Mal saw her in the corridor, headed for the galley. "Jan, c'mere."
"Captain?"
"Got somethin' I wanna show you." He led her to the bridge and waved a hand at the co-pilot's seat, silently inviting her to sit down. "Take a look."
"Oh." She stared for a moment at the giant red sphere. "Is that our new planet?"
"Yes and no. That's your new planet, all right, but it ain't where you're gonna be living. That's Viracocha. It's a gas giant, like Jupiter near Earth-that-was. Got eleven moons, most of 'em uninhabitable. You'll be goin' to Hutchins' Moon."
"I trust it's habitable?" she asked wryly.
"Oh, yeah. Y'see, some of the other moons are rotten for livin' on, but good for minin'. Economy on Hutchins' Moon has two main industries: agriculture, and providin' R&R for the miners. You and your people won't have it easy there, but you'll be free, and you'll be able to find work. Paid work."
"Free." The syllable was more a breath than a whisper, almost too quiet for him to hear.
"It's a little wild," he warned her. "The miners spend two-three days at a time working in a pressure suit. Ain't comfortable. When they go down to Hutchins' Moon, they tend to cut loose and play hard. 'Bout four good-sized towns there: Four Corners, Hutchinsborough, Patricia, St. Mary Mead. They buy and refine the ore, sell mining supplies, buy and process the farmers' crops. Lots of little farming villages, too. No big plantations. No patrons."
"We'll be able to survive there."
"Don't have to go if you don't wanna." She looked up at him, and he continued, "If you wanna stay on as ship's cook for wages, you'd be more than welcome. Proper wages, not the pocket change I'm givin' you now. And you'd be free. Nothing more free than wandering between the stars, tied down to no one and nothing, going wherever you want, the whole 'verse as your backyard."
"You make it sound tempting," she admitted.
"Harder for the Alliance to hit a movin' target. Harder for Santiago to track you down, too. Out in the Black, there's nothin' and no one to hold you back."
"That's what you like the best about space, isn't it?" Jan realized.
Mal nodded.
Jan thought carefully. She decided not to tell him of her suspicions. She wasn't completely sure, after all. The queasy stomach could just as easily be spacesickness. It might be nothing more than stress making her monthlies late. The craving for spinach might be a result of Mal's limited pantry. And the tenderness in her breasts - she couldn't think of a rationalization for that - but it didn't necessarily mean anything.
And even if her suspicions were correct, she owed him too much to tie him down.
"So what do you think? We'd be glad to have you. I may not be the easiest boss to deal with in the 'verse, but I'm a whole lot better than Santiago. And if you don't like it, you can quit any time, make a fresh start on a new planet, with your pocket full of pay." He smiled invitingly.
"If it were just me, I'd say yes. But I have Sean to think of." Regret was in her voice.
"Sean? Your husband?" Mal asked, uneasy at the thought he'd cuckolded a stranger.
Jan shook her head. "My son."
Mal sighed. "A ship ain't the best place to raise a kid."
She nodded. If he felt that way, she definitely wouldn't tell him her suspicions.
"You can read, can't you?"
She nodded.
"Take a look at this." He pulled up an interstellar gazetteer on the computer screen. "You pick where you want to settle."
She skimmed the data: Four Corners in the lowlands, raising cattle and wheat, Hutchinsborough, growing vegetables and grain, St. Mary Mead, on the lake side, with rice and fish as its primary products, Patricia, up in the mountains, with sheep, goats, and fruit orchards.
Mal grabbed the bag with the fake indenture contracts and sorted through them. "Jannet Barrie. This one yours?"
She nodded.
"They got this spelled right?"
"It's supposed to have two Ns."
Mal grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled on it. "Here you go. Letter of recommendation. Don't know if it'll help you get a job, but it can't hurt."
"Jannet Barrie was the best damned ship's cook I ever had. You're an idiot if you don't hire her. Captain Malcolm Reynolds, Serenity," she read aloud. "Thank you."
"If you change your mind, the offer's open," he told her.
Jan smiled. "Maybe when Sean's older, especially if I could get him in a school or apprenticed."
"If I ask again, where do I find you? You pick where we set down."
"Patricia," she decided. "The pictures are beautiful."
"If you can't be in space, mountains are the next best thing," Mal agreed.
"You know how to barbecue, Jan, or do you need a proper oven?" Mal asked.
"I can barbecue."
"We'll be landing in about an hour. I'll call down to the planet, and have a steer waiting. You ain't off-duty till you cook one last meal for the passengers."
"Yes, Captain."
Green mountains towered over and around the town of Patricia. The smell of roast meat and pine trees mingled with the dust of the makeshift spaceport on the edge of town. The sky was as blue as lapis lazuli, with a few lacy clouds. The air was clean and fresh. All the ore refineries and smelting plants were in Hutchinsborough and Four Corners. Patricia was a farm town, dedicated to apple orchards, sheep, and providing overpriced bed-and-breakfasts to miners who were eager to spend their hard-earned cash and ready to pay three times what food and lodging were worth to relax in the mountains.
"Thankee, Captain. Ain't never et like this my whole life," one of the slaves said.
"Figured after all those nutri-bars you folks deserved a decent meal." Mal reached into a bag. "Jannet Barrie. Where are you, Jan?"
The redhead looked up. "Sir?"
Mal held up her forged indenture contract. He tore it first in two, then in quarters. He threw the pieces into the fire. The ex-slaves gazed at the burning papers in amazement. Mal took the next paper. "Sean Barrie."
A redhaired boy of eight or ten stood up.
Mal tore his papers into pieces, and tossed them in the fire after his mother's. "Luis Borrego." The slaves cheered as they realized what he was doing. "Walter Cahill."
One by one, the papers were demolished, until no trace remained – save the scars on their backs and the scars on their souls – that the fifty-six new citizens of Hutchins' Moon had once been chattel.
"Glad you waited till the meat was done cooking," Jan remarked when he was done. "The stink of that burning would surely have ruined the taste."
"Got too much respect for your cookin' to risk wreckin' it," Mal told her.
Jan shook Mal's hand. "Thank you for everything, Captain. I owe you far more than three hundred plat. Our lives. Our freedom. More than we can ever repay."
He shook his head. "You freed yourself, I was just providin' transport."
"And fooling the Alliance boarding party was nothing?"
Mal just grinned. "Fooling the Alliance is a pleasure; I don't charge for it." He looked her up and down, then glanced to make sure Sean was out of earshot. "Kinda regret not takin' you up on your offer, you and me in my cabin."
Jan took a deep breath, then nodded. "If you want –"
"If you went with me now, I'd never know if you came to my cabin because you thought you had to, or because you felt you owed me, or because you wanted to. Ain't sure you'd know yourself. And I'm vain enough to want a woman who's in my bed to be there because she wants me, and wants to be there. But one of these days, Serenity will make it back to Hutchins' Moon. And if you chose to keep me company during shore leave, then we'd both know."
He kissed her cheek, as gently as he would Kaylee's. "Good luck, Jan."
finis