Hello. Iverik here. Just a reminder: This story uses characters created by someone other than me.
Facing the Black
Mal and Zoe stared down their former mercenary. Jayne squirmed. "Jus' somethin' Moonbrain used ta say," he grumbled, "two by two, han's of blue. She was repeatin' it real loud on Ariel, when all th' screamin' started."
"Screaming?" Mal frowned. "I don't recall you mentionin' that anytime."
"Blood-curdlin'." Jayne shivered.
"I do remember that there were several murders at the hospital after we left," Zoe remarked, "mostly Alliance staff. I thought it was just propo to make the Tams look terrifying."
Mal blew out a long breath. "Could be both. Anyway, we now have a situation. 'ts possible that these people could recognize Jayne from that incident, and then we'd be in a world of trouble. Ain't none of us gonna go near those people, understood?" There was a chorus of "aye captain"s. "Now, supposin' we go get cozy with our squad-mates 'fore our glorious saviors get curious as to what we are doin'?"
As they left the shelter of the shield conduit's hum, Jayne peeled off, muttering his rax number under his breath. Mal and Zoe strode down the hall, ignoring the looks of the soldiers marching past. They reached their rax with no trouble.
As soon as they entered, all conversation ceased. Two men and a woman looked back at them with mistrustful eyes. "Howdy," Mal called cheerfully. They made no reply.
"I'm guessing they're not the friendly sort, sir." "Mm." Pretending to ignore the hostile stares, the browncoats sat on their respective bunks.
Mal popped open his supply kit. The first thing he noticed was the raincoat (a necessity on Bisphon though not exactly for the obvious reason). In most respects, it was standard issue Alliance. The main difference was its color: a dark brown.
The Alliance soldiers saw. Two of them, a muscular, grizzled fellow and the woman, laughed. "Pretty fitting, I would say," the man said. The woman subsided to a smirk.
"Is this your idea of a joke?" Mal glared at the man, ignoring the fact that he was at least fifty pounds of muscle too shy to have a fair fight.
"Naw. Cap'n just wants to keep an eye on you two." The man yanked out his own raincoat: a light grey. He grinned. "Just in case you try something."
"Not really my color," Zoe remarked dryly, draping it around her shoulders, "but if that's what your Captain wants."
Mal forced himself to smile affably. It didn't quite work.
"Well," said the third man, "if we're going to be squad-mates, then I suppose we should get introduced." He stuck out his hand. "Paul Wun." When neither of his fellows stirred, he thumbed over his shoulder. "That's Aria and Killer."
"Malcolm Reynolds."
"Zoe Washburne."
"Malcolm Reynolds?" Killer frowned. "That name's familiar."
Gorram, Mal thought, I sure hope not. Externally, he just smiled. Just then, a familiar head of yellow hair popped through the door.
"Hi!" Wash said.