal said, "them are PRFO ships. And they's shootin' at us."

"What's the plan, sir?" Zoë questioned, ignoring her captain's sarcasm.

"Engine boost, ya think?" Wash asked.

"Where're we goin'?"

"Hazel's Line, you said... but at this point it's really not gonna matter much."

"Engine boost. Right." Mal scooped up the intercom and bellowed into it, "Kaylee! Engine boost!"

Faintly, he heard Kaylee: "Sure thing, Cap'n!"

"Zoë, you best go check on th' ponies. And our spy."

"Whaddya think the spy's doin', the foxtrot?" Wash asked with only a tiny tinge of sarcasm. "He was strapped t' a stretcher, last I knew."

"And spies are a tricky lot," Mal countered. "Zoë, go."

Zoë ran off.

"Wash, you think we're gonna make it t' Hazel's Line?"

"Am I playing the optimist in this scene?"

"Sure; I could stand to hear something good fer once."

"Yes, we're going to make it, Captain! What makes you think we wouldn't? We'll be inside atmo in…" Wash checked his watch "maybe six hours or less! And there's no way the PRFO can keep up shootin' fer that long!" A pause. "A little too much optimism, y' think?"

"Yeah. Specially the part bout them not being able t' shoot at us fer that long."

"That was a bit much," Wash agreed. "Seein' as how we're gettin' killed here."

Serenity dove low to avoid one of the oncoming PRFO ships. "Here she comes," Wash murmured. Mal didn't know what he was referring to until suddenly he felt in the engine boost kick in. The ship banked hard right. Something above them burst into flames, raining exploded bits onto them. "That wasn't us, right?"

"Correct, Cap'n my Cap'n. We are still not on fire."

"Sir!" Zoë had returned.

"Tell me good news," Mal begged.

"The ponies are fine. I think the spy's dead."

Mal and Wash said as one, "Dead?"

"Well, he ain't breathin' none."

"Ta ma de!" Mal yelled.

"Maybe he's playin' possum," Wash suggested.

"Sir, what would you like me to do?"

"Nothing. If he's dead he's better off now."

"I meant about the PRFO… uh… hostages."

"Whaddya think we're gonna do with them? Set em down fer tea?"

"I just meant… are we going to trade?"

"A trade was all well n good a'fore they started shootin' at us," Mal replied. "What's the Doc doin'?"

"Treatin' River."

"A fit?"

"Worse."

"What's worse than a fit?" Wash asked, his eyes glued to the scene unfolding outside Serenity.

"Death," Zoë snapped, which had the added bonus of shutting Wash up.

"Cai bu shi is she dying," Mal said. "Wash, engine boost?"

"Couldn't hurt."

"Kaylee!" Mal barked into the intercom.

"Cap'n, a'fore you say 'engine boost' or any phrase that includes the words 'engine boost'…"

"We need an engine boost, Kaylee."

"It won't…"

"Make it happen."

The ship pulled hard left. "Wash, are you tryin' t' kill us?"

"Tryin' t' stop us from bein' killed," Wash answered testily. "Oh… here we go!" he yelled.

The engine boost kicked in and Serenity rocketed forward. "Here we go indeed," Zoë murmured, putting a reassuring hand on Wash's Hawaiian-print-clad shoulder.

"Attention… uh… everybody, this is your captain speaking. We are… uh… still on the receiving end of some… uh… nasty PRFO fire, and we're still heading fer Hazel's Line." Mal hung up the intercom. "No more intercom-talk. I always come off soundin' like a fool."

"Aye, aye," Wash said. "No argument here, Cap'n my Cap'n."

"Wash, d' ya think we're gonna make it out of this not-so-friendly-fire without anythin' of ours bein' missin'?"

"Anythin' we need? No."

"Ya got a plan?"

"That's yer business, sir," Zoë reminded him. "Not that you do it very well, but, still, for the sake of appearances…"

"I'm thinkin' we try a Sullen Edom," Wash answered, ignoring his wife's protests. "They us'lly work very well."

"A what?"

"Come on, don't tell me you've forgotten my favorite flyin' trick!" Wash exclaimed, still focused on guiding the ships through the incoming fire.

"I thought a Crazy Ivan was yer favorite," Mal replied tensely.

"Well, that one's right good, don't get me wrong, but..."

"Sullen Edom. What is it?" Mal demanded.

"Oh! It's right great," Wash answered happily. "See, we swing around…"

"Into the oncoming PRFO ship?"

"No, course not, Cap'n! We swing around and get behind one o' those PRFO ships, so he doesn't know we're followin' him, then wait til his cronies come lookin' fer us, then dive hard left, then… uh…"

"This plan sounds full of holes, sir," Zoë interrupted.

"I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar," Wash remarked testily. "It always works. I just… have problems describing it."

"How many times?" Mal asked.

"What?"

"How many times have you used a Sullen Edom?"

"Five. Maybe. Six?"

Mal pursed his lips. "Fine. Do it. But I don't want to know about it." He left the bridge.

"Yes, sir, Cap'n my Cap'n!" Wash said, and went about pulling off the Sullen Edom, Zoë watching faithfully.

Mal was hurrying from the bridge so fast that he didn't even see Inara as she reappeared from her shuttle. She had a confused look on her face. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing… I heard screams."

"You hear those a lot on this boat."

"Yes. Maybe too often, I'm thinking."

"Well, I'll suggest to the Doc that he does somethin' bout that right quick." He moved to brush past her.

"Mal?"

"Yes?"

"We're going to make it, aren't we?"

The ship ducked and dove. Inara's knees buckled; Mal's did as well but he didn't show it.

"I sure as hell hope so." With that, he turned and strode in the direction of the infirmary. Strange and stranger, he thought as he entered. Jayne was holding the girl about her waist as though they were going dancing, even though Mal knew, firstly, that Jayne hated dancing, and secondly, this was not the time nor place for dancing. The girl herself was fully covered in some green goop, including her face (there was even a little in her hair) and her eyes were bright and excited; she was chattering away as though her best friend was in the room. The doctor was trying to keep his sister from wiping off the green salve. He was the only one to look at Mal as the captain entered. "You need something?"

"No, Doc," Mal replied. "But… Nara heard screams."

"Sorry," Simon said, only slightly apologetically. "She stopped."

"This is the spy's fault?" Mal asked.

"It appears that way."

"What's the green stuff?"

"Ointment. If it works, it'll keep infection out of the rash long enough to…" Simon stopped. "I'm sorry, do you need something?"

"Uncle Max took me to a dinner party!" River said excitedly. "We had cream and strawberries."

"Berries, eh?" Jayne asked. "Better not tell Kaylee; she'll get jealous."

"Clotted cream," River corrected herself. "And scones."

"What's a scone?" Jayne asked.

"Scone: a small, rich, biscuit-like pastry or quick bread, sometimes baked on a griddle," River replied without taking a breath. "After the scones there was dancing. I love to dance. Uncle Max has two left feet, though!" She giggled. "The musicians were so lovely, it was a quartet."

Mal looked confusedly from Jayne to Simon. "She went to a dinner party?"

Simon shook his head in the negative as Jayne answered, "Madness, Mal. She's goin' crazy. And this time, she ain't comin' back."

"Well… uh… make sure she doesn't get any guns." On that inspiring note, he ducked out.

"Never did have stomach fer sick stuff," Jayne muttered.

"The quartet was the same as…" River paused. Simon and Jayne both looked at her; this was the first time she'd stopped in several minutes.

"Mei-mei? Can you hear me?"

"Simon?"

Simon took a breath of relief. Maybe she wasn't going to lose her mind all over again; maybe she wasn't going to die… if they could just keep her lucid and, well, un-dead for just a little longer… "Yes?"

"We went to the Millers' Christmas ball, didn't we?"

Simon nodded. "You were ten."

"My dress was red velvet," River confided to Jayne. "And Simon wore a matching plaid cummerbund."

"What's a cummerbund?" Jayne asked.

"Cummerbund: a broad sash, especially one that is pleated lengthwise and worn as an article of formal dress, as with a dinner jacket," River informed him.

"Oh. Fancy pants, eh?"

"I hated that suit," Simon recalled. "It itched."

"Every suit you wore you said the same thing," River said with a laugh. "And you danced with me, and there were stars in my ears."

"Stars? In yer ears?" Jayne asked, wide-eyed, as though he actually believed her.

"She means ear-bobs," Simon told him. "She had crystal ear-bobs when she was younger. They did look like stars a little, I guess."

"And then," River continued in a hushed, excited tone, "we drank stars."

"You drunk them?" Jayne asked confusedly.

"Champagne," Simon translated. "She only had a mouthful, she was still such a baby then…"

"Champagne, is that one o' those fancy drinks?"

"I guess you could say that."

The ship swerved hard to the right. Simon grabbed for River's arm only to have his hand slide right through the slick ointment covering her. She rewarded him with a laugh. "Now you're green too!"

"Green!" Jayne exclaimed, as though the proverbial light bulb had just gone on for him. "Wasn't she sayin' somethin' bout green earlier?"

Simon couldn't remember. It had been a very long day, after all, what with spies and seizures and, well, everything else. "Probably."

They felt the ship start to drop. "Wash better know what he's doin'," Jayne muttered, looking upwards in the bridge's general location.

"Silly," River said. "Nobody knows what they're doing anymore!" She broke free of Jayne's grasp and did a parody of a waltz in the infirmary. She moved as though she was drunk, a right drunken three-step which seemed out of character from a girl who was usually so graceful. "Nobody knows!"

Translations: Ta ma de! - F--- me blind!

Cai bu shi - no way