Better Left Unsaid

Part Three - Follow The Dots

"Weeee!" Crouched on the rail of the catwalk, River pushed off hard and flew clear across the cargo bay. She caught the rail on the opposite side with ease and perched herself there to watch the debris float by.

A crate of food supplies drifted past her head, a clip of ammo, a drop of blood…

River reached out and placed her hand in the path of the blood droplet. A perfectly round orb of deep red, shining in the dim glow from the emergency lighting. The drop hit her hand, a splash of wetness and a spreading stain.

Another drop followed close behind, and River swatted that one too. It was a game: follow the dots. Like breadcrumbs she traced the origin of the floating droplets of blood to the door of Inara's shuttle. It was only open an inch or so, and the little red dots were floating out through the gap.

River looked at her hand, all red and sticky now, then at the blood-trail which continued to float out into the cargo bay. Each drop was a shiny little bit of life, and River knew exactly how many Inara had left.

She started to count down under her breath as she pushed off hard in the direction of the Infirmary.

- - - - - - - - - -

Simon Tam was too polite a man for cursing in company. Thankfully there was nobody else in the med-lab to hear the expletives he spat out in a steady stream as he attempted to pry the door open. Without gravity he couldn't put enough force on the metal table-leg to move the heavy door an inch.

"Tzao-gao!" he shouted and threw his useless tool aside emphatically, except that it only drifted sedately away from him to clang against a wall cabinet.

"You'd kiss mama with that mouth?" River's chiding tone was muffled by the door.

"River! Thank God! Are you alright?!"

"Shh! I'm trying to count."

Simon floated near the door, hoping River would be able to do something to get him out, besides playing whatever number-game she was absorbed in. As always, River's inability to get a grip on reality saddened him. There were times he wanted to shake her and scream at her, but his brotherly love would never allow him to do that, and the doctor in him knew it wouldn't help.

Moments later he was propelled backwards by an explosion, slamming his coccyx painfully against the edge of a gleaming steel worktop.

There was a smoking hole in the wall where the key-pad used to be, and the door slid open. River beamed as he stepped out, looking with surprise at the huge rocket launcher in her slim arms.

He took the weapon from her gingerly and let it drift away as he hugged her.

"Are you hurt?" He began, but she was not listening.

"Five thousand one hundred-and-ten, five thousand one hundred-and-nine…"

"River, look at me," Simon took his sister's face in his hands, making deliberate eye-contact, "What do the numbers mean?"

She brought up her red-stained hand and swatted the air. The doctor gasped as he saw a floating sphere of blood splatter on River's palm. His first panicked thought was that River was bleeding and she simply hadn't the words to tell him, but in moments it was clear the blood was not coming from his sister.

Someone elsewhere on the ship was severely injured, mostly likely dying from blood-loss without gravity to aid in clotting.

"Follow the dots." River said seriously, and pushed away from him, flying gracefully off towards the cargo bay. Awkwardly Simon followed, keeping close to the walls and listening to River's ominous count-down.

- - - - - - - - - -

Mal was going through different scenarios in his mind as he towed the unconscious preacher towards the Infirmary. Why hadn't Kennedy boarded the ship yet? They must be waiting for something else to happen, but what? And just how much did they intend to 'sell' to the folk of New Judea? Judging from Book's reaction, he'd guess these people wouldn't object to the slave trade, and the thought of young River, Kaylee and especially Inara being taken off in chains sent needles of rage through his brain.

There was a groan from above him. Floating like a helium balloon on a string, the old man was coming to.

"W-what's going on?!" he exclaimed as he realised he was not being carried.

"There's no gravity. Now you wanna tell me why you provoked those wang bao dahn--" he stopped at the preacher's disapproving scowl, "--Those unpleasant fellas into shooting us?"

"Trust me, Captain, nothing I said made them any more likely to attack. It's what they do."

"They being…?"

"Well, they belong to the New Judeans… they're a colony of anarchists and excommunicants from Lux Perpertua."

"Excommunicants?"

"Lux Perpertua is a Old-Catholic world, extremely pious. Anyone who can't fit in there is excommunicated, exiled. Usually these exiles make new lives on other worlds quite happily, since they aren't bad people, just non-believers, like you."

Mal had to smile at the barely concealed swipe at his lack of faith.

"But the real bad apples found themselves a new world and set up their perfect society, a place of no rules, no morals, and survival of the meanest."

"Sounds like my kinda place." Jayne's gravely voice broke the Shepherd's narrative. He looked decidedly ungraceful floating up to them on a 45 degree angle and clutching his favourite gun, Vera. "Now what in hell's goin' on?"

"'Bout time you showed yerself," Mal returned, "Where the others at?"

"I ain't seen a one of 'em. I'd take a wild guess that Kaylee's in the engine room. Heard her squealin' 'fore this all kicked off."

"She was squealing before we were shot at? What'd'you think she-- actually I don't wanna know."

Mal turned quickly and pushed off down the corridor trying to block the obvious conclusion from his mind, but he couldn't help wondering if the mechanic had taken his threat about the nunnery seriously. For a moment his amusement at the idea distracted his mind from their present peril.

And then a little droplet of blood splashed silently on his cheek.

- - - - - - - - - -

End of Part Three