Chapter Four: The Liberation War
"Come again?" Mal answered unsurely. River shut her eyes and swayed as if she'd fall over, so he reached out and steadied her. "River? What's going on?"
"Don't have specifics. Just know. War is coming. Waiting to pour."
"Let's get you inside."
She frantically shook her head. "Must see the clouds. They'll show her. They'll tell her. Don't tell Simon. He'll stick her with needles and make her sleep."
"And you're sure? About the…you know?" Mal question as dread soaked into his skin.
She met his gaze. "Reader. The girl knows things. Things she couldn't."
"What kind of war? We talkin' in the figurative or the literal here?"
"Fuzzy. Static in the brainpan. Emotions interfering. Blackness…" she slowly fell to her knees and sobs racked her shoulders. "She brings death. Isn't safe for anyone. Touch life and it shrivels. Hands like fire. Turn it all to ash. Burn it to cinders. Watch it glow in her eyes. She can't help it! It's her fault and she can't stop it!"
Simon heard the shouting and came running. He dropped to eye level with a hand on her back. "River? What is it?"
"One of her feelings," Mal said softly.
"I'll get some soothers—"
"Captain!" River screeched as she pawed at his pant leg. "Don't let her sleep."
Simon looked between them and sighed at the captain's glare. "Fine, no soothers."
"Stay with me," she answered, reaching up. Simon helped her through the cargo bay and to the couch outside of the infirmary.
Mal followed them, but upon reaching their destination he pointed towards his bunk. "Well, I'm going to—"
"No! No. Captain. She was speaking to you too."
"River," he responded clumsily. "I have, you know, captainy things to do."
"Stay. Please?"
He mumbled something about witches and going weak in his old age, and he sat uneasily on the other side of her. "Only for a little while."
She stretched across them both, her head in Mal's lap and her feet in Simon's. After an awkward thirty minutes or more, she appeared to be asleep.
"I appreciate you staying, Captain," Simon whispered. He shrugged. "She likes you."
"Wha—she—how do you—" the sputtering captain shut up and regained composure, "She likes me?"
"Yes. Trusts you, I mean. She likes everyone here. They're family. But you…"
The tough criminal was reverted into a nervous schoolboy. "Me, me what? Did she say something?"
"You're special to her. I know that you two got closer flying the ship and through everything—"
He harshly cut across Simon's words. "She's crew. Simple as that."
"No, it's not. You risked everything for her. Us. So, thank you. I trust you too."
Mal relaxed and smirked. "I'm a petty thief. But, I'm glad you trust me."
"You're a good man…sometimes."
They laughed and Mal glanced at River. "She's out."
"I'll take her to her room."
He gingerly picked his little sister up and tucked her into bed. "Goodnight, River."
Simon shut the door and nodded to the captain on his way up the steps. Mal quietly padded to her room to check on his reader. Fear pooled in his gut. She was never wrong. He had to avoid it somehow. There was no way his crew, especially himself, would be in another war. It wouldn't happen. Not if he could help it.
Several hours later, their vacation was still in full swing. Zoe and Jayne decided to go hunting in the nearby woods for some real food, and Kaylee begged Simon to take her out for a fancy meal and some nightlife fun. When he came to Mal for permission, the captain waved the stuttering doctor off with a sip of his coffee.
"Don't worry about it, doc. I don't got anywhere to be anyway. I'll watch after River."
The young couple disappeared towards the nearest town. Mal checked on his pilot a few times after that, and she always seemed to be asleep. He found it odd that she'd refuse to be put to sleep by Simon, but she almost always fell asleep on her own anyhow. It probably came down to control. She didn't want to be forced into anything, which he completely understood. Besides, nobody liked needles.
Feeling bored and slightly lonely, Mal went to the bridge and sat in the pilot's chair. The gorram thing felt like River. It had her fruity perfume sunken in the seats, and it remained warm even when she hadn't been there. His fingers idly played with Wash's dinosaurs, and he instantly recalled everyone he had lost from the crew. Book. Wash. Inara. Then, he remembered everyone from the war. Some names were forgotten, but he knew faces. The thought of fighting again sent chills through his spine. Who would die next? Zoe? Jayne? Simon? Kaylee? River?
No. Not River. It couldn't be River. The idea of standing over her grave made his entire body ache. He felt the same way about the rest of his crew—his family—though something felt different about his pilot. It was a scary sort of feeling, as if he had become…dependent…on her. He didn't like that one bit.
"You're in my chair."
He leapt automatically at her voice. "Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't much know what to do with myself."
Though he went to get up, she shook her head and sat in the copilot's seat. He smiled at the sight of her. She wore Wash's blue shirt like a robe and her summer dress beneath it. Her bare toes propelled the circular motion of the chair. He couldn't help wondering if her moment had passed or she was still upset. She suddenly stopped and frowned at him.
"You're staring."
"What? No I ain't."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm all right."
"I never said you weren't."
"Thought it. I'm better now, Captain. Only just, but enough. Don't worry. Be happy. You're worse than Simon."
His lip jutted from his jaw. "I am not."
"Are too. Come with me."
"Where?"
She stood and took his hand without saying. He followed her every step. She floated like a ghost to the cargo bay where they stopped on the catwalk. Mal about had a heart attack when she climbed onto the railing and balanced. His hands reached to take her down, but she ran on the thing like it was solid ground. He had to sprint just to keep up with her. As she grew tired, she agilely sat on the railing with her feet dangling towards the cargo bay floor. Mal stood there without moving.
"Sit with me."
"I don't think that's a good idea, albatross. I'd fall over and break my pretty head on the cargo bay floor."
"You won't. Trust me."
Reluctantly, he clumsily got onto the rail and held on for dear life. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he almost tumbled to the floor. "River, what…why…?"
"Keeping you steady so you won't get hurt."
"Oh. Right…so why exactly are we on a rail?"
"We're always precariously placed on a limb awaiting disaster, Captain. Wanted to show you what I saw in my dream. War is coming. Darkness. Blood on desert sands. But, after the fear, there was hope. Calm. The faintest whisper. If we try hard enough, we can stay together."
His eyes bugged from his head. "Together?"
"The crew."
"Right…" dear Buddha, she knew how to make him twitchy.
She grinned at her abilities and set her head on his shoulder, swinging her feet in rapid movements. "Do you know what the first rule of flying is?"
"Considering I told you the rule once upon a time, I am familiar with the notion."
"Do you know what the second rule of flying is?"
"Haven't heard that one. What is it?"
"Trust. Trust her to keep flying. To keep fighting. To keep you safe. To show you the course when you're lost. To be your home. To never leave you. And she has to trust that you'll stay. To trust that you'd care for her right back. No matter what."
Their eyes locked, and Mal wasn't sure if they were talking about flying anymore. She looked at him with those mesmerizing eyes and he felt himself slide a little closer to her. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, and their gaze never faltered. Given their usual luck, the moment was interrupted by the cargo bay door flying open.
"You sure got that one!" Jayne laughed heartily. "We'll be eatin' like kings for a month!"
They had an assortment of ducks, quail, and even a deer. Jayne had the deer around his shoulders and Zoe carried the rest by slinging them casually over her shoulder by the feet. She was the one to notice Mal and River high above them. Her fingers tapped Jayne and he glanced upwards in surprise.
"Mal, what in ruttin' hell are you doin' up there?"
"Just shootin' the breeze. I see hunting went well."
Zoe grinned with pride. "It did, sir. We might make deer jerky in the pantry and a nice fur coat for me."
"A rug for me," Jayne argued. "I killed it."
"No, my shot was the one that took it out."
River intervened. "Small rug and furry vest. Only fair."
They nodded and headed for the kitchen. Mal smiled fondly. "Look at you playin' peacemaker."
"I have my moments…" she trailed off and got that reader look in her eye again. Quickly, she stood and dragged Mal from the railing to the bridge. Her body fell into the pilot's chair and she pulled a page from the cortex. "War isn't coming, Captain. It's already here."
He leaned behind her to get a better look at the report. The footage was graphic. It showed rebels, dressed in brown attire, bomb Core cities. Then, it showed Alliance cruisers blow entire villages to pieces on a small moon. It switched to a well-dressed man with an encyclopedia for his notes. His voice was shaky but very distinct.
"It has been confirmed. The Alliance has officially waged war on the New Independents. They continue to be called the Browncoats, but they are a very different organization this time around. This new war has been named, the Liberation War. It was brought about by the exposure of Miranda just three years ago. Extremist rebels, who had not given up hope of defeating the Alliance once and for all, used this event as motivation for a second attempt at independence. They have slowly accumulated soldiers from volunteers and some drafts, and they are prepared to go the distance…
"The Alliance released the following statement: 'It is with great regret that we declare war on the New Independents. However, they threaten our very way of life and must be stopped. We send a word of caution to anyone involved with the Browncoats. We will take whatever force necessary to preserve our peaceful unification.' It is believed that this war could be more devastating than the last. The Alliance has almost eradicated the Reaver threat after the Miranda incident, but we have reports that new Reavers have appeared along the rim. If the Alliance is secretly manufacturing new Reavers, they might be used against the New Independents. The Browncoats are using these Reaver sightings as an example of the Alliance's crimes. This evidence is only circumstantial. There's no telling when this war may end."
Mal hung his head with a heavy sigh. "And, this boat is already in the middle of it. We started all this."
"Wrong. I started it."
"You did not. The Alliance did awful things to you. It ain't your fault. We were doing what was right. We couldn't of known it would come to this. I conjure the Alliance is very unhappy with us. I bet the New Independents will find a use for us in their war. I know how those things work. They might capture us and taunt the Alliance. Maybehaps use us as bargaining chips. We just have to keep our heads down and step sideways 'til it's said and done."
River blankly stared at the console. "There's no escape. They will find us. It's only a matter of time."