Smell
The spinning knocked him off balance, sent him to the deck for the second time. Still, the others were strapped in. Even moon-brain and the doc. The merc could smell sweat, gunpowder, and fear. When they didn't involve him maybe blowin' up or crashin' or dyin' in general, them was his favorite combination o' smells. One of 'em anyhow. Fear, when comin' off an enemy, could even smell sweet.
He pulled himself back to his feet, hangin' onto the table for dear life as the smell of fruit hit him. The scent was sweet, fresh, and completely unexpected. Why'd that bowl been gorram sittin' there in the first place? He moved through the scattered debris, not getting far at all.
She was spinning, spiraling out of control. Jayne slid along the deck, towards the others. He caught a whiff of flowers, more'n likely from the Ambassador. Had the other been able to hear over the crashings of loose cargo spilling out onto the deck, Jayne would've suggested it came from the doc. He knew better, knew the doc's scent that could only be described as too gorram clean, but couldn't resist teasin' a bit.
Scents continued to combine as the deck gathered more and more spills. Spice joined the crisp scent of the fruit, sweat and fear still overpowering everythin' but the fire. On his feet once more, Jayne moved towards the engine room, the burning smell growing stronger as he got closer.
Sight
"I'm going to have to glide her in."
"Will that work "
No answer came. One look at the grim expression that'd settled across her husband's face, the way his hands tightened on the controls, and she knew he had no idea. Her own hands stayed in front of her for balance, relieved and proud that her mister had come through and found backup controls. Now, they just had to reach the ground.
Zoë, Wash, and Mal were thrown roughly around the cockpit as the ship slid. She was cracking up as she went, bits of her knocked off as she nose-dived into the hangar bay. More shaking, loud crashes, and finally everything grew still as Serenity came to a stop.
Red emergency lighting came up as the regular lights went off, signaling their loss of power. No surprise, really. No tellin' what had been knocked off during that landing. Panting was the only sound in the cockpit as she moved hair out of her eyes to look towards her husband, then to Mal. Both were safe. They were alive.
"I am a leaf on the wind," Wash said, his voice nearly a whisper. "Watch how-"
His words were cut off as the huge wooden spear came through the windshield. It went into his chest, his body going limp as a weak grunt was forced through his parted lips. Fumbling with her seatbelt, she moved over to him as quickly as she could, hands finding their way to his hair, heart racing as she looked at his still form.
"Wash, baby. Baby, no. Baby, come on. You gotta go. Come on." She was becoming frantic, pleading quietly for him to rise, to get up, to follow her to safety. "We gotta move. Baby, please. We gotta move, baby, come on."
"Zoë!" Mal was suddenly on top of her, throwing her to the deck before another spear could impale her. She lay still as he rose, moving to check on the others and get everyone off the ship. He called to her again. With one last look at her husband, she left, a shudder running through her body. For Wash, for the others, she held herself together, gun in hand, eyes peeled. God help the Reavers if she saw them first...