Chapter 4

The shuttle jolted as the larger ship came alongside. In the cabin, Mal was tearing panels of steel grating from the ceiling. Hatton, still propped up against the bulkhead, stared blankly at the airlock door.

"Hey!" Mal shouted, dropping another panel, "Hey! Get up! We've only got a few minutes."

Hatton looked up at him.

"What's the use?" he mumbled.

Mal stalked over. He grabbing Hatton and hauled him to his feet.

"I am not going without a fight!" he snarled in Hatton's face, "Now you're gonna help me put up this barricade or, I swear, I will use my last bullet on myself and leave you for the gorram Reavers!"

He gave a Hatton a shove. He stumbled, steadying himself against the bulkhead.

"You're crazy…" Hatton whimpered.

"I've heard that before," Mal replied with a shrug.

They just had time to gather the panels into a mound before they heard a 'pop': the airlock had been forced from the outside. Mal crouched as low as he could behind the panels. He had drawn his pistol, the only firearm aboard, but he had no extra rounds. Hatton wielded the largest wrench from the shuttle's toolbox. Mal doubted that they would stop more than one or two Reavers before they were overrun, and then he would be forced to kill both Hatton and himself. Despite his threat, he would never dream of leaving Hatton to the Reavers. No one deserved that; not even Hatton.

Shooting Hatton would not be hard, but what about himself? Could he do it, Mal wondered; could he really turn a gun on himself? He had shot more men than he could remember, but the thought of suicide had never occurred to him. Even after the war, he had not been tempted to lie back and let it all drift away. The desire to live, to carry on in spite of everything else, had always been a little stronger. Could he overcome it now, faced with an unspeakably cruel death?

The airlock door slid back with a screech. Mal peered over the panels but he could see nothing in the smoke and shadows. The thin red finger of a laser sight appeared above his head. Mal ducked instinctively. His finger pulled back the hammer of his pistol.

He paused. Reavers did not use laser sights.

"Who's there?" he called, still keeping his head well down.

"Cap'n?"

Mal raised his head. Figures materialised out of the smoke, condensing into the solid shapes of Jayne and Zoe. They were both heavily armed.

Mal leapt over the barricade with a whoop of joy. He swept Zoe up into a hug and was within an inch of hugging Jayne too before their eyes met.

"You okay, sir?" Zoe asked.

"Just a few bumps and bruises," said Mal, making a show of brushing himself down, hoping to recover a little dignity.

"What's he doing here?" Jayne asked, gesturing to Hatton, who was still crouching behind the barricade.

"He came along for the ride," said Mal, his manner deliberately offhand.

"But…"

"It doesn't matter. How'd you find us?"

"Well, we saw the trick with the shuttles and figured it had to be you," said Zoe, leading them through the airlock and back aboard Serenity, "At first we thought we'd lost you for good: the explosion tossed both you and the Reavers through a dust cloud. We could have combed the nebula for years and never caught sight of you. But, well…"

They stepped into the dining area. The first thing that Mal noticed was that the table was covered with bits of paper; old technical drawings, newspapers, a piece of wallpaper. Someone had scrawled mathematical equations all over them in thick, black pencil. When they had run out of paper, they had started writing on the deck. They had worked their way across the room, up the walls and down again, around the table and almost into the aft corridor. At the very end of the trail he found River, drawing crude pictures of cats and flowers on the deck with the stub of a pencil.

"Soon as your shuttle vanished into that cloud she ran in here and started writin'," Zoe explained, "Wouldn't listen to anybody for the best part of half an hour. Then she jumped up and handed Wash a note with a new heading on it. We put the ship about. An hour later and… there you were."

"I've tried to follow her working," said Simon, who was standing over River and watching her draw, "It's pretty standard notation until she reaches the wall, although far more advanced than anything I ever covered in high school. But then… I've never seen a system like it. I think she made it up herself."

Mal looked more closely at the equations on the wall. He had never studied beyond basic arithmetic but he knew that mathematics should include numbers somewhere or, if you were very strange, letters. These had few of either. Strange glyphs or runes had taken their place. One section was just a series of vertical dashes at changing intervals. Another was so small and intricate that Mal was sure that you would need a magnifying glass to follow it correctly. The effect was almost mystical. It was a language to capture the inexpressible.

Mal tore himself away from the equations and turned back to Zoe. There were more pressing problems.

"Where's the rest of the convoy?"

"Gone," said Zoe with a shrug, "The Hunters ran for it as soon as your shuttle hit the Reavers. The rest of them followed. They could be anywhere by now."

"Can you get us back on course?" Mal asked Hatton. Hatton, who had been staring dumbfounded at River's equations, looked up.

"Yes… yes, I think so. The nebula's really not that difficult to navigate. We just put it about so…"

"Save it," Mal snapped. He did not need to deal with the drama that would inevitably follow were his crew to learn the truth about Hatton. He doubted Jayne would take the deception kindly and was liable to express displeasure with a blade.

"Come with me," he ordered Hatton, guiding him up to the bridge.

"Good to see you, cap'n," said Wash, although he did not turn around. His focus was on the surrounding clouds. They were thicker here and a darker gold, almost the colour of bronze.

"Seen anything?" Mal asked.

"Not a thing," Wash replied, "Someone could fly two hundred metres past us and we wouldn't see them."

Mal kept watch while Hatton showed Wash how to return to their original course. From what Mal understood of their jargon, it appeared that it was possible to shave a few days off their journey. The Hunters had discovered other lightly irradiated flight paths that were considerably shorter than the one they led the convoys by. A longer journey allowed them to charge more for their services, Mal reflected angrily.

Mal's thoughts turned from anger against Hatton to the problem of what he would do with him if they escaped the Dark Woods. Kicking him out the airlock had its appeal but Mal was not quite that cold yet, whatever his reputation might say. Turning him over to the law was out of the question with River and Simon aboard. That only left letting him go, which could be dangerous. Alone and faced with death Hatton was hardly formidable but with his gang of supposed-Hunters at his back he could become a considerable threat. Mal doubted that they would let someone who knew the truth behind their scheme just fly away.

"Alright," said Wash, "We're all set. I'll just turn us around and then…"

A dark mass had appeared in the clouds ahead, a little to port. It was growing larger and darker every second. Wash seized the wheel and swung Serenity to starboard. Her whole frame jerked right as the Reaver ship, trailing streams of dark smoke, burst from the cloud. It hurtled past Serenity, passing so close to the bridge window that Mal could see the individual rivets on her dark hull.

"A trap!" Hatton moaned.

"Yeah, and our shuttle was the bait," said Mal, "Wash, get us out of here!"

"You don't need to tell me!" Wash replied, pushing Serenity to her top speed.

Mal turned from the bridge and sprinted back to the galley. Zoe and the other crewmembers looked up curiously as he entered.

"Reavers! Get to your places!" Mal shouted as he barged past. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it up against the aft wall of the dining area. By standing on it he could see through the window above the aft door. Serenity had gained some distance while the Reavers came about but now the Reavers were directly in her wake. The collision with the shuttle had shredded their prow, severing most of the tentacle-like cables, but their ship was clearly spaceworthy. Worse still, it was gaining on them. Mal estimated that they had about fifteen minutes before contact.

"They're coming up on us fast, Wash," he said as he stepped back onto the bridge, "Don't reckon we can outrun them."

"You got a plan?" asked Wash, arms straining with the effort of piloting Serenity at such a high speed.

"Of sorts. If we're gonna get boarded, might as well be on our terms. Keep flyin' as straight as you can. When she latches hold, I want them to come through the airlock and into the hold."

"Where you'll be waiting to roll out the welcome wagon?"

"Oh yes."

Mal turned to where Hatton was sat on the co-pilot's chair, head in hands. Mal grabbed his shoulder and forced him to his feet.

"W-what do you want?" said Hatton.

"I want you to act like a man for once in your gorram life!" said Mal, pushing him towards the stairs and down to the hold. There they found Jayne, Zoe and Book laying out weapons behind the makeshift barricade of cargo containers, empty barrels and other assorted junk.

"They're boarding us," Mal announced as he and Hatton descended from the catwalk to the deck, "We can't outrun 'em. Shepherd, go get the others, Inara and River too. We're gonna need every pair o' hands on this boat."

Mal and Hatton joined Zoe and Jayne in emptying the armoury. A minute later, Book returned with Kaylee, Simon, Wash and Inara.

"I've given River a sedative," Simon explained, "She was becoming hysterical with the Reavers so close. She's in the infirmary. If things should go bad…"

"We won't leave her for them," Mal reassured him. He turned to address the rest of the crew:

"We're gonna get boarded. Our only hope now is to hold 'em here. Reavers ain't dumb but they are savage. They'll come chargin' through that airlock and try to get at the first piece of meat they see: us. If we throw enough lead at them, chances are they'll fall back. Like I said, they ain't dumb. They won't stick around for a fight they can't win.

"I won't lie to you. Our chances ain't good. Our weapons ain't the most impressive an' we can't risk using grenades in such a close space. They're sure to outnumber us. They don't feel fear or pain like normal men. And they don't feel mercy either. If we're overrun, you save your last bullet for yourself."

Mal looked around. The faces of his crew were very pale. Mal made sure to hold their gaze in turn, forcing himself to appear calm and resolute. He saw the same resolution reflected back at him, even in Kaylee, who was trembling gently. The only one who looked truly terrified was Hatton. His eyes were wild and his cheeks had become tinged with green. Mal felt no pity for him; only contempt.

"We'll divide into pairs: a shooter and loader," he continued, trying not to look at Hatton, "Kaylee, Shepherd, Inara, you three are loaders: same for you, Hatton. Me, Zoe, Jayne and Wash will be shooters. Shooters stay at the barricade. Loaders stand behind, take their empty weapons and hand them loaded ones. Doc', I need you on standby if anyone goes down, understand? Just drag them to the back and keep them from bleeding to death, that's all. Got it?"

Everyone nodded. Mal felt a sudden flush of pride. He knew, with the gut instinct of an old solider, that they would stand and fight when the airlock opened, every one of them.

They took their places, crouched behind the barricade. The loading team had the weapons laid out in neat rows beside the boxes of bullets and spare cartridges. Zoe and Mal both selected rifles to begin with, hoping to pick off a few Reavers as the doors opened. Jayne cradled his beloved Vera. He rarely had the opportunity to fire her in anger. Mal hoped that she was everything Jayne claimed she was.

Serenity gave a violent jolt that nearly toppled the barricade onto the crew. From the far side of the door they could hear the clanging, screeching sounds of two unfamiliar airlocks becoming aligned. Mal turned to his crew, a reassuring smile on his lips. Inside, however, he could feel the old terrors rising. He remembered the dank smell of sewers; the patter of bare feet on concrete; the war cries, bellowing in the night, drowning out the gunfire. Cold sweat plastered his shirt to his back. He clutched his rifle tightly and forced himself to look around. That was another time, another battle, he told himself. There are no lurking shadows here.

A loud 'clunk' from the airlock drew his attention. There was silence now on the far side. Then a hiss, as the doors slowly parted. A jet of white steam gushed into the hold. Mal, Zoe and Jayne rose slightly, resting their weapons on the barricade. A deep, blood red light glimmered between the doors. Mal saw the silhouette of a head. He fired. Jayne and Zoe followed suite, firing steadily into the narrow gap. Mal could hear noises coming from beyond the door: animal screams, baying voices and snapping jaws. A face appeared in the gap, the skin blistered charcoal black. Mal sent a bullet into its forehead. The face disappeared. The gap widened. Two Reavers appeared, jostling with one another to be the first through. Zoe and Jayne felled them easily.

The gap grew wider. Like water through a sluice gate, the Reavers poured into the hold. Mal had a brief but all too vivid image of snarling, deformed faces with devils' eyes. He and Zoe dropped their rifles and seized the shotguns lying at hand. Raising the muzzles, they sprayed the oncoming Reavers with shot. The foremost dropped, instantly trampled by those behind. The Reavers retaliated with a barrage of missiles: javelins, bolas, throwing axes, even pieces of scrap metal. The shooters at the barricade ducked, rose and returned fire. More Reavers fell, now howling in pain. The screams rose higher as the next rank crushed their fallen comrades underfoot in the rush to get to the barricade.

"Reload!" Mal bawled, dropping the shotgun and seizing another rifle.

The doors were fully open now. A solid mass of Reavers rushed towards the barricade, screaming, their blades flashing above them like stars. Mal, Zoe and Jayne continued to fire steadily. Sometimes it took several bullets to stop one Reaver; they would drag themselves hand over hand across the deck, seemingly oblivious to the pain of their shattered limbs.

The first wave collapsed, ravaged by gunfire, but a few determined souls rushed ahead regardless. A gibbering little man, his cheeks pinned back to reveal his full set of teeth, launched himself at Zoe. She dropped her empty rifle and drew her favoured carbine. The first shot broke the Reaver's arm. The second blew a whole six inch hole in his stomach but it was only the third, right through his chest, that finally stopped him moving. Jayne had two coming at him at once. Vera roared. The impact of the bullets actually lifted the Reavers off their feet.

"Everybody fire!" Mal shouted as he emptied his shotgun into the face of the closest Reaver. A grey porridge of brains and skull fragments rained down on the barricade. Mal dropped the shotgun and grabbed two handguns. He stood straight, arms thrust out, firing wildly into the mass ahead of him. He could smell blood and hot iron. Screams and the whistle of bullets filled his ears. He was aware of bodies falling around him, of hands clawing at the barricade and blades slashing at his face, but it all blurred into one endless, repeating nightmare of light and sound.

There was a crash on his right. A whole section of the barricade had given way. A huge Reaver, a head taller than Mal, leapt through the breach. His lower jaw had been removed, replaced with a mane of barbed wire. He hurled himself at Mal, hands reaching from his throat. Mal twisted but the Reaver was too close for Mal to turn his guns on him in time.

An arm wrapped itself around the Reaver's chest. The Reaver was pulled back. Jayne was there, darting under the Reaver's arm and burying a knife in its chest. Another Reaver came at the breach but Jayne was there to meet it. Another knife appeared in his hands so quickly Mal could not swear that he had not conjured it out of the air. Jayne slashed at the Reaver, opening its belly from ribcage to pelvis but still it bore down on him, whooping like an ape.

Mal started forward to help. A Reaver dived across the barrier, bearing him to the floor. Mal landed painfully on his right shoulder. He whipped his left hand up, hammering at the deformed face above him with the butt of his pistol. The Reaver jerked back, avoiding the pistol. Its hand darted forward, swift as a snake, and buried a dagger in Mal's upper arm. Mal screamed. His right hand came up, still clutching his other pistol. The Reaver grabbed Mal's wrist. Mal struggled with it but he was losing blood fast and was beginning to feel faint.

Zoe's boot caught the Reaver in the temple, rolling it aside. Strong hands gripped Mal under the shoulders, dragging him away from the barrier, as Zoe calmly pumped three bullets into the Reaver's chest.

"Hold still," Mal heard Simon say. A needle was jabbed into his shoulder. Then someone was taking hold of the Reaver's dagger, still lodged in Mal's arm, and sliding it back out. Mal screamed again, feet drumming on the deck. Now Simon was in front of him, deftly applying a tourniquet to the wound.

"It's a clean cut," he murmured gently, "It should heal up fine."

Mal grunted his thanks and motioned for someone to help him to his feet. Kaylee crossed over to him. Dropping her handgun, she leant Mal her shoulder, supporting him as he moved back to the barricade.

The first wave of Reavers had been defeated. Their bodies lay thick on the deck. Some lay draped across the barricade, their wounds still smoking gently. A second wave was already massing in the airlock door but they seemed more interested in their wounded comrades than charging the barricade again. The space around the airlock door had become a mixture of battle and a feeding frenzy. Mal saw one woman, naked breasts pierced with nails, drop to her knees and sink her teeth into the throat of a fallen Reaver, like a dog pouncing on a rabbit.

His crew had a breathing space. Mal looked round. Jayne was the worst hurt: the dying Reaver had sunk his teeth deep into Jayne's shoulder. The rest were all battered, with some impressive cuts here and there, but no serious wounds.

"Is it over?" asked Kaylee. Her voice sounded very soft and small.

Mal shook his head. The Reavers would soon regroup. Already he could see dark shadows massing in the red light beyond the airlock.

"How much ammo' we got left?" he asked, casting his eyes over the area behind the barricade.

"Not much," said Book ruefully, "I would say no more than a hundred rounds."

Mal grimaced. When the Reavers charged again, they would soon be reduced to fighting hand-to-hand. There was only one option left to them.

"We have to charge 'em," he announced, stepping away from Kaylee. He bent down to retrieve a shotgun from the deck.

"Makes sense," said Zoe, nodding, "Throw some grenades into their hold. We might even be able to reach their airlock controls; disengage ourselves."

"You wanna charge into that?" Jayne said, pointing aghast across the bloody deck.

"No-one's forcin' you to come," said Mal, thumbing cartridges into the shotgun, "It's unlikely any who go across this barrier will come back, but it might be that they'll give those who stay behind a chance to escape."

He stooped again, retrieving a pair of freshly loaded pistols. He pushed them into his belt. Then he turned, opened a nearby box and took out a bandoleer of grenades.

"So who's coming with me?" he asked, adjusting the bandoleer across his chest.

"I am," said Zoe, taking another bandoleer from the box.

"Gorram it! Count me in too," Jayne growled, putting one bandoleer across his chest and another folded across his shoulder.

"And me."

Mal stared in amazement as Hatton selected the last bandoleer. Mal looked into his eyes and saw nothing but desperation.

"Please," Hatton said, seeing the refusal forming on Mal's lips, "I have to."

"Alright," Mal said heavily, "The rest of you, stay at the barricade. Load the rifles. You're gonna be our angels of mercy if it looks like we're to be captured."

The others nodded. Mal could see tears welling up in some eyes but he turned away, trying to keep himself focused on the task ahead.

"We'll go in a knot," he said, "Keep close. Shoot anything that gets close. Wait for my signal to use your grenades. Got it? Go!"

They stepped over the barricade, Mal and Jayne on the left, Zoe and Hatton on the right. They walked slowly, picking their way through the corpses, weapons raised, eyes fixed on the airlock. Most of the wounded Reavers had been killed. Only a few continued to put up a fight. Soon their comrades would look up and see the isolated group, advancing towards them like witless sheep.

A skinny creature, its face a patchwork of scars, spotted them and loped forward, a blood-spattered club in its hand. Zoe fired first, her carbine bullet taking it through the throat. The noise attracted the other Reavers. They rose and advanced together, as if guided by a pack instinct.

Mal did not need to give the order. The three others opened fire in a heartbeat, the crack and boom of their guns loud in his ears. The Reavers screeched as they charged forward. They screeched louder as the bullets tore into them. Mal and his crew continued to advanced, their firing methodical and precise.

"Halt!" Mal cried. They were six paces from the airlock door, at most. Here they could actually see into the dark, twisting interior of the Reavers' ship, lit by the blood red light. Skulls and pelts of human skin hung from the walls. Dead Reavers, slain by their comrades in the fury of combat, lay on the deck.

"Zoe! Jayne! Grenades!" Mal ordered. Zoe and Jayne paused to draw their grenades, while Mal and Hatton continued to fire into the mass of gibbering, clawing monsters around them.

The grenades flew in an arc above the horde, landing somewhere down in the Reavers' hold.

"Drop!" Mal shouted, falling to one knee without breaking the rhythm: aim, fire, reload, repeat.

The explosion tore into the Reaver horde. Bodies and parts of bodies hurtled into the air.

"Again!" Mal cried. This time Jayne threw a whole bandoleer through the airlock, the explosion of one grenade triggering the others. Dozens of Reavers were destroyed, torn to pieces by the blast, but still more came on, vomited up from the dark throat of their ship.

"How many of these tyen-sah duh uh-muo are there?!" Jayne bellowed.

"We've gotta fall back!" said Zoe.

"No! There it is: the controls!" Mal shouted. He pointed to a large lever mounted on the wall beside the Reavers' airlock.

"We'll never make it!" Jayne protested.

"Cover me!"

Hatton shouldered past Mal, a pistol in each hand. He charged forward into the Reavers, screaming a wordless battle cry.

"Come back!" Mal yelled. He took a step forward, ready to pursue Hatton, when a group of Reavers moved to block him. He fired into them, dropping them each in turn with a blast of his shotgun, but by the time the last one fell there was no way of reaching Hatton.

He was actually aboard the Reavers' ship now, still moving forward, pistols blazing wildly ahead. A Reaver grasped his shoulder but Hatton turned and, with a strength Mal would not have credited him with, he felled the Reaver with a right hook to the jaw. Zoe and Jayne cast astonished looks at Mal but they were powerless to help Hatton: the press of Reavers between them was simply too great. All they could do was try and distract the Reavers with their own fire.

Hatton had reached the control lever. He dropped one pistol and, still firing with the other, grasped the lever with his free hand. He hauled at it but it did not move. The Reavers were all around him. Mal lost sight him of him in the crush. He dropped his empty shotgun and drew his own pistols, ready to charge to the rescue, when the airlock doors rumbled above him.

"He did it!" Jayne shouted.

"He's gonna be trapped!" cried Zoe.

Mal froze. The crowd around the lever fell back for an instant. Hatton was still standing, blood streaming from his wounds. He had lost his pistol in the crush but had somehow seized a Reaver's curved axe. Now he turned from his assailants and hacked at the lever. Sparks flew as the blade bit into the metal. Three strokes and the hinge collapsed, rendering the lever useless.

"Mal, get back!" Jayne cried as the airlock doors began to draw closed.

Mal could not move. He could only stare as the Reavers hurled themselves at Hatton. He buried the axe in the shoulder of one but it was torn from his hand as the body fell. Hatton's eyes cast around from some other weapon. His eyes met Mal; eyes filled with terror and pleading.

Mal raised his pistol. His hand was steady and his aim true. The bullet struck Hatton in the forehead. Zoe and Jayne seized Mal's arms and thrust him back as the airlock doors slammed shut. Even as the doors closed and Hatton's was borne down by the weight of the Reavers, Mal fancied that he saw a smile on Hatton's face.

"Thank you, Captain Reynolds, this all looks in order."

Swearengen's 'banker' was a slimy little man with a thin, drooping moustache and a gang of muscle-headed thugs who were busy unloading the gold from Serenity's hold.

"Looks like you ran into some trouble on the way here," the man said, glancing at the sling on Mal's arm, "No Fed's, I trust?"

"No, nothing like that," Mal shook his head. They had managed to clear up the bodies and the bloodstains from the deck but the bullet scars would remain.

"Say, did you get to meet that Wade Hatton fella?" asked the banker, "They say he's a hell of a guy."

Mal let his gaze drop as he considered his reply.

"Yeah," he said at length, "I guess he was."

THE END