Easy Tickets

by mal4prez

Serenity has a few guests come aboard, but they're not the welcome kind.

2. Part 2 of 9

Easy Tickets: Part 2/9 (Chapters 4-6)

The Firefly verse belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
and the rest. I'm just playing with it, and not making any money.

---

Chapter 4.

Hank wiped at the sweat under his beard as he followed Ray and Will over the stony ridge, careful to stay behind rocks and the remains of dead trees as they descended toward the Firefly on the floor of the valley. Hank was at the back of the pack, but he didn't mind. Nor did he care that he wasn't privy to the details of the job. He knew they'd be taking the ship and getting away from this dried up rock for good, heading back to the Core. That was enough. For now.

Hank was not the man he'd been when he arrived on Niflheim ten years ago, shipped out by a construction cartel as part of the security staff. He'd had a spiffy uniform back then, also a fairly decent gun, a healthy paycheck, and every expectation of a peaceful, mundane life. Something involving a good woman and a home in the fertile green countryside around the town of Alsvidh. Eventually, he'd thought then, he'd give up the job and raise cattle, maybe grow some crops. His own tobacco for one – he always did love to chew.

Hank spat in the dust. Things hadn't quite worked out. Life had been easy for about a month, then he'd showed up at work one day to find locked gates in front of an empty, silent compound. It was a few weeks before he found out that the top members of his cartel had packed it up and left; it was a few years before he knew why.

His employer wasn't the only one to go under. The number of folk needing work grew steadily, but jobs were scarce. Hank still had his uniform and gun, and his clean wholesome look and steadfast habits helped him find and keep work early on.

The next few years had poor harvests, and refugees from the countryside trickled into the city. Those who could afford passage to the Core disappeared. Their abandoned homes filled with families of ex-farmers who competed for low-paying jobs, and the food shipped in from offworld was increasingly expensive.

The autumn of Hank's third year on the planet, the truth reached finally reached the streets: the terraforming process had failed. This was no temporary blight; it was the ongoing death of the entire world. The scientists from the cartels had figured it out years ago, and those with the means had already gotten away clean.

Even before the news spread to the masses, any ship headed for the Core was loaded with minerals mined from the planetary rings, and the few passenger berths not reserved for cartel VIPs were incredibly expensive. It had always been difficult for a common person to find transport; after word of the dying environment got out, it was impossible.

Hank was stuck. He was broke, jobless, and essentially friendless on a dying world. The work got shadier, the pay less. Between jobs, he begun to reward himself with as many hours of oblivion as he could afford. There was nothing else to do.

The few remaining cartels were still pulling in a fortune from mining the planetary rings. Cartel members moved up to orbital platforms, living fat, surrounded by every luxury that could be brought from the Core. From time to time, a few of them would come planetside, looking for adventure in the untamed wilds or the lawless streets of crumbling towns like Alsvidh.

It was just such a fancified rich húndàn who cornered Hank in an alley one night, looking to show off his high-tech handgun to his two admiring friends. By then alcohol was scarce, but there was a steady supply of locally made drugs to fry one's brain for a small price. That night, Hank had been so high on drops that he could hardly stand. Through a haze, he'd looked into the faces of those three men and seen that he was not human to them; he was entertainment. At that instant Hank understood with brutal clarity the futility and failure of his life. He was going to die here, a pathetic used-up junkie whose death wouldn't even stir the interest of the apathetic security forces. His body would most like dry up and wither where it fell.

That was the moment it all changed. Hank looked the man with the high-tech gun in the eye, drew like he'd been born to do it, and shot him square in the throat. The other two men froze in shock, unable to process the fact that even wealthy young billionaires were mortal, and Hank gunned them down where they stood. After that, he pried the fancy pistol out of the dead man's hand, then staggered into the first deserted building he found and passed out in a dark back room.

Some might have called it dumb luck, but Hank knew different. He should have been shot dead by a sober man holding a gun like that. He should have been found by the security sweeps during the long hours he was passed out, a murder weapon in one hand and a very expensive stolen gun in the other. But neither of those things happened, and Hank knew there was a reason.

He was meant for something else. He was meant to get off this world and achieve some important goal; he believed it with every fiber of his soul.

The proof of this piled up. After that night in the alley, folks saw the prize gun on his hip and the rumors started. People figured that he'd been the one to shoot the rich guy, and they wanted to shake his hand.

Other folks wanted something else from him. He learned to be ready for some hot-shot kid, long-toothed geezer, or anything in between looking to test their draw against him. But Hank beat them, every one. No one could touch him. He quit drinking, quit the drops, and generally kept himself fit and steady. He took to being spiritual, and spent time outside the city, fasting and listening to the death throes of nature. It strengthened him. This hard place was a whetstone, honing him so he'd be ready for what the future surely did hold.

The jobs came, and the jobs always paid. Hank became a legend, and that's how he got in with Ray's gang. They picked him to help with this job, a job that would get him off Niflheim at last. He'd be going back to the Core, ready to find the higher purpose that awaited him.

Hank looked at the two men walking ahead of him, winding down the valley side toward the Firefly. Will was a fool, overly sure of himself just because he could smile pretty and talk flowery. Hank saw through that. The man was just an overgrown bully. All Will wanted was to get his way, as if winning the little battles meant anything in the long run.

Ray, on the other hand, was a man Hank could almost respect. Ray was a hard ass full of hatred and violence, but it was a violence born of surviving in the same hard times that Hank had known. Problem was, Ray had no higher cause, no reason for being beyond continued existence. Ray saddened Hank.

They couldn't know it, but these two men were tools provided to move him along his path. He'd be surprised if they lasted long, and he wouldn't mind at all if they didn't.

Hank quickly lowered his eyes when Will turned back to halt the group. They were getting close to the Firefly and needed to split up for the final approach. Hank was ready. He'd stand quietly to the side and let Ray talk, cess the situation inside the ship. When things got hot it'd be Hank's time. The gun he'd earned in that dark alleyway years ago would do its work.

That was Hank's way. Do his job, follow his path, and wait for his real purpose to become clear.

.*. .*. .*.

Two days ago

The trip should have taken no more than a few hours, but with the acceleration limit and the need to conserve fuel, it would be more than a day before they reached Niflheim. Knowing this made the short trip seem incredibly long and tedious.

When Serenity finished her slow acceleration, Wash announced the all clear and headed straight to his bunk, ready to grovel if necessary to get Zoë to help him unwind.

Mal climbed out of his bunk a while later, and was the first to arrive in the dining room. He sat at the head of the table, waiting for the crew to gather for the morning meal. So far so good – if the grav drive crashed now, all they'd have is a little fun moving around with no gravity. Anything that could be strapped down was, so no one was likely to get hurt. Not from free-floating objects, anyway.

A while later, Jayne and Kaylee came in from opposite directions, Jayne from his cabin and Kaylee from the engine room. Book followed soon after. Jayne ignored everyone and went into the cooler where the grilled bear meat was stored.

"Bear for breakfast," Mal said. "I guess, given the options…" He got to his feet to help. "You wanna bring the whole platter out, Jayne?"

"You don't pay me to fix meals," Jayne replied sullenly. He threw enough for himself onto a big plate and headed back to his bunk.

"Not feeling social?" Book asked.

"The drink is better in my bunk, and I ain't sharin' it," Jayne said over his shoulder.

"Guess he's feelin' the need to make up for doin' something decent," Mal said to Book and Kaylee as he went to the cooler for the platter.

"You think so?" Kaylee said. "But it was so nice!"

"What was?" Simon asked as he came in.

"Jayne gettin' that hovercraft."

"Oh. Yes." Simon didn't sound convinced.

Mal set a plate of meat out on the table. "Where's River?" he asked Simon.

"She's… sleeping." Simon's answer was hesitant and Mal studied him.

"She actin' up again?" Mal asked.

"No, just tired."

Mal continued watching Simon as the doctor filled a plate and left the room. Boy wasn't being forthright, but now wasn't the time to force the issue.

Book brought a big bowl of greens to the table, and Kaylee set out a few plates. Mal and Book sat down and started in, but Kaylee stayed standing as she put a few tidbits in a plate for herself.

"You ain't stayin', Kaylee?" Mal asked.

"Got lots to do," she said happily. "I can work on it now, right?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Mal replied. "But keep it neat in there, we could lose vertical any time."

"I know, silly Captain – I am the mechanic here!" she replied with a grin on her way out. Nothing could bring Kaylee down right now, not with a whole hovercraft to work on.

Mal sat silently with Book for a few minutes, then Zoë came in. She wasn't much for conversation, either. In fact, she seemed in quite a hurry to pile a plate with enough food for her and Wash and get back to their bunk.

Inara came in as Zoë left. Mal didn't expect her to stay, which would have been fine with him, but she did. She sat at the far end of the table, but ignored his attempts to ignore her.

"Mal, any word about the Alliance?" she asked in a pleasant, conversational tone.

"Like a greetin' card?"

"No, I mean, are they pursuing you actively?"

"Dunno."

"Do you think they're really interested in finding you?"

"Maybe."

"As in… are they putting up bulletins and scouts everywhere?"

"Wouldn't be surprised."

"Because, it could be they're only checking arrest lists and checkpoints."

"Could be."

"Niflheim is so remote. No checkpoints, no Alliance police."

"S'what I hear."

"So… do you know how long we'll be staying there?"

Book's head was swinging back and forth as he watched the exchange. Mal noticed and set his chopsticks down with an impatient sigh.

"Inara, we may touch down for five seconds and have to tear out with all the bounty hunters and Alliance gunships and Reaver scouts in the verse on our tail. Or, could be that one of the Cartels is run by Jayne's long-lost uncle who'll take us in as his very own and we'll spend the rest of our lives luxuriatin' and eatin' bon-bons. Any other questions or will you just tell me what you're after?"

Book looked to Inara, not even trying to feign lack of interest.

Inara dropped her easy manner. "Fine. Actually, I'd like to look for a client."

Mal looked at her for a few seconds, then took up his chopsticks and picked at his food. "Since when d'you need to ask me before you do that?"

"Since the Alliance has been looking for you, and they know that I rent a shuttle on your ship."

That caught him by surprise, and he looked up at her again. "That's why you ain't been takin' clients?"

"That… and the fact that there haven't been many decent opportunities."

He only held her stare a bit longer before he returned to his meal. "So why you wanna look now?"

"The cartel branches on Niflheim are known for their autonomy."

"And that's attractive why?"

"It's not attractive. I just mean that they operate largely outside of the Alliance's control."

"They don't chat with the Feds?"

"Only within beaurocratic and political spheres. I believe word of my visit would take weeks to reach the military, if it does at all. Which is why I was asking - if it'll be a short visit, it should be safe. If you're planning on staying for a long time, it might be risky for the crew if I let my presence be known."

Mal finished off his salad of bitter greens while he considered her request. He realized that Book was watching him with interest, so Mal turned to the preacher and to give him a do-you-mind? look. When Book lowered his eyes to his plate, Mal finally replied to Inara.

"These days we can't be stayin' anywhere for long. Go on and do your business."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem." Mal stood up and gestured at Book's empty plate. When the Shepherd nodded, Mal took it and went to the sink in the galley.

"I'll be careful," Inara said. Mal didn't answer, so she stood up and turned to leave.

"Inara?" Mal said just as she reached the hatch.

She turned back. "Yes?"

"Thanks for askin'."

She nodded and might have smiled at him, but Mal lowered his eyes to the dishes so he wouldn't have to see it.

.*. .*. .*.

Simon quietly slid open the door to River's room. The mattress he'd brought in it to protect himself during Serenity's careful acceleration was still on the floor. He set the plate he was carrying on the table at the end of her bed, and sat down on the mattress.

River was still out, curled up on her side facing him. It wasn't real sleep; he'd had to sedate her to make her lie still. Her unstable state had lasted a few days now, but an explanation for it had occurred to him after what she'd told him on the catwalk yesterday, about how a person needs to know what they want.

In all the months since he'd gotten her away from the Academy, she'd never been as lucid as she was during the days that the Captain was held by the Alliance on Oeneus. It was possible that there'd been something about that situation, about her mental contact with Mal, which had helped her. And now it was wearing off.

Simon thought he understood what it was, and he should have seen it sooner. River was confined to this small ship, with little to do and limited social interaction. How different this was from the activity and society she'd been accustomed to as a child. Like him, she'd had every day filled with mental and physical challenges, and like him, she'd thrived on it. Her time at the Academy, while obviously less pleasant, must have been similarly active. River had never had to deal with empty time.

Here on Serenity, Simon had developed a routine to help him pass the idle time that often dominated his life. He'd gotten through many a sleepless night planning new treatment regimens for River, and spent long days maintaining the infirmary way beyond necessary orderliness. And then there were the jobs, the sudden life-or-death situations that fired up his adrenaline. It exhausted him and he wouldn't call it fun, but it made him look forward to the long journey to follow, when he could relax with a sense of accomplishment at his patient's recovery. How would he have fared without his work to give him a sense of purpose?

River had nothing like that. When she was sleepless, when nightmares and voices she couldn't silence filled her head, she had nowhere to turn. All the hours she spent drawing or exploring dark corners of the ship, she was just looking for something to get her out of herself. Her only respite lay in the drugs he was always ready to give her, but that was a bandaid, not a cure.

Helping the Captain had been a boon for her. Not only did it distract her from the workings of her surgically altered brain, it gave her a sense of being important, useful for the things she could do and no one else could. Instead of fighting what the Alliance had done to her, she'd used her abilities to help Mal. She'd turned her handicaps into strengths.

Simon sighed, seeing his shortcomings clearly. With his background, he had automatically assumed that only medicine could help her, and he'd tried to make her the person she used to be by shooting her full of drugs. That approach was too limited. He needed to think like a psychologist.

No one could thrive without some sense of purpose and usefulness; he needed to help River find that.

"It's a good idea." River's voice floated across the room, soft and sleepy.

"I didn't realize you were awake," he said softly, looking up into her half-open eyes.

"Not yet," she replied, eyelids heavy as she fought off the remains of the sedative. "Almost."

"You like the idea?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You understand? Because I'm not sure I do yet."

She rolled to her back and closed her eyes. "Makes sense, Simon. They changed me. No good trying to make me normal. Don't fit the mold. Hurts to squeeze."

"I can't make you what you were," Simon said sadly.

"Don't need to. Shouldn't try."

"But I can help you be happy with who you are now."

"I can be useful. I can help."

"It will make you feel good, having a purpose of your own. One's that true to who you are."

She turned her head to him and smiled, her eyes more awake now. "That's what I meant. Couldn't explain. Too close to the problem."

Simon smiled back. "That's why I'm here, mèi mei." He pushed himself to his knees by her bedside and reached out to take her hand. "So how shall we go about this?" he asked.

.*. .*. .*.

"Captain's been a little tense," Wash said while he chewed. "I mean, more than usual."

"You think so?" Zoë replied.

"Yes I do. You do too, don't deny it."

Zoë frowned at him, but didn't argue. He knew her too well. "He's always had his moods," she said. "No big deal."

"Do you think he's really recovered?" he asked. "I mean, something like that…"

"He can handle it."

Wash set down his plate on the desk and shifted over to their bed, stretching out and patting his full belly contentedly. "Haven't you wondered about it?" he asked. "I mean… having to live your worst nightmares. All that stuff in the back of your mind that you never even think about."

Zoë had finished her dinner too, but she stayed where she was.

"What do you think would have happened, if it'd been you?" he asked.

"Let's not talk about it."

"Really, I'm curious. When Mal was going through all that, you regretted not talking to him more. Like it might have helped him if he'd vented it. And most of the things he's been through, you have too."

"That's very insightful of you, dear."

"That's me, insightful guy."

"Let's not talk about it." She moved to the bed and crawled over him.

"I have ways of making you talk," he told her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"And I have ways of making you not talk," she replied, sliding a hand down his body. "At least, not coherently."

Wash exaggerated a back arch. "Whazuh gerbuh hyaaaa…" he groaned loudly. "My god, what are you doing to me, woman?"

Zoë laughed. As always, he distracted her as much as she distracted him.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee thought the craft already looked much better without the roof. She'd cut that off right away – it was just for blocking sun, but the mule would be faster and easier to handle without the extra weight on top. The large sheet of metal composite was tilted against the stairway by the hatch to the infirmary, attached to the railing so it wouldn't fly about if they lost grav.

She'd managed to rig cables to hold the craft a foot off the deck, and she scooted underneath to get a better look. The rust on the thrusters wasn't as bad as it had seemed; the structures would work for a while, and hopefully she'd find replacements on Niflheim. The real problems were the fuel line and empty fuel cells, and the crankshaft that connected the steering controls to the engine.

"Um… Kaylee?"

Shiny black shoes were standing next to the craft. She rolled out and sat up.

"Hey, Simon! Wanna help?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask for your help with something."

Kaylee made it a rule to never say no to someone asking for help, but this one was hard. She cast a look of longing at the hovercraft.

"But I'm…" She stopped and bit her lip. She really did hate to say no, especially to Simon.

"It won't take any of your time," Simon said. "You could still work on the hovercraft."

"Oh. Well, then, sure! What d'ya need?"

Simon actually sat down on the dirty deck next to her, and wrung his hands a little. Kaylee realized he was nervous. "Actually, I should explain it before you accept. You see… it's a little… personal."

Kaylee smirked and slapped his shoulder playfully. "Simon Tam wants to get personal with me?"

"Actually, River does." He looked over his shoulder. River was on the stairs, her eyes just peeking over the hovercraft's ex-roof.

Kaylee cast a confused look at River.

"No - not like that!" River called out.

Simon looked confused, but only for a few seconds. He blushed when he worked things out. "No! Not at all! I just…" He took a deep breath and scratched his head. "How do I say this?"

"You just say it, ninny!" River said impatiently, and skipped down the steps. She sat down next to him and looked at Kaylee, eyes wide. "Let me read your mind," she said.

"Oh," Kaylee said. She looked back and forth between the Tams. "Oh! Um… well, I dunno know – that's kinda…"

"Weird," River finished her thought. "I know. But I wouldn't go far in. Just the surface."

Simon tried to explain. "I want… River wants to learn how to control it."

"Control it?"

"Her ability to read. I reduced her medication, to make it easier for her, and she's going to try to… listen."

"I'll just sit here while you work," River said.

Kaylee looked at the girl doubtfully. "You could'a just done that, you didn't need to ask."

"Wouldn't have been right."

"Well… " Kaylee glanced at Simon, then back at River. She really did want to help, and it was hard to refuse the doctor when he looked at her like that. "Okay. It's okay. I'll try." She smiled hesitantly. "But you can't go tellin' people what you see in here," she pointed at her head, "if it's private. Okay?"

"Okay!" River smiled brightly. "You can go away now, Simon."

"But I…"

"Need only one mind around. Go away."

Kaylee relaxed a little and laughed when Simon just stood up and did as his little sister told him.

.*. .*. .*.

Jayne was sprawled on his bed, his empty plate on the floor and one of his growlers of beer tucked under his elbow. It was noticeably lighter already.

"Gorram mule. What the guĭ was I thinkin'?" he muttered, and took a long draw from the jug. "Never gonna live it down."

The worst thing was, he was gonna have Kaylee looking at him like she had in the cargo bay, like he was Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny all in one. She'd be thinking she had some reason to be hugging him and kissing his cheek, like she was always doing with the captain.

Gorram girl didn't understand it was just business. They'd been needing a new mule since they blew up the old one on Niska's skyplex. Now they wouldn't have to hire other folks to move their stuff, and his cut would be bigger. That was the bottom line.

It'd been a good chance to get Mal off his back too. Not that Jayne thought he'd done anything wrong, but Mal sure did get testy. It wasn't a bit fair – wasn't Jayne's fault those folks made beer with more alcohol than Mudder's Milk. No way he could have known that.

You could'a asked. Or you could'a drunk water and sat by Kaylee when those fellas moved in on her, acted like the cold hard professional you think you are. What if they had sweet talked her away…

Jayne took another long drink to silence a voice he wasn't used to hearing. That was stupid thinking. Girl should learn to take care of herself, or she should go the hell back to her dumpy little world. It wasn't his job to look after some silly chit who didn't know enough to care for herself. That voice in his head was just Mal's worries rubbing off on him.

"Stupid girl," Jayne muttered as he slid onto his back, the bed spinning under him. The last thing in his mind before he passed out was the memory of that gorram mechanic pressed against him with her hands locked behind his neck, smiling at him like he was something special.

.*. .*. .*.

Kaylee was self-conscious at first, and had a hard time focusing on her work. But when she scooted out from under the mule to grab her torque wrench and found River already holding it out to her, she thought that this might not be too bad.

And it wasn't. After a half hour, it got to be like she had four hands and twenty fingers. River was always where she needed assistance, just as she realized she needed it. Handing her tools, helping with stuck parts, even running up to the engine room to grab a power generator to she could test each system as she repaired it. And not a word needed to be spoken.

The next four hours were incredibly productive. They rebuilt the steering shaft and checked the antigrav system. When they finished connecting the power generator to the engine, Kaylee put the thought clearly on the top of her mind:

you do the honors

River smiled and climbed into the driver's seat. The engine powered on with a purr that wasn't quite smooth, but it didn't die out. River tested the thrusters, lifting a few inches so that the chains hanging from the ceiling sagged loosely. Lightly she tapped the steering column, and the craft shifted slightly side to side.

River grinned joyously as she returned the craft to its starting position and shut it off.

"You did it!" she yelled, then hopped out and hugged Kaylee ecstatically.

"No silly – we did it!" Kaylee replied, returning the hug. "That was amazin', River!" She stepped back, still holding River's arms and looking at her friend with wide eyes. "That was just… We got so much done - it woulda taken me all day to do by myself! I wish you'd done that before!"

River's smile faded.

"River, what's wrong? You okay?"

"I'm okay. I'm just…" Kaylee was shocked to see River's eyes get a little watery. "I'm sorry, Kaylee, but I've done it before."

Now Kaylee's smile faded too. "You've done… what?"

"Gone into your mind."

Kaylee dropped River's arms and stepped back. "Gone into my mind? Without askin'?"

"I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have. But sometimes it's so hard, there's voices everywhere, not just the people here but old voices and…. I can't make them be quiet. And if I can't sleep… sometimes I find you and I listen."

Kaylee stepped back again, but River followed her. "Please don't be mad. I tried all the others but they have dark places. They have so much that hurts and they can't help. Even Simon, he worries so much, But you… you don't have any dark. When you fix the ship, you love her so much and you're helping her. I pretend it's me and it makes the other voices get quiet. It helps me sleep. I never listen to anything personal. I try really hard not to."

River was crying all out by the end of this, and Kaylee's heart melted. She took the sobbing girl in her arms and held her.

"Your mind is so peaceful," River continued. "Even when you're mad. Especially when you're mad because it's never a mean mad. It goes right through and doesn't leave any bits of dark caught up in the corners. Your mind is the safest place on the ship." River finally seemed to run out of things to say, and trailed off to a few soft sniffles.

"Ya know what, River?"

"What?"

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone ever said to me."

Kaylee could feel River's answering smile against her shoulder.

"But sweetie?"

"Hmm?"

"When I'm thinkin' bout your brother – "

"I know. Private, stay out."

Kaylee leaned back to look at River. "You know?"

River only blushed in response.

.*. .*. .*.

After dinner, Mal warned everyone to strap down tight; the deceleration would begin in the early morning, and they'd be arriving mid-morning ship time. Mal sat at the head of table, brooding quietly as they wandered off to bed, one by one, all except Kaylee.

Sometime in the wee hours Mal forced her to leave the hovercraft. He helped her get settled in her temporary bunk in the engine room.

"You just sleep tight, li'l Kaylee," he told her. "You got a lot to do tomorrow, and I can't have you all sleepy eyed. If anything breaks, Wash'll call you over the comm."

"Right, Cap." Despite her protests when he'd dragged her out of the cargo bay, her lids had started falling closed as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Mal checked that the comm unit was securely taped to the bulkhead next to Kaylee, and wouldn't go flying about if the grav broke. When he looked at Kaylee again, she was sound asleep. He smiled fondly and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders before he left the engine room.

He went to the galley for a fresh cup of tea, and settled into a seat in the lounge. There was no point in trying to sleep. His tendency to worry over the crew wasn't the only thing bugging him of late. He couldn't place what was getting to him, just a general sense of ill ease, of trouble on the horizon.

Guess that was to be expected, seeing as very few things were going right. But he'd noticed that the feeling was worse after he slept. Some mornings he'd wake up with his hands clenched in the sheets, body covered in sweat though the blankets lay on the floor. And that sense of being hunted would stay with him for half the morning.

Following the pattern he'd fallen into over the past week or so, he simply avoided thinking about it too much. Of all the things he was worrying about, his sanity didn't need to be one of them. That would just feed on itself. Just take one thing at a time, he told himself. Fix the ship, don't fret about the rest till you have to.

He pulled a deck of cards from a shelf under the table, shuffled, and laid out a game of solitaire.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
húndàn: bastard
guĭ: hell
huài le: shit on my head
mèi mei: little sister

---

Chapter 5.

Beyla Skulde's aristocratic face didn't change when a woman's gruff voice came through the receiver in her ear. She also didn't miss a word that her nephew Peter was telling her about the lovely woman standing next to him; she waited for him to finish his sentence before she lifted an embroidered handkerchief to her face, turned away, and spoke quietly into her right hand: I'll be right with you.

"Are you all right, Auntie Beyla?" Peter asked.

"Oh, yes, thank you. I have a small business matter which requires my attention. I'll need a few moments. Could you handle the introductions for me?" She inclined her head toward the elegantly clad guests gathering in the foyer.

"Of course."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Serra," Beyla said to the woman who made such a proper ornament for Peter's arm. "I look forward to chatting with you over dinner."

"Myself as well," the Companion said, and she smiled warmly. "Auntie."

Beyla smiled her pleasure at the familiarity before she slipped through a doorway behind her and passed swiftly down a short passage. Peter's haphazard attitude about the family business, not to mention his personal habits, had always worried her. But he'd earned a pat on the head for finding a Registered Companion to bring tonight. Not that she believed he'd been intimate with her; did the man really think old age led to gullibility?

She entered a private office and closed the door behind her, then held her right hand to her mouth again. The transmitter cunningly fit into a ring on her middle finger, and she triggered it with her thumb before she spoke.

"Ginger, my dear, how are things proceeding?"

Beyla powered up the screen in the desktop while the reply came through. These folks are fools. We'll have their ship in a few. Thought you'd wanna have a look.

Such poor diction, Beyla thought with a sigh. "How kind of you to think of me."

Locate my signal yet?

"The visual is coming up now."

The satellite image on the screen tracked to Ginger's signal, showing a grounded Firefly transport ship and the apparently empty land around it. Beyla touched an icon on the left side of the screen to activate the motion tracker. There were a few seconds of chaos until the system recognized the pattern of the winds that stirred the dead trees, then only four points were highlighted. Three were the strange shapes of people walking as viewed from directly above. The fourth was a woman lying on her back, waving one arm over her head. Beyla used her index finger to draw a box around the woman, and the view zoomed in. The resolution was so high that Beyla could clearly see the ridiculous goggles over the sniper's eyes.

You got me?

"Yes, thank you. You'll have the ship soon?"

Shouldn't be a problem.

"Very good." Beyla zoomed out a bit and panned the image over to the ship. It didn't look like much, but it should be able to reach orbit, and this class of transport had a cargo bay door large enough to load what she needed.

"Let me know when you reach the harvester, so I can time the rendezvous."

Will do.

"Good luck, deary."

Beyla stayed a moment longer, watching the three figures closing in on the Firefly. Two disappeared under the front of it; the third scrambled up the back.

She was about to switch off the screen when a new figure entered from the side, moving fast. Beyla couldn't make much of it from the overhead view, except that it was human. She zoomed in on Ginger again and saw that the woman was tracking the runner with her sniper rifle. Ginger had it under control; Beyla had chosen her recruits wisely.

She turned away from the monitor with a satisfied smile on her face, stepping to the window for a moment's peace. Her Cartel's platform was positioned over the middle of the rings, which made a large flat expanse below her, perfectly smooth and solid except for the few gaps.

By some convenient accident of cosmic history and gravitational stability, the outer sections of the rings had a different composition than the rest. Beyla could see a small section of them from here; they flashed as the light of the sun broke apart in the crystals concentrated in them. A true fortune, a nearly endless source of valuable material, easy to mine and requiring no expensive transport through the planet's gravity well.

Her Cartel was making great profit off of those sparkling rocks, enough to keep her in luxury for however many years remained in her frail body. But that wasn't enough. Beyla wanted her name to become a part of the Alliance's history. She wanted to see her nephew Peter elevated to a position of power before she passed, and for that she needed more political clout. She'd found a way to get it, and, as a bonus, it meant taking down her primary competition.

Oddly, she was depending on a few washed up Alliance soldiers, a farmer turned small-time criminal, and a battered old transport ship to do it. Her mouth curved at the irony; life had thrown her an odd twist of fate.

.*. .*. .*.

One day ago

Mal sat alone at the dining room table, idly chewing a bit of smoked bear. He'd abandoned the deck of cards some time ago.

Everyone else was still asleep. Before long, Wash would be getting up to start Serenity on her long deceleration into Niflheim, and Mal would have to take his sleeplessness to his bunk and strap in. But not yet, he had a little more time to kill.

He thought back on the trip: only one day, and it had been a dull one. Book had provided some company, but Mal wasn't chatty and they'd quickly run out of things to say. The rest of the crew had hardly made an appearance. Jayne had his beer, Zoë and Wash had each other, and Kaylee had the hovercraft. The mechanic had an assistant, too. Mal knew Simon was up to something with River, but the girl was behaving so he let them have their secrets. Anyhow, Kaylee seemed pleased with the girl's help.

Inara had hardly come out of her shuttle. He supposed she was busy sorting through potential clients. It wasn't a bad thing, he told himself. Maybe if she got some work she'd get out of whatever bad mood she'd been in.

Funny – got some work. He still had a hard time referring to she did as 'work'. Wasn't how he'd been raised to think of the act involved. Of course, very little in this verse was the way he'd been raised to think of it.

He felt a wave of annoyance, tinged with a deep bitterness. She'd actually asked his permission. So now, on top of everything else, he had to concern himself with Inara's sex life. Next she'd be wanting him to hold her hand, lead her to whatever rich loser had contracted with her and pass her off with his blessing.

He pushed the chair back and got up. He was sick of sitting – might as well have a stroll while he still could.

.*. .*. .*.

Inara started to sip her tea, then noticed that it had gone cold and stale. She set it aside and went over the list of offers again.

The first ever visit of a Registered Companion to Niflheim had been well received, and she had offers from what seemed like half the officers of the top Cartels. A half dozen of them stood out as warranting first consideration. She touched the screen, sending a wave to one of them.

"Balder," she said warmly to the handsome face on the screen. It was late morning for him, and she'd waved him at his Cartel's orbital office.

"Please," he replied with a laugh, "I go by Peter, from my middle name. My parents did love their mythology, but they didn't spare much thought for modern meanings."

She smiled, pleased by his easy manner, and studied his full head of blonde curls.

"The modern meaning of the word certainly doesn't apply to you, Peter." Indeed, he had more in common with the mythological god who shared his first name: clean white skin and clear eyes that shone with childlike innocence, although the profile he'd sent her placed his age in his mid thirties.

"Thank you, Miss Serra. I take it you got my offer?"

"I did, it's very generous," she lowered her eyes modestly.

"One doesn't often have such an opportunity. And out here 'not often' really means never!"

"We are quite a distance from the Core," she agreed.

"So is my offer enough?"

"It's more than adequate."

His eyes lit up even more. "You've decided then?"

"Not quite." She smiled to soften the statement. "I prefer to talk to all my potential clients before I make my decision."

"I see, I have competition." He grinned mischievously. "I must tell you all about my plans then, to tempt you."

"Tempt away." Inara found herself warming to his exuberance.

"It just happens, we are having the party of parties tomorrow."

"Indeed?"

"Oh yes. One of the shining stars of the great Skuld house will be finishing his years of exile and returning to Londinium in three days time, and tomorrow is his goodbye party."

"A shining star?" Inara let her eyes sparkle so he'd know she was teasing him. "Now who could that be?"

"You guessed it. But as silly as it is, anyone who is anyone will be there, which, granted, isn't a big crowd in this system. But… you could take another offer and be just a guest, or you can come with me and be on the arm of the big star himself." His self-deprecating expression conveyed a different meaning than his words.

"That would be quite an honor," she replied, trying to be serious, but the look on his face made her laugh.

He sighed. "Seriously, Miss Serra – "

"Please, call me Inara."

"Inara then, my Aunt Beyla insists on throwing this dumb party and the fuss makes me crazy. It would spare me a great deal of suffering if the xiánhuà-mongers had something to wag their tongues about besides the cut of my suit. So you see, I really have a need for you that no one else can match, no matter how tempting their offer…"

Inara laughed at his definition of need. "You are in a difficult spot. I'll keep that in mind."

"Thank you, Inara." He turned as someone off screen spoke. "I'm sorry, always work to be done. Whatever your choice, it has been a thrill just to speak with you."

"Thank you…" But a thought rolling around in the back of her mind wouldn't let her be. "And Peter…"

"Yes?"

"It may seem forward of me to ask this…" she looked to the screen for his permission to continue, and he nodded, his eyes alight with interest. "You said you're leaving for Londinium in a few days?"

"Back to the light of civilization," he confirmed with a sad sigh.

"You don't sound happy about it."

"It's a drawback of being heir to an up-and-coming Cartel. Once I get back it'll be all fundraisers and meetings with Parliament and the press all over the place. Can't have so much as a hair out of place when you live in the Core."

Inara looked over his full head of hair again; she imagined he'd look just fine with a few hairs out of place. "Life in the spotlight can be somewhat constricting," she said.

"I see you understand."

"Yes, I do. However, there are certain things about the Core that one can start to miss."

"You've been out here long?"

"About as long as I can take," she admitted, then continued hesitantly. "Which is why I asked – "

He held up a hand in the corner of the screen. "Please, not another word. Of course there's room for you on the yacht. It would be a relief to have your company for the trip."

"Thank you Peter. I'll… notify you of my decision by day's end."

"A pleasure, Inara Serra."

He cut the connection, and Inara's screen switched to show miniatures of the five men and one women whose offers she was considering. The others would have a difficult time competing with Balder Petrovsky Skuld.

As for the opportunity for transport to the Core, that she'd need time to consider.

She was still staring blindly at the screen, lost in thought, when the hatch opened with a small clang. She knew who it was, and cursed to herself. Why did he have to show up now, before she had time to decide her plans? Before she'd really thought it out?

"Captain," she said without looking over her shoulder, "have you ever considered that walking into a lady's private quarters in the middle of the night could be misconstrued?"

"Ain't the middle of the night. More like early mornin'."

Inara glanced at the bottom of the screen, surprised to see that he was right. "My question still applies."

When he didn't answer, she turned in her chair. He was standing a few steps behind her.

"Wash'll be locking us down soon, won't get another chance to talk before we arrive. I saw your light on, thought I should find out what your plans are." He tilted his head and looked past her, openly studying the screen.

"I will have a client. There are several options, as you see," Inara said.

"Not bad," he replied with a nod, then he leaned over her to point at one of the faces. "I'd go with that one, he looks particularly lusty. "

She knew she shouldn't ask. He had that slight tightness in his jaw, a sure sign that she'd be better off keeping this conversation short. But the words slipped out. "How so?"

"Somethin' in the eyes says 'please take my money, or I'll never get laid'."

Inara felt her ire rising. How did he always manage to do this to her? She realized she needed to finalize her plans, to get him out of the shuttle before they could fight again, so she made her decision.

"Actually, I've already chosen my client and it won't be that one," she said.

"No? What could be hotter than desperation?"

It was too late; she was angry. Her voice was falsely sweet as she explained. "Actually, you're not completely wrong. They're not desperate, but they are eager for my company. Attracting a Registered Companion would be a major victory for any house, one they are willing to pay dearly for. I've had extremely lucrative offers from members of the biggest Cartels on the planet."

"Oh, I see," Mal raised his eyebrows as if he was mighty impressed. "A bidding war. Must be quite an honor."

Inara couldn't stop herself from huffing in exasperation. Was he really saying that sarcastically? Didn't he realize what a honor it truly was? She'd trained for many years to be able to command such respect.

"Actually, it is an honor," she replied tightly. "Not that you'd know anything about it."

He shrugged off the barb. "So how xactly does it work? Rich folk sit around comparin' who paid more to get a woman in their bed?"

Inara turned back to the screen and tapped one of the small pictures with more force she'd intended, and Peter's profile came up. "I've decided to accept the offer from the heir to the Skuld Cartel. We're arriving at an excellent time. He's leaving for the Core soon, and there's much celebration planned for the next few days."

Mal considered the picture. "Well now, he is a pretty one."

"Yes. Charming too."

"And he's paying 'dearly,' huh?"

"It's quite a lot more than I usually receive."

"Quite a lot? Ah, right – the honor. Sex ain't the only thing that costs money for these folks, I guess. Now, would it be ethical to sell poor people sex and honor, or is it just food that ain't allowed to turn a profit?"

Inara bit back a sharp retort. Years she'd spent, her whole life, becoming the best at what she did. He'd never see that. For him, her profession would always be a degradation, and not the position of respect that she knew it was. And he'd always tear her down for it.

When she didn't answer his question, Mal got a smug look on his face, as if he'd scored a point in their ongoing battle. He went to take a seat on the sofa, probably figuring he'd take advantage of his victory.

When he turned his back to her, something inside Inara worked it's way free. For weeks, she'd been trying to avoid it, but she wasn't completely blind to what was happening. Her anger toward Mal was about more than defending her life as a Companion.

She was drawn to him; she felt something for him.

His back was still turned, and he didn't see her head drop. It was the first time she'd admitted it to herself so openly. But she couldn't let herself feel it. There was no future here, only continued sparring and pain. And she was doing Mal no favor by staying, by constantly lashing out to keep him at a distance. She couldn't allow this to continue.

She raised her head as he sat down. He looked at her expectantly, waiting to jump all over whatever she said. But she was done with the fight; she had a way out, and she'd be a fool to miss it.

The decision made, her indignation melted away, and she studied him with new eyes. He looked so tired. He wasn't a tyrant or a bully; he was just a man struggling to get by. And he had so much weight on him, so many cares.

"Everything costs money out here, Mal," she said.

He looked surprised at the softness of her tone. "Some things shouldn't be paid for," he replied, his voice challenging.

Inara wasn't going to be baited now. "I'm going to an orbital platform, so I'll leave before Serenity enters atmo."

To her relief, he picked up on her mood and gave up the fight too. His face relaxed. "Lucky you," he replied. "You'll miss the chance to get squished to jelly on the ride in."

The gravity drive, Inara thought. She could at least help with that before she left. She took a deep breath.

"Mal, I am going to offer you something, but I don't want you to be offended."

"That don't sound like it's gonna involve fun little pills," he replied cautiously.

"No, it's not." She shut off the screen and turned her full attention to him. "I know you like to earn everything on your own, usually through the most difficult means available. But there's not been a lot of business for Serenity lately. I'd like to help."

"Huh," he replied, studying her. Finally he scratched his cheek, then shrugged. "Last time you offered help, didn't turn out so bad." His soft smile asked her to remember, but she couldn't let herself.

"I have a fair amount of money. Especially after this next client."

Mal's eyes widened in surprise. "Your offerin' me money?"

"The ship needs work to make it safe, and you spent all you had on the cargo you're carrying. If you can't sell what you have for a decent price, you might not be able to fix Serenity."

He still looked confused, and a little suspicious as well. "I preciate it Inara, but I gotta wonder – we've had tight times before. Why you offerin' help now?"

Inara shifted uncomfortably, then tried another smile. "Mal, you and I have had some rough times, but I've had a good year here. You've… usually done your best to accommodate my needs. I want to do what I can to help because I'm…." She couldn't finish.

"You're what?"

"I just want to help all I can before I, um…"

Mal dropped his head into his hand. "Just say it."

"… before I leave."

He gave her a hard look, then stood up and walked to the bulkhead near the exit.

"You knew I was planning on leaving," she added weakly.

He turned back. "And you're offerin' me a bonus for services rendered?"

"I want to know that you'll all be okay."

"So you won't stay up nights worryin'?" Mal's voice dripped sarcasm.

"I don't want to fight –"

"Then what the hell do you want? You wanna buy peace of mind just like you sell honor to some pathetic húndàn?"

Inara stood up too, but walked toward the incense burner on the cabinet across the room from him. I want to feel safe, she thought, I want to be where I belong. But she didn't answer his question out loud. "My client is able to provide me transport back to Londinium," she said neutrally. "I don't have to pay transport fees, so I have plenty – "

"Congratulations," Mal interrupted. He snorted half a laugh. "You really hit the jackpot with this one. Bet he smells like roses, and has the biggest diăo in the system."

She turned to him. "Mal, don't be crude. It's time for me to go. I don't belong out here."

His smile fell. "Then why'd you come in the first place?" he asked, forcing the words out harshly like it was an accusation.

"That's… not important. But I never intended to stay forever. It's time for me to go back."

She looked to him for understanding, but he was a wall to her now. "Fine. Go on, and take all your hard-earned coin with you."

"Mal, please – "

"You paid your rent like we agreed, we're all square." He turned to leave.

She gave up the argument. There was no point. "Yes," she said softly. "All square."

He paused in the shadows just outside the hatch. "What bout the danger to the crew, the Alliance lookin' for me and all that?"

"Oh." She hadn't even considered it. "Of course, I wouldn't say anything that would help them – "

He interrupted her, his voice suddenly calm. "Not to worry. It'll be a while fore they find you, we'll have time to move on. Just tell the truth, you'll have the Guild to see you're treated fair."

She watched him as he looked back into the shuttle once, his eyes wandering like he was memorizing it, then his gaze settled on her again. Cool and stony and unreachable.

"Let us know where to pick up the shuttle after you've moved your things out."

Inara turned away from him. She hadn't even thought out the details yet. It was so quick. When would she say goodbye to the rest of the crew? Kaylee, Simon and River, Zoë and Wash. Book. Jayne. Gods, she was even going to miss Jayne!

She put a hand over her mouth, as if that would stifle the grief that suddenly swelled in her chest, nearly overwhelming her. Why hadn't it occurred to her before? Why had she decided so quickly? She needed to think…

"But I… I don't know – " she stammered as she looked toward the hatch again, but Mal was gone.

She closed and locked the door he'd left open, then returned to sit on her bed. She was still for several minutes, her hands clutched together in her lap. There was no one to see, but still she struggled to keep herself composed. She wasn't going to let herself cry over Mal. Never again.

She took a several deep breaths, then got up and started gathering the things she'd need for her appointment.

.*. .*. .*.

The alarm roused Wash at a truly ungodly hour. He turned it off and would have ignored it and cuddled back up to a very warm and cozy Zoë, but she pushed him away until he slid off the edge of the bed and out of the covers.

"Go do your flyin' thing," she mumbled as she turned over and went back to sleep.

"Guh?" Wash replied as he sat up and scratched his head. The cold metal of the deck was unpleasant on his bare behind, but it took some time for him to figure out that standing up and getting dressed would likely help with that.

A few minutes later, he climbed the ladder out of the dark cozy nest. He stopped by the bridge first, announcing over the comm that any crew not sleeping had twenty minutes to strap down before the burn started, then he headed to the galley to put together some snacks and a big cup of strong tea. He found Mal sitting in the dining room alone.

"Hey, you up already?" Wash asked as he lumbered down the stairs, stumbling a bit as he wiped his eyes.

"That I am."

"We okay to burn?"

"I checked the cargo bay, everything's tied down. Kaylee's sleepin' in the engine room. You buzz her if anything happens."

Wash looked up from the galley as the weariness in Mal's voice got through to him.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I got four hours comin' up when all I'll be able to do is lay in my bunk."

"Unless you want to come up front and play dinos?" Wash asked, waking up enough to be a bit playful.

Mal returned a tired smile. "Nah, I'll leave that to you." He got up and brought his half full mug into the kitchen. He had to wash it and put it away before leaving; there was no being lazy with a grav drive on the fritz. Wash looked at him more closely; the captain did look tired.

"Not so much with the sleeping lately?" Wash asked.

"Got a lot on my mind is all. Here, let me get that." Mal picked up Wash's mug so the pilot could carry both his plate of food and one of the few remaining packages of rice cakes.

"Thanks." Wash headed toward the bridge with Mal behind him. "Anything you want to talk about, Captain?" he asked. "I got nothing but time on my hands, and to be honest I'm running low on storyline ideas for Seeber and Queen T. Rex."

"Oh, yeah. And how are those two crazy kids doin'?"

"Great. Just don't let the Queen hear you call her a kid. She can be vicious." As he entered the bridge, Wash glanced back at Mal. "And how are you, Captain?"

Mal looked sidelong at Wash. "Ship's already got a doctor, Wash."

"I'm not trying to be a doctor." Wash set his plate down on the corner of the console. "I'm just asking."

"I'm fine." Mal held out the mug, so Wash took it and sat down.

"Seriously. I'll be bored to tears up here."

"You'll manage." Mal started to leave but stopped at the hatch and turned back. " Oh – Wash?"

"Yeah?"

"Inara's got a client and needs to leave from orbit. Buzz her once we get in and set things up. No need to bug anyone else about it – unless she wants you to."

"Sure." Mal really did look worn out, Wash thought. "How long you need to get settled?"

"Five minutes is fine."

"Sleep well."

Mal looked back at Wash like he thought the pilot was making fun. Then he nodded. "Right."

.*. .*. .*.

It was not a good time to have these particular engine problems, Inara thought. She had to lay still for four hours, with nothing to distract her from the thoughts that kept sleep at bay. She considered disobeying orders and getting up to pack, but if the grav failed she'd end up in the infirmary with, at best, multiple broken bones, unable to get away from Mal's lecturing. She couldn't imagine anything worse. So she huddled under her covers and tried to blank her mind.

But she couldn't. Maybe it was best anyway, to prepare herself for the next few hours, as unpleasant as it might be. When they reached Niflheim, Wash would cut the engines in orbit, and she'd have to do it. She'd have to go to the dining room and wait for them to gather, most likely still half asleep. Then she'd tell them she was leaving. They'd be surprised, and sad, but there wouldn't be time to say all the things that needed saying.

Of course, she could always go straight to her client, then return with the shuttle later to let them know. Then she'd have time to talk to each of them, to leave gifts, and to convince Kaylee to take the money Mal had refused.

The more she considered it, the more it made sense. It would be better to say goodbye to them later, after she had time to collect herself and could do it calmly. In fact, it would be dangerous to keep the ship in orbit any longer than necessary. Better to let them land as quickly as possible so they could work on getting Serenity repaired.

Clients always had business to attend to; Peter wouldn't need her all the time. She'd find a chance to slip away and rejoin the crew for a few hours, explain the opportunity that had come up. That would work out for the best.

Inara passed the rest of the flight going over her belongings in her head, deciding on gifts for each member of the crew. Trying to convince herself that she was doing the right thing.

.*. .*. .*.

"Ladies and gents, we are in orbit around Niflheim," Wash announced. "Please don't get up yet, I need to work out a few things with Inara."

Mal laid still and waited for the call to the dining room. He knew he would have to go, to hear Inara's announcement and watch the crew's reaction, as much as he didn't want to. What would she do to say goodbye, shake hands? Offer him some incense?

The comm buzzed again: "Okay, she's gone. Mal, could you come to the bridge and tell me where to set down?"

Mal rubbed his eyes and rolled out of bed, telling himself he was relieved to avoid the drama of a long goodbye. But he couldn't stop the words that repeated in his head: She's gone.

.*. .*. .*.

It was mid-morning shiptime when Serenity landed in a run-down docking yard in the city of Alsvidh, but it was late afternoon local. Mal and Zoë left right away to search for buyers, starting with a few recommended by Hans. It took almost two hours of running around before they finally located someone. Apparently, the population had been dwindling recently.

The one contact they found didn't seem to like Mal much. In particular, she eyed his outfit with distaste, but she was more than happy to buy the cargo. The money wasn't as good as Mal had hoped, but it should be enough to repair and fuel the ship with some left over. The buyer was eager to get the goods, but she needed time to arrange for transport and security – it wasn't safe to move such a large store of foodstuffs across town without several gunhands to guard it.

Mal was feeling the effects of his lack of sleep; he left Zoë to arrange the details of the exchange and wandered into the street. He did his best not to look at the planetary rings that adorned the sky, at the occasional glint of sun hitting the orbiting platforms. Inara was on one of those, and most like he wouldn't see her again before she left for good.

He must of really ticked her off, for her to just leave like this. Hell, what else did he expect? Did he really think a Registered Companion would –

He rubbed his eyes and told himself for the hundredth time not to think about it. He tried to occupy himself by looking around the local neighborhood.

It was a dreary place; half the buildings were falling apart and there wasn't a bit of green to be seen. The locals didn't seem to cotton to him any more than the buyer had. Mal watched a woman pushing two children in front of her, eyeing him nervously as she hustled around the corner. What a place to grow up. Mal had spent his childhood surrounded by the fertility of nature, his life centered on the needs of the livestock and the fields. How could people cope with living in a barren place like this?

"Pardon."

Mal turned toward the voice. The speaker looked to be quite the cowboy, dressed in black from head to toe, topped with a bucket hat and decorated with a large shiny belt buckle of a bucking bronc. His coal gray coat swung around him as he strutted up to Mal.

"Didn't I see you gettin' off a Firefly in the docks earlier today?"

The man's accent was a little strong, and suddenly the getup made sense. He had to be some escapee from the Core, doing his pathetic best to dress the part of rim world baddy.

"I got off one," Mal replied. "Whether you saw me doin' it or not is your business."

The man smiled, showing straight white teeth that glowed against his tan skin. He ignored Mal's gruff tone and extended a hand. "Name's Will."

Mal shook hands with a little smile that didn't reach his eyes. Something about this guy bothered him, and his hackles were up. "Smith," he lied.

"She's a real beaut. Yours?"

It took Mal a second to recall that Will was asking about his ship. "That she is," he replied.

"Ah, so it's Cap'n Smith." Will's eyes and his grin showed nothing but respect and admiration.

Mal wasn't buying it; he aped the man's accent. "That's right, Cap'n Smith." He looked over his shoulder to see what was holding up Zoë, hoping the guy would take the hint and shove off.

"How much cargo she carry?"

Mal looked back. "You got some particular cargo in mind?"

"Yer a sharp one, Cap'n Smith. S'matter of fact I do."

Mal felt a slight temptation, but it died quickly. He didn't like this guy, and he wasn't gonna go against his gut. He had enough problems for one day. "She's all hired out. Sorry."

Will gave Mal a long look. "Sure bout that? It's a betty of a job I got."

"Shame, cause we're awful busy." Mal flashed a dismissive smile, but Will either didn't pick on it or didn't care.

"You might wanna think twice."

The man's tone suddenly wasn't so light. Mal gave him an up and down look; his eyes settled on Will's sidearm, visible when the breeze blew his coat back. That was no rim world peashooter; it was a laser guided pistol, commonly used by the Alliance military. Suddenly, Mal wanted to know a bit more about this guy.

"Say, that's a nice gun you got," he said.

Will didn't look down, but he let his right hand pass over the butt of it. "Had it since the war," he said, his smile losing just a bit of its pleasantness.

"Yeah, I kind'a figured," Mal said evenly, meeting Will's stare.

"Are you sure you're too busy for a little side job? The pay is good." Funny how the accent had gone away.

"Doubt it's good enough. In fact, I'm thinkin' you can't afford my rates."

Will freshened up his smile and put his accent back on. "Now, I'm ready to overlook the color of yer coat, so why don't you just relax bout my gun. It'd be a shame to miss out on business cause of what's long past."

"There's more to a job than money," Mal held the man's eye for a long second before he turned away. Zoë had finished with the buyer, and was giving Mal a questioning look.

"War's over," Will said to Mal's back.

"But free will ain't," Mal replied without slowing down. "My ship's not for hire."

Mal joined Zoë, cutting off her questions with a small shake of his head, and they made their way back to Serenity.

Mal followed Zoë through the crates stacked in the cargo bay, and wasn't surprised when she turned to question him as soon as they reached the open space near Kaylee's mule.

"Was he Alliance?" Zoë asked.

"Used to be, probably some grunt in the war. Don't know what he is now."

"Alliance?" Kaylee asked. She was crawling over the back of the hovercraft, one arm reaching down into it. River stood nearby, covered in grease down to her bare feet and holding an array of tools in her hands.

"No worries, Kaylee. I just made a new friend is all."

"Really?" she asked with a grin.

"Yeah." Mal grinned back, running his thumbs behind the lapel of his coat. "He liked my outfit."

"Well, who wouldn't?"

Mal found that he'd much prefer talking to sunny Kaylee than worrying over some odd stranger. "How's it comin'?" he asked with a nod at the hovercraft.

"Needs a fuel line and some power cells, and then it ought'a be up n runnin'!"

"Nuh-uh," Mal said with exaggerated doubt.

"Uh-huh!" she replied with an open-mouthed grin.

"In that case, how bout we go out tomorrow and get rid of some of cash I'll have burnin' a hole in my pocket?"

"Shiny, Cap'n!"

Kaylee turned back to her work with a smile on her face, and Mal figured it was time to move on and let her do her thing. "Where'd Jayne get to?" he asked as he moved on to climb the stairs.

"Ain't seen him all day," Kaylee replied.

"Confused," River mumbled. "Looking for himself."

Mal glanced at the girl. "That's somethin' none of us need to see," he said, then started up the stairs.

Zoë followed him. "He's probably passed out in his bunk," she said.

"Get him up and out here. I want you both to watch over these folks taking the cargo."

"You don't trust them, sir?"

"Zoë, I don't trust anyone on this rock."

"Why's that?"

Mal paused on the landing, looking back at her. "Cause this place gives me the creeps. Don't it bother you?"

"None more than half the other places we do business."

"Huh." Mal shrugged like it was nothing and turned to continue on his way. "Well, no matter, let's just get what we need and move on."

He felt Zoë's stare following him through the hatch. She was seeing it, seeing that he wasn't himself. He'd never been able to fool Zoë.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
xián huà: gossip
hún dàn: bastard
diăo: penis

---

Chapter 6.

Jase sat in the dust, leaning against the old transport to stay out of the burning heat of the afternoon sun. As often happened, he was bored. If Ray had let him keep the cables he'd bought, he could be working on the transport now, instead of sitting with nothing to do but wait for the gang to take the spaceship.

He picked a smooth round stone out of the dust and set it on the back of his knuckles. Deftly, he shifted his fingers to roll the stone back and forth. Funny the things you could teach yourself, given enough idle time. And Jase had idle time a'plenty.

Nĭ shì wŏ zuì kŭ sè dī děng
Ràng wŏ huān xĭ yŏu hài pà wèi laí.

He sang softy in time with the rolling of the stone, thinking back on a day when there'd been a different voice singing the odd lilting tune..

Nĭ zuì aì shuō nĭ shì yí kē chén aī
Ŏu ěr huì è zuò jù de piaō jìn wŏ yăn lĭ.

Back when the warmth of the sun felt good, and the trees still had leaves to make music in the breezes of autumn.

Fŏng chuī laí di shā
Míng míng zaì kū qì
Nān daò zaŏ jiù yù yán liaŏ fēn lí?

Jase had long ago learned how to keep his mind removed from his life. Bad things happened when he thought too much; he acted stupid, and made Ray mad. He should know by now that everything worked better when it went Ray's way.

It was just that he got these ideas. Sometimes they seemed good, and he couldn't shut his brain down. He went and did things, like spending Ray's coin on parts so the transport would run better, just cause some pretty mechanic told him he should. But she'd been so nice, and she kept a whole spaceship flying all by herself. It had seemed like a smart thing to do at the time.

He raised his free hand to his lip, swollen from where Ray had hit him, and absentmindedly picked at the dried blood. It had never even occurred to Jase that the transport wouldn't be needed once they took the spaceship. He should have thought of it; it's not like he was stupid, not really. Guess it just proved that he shouldn't think on his own. He should do what Ray told him. That was the deal they'd made the day Jase left home: do as Ray says, Ray will be the boss from now on.

But there was an idea floating around in the back of Jase's mind now. He tried to ignore it, focusing harder on the rolling of the stone and starting his song over. He would stay by the transport, he told himself firmly, wait till Ray sent for him. Then he'd move it over to the spaceship like he was told.

A dark shape moving in the deep blue sky caught the corner of his eye. He looked up, startled, and the stone fell off his hand. Ray's leavin' me! he thought. But it wasn't a ship, it was just an old crow hoping to find something to eat.

He searched the dust again, found his stone, and picked it up. He didn't roll it this time, just held it loosely in his fingers as thoughts chased each other around his mind. Of course Ray wasn't leaving, that was a stupid thing to think. He'd send for the transport. Ray wouldn't abandon something worth money.

But the doubt ate at him, and he stared at his feet until the idea solidified and a voice he couldn't quiet spoke in his head: He don't need the transport no more. That's what he said, he don't need it once he's got the spaceship.

"He's gonna leave me here," Jase whispered. After all these years, Ray was gonna go off the world and leave him to starve.

He jumped to his feet and pried open the back hatch of the transport, then reached into a hole in the top corner of the trunk to pull out a gun. He'd taken it off a man Ray shot more than two years ago. He'd kept it hidden ever since. Every once in a while, when he had time alone, he'd take it out and feel the balance of it, line it up at targets, and sometimes he'd even empty the cartridge and try pulling the trigger. But he'd never fired it for real. There were only four bullets; he didn't want to waste any.

Ray would take it away if he knew, but Jase figured one day it'd come in handy. Someday Ray would be in a tough spot and Jase would show up and shoot down the dāizi who was making trouble. Then Ray would thank him, and pat him on the shoulder proudly. Maybe even smile like he used to.

Jase tucked the pistol in the waistband of his pants. Without bothering to close the hatch he turned and ran up the hill. His mind raced. Can't screw up. Not this time. What am I forgettin'? Can't be spotted…

He pulled a bandana out of his pocket and tied it over his head to cover his chin-length black hair and keep it out of his face. When he reached the top of the ridge, he saw Will, Ray, and Hank walking across the open ground near the ship, looking right at ease. Jase crouched and made his way down as quick as he could, moving fast because he was short enough to duck easily behind the dry brush and splintered rock.

He reached the valley floor and leaned against the twisted remains of a tree trunk. Will had disappeared through the hatch on top of the ship, and Ray and Hank were standing at the bottom of the ramp, Ray talking in a loud voice to someone inside. Jase took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. Slowly, he stood up straight and started walking toward the open bay of the ship, trying to be as calm as Ray had looked.

Also like he'd seen Ray do it, he was approaching at an angle so he couldn't be seen by anyone inside. Ray and Hank were slowly moving up the ramp, Ray continuing to talk, and by the time Jase reached the ship he could just see their boots at the top of the ramp.

Jase leaned against the outside of the entrance and pulled out his gun, waiting. It couldn't have been more than a minute before the gunfire started. He peeked into the entrance to see what was happening, then jumped onto the ramp and took aim.

.*. .*. .*.

That morning

Kaylee hadn't had a chance to go out yesterday, too busy with the hovercraft, and this was her first chance to look around. She opened the ramp to let in morning air that was still cool and fresh. Well maybe not so fresh, she thought, crinkling her nose as the smells of the rundown city wafted past.

She squinted and rubbed her hands over her face. It was still the middle of the night ship time. That was the problem with traveling so much; the sun, when they had one overhead, never agreed with ship time.

When she finished clearing the sleep from her eyes, she noticed a small building across the way. The sign over the door said in Mandarin: Hardware and Tech, Buy, Sell, Trade. Kaylee's eyes widened and she glanced back into the cargo bay. Book was at the weight bench; he'd keep on eye on things if she stepped out for a minute.

As she walked across the wide dusty lane, she noticed a man in a coal grey coat standing at the entrance to the dockyards, talking to a boy with longish black hair who had his back to her. The man was old, well, too old for her, but kind of hot anyway. Darkly tan skin and brown-black hair. His dusty black pants and shirt did nothing to hide his nice build. Very rugged and manly, she thought, especially his arms.

The man glanced up and noticed Kaylee looking at him. She gave a small wave and called out cheerfully, "Mornin'!" He smiled back, and even at the distance she could see how his dark, deep-set eyes crinkled nicely. She sighed as she pulled open the door to the shop. "Antsy, antsy, antsy," she muttered to herself.

The shop wasn't much of a shop; it didn't look like they got a lot of traffic through here. Still, she found a fuel line she could adapt to the mule, and the fuel cells were standard. They cost twice as much as they would any place that wasn't at the edge of nowhere, but that was no surprise.

Will'd been feeling more than a little annoyed about the Browncoat. Captain Smith – if that really was his name – had been downright impolite yesterday, refusing Will's offer without even hearing it out.

But Will didn't think he needed Smith's permission, and Ray had agreed. It actually made it easier; they wouldn't have to come up with a payment or do any explaining about the job. Just take the ship and do as they pleased. No time to waste though; they'd been watching for a cargo carrier ever since the mysterious Aunt Betty had slipped them info about this job, and the deadline she'd set was only a few days away.

So Will had rolled out of bed early and made his way to the landing docks, hoping he could get some facts about the Firefly and her crew. Ray had told him to bring the boy along for errand running, though it was probably more to keep Jase out of Ray's way.

When Will saw the girl come down the ramp and head toward the tech shop, he figured it was time to get some real use out of Jase.

"She's going in the shop…" Will said, but he paused when the girl smiled and said mornin' to him. He smiled back and saw her sigh. His grin broadened in satisfaction; it was good to know he still had his charm.

"You see, Jase," he continued, "she's the friendly type. She'll talk to you. Find out how many crew they have. And where they're headed. And when they're leaving. Dŏng ma?"

Jase nodded and headed for the store. Will set off the other way; he had errands to run.

Kaylee heard someone come in the door and pick at a bin nearby; it was the boy she'd seen talking to the good-looking man outside. The kid was awful cute himself, though small and slight. Too young, she thought sadly, but he'd sure make some girl real happy in few years.

She gathered the parts for the mule near the checkout and wandered around one more time to check for the grav drive servo. Didn't seem much of a chance of finding it here, but she had to look.

"Uh, scuse me, miss?"

Kaylee turned and found herself staring into slightly slanted dark green eyes that looked distant, like he was thinking about something else. It was a little disturbing, but kind of intriguing too. Really was a shame he was so young.

"D'you know anything bout Kensai transports?" he asked.

"I might." She smiled. "What model?"

"I dunno," he admitted with a shrug.

"How many cylinders?" He gave her a blank look, so she asked. "You know the big silver things in the middle of the engine?"

"Oh. Four."

"How many exhaust ports?"

"One." He seemed happy to know that one right off.

"What's the problem with it?"

"Well," he tilted his head and tucked his black hair behind his ear "it's all sputtery when it starts."

"Then after maybe ten minutes it runs fine?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"And you ain't had her checked out in a while, huh?" Kaylee said. She added a grin and a roll of her eyes – wouldn't hurt none to flirt a little.

"Nah. Can't get stuff checked round here. Gotta do it all myself." He smiled too, but looked a little embarrassed. "I don't really know what I'm doin'."

"Come on," Kaylee said with a small toss of her head, and she led him across the shop. "What you need is a new set of cables, probably a new filter too." She handed the cables over to him. "These should do it. And get yourself something to clean the connections if it's been awhile." He gave her a confused look. "Soda," she suggested.

"You sure know a lot," he said shyly, carrying the stuff she'd handed him up to the counter.

"Well." Kaylee couldn't help but brag to the boy. He was so cute, and shy too. She liked that. "I do work on a spaceship." She gave a falsely modest shrug.

"Really?"

"Yep. Keep her in the Black all by myself."

"So what're you shoppin' for?"

"Well, we got some problems with the grav drive."

He handed his coin over to the shop owner. "Grav drive?"

"It makes the artificial gravity, for one." At his confused look, Kaylee explained. "When you're in space, there ain't no 'up'. So you need artificial grav to make up stay up and down stay down. It also keeps ya from gettin' slammed into walls when you change direction real quick." He still looked a little confused. "Well, never mind. Don't matter nohow." She sighed. "They ain't got our part here, guess we'll just have to stay on the world for a while till we find somethin'."

"Oh." He looked away from her, like he was bothered. Then he gathered up his cables and stepped away from the counter, nodding at her to follow.

He stopped halfway to the door, then leaned toward her and spoke quietly. "There's a lady, outside town. She's got all kinds of stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, crazy old lady," he smiled. "Nice though, always makes tea and talks a lot. But she loves machines. Got all kinds of em. It's where Ray sends me when we need tech."

"Ray?"

He shook his head. "Don't matter. Just go see her. Name's Xiaojun. She'll sell stuff cheap, if you'll just let her talk at ya for a bit. Here's how to find her…" He explained the location. There was a dry riverbed that would lead real close; it didn't seem hard to get to.

"Wow." Kaylee felt a little overwhelmed. Also belatedly cautious. Just who was this kid anyway? "So… what was your name?"

He hesitated. "Um – "

The door slammed open and a familiar voice boomed. "Kaylee! There you are. What in the hell are you doin'?" Kaylee cringed a little, and noticed that the boy looked more alarmed than she did. She turned toward the hulking shadow in the door.

"I'm just shoppin', Cap'n."

Mal walked in and grabbed her arm. "By yourself? Without tellin' anyone where you're goin'?"

"It was just right across the – "

"I ought'a tan your hide, young lady." Kaylee might have laughed at that, but Mal was only half kidding. He turned and pulled her out the door.

As she left, Kaylee noticed that the boy had disappeared already.

.*. .*. .*.

Will went to find Hank first. He saw him through the front window of the deserted house Hank had been staying in the past few weeks. Hank's coarse beard was hanging down over his bare chest, his legs were in a deep lunge and arms extended in some kind of pose. Will recognized the exercise; it was that T'ai Chi crap he'd been forced to do in military training. Will didn't think much of this meditation pì huà, and he didn't hesitate to push the door open and interrupt.

"Hank, get your stuff together. The big job is going down today and we're leaving this rock, for good. No questions. Just meet at Ray's at noon."

Hank agreed with a nod, and Will went on his way. Hank may be nuts, but he was easy to deal with.

His next stop was Ginger's, and he'd figured it'd take a bit longer. Though they'd been working together, and more, for a long time, he hadn't filled her in about the job yet. Ginger had never cared much for details.

He found her at breakfast. She poured him coffee while he told her about the job and ship, and how she needed to gather everything she wanted to take with her off world. She didn't seem either surprised or excited at the news, nor was she upset that he hadn't told her until the last minute. That was part of why he liked her – nothing was ever a big deal.

"You're sayin' we're gonna be stealin' some ship and travelin' a long way?" was the only question she asked about the plan.

"That's it."

"Seems like we won't have no private time for a while."

He grinned, because he knew what she was thinking. "Probably not," he said.

She got up from her chair and walked around the table. He let her pull him to his feet and shove him against the wall.

"Best prepare then," she said.

"We don't have a lot of time," he warned her, but he didn't stop her hands on his belt buckle.

"Since when'd I ever need a lot of time, Will?"

She didn't, and he didn't mind.

Will's last stop was a shabby shack on the edge of what used to be the industrial district, back when there was industry. Ray could have chosen a much nicer place to call his own, but he was big on privacy, saying he needed a place to do business out of the eyes of the Cartels, even though he actually worked for one. Well, he had worked for one until today.

Will heard Ray's raised voice before he opened the front door, and he paused to look through the passage to the back room that made do for a kitchen. All he could see was Jase on the floor against the back wall, his face blank as he swiped at blood on the corner of his mouth. Ray's voice carried down the hall.

"If I wanted this stuff I'd coulda gotten it for half the price. And what are you doin' buyin' parts anyhow?"

"It'll fix the start-up prob– " Jase said.

Ray cut him off. "You think we got money to spare for gorram parts? The transport runs good enough for what we need!"

"But – "

"Didn't I tell you we're gettin' a ship? Why waste coin on a transport we won't be needin'? Stupid gorram fool. When are you gonna do as you're told, and quit screwin' things up?"

Will started down the hall. Ray was level headed most of the time, but he didn't have a bit of sense when it came to this kid. Will found it entertaining some days, but not this one. There was too much riding on getting this ship.

Will cleared his throat as he entered the room. "Ray," he said tersely.

Ray spun around, hand on his gun, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Tell me you got some good news," he said.

"Hank and Ginger should be here in a few. And we have intel on the ship."

"What'd you find out?"

Will nodded to Jase. "Boy here can tell you. He talked to one of their crew."

Jase slowly climbed to his feet, but didn't say anything.

"Well?" Ray demanded.

"She was just lookin' for parts," Jase said softly.

"She?"

Jase blushed and looked at the floor.

"Yeah," Will said. "She. Real cutie too. Are you sweet on her, Jase?"

When Jase didn't answer, Ray stepped closer to him and asked in a low voice, "What parts was she buyin'?"

"Something about a grav drive, about up bein' up."

"You ask her about the rest of the crew?"

"No."

"You know where they're headin'?"

Jase hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

Ray grabbed the boy by his shirt front, towering over him. "You never have been smart, and you can't lie worth shit. Now you tell me where they're headed."

"I told her about Xiaojun," Jase admitted, then he cringed at the rage that erupted in Ray's eyes.

"Explain to me why you told her that, and don't you even try to lie."

"She was nice. I wanted to help her."

Ray tightened his grip for a second. "Nice?" he asked, but then he let go and stepped back, shaking his head. "Idiot," he muttered. "You wouldn't make it five minutes in this world on your own."

"But she was all kinds a'helpful bout the transport, knew all kinds a' stuff. Seemed real jīng căi bout her spaceship too – "

Ray spun and his right fist set the boy on the ground again. "Don't you ever speak that crap around me," he spat.

Will sighed impatiently. "Half the verse speaks Chinese, Ray."

"He don't," Ray replied. He shook out his hand and turned to pace across the kitchen. "Now what do we do?"

"What do we do?" Will leaned against the doorway. "Jase actually did us a favor – we should be thanking him. Think about it; that Firefly is going to fly out into the middle of the desert. We get out there before them, see where they land, and then walk right in and take it. They won't be expecting an attack out there, and we'll have no worries about being quiet or avoiding dock security."

Ray looked at Will a second, then turned back to Jase. He didn't seem to be in much of a mood to express gratitude; roughly he hauled the boy to his feet. "You go to that shop and get my money back, and then wait by the transport. And stay out of my sight till we're ready to go. Got it?"

Jase nodded. Ray let go of him and the boy gathered the cables from a rickety table and left.

Will waited until the door closed, then he glanced sidelong at Ray. "Someday that boy's gonna hit back."

"No, he won't," Ray replied, with not a doubt in his voice.

.*. .*. .*.

Once he got back on Serenity, Mal calmed down enough to let Kaylee explain. He didn't like her description of the boy she'd met in the shop, but when she told him she'd found what she needed to finish the mule, he took her back over to buy the fuel line and power cells.

After that, they took Zoë and spent an hour walking around town. There weren't many tech shops, and nothing had more goods than the shop in the dockyard.

Turned out that Mal was glad he'd brought Zoë and her scary carbine along; it wasn't a good place to be wearing his coat. Apparently word of him had spread since the night before, and folks didn't look at him too friendly. They weren't discreet with their comments either. It appeared that the people here didn't properly appreciate their freedom from the strong arm of the Alliance, and they weren't real fond of the color brown.

.*. .*. .*.

When they returned to Serenity, Mal disappeared upstairs. Kaylee got right to work installing the new fuel line, ignoring the summons for lunch. River helped her for a while, but then said she was tired of thinking so much. Book sat beside the girl as she curled up in the common room outside the infirmary, keeping her company while she rested.

An hour after lunch, Simon stepped through the hatch into the bay. Kaylee didn't notice at first, all her attention was focused on the hovercraft. He smiled as he watched her, recognizing the air of tired satisfaction that surrounded her as she set down her tools and stood back to inspect her work. When she set about releasing the chains that held the craft in place, he stepped forward and laid a hand on the hovercraft.

"Hey, Simon!" Kaylee called when she saw him.

"How is it?" he asked, then lifted his hand and wiped at the dirt on his fingers.

"Ready to try out!"

"You might want to wait a few – " Simon was interrupted when Serenity lurched slightly under their feet. Kaylee looked at Simon in surprise.

"We goin' someplace?" she asked.

He nodded. "Actually, I came down to tell you – Mal decided. We're going to find the mysterious Xiaojun. It should only take a few minutes to get there. Wash will get us close, than Mal will take you over in a shuttle."

"Can't we just land right there?"

"The captain's feeling a little… apprehensive."

Kaylee nodded. She'd noticed Mal's 'apprehensive' attitude, especially this morning. It wasn't like him to get so upset over her stepping outside for a few minutes. But it was worth it – the mule was ready to go.

"We'd be less conspicuous if we took this, don'cha think?" She patted it proudly.

"You mean it's…"

Kaylee smiled brightly as she unhooked the last chain and jumped into the driver's set. When she hit the ignition, the craft fired up with a satisfying roar, but she didn't notice the cloud of black smoke that billowed out the back of it. A slight nudge of the controls had it lifting a few feet off the deck, then Simon jumped out of the way as she steered it into the center of the bay.

"Oh, sorry!" Kaylee yelled with a grin, "I ain't so good at drivin'." Then she broke into a hoarse coughing fit.

"Um, Kaylee?" Simon said with a few coughs of his own. Kaylee looked around and realized why her throat was burning. She lowered the mule to the deck and shut it off as quick as she could, then she and Simon stumbled to the front of the bay to try to get out of the smoke cloud.

It was less than a minute before the ship landed, and Simon immediately had the cargo bay doors open. Kaylee ran up the stairs, shouting about opening the top hatch. Simon was about to walk out into the dusty but smoke-free air when he heard River call to him.

"Simon, wait!" She was jogging out from the common room, Book following her.

"River, come on," Simon said, extending his hand to her, intending to pull her outside with him.

"No! Come with me!" Without surprising tenacity she pulled him up the stairs next to the open bay door.

"River, we should go outside – "

"Dirtier there," she said with a wild distressed look.

"It's just desert, mèi mei."

She stopped and turned back to him. "Not wholesome!" she insisted, then she yanked his arm, leading him along the catwalk directly over the ship's entrance.

"River – "

"They're twisted!" She sank to her knees and grasped the railing tight with her free hand. "All wrong. Not healthy!"

Normally, Kaylee tried not to notice the hatch near the crew quarters. It was the one Jubal Early had used to get onto the ship, and she didn't like remembering that. But at the moment she was too flustered to get jittery about past events. If Mal had gotten mad about her leaving the ship without telling anyone, he was gonna be so mad about this!

Sure enough, his voice carried down from the bridge. "Kaylee, what in the seven hells is that smell?"

Kaylee peeked around the corner to see the man himself following his voice down the stairs. "Um – smoke?" she said in a small voice.

"Did you set my gorram ship on fire?" he asked, coming to a stop right in front of her, towering over her a bit.

Kaylee couldn't help cowering back. "No! Just… the new mule."

"You burned my mule?" Jayne asked. He was just coming up from his bunk, Vera slung over his shoulder.

"Not burned, 'xactly," she replied to Jayne, then looked at the captain again. "I kind'a forgot to check the new fuel line, must've had some gunk in it. I was in such a hurry – I wanted to have it ready…" she broke off with a cough.

.*. .*. .*.

Mal glanced at the open hatch – it was pulling all the smoky air up through the ship. This was no disaster. He held off on a lecture and shooed Kaylee down the stairs and across the cargo bay.

"Captain, wait!" River's shrill voice sounded from over his head as he neared the open bay doors.

Mal paused, looking up at River and Simon on the catwalk over the open door. Simon was holding a handkerchief over his mouth with one hand and trying to pry River's hand off the railing with the other.

"River, wouldn't you rather breathe clean air?" Simon asked, then he dropped the handkerchief so he could use both hands to try to break her grip.

"No!" She was tense with annoyance, and didn't look at Simon as she insisted, "Smoke is cleaner than rot!"

"Simon, you two okay up there?" Mal asked.

"Um, yes, we're just fine."

River leaned forward to look at Mal. "All dust," she said, still agitated. "Empty time eats up souls, twists them and spits them back out. Bad!"

Mal felt a little shiver run up his spine; he'd learned to respect River's ravings. He looked outside uneasily. Zoë and Wash had just passed by to join Kaylee, Jayne, and Book. "Simon, ship's airin' out already, you just keep River where she wants to be, okay?"

"Sure, Captain." Simon let go of River's hands and Mal started out, but then Simon called after him, "Mal?"

"Yeah?"

"Take it easy on Kaylee."

Mal gave Simon a tight-lipped stare before he joined the rest of the crew. He went to Kaylee first; the poor thing looked like she expected a whack to the side of the head.

"Come here, Kaylee," he said firmly. She did, looking dejected enough to break a heart harder than his. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the others.

"So does it work?" he asked.

"Wha'?"

"That fancy hover mule thing that stank up my ship – is it runnin'?"

Kaylee's face lit with a little hope. "Yeah," she said. "Real smooth." Then her face fell. "Except for the smoke thing. That should just burn off though, I'm sorry bout – "

"It seems we got lots a' breezes hereabouts to clear things out, so don't you fret. Let's go get your parts for the grav drive while Serenity airs, then you can fix her up and we'll be on our way and no harm done."

Kaylee's face brightened all the way and she hugged his waist. "Thanks Cap. You are nice."

He returned her hug with one arm. "Don't go tellin' nobody that, you'll ruin my reputation. After all the years of bein' grumpy I put into it, too."

At a word from Mal, Wash went back into the ship to grab a few comm units and bring the mule out. Then Mal nodded to Zoë and the two of them stepped away from the rest.

"Kaylee says the mule can take four," Mal told her. "I'm sending two gunhands along with her and Wash."

"You think you need to?"

Mal looked at his feet. "River had some words to say about things hereabouts."

"What exactly?"

He shrugged, trying to be casual about planning a job based on a teenager's ravings. "Oh, somethin' about dust and twisted souls and somesuch."

Zoë didn't laugh; she looked around the stony valley, at the wind blowing between shattered pieces of rock and the remains of dead bushes and trees. "Ain't the nicest place we been to."

"Zoë, I'm feelin' a mite uneasy myself."

"Why is that? Sir?" She tried to hide it, but her look was a little dubious.

Mal gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Can't say for sure. Maybe it's that kid who talked to Kaylee… or this Xiaojun woman, why'd anyone have a tech shop out here?"

"We can't keep flyin' without a grav drive we can trust."

"No, we can't," Mal agreed. He took a deep breath and scratched his head, not sure what else to say.

Zoë took a deep breath and turned to face him square. "Cap'n, don't take this the wrong way – "

"Lotta women in my life tellin' me that lately," he muttered.

" – but you've had a tendency to worry overmuch. Since Oeneus."

Mal looked away from her, but he nodded. "I know it." When he looked back, she was watching him closely. He held her stare.

"I got a bad feelin', Zoë."

Her dubious look disappeared. "No harm in tryin' someplace else, sir. There're other towns."

Mal didn't answer for a bit, just turned away to think. It relieved him that Zoë took him seriously, but he had to admit he wasn't so sure himself. Gorram, he hated being all skittish. Wasn't like they'd never faced bad odds before, or scary unknowns. That was just life on the rim, and he'd never had such a problem with it before.

Mal sighed. He had to cut this out and take care of business. First things first: fix the ship.

"No," he decided. "Let's get it done. We been lucky with the grav drive holdin' out this long, and luck don't ever last. But two gunhands'll go. I ain't leavin' Jayne alone with the ship, so it'll have to be you that stays."

They turned at a roar inside the ship and watched Wash pull the slightly smoky hovercraft out of the bay. He left it idling while Book, Jayne and Kaylee climbed on to look it over. Kaylee took the front seat, standing up and gesturing as she described her plans to fancy it up. Jayne reclined in the back with his feet up, looking every bit like a proud new owner. All he was missing was a cigar.

Mal smiled. It was an impressive vehicle. Jayne and Kaylee had done good.

"Sir," Zoë interrupted his thoughts. "I'm thinkin' that a tech expert on a world that owes what well-bein' it has to the business of the Alliance might not be the best place for you to visit, dressed like ya are."

Mal looked down at himself. "What, am I behind on the season's trends?"

Zoë half-smiled. "I'm just sayin', you already made the worst dressed list in town."

"So now you're embarrassed to be seen with me?" Mal asked with a hurt tone.

"Sir. You're the one the Alliance is lookin' for these days, and you pay me and Jayne for a reason." She gave him the I-plan-on-arguin' look that she saved for the most special of occasions.

Mal frowned and looked back at the mule. He really didn't like the idea of letting his people out of his sight. Hell of a mechanic, and hell of a pilot. Not a bad merc either, all things considered. He'd hate for anything to happen to them. But Zoë had a point. And, truth be told, he was in such a state as to overreact to things. He wasn't sure if he could count on himself to keep his calm.

He turned back to Zoë. Hell of a first mate.

"I honestly don't know what's got my back up, but you be careful, all right?"

"Always am."

He gave her an appraising look and nodded. "Yeah, you are."

Mal continued to hold her eye for a second, then turned to walk toward the mule, yelling over the engine, "All right kids, Daddy's gonna stay home. Aunt Zoë and Uncle Jayne got guard duty. Wash, you're drivin', Kaylee, you're shoppin'." He tossed his leather coin purse to Kaylee. "Buy only what you need," he told her firmly.

"Course Cap'n." Kaylee grinned at him, unruffled by his gruffness.

Book climbed down from the hovercraft and Zoë took his place while Mal continued his instructions. "Zoë, Jayne, you both got comms. Use em if you get in any trouble, or if the mule breaks down, or you see anything that ain't right."

"Don't worry," Wash replied. "We'll be home by midnight and I swear there won't be any drugs or sex. Mostly because we have no drugs and no one could possibly be into sex while they can smell Jayne."

"Hey!" Jayne complained. "I smell like a real man is all. You should try it."

"You smell like stale beer and vomit."

Jayne looked at Kaylee, who was too polite to agree and too artless to disagree, and settled on giving him a neutral shrug.

"Just be careful," Mal said. "And Kaylee?"

"Huh?"

"Nice mule."

Kaylee's smile rivaled the sun, but Jayne whined, "That's right, don't bother thankin' me none."

Wash hit the throttle and the hovercraft pulled away, kicking up a cloud of yellow dust. Mal and Book watched until the mule cleared the horizon, swerving side to side as Wash tested out the handling.

Mal's uneasy feeling settled over him again as the sound of the mule faded away. Something had his neck prickling, that's for gorram sure. He scanned the empty hillside one more time before he turned back to the ship.

"Everything all right, Captain?" Book asked as they walked up the ramp.

"Got a bad feelin' is all. Happens a lot these days."

"You sent them well armed. I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Yeah."

Once he was inside the ship, Mal looked up to the catwalk where Simon was still comforting a distressed River.

"Dust of dead trees and bones," she said sadly. "Not green anymore. No apples. No singing."

"She all right, Doc?" Mal asked.

River's eyes were unfocused. "It's all dead. Have to get out." Her voice rose. "Pick up the sparkly rocks and go!"

"I'm sorry, Captain," Simon said. "It's… I've been reducing her medication, and I guess I took it too far. But I just gave her an injection; it should take effect soon."

"It's all right, Simon, ain't no one gonna hear her out here. She's been walkin' the sane line for some time now, might help to let her have some crazy time."

"Do you need any help son?" Book offered.

"No, we'll be all right, won't we, mèi mei?" Simon turned back to River. He touched her shoulder and she sat up straight, and her eyes hardened as she stared down at Mal.

"I can shoot," she said, her voice suddenly distant but coldly confident. "All I need is a target and a gun worthy of me."

The lack of emotion in her voice sent another chill up Mal's spine. Judging from Simon's face, it had a similar effect on him.

"River, that's not what we…" Simon glanced down at Mal and didn't finish his sentence.

Mal noticed Simon's look. "Doctor, after we get out'a here we are gonna have a talk about what you've been up to with her."

"Really, Captain, I don't know where this is coming from. I've been working on helping her control what she senses, but…" Simon turned back to River, his face full of concern and confusion as her stern manner crumbled and she dissolved into tears.

"They're bad. Mean. I'm afraid," she said quietly.

Mal clenched his jaw hard enough to make a face. Every moment they spent on this dead world increased his discomfort, and River acting up certainly didn't help. "Let her have her crazy time," he told Simon, "but you make sure it don't involve guns or knives, dŏng ma?"

Simon stayed focused on River, but he nodded in response.

"I'll just go up and see to lunch," Book told Mal softly.

"Thank you, Shepherd."

Mal cast one more look at River, then he went to the control board near the aft hatch and set the comm to broadcast in the bay, just in case Zoë or Jayne waved. He wanted to stay where he could keep an eye on River.

In her hurry to finish the mule, Kaylee had uncharacteristically left her tools on the cargo bay floor. Mal went about gathering them into her toolbox, grateful to have something to busy himself while he waited. But the knot in his gut tightened, and he kept pausing to glance up at the Tams on the catwalk, or out the bay doors where the bright sunlight was caught in sworls of dust.

He tried to talk himself down. So he'd acted on the word of a stranger, big deal. It'd just been some kid trying to impress Kaylee. And as for visiting an unknown mechanic in the desert – Zoë and Jayne had walked into much worse situations. They weren't stupid, they weren't weak, and they weren't unarmed. They'd be able to handle it.

But all his reasoning didn't make him feel any better. Mal berated himself; he had to stop worrying over his crew like this. Zoë was right, it was that crap from Oeneus, echoing in his head. He'd never be able to get a thing done if he didn't get over all this gorram fretting.

He was picking up the last of Kaylee's tools when the prickles on his neck and the jitters in his belly came together as a twinge in the center of his back, and right then he knew that he'd made a mistake. And it was a big one. The trouble he'd felt coming wasn't at Xiaojun's; it was right here.

He turned to see two dark shapes standing at the bottom of the ramp.

.*. .*. .*.

Translations
dāi zi: fool
pì huà: nonsense
dŏng ma: understand?
jīng căi: brilliant
mèi mei: little sister

Nĭ shì wŏ zuì kŭ sè dī děng dài
Ràng wŏ huān xĭ yŏu hài pà wèi laí.
Nĭ zuì aì shuō nĭ shì yí kē chén aī
Ŏu ěr huì è zuò jù de piaō jìn wŏ yăn lĭ.
Fŏng chuī laí di shā
Míng míng zaì kū qì
Nān daò zaŏ jiù yù yán liaŏ fēn lí?

Waiting for you is the most painful time.
You make me happy and also scared
You said you are a little dust
That accidentally flies into my eyes.
The sand that is blown by the wind
Is crying in the dark
Isn't that the sign of separation?
- from Kū shā (Crying Sand) by Tracy Huang