On a popular morning news show on Londonium, the dazzling male lead and beautiful female had the following exchange:
Male lead: "So my house got raided today." As if it were a normal nuisance like a crowded skyway or a vehicle in need of repair.
Female lead: "Why?" In fake shock; "You're not one of those...anarchists... the Feds are always talking about, are you?"
Pause for studio laughter.
Male lead, in good cheer, but serious: "No. Apparently a concerned citizen noticed some suspicious comings and goings somewhere at some point, so everyone within ten miles was getting the same treatment."
Female lead, looking at camera "That's our tax dollars hard at work, ladies and gentlemen. When we come back-"
.
The Reaver Queen sat at the helm of her new ship. Her left arm was gone, replaced by a mechanical monstrosity.
"Monstrosity"-while summarizing the Queen's feelings about her new disfigurement- was probably too strong a word. The mechanical arm was fully functional, wired directly to her brain. It was covered in a soft latex, the same pale shade of her natural skin. Only direct contact or the most discerning eye would ever notice it wasn't real. The internal battery would last fifty years, even under continuous use. In truth, it was a technological marvel, an example of the highest level of human engineering.
The Reaver Queen still thought it was ugly. She would make Tam and her friends pay dearly for what they'd done to her.
A disfigured Reaver approached her side, grunting and snarling in the tribe's new language. He asked if there would be killing. Soon, the Queen thought at him, dismissing him with a thought. He would be back inside of ten minutes, asking the same thing. It was his way.
The Queen pondered the new batch of Reavers she'd made. After stopping on a dingy moon called Mai Lang or somesuch, she'd gone to the hospital to have her arm (her real arm) fixed. She'd taken exception to the doctor's insistence that her arm was a lost cause. After being fitted with a prosthetic, she'd lit more of her incense and cut a swath through the hospital on general principle.
Now that she had nearly a hundred of them, she'd started making notes on their behavior and social structure. For every ten or twelve Reavers, there was a Banshee. The Banshees didn't cut on themselves like the Reavers did, though they were no more beautiful for it. Constant teeth grinding, self scratching, and hair pulling left them macabre caricatures of their once human selves. Combined with the lack of hygiene shared by all Reaver-kind they were as scraggly and bloodstained as the next. Banshees were harder to control than their male counterparts and drew "packs" to follow them. The Reaver Queen tolerated the pack vs. pack competition as it kept the Reavers exercised and entertained.
Of the male Reavers, some distinctions had arisen. When first turned, all Reavers were rage-filled maulers. After the transformation had fully set in, Reavers began to change slightly. Over time, they would begin to cut on their flesh. Generally, the more mutilated one's face was, the smarter and more aggressive the Reaver. An observer (or "lunch") could quickly tell what caliber of Reaver he or she was facing based on the level of "decoration" a Reaver had on its face. The smarter ones tended to carry projectile weapons and be more willing to sacrifice instant gratification for the all encompassing, almost religious desire that all Reavers shared:
Violence.
The Reaver Queen had taken to referring to more gruesome of her tribe as the Alphas, for lack of a better term. Besides them and the Banshees were the Betas. The Beta Reavers were easiest to control, useless for any task besides "attack" and solely carried melee weapons. The larger ones didn't bother with weapons at all, preferring the intimacy of hands and teeth.
All in all, they were a force to be reckoned with.
Then... there was the Reaver Queen herself. She'd been recruited in the hunt for River Tam by her handler, a man who's allegiance and objectives she'd been forced to guess at. By her estimates, the man was either Blue Sun or Alliance. She didn't care which. As one of the few "successful" students of the Academy, she did what she was told. Her only concern was proving that she was the best. Her psychic abilities were unmatched, allowing her the ability to control the minds of lesser beings such as animals, Reavers, and sometimes humans. In her search for the crew of Serenity, she'd uncovered the same final recording of a scientist describing the Paxil that they had.
The Reaver Queen, rather than be scared by this revelation, had spent the next week perfecting her knowledge of molecular chemistry. As a bona fide super genius, that meant she now knew more about the subject than anyone else in the Verse. With that completed, she'd spent a few more days synthesizing a more potent version of Paxil. Her strain caused instant transformation in people with a wider array of genetic markers. It was currently fifty percent effective and she was sure she could get it up to ninety percent eventually. Of course, all those who lacked the necessary genetics or physical strength to survive the transformation died, but one could not make and omelet without breaking a few eggs.
Had the Queen any friends of family members, they might inquire as to her mental state, though. One could only meld minds with a tribe of Reavers for so long before it began to have a negative effect...
.
"-we're three days out. Any questions?" Mal asked.
The crew was in the dining area of Serenity, as it was the only place with a table big enough for a debriefing. A blueprint of a large cargo vessel similar to the one Serenity had rescued their new swordsman from lay on the table. Mal was hunched over it, carefully reviewing his plan for the hundredth time. To his right and left sat Jayne and Zoe, with Kaylee and Inara to their side. At the end of the table sat Simon, leaving Victor standing. Snow wandered from person to person, trying to convince as many people as possible to pet him. The only person missing from the meeting was River, who was adjusting course on the ship.
Jayne leaned back in his chair. "I got one. How come Zoe's staying on the ship again?" He looked at Zoe. "I appreciate you doin' it when it get's the rest of us more time planetside, but we could really use as many fighters as we can get on this one."
Mal took a deep breath, considering how to go on. After a tense moment, he realized he had no idea how and turned to Zoe with a look that said Well?
Zoe sighed realizing she had to speak. "I have the nine month virus," she said, finally.
Jayne violently jumped up in a panic, knocking his chair over in the process. The sound of the chair hitting the floor caused Snow to bark once, loudly. Jayne continued to retreat backwards, almost falling over his chair before slamming against the opposite wall of the dining area.
"Yesu Jidu yi bàng, nurén! I'm sitting here breathing your air and shit!" He pulled the collar of his T-shirt up as an improvised face mask.
"It's not exactly-" Simon began, but Victor cut him off, refusing to let the opportunity go to waste.
"Don't worry everyone!" he said in a loud, calm voice. He raised his arms up to draw attention to himself. "It's only contagious to people who sit across the table from you!"
Jayne's head whipped around, eyes wide in panic over the collar of his shirt. He turned back to Zoe. "What kinda crazy jinu bing you done gotcher self, woman?"
"Should we be worried?" Kaylee asked Simon, sensing something was up.
Simon just sighed and shook his head. Kaylee looked to Mal, who was holding his hand over his eyes as if he had a headache.
"It means I'm pregnant," Zoe said.
"I didn't do it," Victor said almost before the word "pregnant" was out of Zoe's mouth. No one seemed to notice him speaking.
"Congratulations!" Kaylee gushed, wrapping her arms around Zoe.
Jayne lowered his shirt, feeling hopeful for his chances of survival. "And all this time, I thought you was just getting fat."
"Jayne!" Kaylee snapped, striking Jayne in the shoulder with a small fist.
"Well, I did," Jayne grumbled. He was a little out of sorts from his near death experience.
"Not me," Victor chimed in. "I think you're hot."
Zoe flipped him the bird.
"Not very lady like," Victor said, crossing his arms over his chest with his best "disapproving" look.
Zoe fixed Jayne with a steady look. "I can do things to you, you know. Painful. Painful things."
Victor raised one eyebrow. "I don't normally go for the kinky stuff, but for you I'll make an-"
"Permission to shoot him and throw him out the airlock, sir?" Zoe asked Mal.
Mal hunched over the dining table, looking at the papers he had spread out. "Not yet," he said offhand. "I'm saving him for a suicide mission."
"Figures," Victor snorted.
.
Dan and Michael were sitting across from each other at a table in a bar on Whitefall. This particular bar happened to be owned by Patience herself.
"This is your fault, you know," Dan said. He was referring to the sling his right arm was in.
Michael took a sip of his wine which, for a wonder, tasted like it was actually made out of grapes. "Okay... one: I didn't tell you to crash the drop ship, two: I made the sale without getting us ripped off, and three: bite me."
The sale of five hundred pounds worth of crop supplements had gone off surprisingly smooth. Unfortunately, when it came time to bring the product down from orbit, the crew of The Queen of Hearts had been ambushed by a gang of Patience's former employees. Several shots from a machine gun (mounted on a horse drawn wagon) had brought Dan's dropship crashing down. Had he not been in the process of landing, anyway, he could have died. As it was, he merely suffered a dislocated and sprained shoulder.
The bandits' objective had been to kill Patience. They seemed to have not known how much money was changing hands. That would have given Michael the advantage to retreat safely, except...
"Hey, boys!" one of Patience's men declared having a seat right next to Michael. The man was thin and freckled with a wild mop of long, curly hair that bounced when he moved his head. "I heard you two saved the old lady!"
"Actually, it was all him," Dan said, inclining his head toward Michael. "I was taking a nap in the ship and the busty beauty ran for the hills at the sounds of the first gun shot."
"Is that true?" the man asked Michael. "Did you really kill twenty men all by yourself with a big, golden gun?"
Michael shifted his weight uncomfortably in his chair, conscious of the pistol under his left arm. He'd taken to wearing an open, button-down shirt over it. It really was eye catching, to say the least, but he'd never thought about trading it in. It had belonged to his grandfather. "There was only about a dozen of them," Michael corrected. "I killed maybe four, before the others broke and ran." His memories of the event were a little fuzzy. Too much adrenaline, likely. His success was partly due to luck. The bandits had approached from the south, away from where Patience and her bodyguard were facing. The first shot fired had taken one of Patience's crew in the back, because he'd been blocking the shot to Patience herself. Michael, certain he was about to die, had dropped down on his belly and started shooting. The rest was a haze of fear and loud noises.
"Hey, where is that red head, anyway?" the man asked, looking around.
"I heard she was looking for you," Dan said to the drunk man.
"Really?"
Dan kept messing with the drunk man while Michael thought. Where had she gone? Michael was holding their money from the sale, so there was no way she'd leave them. Last he'd heard, she was taking the drop ship in for repairs.
"She's probably working on some kind of scheme," Michael muttered to himself, finally. Not that it took a lot of imagination to figure that one out.
.
River wandered through her ship, her home, as she was want to do. Stretching out her mind, she could "feel" everything. The condition of the ship, it's crew, nigh imperceptible shifts in Serenity's micro gravity and steering were all a part of her mind. She loved being on her ship. On a planet, especially in a town, she usually felt like she was drowning in an ever pulsing wave of noise and sensation. On Serenity, everything... fit.
Jayne and Simon were at the table, cleaning weapons in anticipation of the upcoming job. Zoe was in her bunk, trying to sleep. Inara and Mal were seeing how many times they could have sex.
I'm not supposed to talk about that, River reminded herself. She still wasn't quite sure why everyone made such a big deal about it. Then again, everyone else couldn't feel it happening around them. There was probably some legitimate reason that she missed out on while she was at her "school" though.
There was one bundle of focus and intensity on her ship, however. River made her way to the storage bay where Victor was doing sit-ups.
Sit-ups wasn't the proper term, though. He was hanging by the knees from the cat walk's guard rails, stripped to the waist wearing heavy nylon cargo pants with heavier, steel reinforced boots hooked under the middle rail. Snow was standing nearby with a tennis ball in front of him, willing Victor to take the hint.
"What are you doing?" River asked, scolding herself for not keeping her mouth shut. It was pretty obvious what he was doing. She just knew that level of focus coming from him was likely to draw her into one of her episodes. She didn't want to see where that would lead, so she kept him talking.
"Sit-ups," Victor said at the top of his repetition. Snow quit looking at Victor and instead looked to River, tail wagging. Maybe she would know what the tennis ball was for.
River rolled her eyes. What had she expected him to say? "Why so many? Why right now?" She asked to get him talking. He never shut up once he started, and talking would keep him from pulling her own mind in.
Victor stopped at the top of his sit up and grabbed onto the top bar to hold himself up. Facing River he took a deliberate breath and said "Jayne beat me," as if that explained everything. With that, he went back to sit ups.
River felt his focus going back to the task at hand. It was a weaker version of what fighting the Reavers did to her mind. Constant focus like that pulled her along like-
(I am a leaf on the wind)
-a log floating on a river. If she didn't cause a "splash" in the river, she might succumb to whatever programming The Academy had put into her. In this scenario, it was unlikely that her programming would cause a problem, but...
"You don't look dead," she said, picking up Snow's tennis ball and dropping it casually to the deck. Snow went bounding toward the nearest staircase with the utmost puppy enthusiasm.
"I appreciate. Your faith. In me," Victor breathed in between sit-ups. "He can do. More pull-ups. Than me. More. Sit-ups. Jump higher. Run farther. It's not. Right." At the top of his rep, he took a grip on the bar again to breath.
"Why do you care?" River asked. She had made a mistake. Shifting Victor's focus to her was giving her a mild sense of vertigo. She'd be good gorram'ed if she was going to let him chase her off though.
"I bought my muscles fair and square," Victor complained. "Only the top athletes ever should be able to beat me. At least for another few months. Then, not even those guys." He went back to his sit-ups. "Seriously. It's actually. Illegal. For me to. Compete in. Professional. Sports. That's how well. This works."
River gave herself a moment to really look at Victor. In a space of days, he no longer had any body fat whatsoever. Large and tiny veins alike stood out on his skin, and not just on normal places like the neck, forearm, and forehead. He was recovering from his weeks on the cargo ship impossibly well for someone who had not been augmented. Also, looking at him made her skin flush and produced a swelling sensation in her stomach similar to hunger. That feeling in her belly was not related to her power at all. Knowing that made her feel more unsure of herself, not less.
Snow returned with his freshly captured ball. River wrestled it from his puppy jaws and pet his head before dropping it again. As Snow ran off once more, she said "You're not that tough." Mostly just to irritate him. She told herself she didn't blame him for the way she felt seeing him half undressed, because that would just be stupid. She was a genius.
Victor held himself up by the rail again. "Excuse me?" he asked. She sensed no change in his mind, but her ears picked up the insolent tone.
"Your pitching a fit because someone is tougher than you," River said, trying to match his tone. Her mind was back on track. "You can't be the best all the time, you know."
Victor surprised her. He laughed. He laughed so hard, he almost fell off the bar before regaining his balance and grasp.
"What?" River demanded. Her power was giving her a sense of his mirth, but it was drowning out any deeper thought.
"You're one to talk, little miss I'm-the-best-at-everything-all-the-time," Victor finally said. He started doing sit-ups again, shaking his head. His trademark smug grin was as wide as ever.
"Excuse me?" River demanded.
"I know!" Victor exclaimed. River raised a single eyebrow as he flipped backwards off of the guardrail. A booming noise rang out as his feet hit the deck below. "Ouch," Victor said, despite sticking the landing.
"It's farther down-" River began.
"-than it looks, yes," Victor finished stretching his back, causing all of his muscles to push outward against his skin. "Come on down."
River could sense what he had in mind, but she walked towards the stairs anyways. Victor retrieved two wooden practice swords from behind Jayne's bench press. They were solid wood, not bundled bamboo lathes.
"We must kung fu fight!" Victor said, tossing one of the swords to River.
River caught her sword easily, by the hilt. She felt a tinge of apprehension. She had no idea what sparring practice would do to her. "I'd love to beat you with a stick, but I'm not sure it's such a good idea." She looked at the sword in her hand. She breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't change. She looked around, eyes far away. She could still sense everything on the ship being where it was supposed to be, so Serenity hadn't changed around her.
"Come on," Victor whined. "I'm already tired. When are you going to get a better chance to lose with some dignity?"
River glared dangerously at Victor. She didn't need her power to sense what he was thinking. The smug look on his face told her how pleased he was to get a reaction out of her.
Snow chose that time to bring his ball back. "Go play somewhere else," River told him. For a wonder, he dropped his tennis ball and walked straight out of the room. Had River not been so irritated, she might have wondered why an untrained puppy would act that way. River swung the sword in a figure-eight arc. "You sure you want to do this?" Maybe she should stress that she could very well kill him with a practice sword this heavy. They were meant to be used wearing pads and helmets.
Victor grinned. Moving his right foot back, he held his sword in his right hand, level with the ground, pointed away from River. His left foot and arm went forward, hand clenching in the universal sign for "come get some". A completely ridiculous stance that left him wide open and put him completely on the defensive side.
"I'm going to enjoy this," River said, surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth.
Victor stifled his urge to chuckle, knowing that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. "You're unreal woman. You know I've been doing this since I was thirteen, right? And yet, you think you have a chance? And you have the nerve to give me la shi for wanting to beat Jayne in a pull up competition? You can just walk away and admit that there's something you can't do."
"Or you could just walk away before I leave you bruised and bloody," River said. She gestured with her sword. "Wood or not, these things aren't toys."
"Talk, talk, talk," Victor said. His smile was equal parts wolf and childish humor. "You can't win that way, either."
River wasn't aware of making her decision to attack. With a shout, she darted forward with a two handed, overhead slice. An attack with that much power would force her opponent to block or retreat. Trying to meet attack with attack would result in both being struck down. She tried to tell herself that what they did to her at the Academy was to blame for what she was doing. The simple truth was, she wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.
Victor deftly sidestepped, spinning twice. On the first spin, he swiped his sword across River's shoulder blades. On the second spin, he brought the sword across her butt cheeks. Both of which would have been fatal had the sword been real. He even managed a third spin before River brought her sword around to block with a firmcracking sound.
"One, nothing," Victor said in a perfectly formal voice, smile gone.
River's face went red. She could hear Victor laughing inside his head. "Just getting warmed up," she said.
"The fact that you've never done this before can't be helping," Victor said slowly, as if talking to a child.
River felt something she'd never felt before. That is to say, she'd felt it through other people, but she couldn't remember the feeling coming from inside her. "I'm going to hurt you," she said, a sense of wonder in her voice. "I'm going to hurt you, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to stop."
"I already told Zoe how I feel about the kinky stuff, but-" whatever else he'd been about to say was cut off as River really went on the attack. She began hacking at Victor in a pentagonal pattern, trying to get ahead of his sword. Victor blocked every strike, moving in a constant circle away from River. The fact that he was pretending to be on the defense was making her angrier. Finally, Victor struck out, with a high stab, aimed at River's fore head.
It was a dangerous move that could have hurt or killed River, even without a steel blade. That forced him to use a lighter blow. River took advantage by ducking below the strike and cracking him in the shins with her sword.
"One, one," she declared. Satisfied to have scored a point.
"I pulled my strikes," Victor complained, shaking his feet to get the feeling back in them.
"Tough," River said. She went on the attack again. Victor blocked a high, vertical sweep and counter attacked with a swipe of his own. Wood met wood with a loud crack. River spun easily out from under Victor's attack and delivered a spinning attack of her own, certain the sword would contact Victor's torso, but Victor's long legs took him quickly backwards, out of reach of River's sword. The next step took him forward again. He promptly jabbed River in the ribs, directly below her left breast.
"You know what your problem is?" Victor asked, mirth gone. He was curious now, looking at her like someone trying to solve a puzzle. The way her "teachers" used to look at her. The way Simon still looked at her sometimes. River didn't like it.
"Giant, self important, yellow headed sonuvabitches?" River asked.
Victor blinked. Then he doubled over slightly, laughing. River felt a sense of warmth flow up from her belly. She couldn't help but be a little proud she'd finally told a joke that made someone laugh.
Taking advantage of his distraction, she darted forward with a stabbing attack of her own. Victor stepped forward and out, grabbing the "flat" of River's blade and using her own momentum to pull her into a head butt. This time the crack rang out inside River's skull. Victor then used the recoil from the head butt to push River back a few steps. Blinking, she managed to maintain her grip on her sword.
"Fighting you is like fighting a robot," he said. "Everything's textbook. There's no style. No little tricks you picked up years ago. No originality."
"It's worked well enough in the past," River said, fighting the urge to rub her for head. Sword forward, she began circling Victor, looking for an opening.
"Against mindless berserkers and drunks," he said. "I'm neither."
"Debatable," River said, trying an upward, sweep from the floor.
Victor blocked low and in the same move, planted a boot on the back of his own sword, stomping downward. River's sword popped out of her hand. By luck, her right foot caught the hilt of the sword. Victor brought his own sword out of it's now awkward position, fanning it up and around, connecting a blow to River's side that would have sliced her in two with a real sword.
While Victor connected, River bounced her sword back to hand, refusing to stop. Victor obliged her, bringing his sword around again. Holding her own sword blade down, River used her forearm as a brace. She blocked Victor's sword and spun into his guard, bring a knuckled fist to a stop right over his throat. "Dirty fighting. I learned that one from the Captain."
"That's a little more like it," Victor said, pushing River back with the heel of his hand to her sternum. The strike wasn't meant to hurt, but Victor was the better part of three hundred pounds. River staggered back several feet before coming back in for another flurry of strikes. Victor planted his feet stubbornly, meeting every attack with his sword, no matter the angle.
River was surprised to find herself having fun. Lost in the motions of the dance. With a quick strike to Victor's left, she spun to the right, intent on bringing her sword to his ribs. With a spinning side flip that would have looked more appropriate on a figure skater, she kept her spin going and flew a few feet away. As she landed, she realized why. Victor had stepped away from her stabbing attack. Her flip had taken her up and above a wooden sword tip that had been intent on her belly.
"I can't always read your mind, you know," River said, trying to distract him.
"What?" Victor asked, bringing his sword around. It met River's with a crack and he kept pressing forward the advantage with swing after swing.
"When you're fighting," she explained. "Or when you're mouthing off to people. You move and speak without thinking, so I can't predict what you'll do."
"Sure," Victor said, unsure whether he believed her. "Why tell me this?" as his attacks threatened to back River against a wall, she used his height against him. She stepped into his guard, elbowed him in the ribs hard (That'll teach him, she thought, still smarting from the blow to the chest) and spun away, giving herself some distance.
"Just so you know I'm not cheating," she said.
So they fought, back and forth. Neither one was able to gain the upper hand. In a fight to the death, either one would have won already. Sharp cracks rang out in the storage bay as they move faster and faster. Had anyone been there to see them, they would have seen two people blurring across the floor in a graceful display to put most ballet dancers to shame.
Speaking of which, River almost completely lost herself in what she was doing when she realized she shouldn't be wearing her hospital skin suit to do ballet. That was ridiculous. She also couldn't recall where the other dancers on the stage had come from.
Not again! she thought, blinking. She was back in the sword fight. For a moment. Then she was on a ballroom dance floor, wearing an elaborate gown in gold and silver. Then, the sword fight. Then, she was at a park on a bright summer day, dancing to music she couldn't find a source for.
Enough! she screamed at herself, forcing the illusion away.
Then, everything went black.
.
Victor didn't know what happened. One minute they were bantering back and forth. The next, it was like someone had flicked a switch in River's brain. River began fighting with such ferocity and precision, Victor could barely keep up. He fought as hard as he ever had, trying to hold River at bay without hurting her. People always thought fighting to the death was the hardest thing a man could do. The simple truth is, people kill each other by accident all the time. Fighting as hard as he was, without killing or injuring his opponent was infinitely harder. That's why only master swordsmen or complete fools spar without lightweight practice swords or pads. A cracked skull wasn't as theatrical as a decapitation, but it does the trick.
Victor swiped River's sword to the side. As she brought it to bear, he swung for her face. Even non-fighters instinctively guard their faces. River brought her sword up in a two handed grasp, but... stopped. As suddenly and skillfully as she'd started pressing the attack, she just stopped moving. Her blank look of focus became a grimace as Victor's sword bore down. She closed her eyes as Victor saw his sword crack into hers. Already committed to the attack, he drove both of the blades into her left temple and she went down.
"Oh no," Victor gasped.
.
River heard someone babbling "Please be okay. I'm sorry. Tell me I didn't do it again..." As she came to.
River blinked. She was laying on the deck of the storage bay with her head in Victor's lap. "Get off of me," she tried to say, but the words didn't come out right. She tried to push Victor away.
Victor's sigh of relief was palpable. "Can you stand?" he asked. River grunted as he placed both hands under her arms and picked her directly up as if she weighed nothing. Planting her on her feet, he placed his hands on either side of her head to reassure himself that her skull wasn't split. His hands were so large they basically swallowed her head.
"I'm fine," she sighed. How to explain that she had passed out before the sword hit home? She smiled at the thought. No it's fine. I passed out from the mental strain and hallucinations. My head is fine!
Victor planted a kiss on River's lips in sheer relief before realizing what he had done. His imagination had treated him to another bout of killing everyone on the ship to keep himself alive, before setting off alone. He knew more or less how to fly a ship like this, but that wasn't the point. He liked these people. He didn't wanted to have to kill them. Letting go of River he said that to himself with a sense of wonder. I guess I have friends now.
"Sorry," he said, quickly letting go of River. Embarrassment flooded him and River could feel it coming off of him like heat off of a fire. "I, uh... sorry." How to explain that he wasn't used to being that happy about something? She'd never understand that he'd just lost control. He was certain he just cemented himself as a creep in her mind.
River felt the warmth spread from her lips down to her toes. Victor's fear had pushed away the perpetual hum in his subconscious that was the wall between his thoughts and feelings. She could feel joy and relief surge out of him.
River realized no one had ever looked at her like Victor did. Well... most of the time he looked at her like Snow looked at horse steak. That wasn't too unusual. Even Jayne sometimes looked at her like that, and he was afraid of her. The way Victor was looking at her wasn't the same as she felt from Simon and Kaylee. When they looked at each other she felt all butterflies and floating. Now, she felt a wave of relief and hunger so pure it made the space behind her eyes hurt.
Without thought, she reached up behind Victor's head and pulled him down to kiss him as hard as he'd ever been kissed before in his life. He was surprised at first, but then desire flooded his thoughts as well and time seemed to stop.
"Am I interrupting?" a voice asked from the catwalk.
Shocked back to the real world, the two sprang apart. River felt Victor's mental walls go up harder than ever, reinforced by his own anger at himself for losing control. That anger at loss of control reflected her own. The two feelings fed on each other and made a feedback loop that made River's vision start to go red. She switched her focus to Inara's mind, which always felt like a calm, cool lake. Except, now, there were undertones of... amusement?... as well.
"Hi, Inara," Victor said, looking up to see Inara in her soft, flowered night robe. He didn't have to act too hard to sound embarrassed. "We were just... rehearsing for a play." He cringed at how pathetic that sounded.
"I'm sure it will be stellar," Inara said, dryly. She didn't bother to hide her smile. "Perhaps you should rethink your location as well? Don't you have your own bunk?"
Victor frowned. Had she just suggested what he thought? "It's not like that. This just sort of... happened. River can tell you." He looked to his left for support.
River was nowhere to be seen.
Victor looked back up at Inara.
"She does that," Inara said, making her way back to her shuttle. Victor thought he could hear her laughing.
He grumbled unintelligibly to himself as he went to retrieve his shirt. This was going to end badly for him, he knew it.
.
Jayne and Simon were sitting at The Table, cleaning weapons. Firearm parts, oil, q-tips, and rags sat in a rough circle around two bottles of sake. Victor came in, sweaty dressed in a T-shirt, with his sword/gun belt on. He retrieved a bottle of liquor and sat down. Removing his powder vial from his pocket, he took a quick dose and chased it with a sip of rum.
"Rough day?" Simon asked.
Victor sat, frowning at the table. He hadn't been expecting anyone else to still be awake. After a moment, he took a swig and spoke. "What's the deal with your sister?" he asked.
Simon, shrugged, putting his hammerless .45 back together. "Oh, you know. Government put stuff in her brain. Wasn't too careful about what they took out. She likes chocolate... the usual." He picked up a large revolver and started on it.
Victor fought the urge to add his shotgun to the pile. This was going to be a "multiple drinks" day and he had more professionalism than to go reloading a weapon while half drunk. Well... a little more professionalism. He picked up a derringer and started cleaning. "No, I meant... Do you think I have a shot with her?"
Simon's hands stopped moving and he looked at Victor. The look on his face suggested that he wasn't sure he heard correctly. "Surely you must be joking?"
Victor took another drink and went back to cleaning. "I'm not joking. And don't call me Shirley."
Jayne, who'd been drinking sake, spewed it out his nose and mouth, laughing. An unkind person would say he sounded something like a donkey.
"Damn, man," he said, laughing a little himself. "It's not that funny." He turned back to Simon. "So how about it?"
Simon dropped the weapon he was cleaning and quickly reloaded his own, chambering a round with a familiar, metallic clang. He placed the weapon back on the table and looked at Victor, pointedly.
That almost wiped Victor's smile away. "Really? The whole 'over protective brother' thing is a bad look on you."
Simon almost sneered. "I didn't give up everything to rescue her just to see her shacked up with a bloodthirsty mercenary."
"I'm a pirate," Victor corrected.
"You weren't never any good at it, though," Jayne said.
"Good point."
Victor took a deep breath and tried to get his mind together. What had happened with River had shaken him and he wasn't sure why. It's not like he never kissed a girl before. Before he met his wife, he'd hired two Companions a month for a year straight. After taking a deep drink he continued. "People are pathetic," he declared. "Constantly trying to avoid things. Important things like pain, fear, discomfort. Pathetic people go through life thinking 'not sore' is better than 'strong' or 'not dead' is a goal unto itself." He took another drink, finally starting to feel the effects of the booze. His hands were shaking. Why were his hands shaking? It wasn't the powder. He hadn't taken enough. Nadine's face flashed in his mind and he forced it away.
"You sound like the Captain when he's had too much to drink," Simon said, going back to his work.
"I just started," Victor said, waving the mostly full bottle. He continued "So you rescued your sister. Very impressive. I used to do stuff like that at my nine to five."
"What's up with that, anyway?" Jayne asked. "Didn't being a huiadan soldier of fortune pay good?"
Victor was glad for the change in topic. "Yeah, it did. My coworkers didn't like me much. Kept trying to get me killed."
"Why ever would they do that?" Simon asked with something akin to sarcasm.
Victor took another drink to keep from putting his fist through Simon's nose. "Most were older. Retired military. My brother got me hired when I was eighteen. I was the best and had an attitude about it. Cranky old killers don't like kids with attitudes showing them up." Plus, he'd married the company owner's daughter. Victor's pulse rate went up. Maybe this wasn't such a good change of topic after all.
"Why not just join the UAPN, if you like to fight so much?" Simon asked.
Victor thought about how to answer for a moment before answering. "My dad was a plastic surgeon. He joined the UAPN... to help where he thought he was needed most," Victor said. "Most plastic surgeons are in it for the money. He was a good man who just wanted to help people. Wounded soldiers tended to need his kind of help more than anyone else, so off he went. My family got relocated to Mai Long so we could be close when he got leave." Victor sighed. He usually didn't tell people the next part. "I met Sensei Toriyama there when I was thirteen. He was a tiny, racist old Japanese man who carried a wooden practice sword everywhere. Always said it was all he needed." Victor tried to focus. The rum was catching up with him, but he took another drink. "He taught traditional sword fighting at the University. My mother was a psych professor there, so I started taking lessons. From day one I loved it. I even convinced my mom to 'home school' me so I could get my diploma right away and spend more time practicing." He paused, thinking about that time in his life. The memories weren't quite as painful as the ones he kept buried. There had been plenty of good ones to be had as well. He'd loved sword fighting and Shotokan. All he'd ever wanted was to be the best. Toriyama-san had forced him to learn a lot about Japanese history as well, which was interesting in it's own way.
"Then what happened?" Simon asked, genuinely interested.
"You ever hear of the Mai Long Massacre?" Victor asked. "It was in the newspapers for a bit."
Simon shook his head and Victor remembered that Simon was from a rich family and likely hadn't followed news of the war. He would have been busy becoming a doctor then, anyway.
Victor took another drink. "No one knows how, but, when I was sixteen, Browncoats got a hold of a mailing list for the relatives of my dad's unit. They were losing at this point. Since so many UAPN families were living on Mai Long at the time, they just sent squads house to house, killing as many as they could. The Feds didn't even find out about it until the next day, when they tried to get off the planet. My brother Lon had already been a Purple Belly for a year so it was just me and my mom. I was coming home late from my crappy night job as a janitor at the University and noticed the family room monitor was on. My mom always went to bed early, so I peeked in a window before going in." Victor paused as the scene played out behind his eyes. "There were four of them, all armed with rifles, but no coats. I thought they were just burglars." Stupid of him. He should have called the authorities, but he couldn't tell where his mom was and wasn't going to leave until he knew she was okay. He should have died after what he did next. "I didn't have a real sword back then, so I went around to the shed in our backyard and grabbed a plastic handled wood axe-"
In a movie, a swordsman would have had a sword!
"-and snuck in the back door. I managed to kill three of the four guys in the house before the fourth one dropped his weapon and ran." The Browncoats had been boys, barely any older than he was at the time. He'd felt guilty for a long time about how good it had felt to put the axe head through their skulls. The third one had tried to put up a fight, but only ended up losing his weapon hand before dying.
"Your mom was gone?" Jayne asked.
Victor gave a start, realizing he'd stopped talking. "Uh... yeah," he said, shaking his head to clear the memories. "One bullet through the heart, and she'd been stuffed in a closet. Apparently those jokers were just hanging around to get me. I called the authorities. The last guy was arrested later with all his Browncoat buddies from the other squads." He took a drink. "And that was the end to my family." He tried to keep his voice as matter-of-fact as possible. The rum helped. There had been an uproar he'd refused to testify against the survivor when the war ended. Not because he'd thought the man had been punished enough. The simple truth was Victor couldn't be sure he wouldn't have done the same in his place.
"Weren't your dad and brother still alive?" Simon asked.
"My brother threw himself into his work after that. Quit talking to anyone. My dad couldn't handle it," Victor explained. "He was never a fighter of any sort, but in college his roommate was a competition skeet shooter." Victor took another drink. "So my dad had this old eight gauge that he never got around to selling. He said he'd bought it because the large shells made up for not being able to shoot well." Victor looked from Simon to Jayne. Simon had a look of pity, knowing what was coming next. Which Victor found irritating. Jayne was eyeing the weapon strapped to Victor's right leg. "Any who..." Victor took another drink. "The night after we buried mom, dad redecorated his bedroom with his own skull." Victor was still mad about it. Leaving your son to find another dead parent like that was a coward's move in his book. Especially after years of talking about how his work was helping the people who needed it most.
Victor didn't bother telling the rest of the story. His parents house had burned down under suspicious circumstances, he'd invested most of the insurance money and bummed around, continuing his training for the next two years. He'd had to continue his training alone. Once word had gotten out that one of his students had killed a bunch of people, Sensei Toriyama had been forced to relocate to escape harassment. Even the university had talked about firing him and pressing charges. That still confused Victor. He didn't understand why people would blame Toriyama-san for something Victor had done. Even if they did, it would seem Victor's success would have been proof that Toriyama's training worked.
Victor rubbed his face vigorously and stood quickly, barely swaying. "Enough with the getting-to-know-you-shit. Jayne, can I keep this?" he asked in regards to the bottle.
Jayne waved him off. "Seems like you need it more than I do," he said.
"You're a scholar and a gentleman, my friend," Victor said, leaving.
"That was... enlightening," Simon said, watching Victor leave.
Jayne shrugged and went back to cleaning. "My own Pa got stabbed to death in a bar fight. Took a dozen men with him when he died." He sounded slightly cheerful about it. "I'm more worried about him askin' 'bout crazy girl like that." He paused, focused on what he was doing. "You know, my papa always had a saying."
After several seconds of looking at Jayne, Simon spoke. "And..."
Jayne, who'd been thinking about his father, looked up. "And what?"
"And what did your father say?" Simon asked.
"Oh, yeah... 'You don't stick your pecker in crazy'," Jayne said, sagely.
Simon scoffed in disgust. Picking up his own sake bottle, he walked out as well.
Jayne finished cleaning his weapon before he realized Simon had left.
"What'd I say?" he asked the empty air.
.
River crawled herself into the tightest spot of Serenity's fuselage she could so no one could hear her crying. She kept trying to convince herself she was going to be okay, just like Simon told her. Every time she started to feel normal, something like this happened. Not to mention that sword wielding hundan was partly to blame for this. He was lucky he was half as good as he seemed to think he was. Otherwise, she could have easily killed him. The Captain liked her, but she couldn't go around killing his crew. He might have to throw her out the airlock. He wouldn't like it, but he was capable of it if he had to.
Maybe he should, River thought bitterly. Sleep was a long time coming.
.
"I think she done snapped," a female voice said. "Told you it'd happen sooner or later. It was dumb to think we could keep this going."
"Going, going, gone," a similar voice muttered. This voice had the same tone, but sounded... sedated.
River's eyes snapped open as she realized she was surrounded. She was lying flat on her back and started frantically crawling backwards on her hands, backside, and feet even as her eyes took in her captors. There were five of them. All female of apparent Asian descent with dark hair and eyes. One was wearing a brown coat down to her knees with high brown leather boots underneath it. Her hair was in a no-nonsense bun and she had a serious look on her face. The next woman to the left had hair piled elaborately and was wearing a sparkly silver and gold kimono. The next woman was wearing a surgical coat with her hair covered in a blue bandana. The woman who had accused someone of having "done snapped" was dressed the most outlandishly. Her hair was cut in short, badly maintained flat top. Her pants were blue, gray, and purple tiger stripes favored by UAPN special forces. Her shirt was a black button down number with the sleeves cut off, tied at the waist. The shirt was two sizes too big and looked constantly on the verge of falling open. That woman hefted a clear water bottle and spit chewing tobacco juice into it, sneering at River.
The last two were a few feet behind the first three. One was a wild haired girl in a gray skinsuit, sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped beneath her knees. The last was a girl of about nine, wearing dirty coveralls, trying to entice the skinsuit woman into playing with her plastic doll.
All of the women had the same face, with the same mischievous, cornered smile. All with the same vertical forehead crease between their eyebrows.
"You're me," River said, standing quickly. "All of you are me!" She looked around. Inky darkness spread in all directions. River dimly noticed that there was no light source, yet she could see everyone clearly. She looked down at herself. She was wearing her normal flower dress, spandex shorts, and heavy boots. "How did you get me here? Where are we? What's going on?" She was practically screeching by the time she finished the last sentence.
"Quitcher' squawking," Flattop River said.
"You forgot to take your meds before going to sleep," lab coat River explained.
River looked from River to River, looking for any sign of deception. She wasn't entirely convinced the Academy hadn't cloned her. "I can't read your minds," she said, stunned. "My power is gone!" she was near hysterics again. And I always thought I'd be happy to be normal again, she thought.
"Calm DOWN!" Browncoat River barked, her voice bouncing back off of the nothingness. The kimono clad River placed a calming hand on the Browncoat's arm. In a quieter, but firmer, voice, "You're fine. You're asleep. We're you. You're body is back on Serenity."
River shook her head, trying to see if she could dispel her hallucination. She couldn't. All was silence except for Skinsuit River and Child River singing "The Ballad of Serenity" off to the side.
"I think you were right," River said in a blank voice to Flattop River. "I've done lost my gorram mind."
Flattop River looked self satisfied, spitting more juice into her bottle. Companion River and Doctor River both spoke in unison. "Not quite."
Child River came running over, slamming into River's legs, giving her a hug. Without thinking, River bent over to return the hug.
"You'll be okay," Child River said with the absolute surety only a child could have.
River felt her eyes tearing up. Not from sadness, but from a desire to believe what the child was saying was the truth.
"She just needs to get over herself," Browncoat River muttered.
"She needs to get laid," Flattop River asserted.
"She has a laundry list of medical problems," Doctor River snapped at both of them. "I don't think willpower or self-indulgence are going to magically fix them."
Companion River sighed as if she had heard this all before. Skinsuit River had started doing yoga.
"Hey!" River snapped, drawing all eyes to her. She held her arms out to either side with an incredulous look on her face. "Really?"
Flattop River didn't take the hint. "What about that Victor guy?"
"Zip it," Browncoat River snapped.
"What?" Flattop River demanded. "I'm not saying she should ride off into the sunset and have all of his babies. Just break off a piece while the gettin's good-"
"Shut up!" All of the Rivers said in unison. Except for Skinsuit Yoga River. She was standing on her hands, doing the splits. She kept alternating which leg was in front by way of going ramrod straight before spreading her legs front-to-back.
Flattop River... snarled. She spit more juice into her plastic bottle and muttered under her breath. The words "no respect" came across as well as a handful of curses.
"How do I get out of here?" River asked.
"Click your heels together three times?" Browncoat River said.
Skinsuit River switched to doing side-to-side splits and spoke in a consistent, flat tone. Her eyes never lost their far away look. "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz L. Frank Baum 1900 first popularized in 1903 Broadway musical form and later arguably the most popular film of all time the novel was illustrated by-"
"She does that," Flattop River said as Doctor River went over to see to Skinsuit River.
"Why am I here?" River demanded.
"Got somewhere more important to be?" Browncoat River asked.
"It is your head," Companion River said, smiling.
River felt herself getting a headache, but for the first time in a long time, she felt... good. There were no thoughts pressing out from other people onto her mind. She wasn't overwhelmed by a complete awareness of the world around her. Her mind was blessedly quiet and she couldn't feel anything outside of her own skin.
"I don't suppose I can stay here forever, can I?" River asked.
All of the other Rivers looked up at that statement. Even Skinsuit River was looking at her like she may have lost her mind. Browncoat and Flattop River snorted in unison. Child River looked excited at the idea. Companion River just smiled sadly. "No. Sorry."
"I strongly recommend you start pulling your la shi together," Browncoat River said, sternly. "We've been watching what you've been up to outside. We ain't got time for you be feeling sorry for yourself. So you didn't grow up to be the princess Daddy thought you'd be. Doesn't mean you can't still make something of yourself." Browncoat River considered for a moment. "You already have made something of yourself. You've saved people's lives. Repeatedly."
"You guys should understand what it's like," River said. "Constantly worried if I'm doing the right thing, never knowing when something I do is going to hurt the people around me."
"That doesn't really make you different from everyone else, now, does it?" Companion River said.
"You really think I stand a chance?" River asked herselves, wearily.
"We do," Companion River said, reassuringly. She turned to Doctor River. "Don't we, Doctor?"
Doctor River sighed and looked doubtful. "I'd be lying if I said I was entirely convinced," she said. Browncoat River glared at her as she continued, "but that's no reason not to try."
"I still think you need to get a little action," Flattop River said. "Get your drink on. Getcher self a couple of real pretty boys-"
"It's about that time," Companion River said, letting Flattop River ramble. She was peering off into the darkness.
"Just about," Browncoat River agreed, looking outward as well.
"-maybe hire yourself one of Petaline's girls-"
"What time?" River asked.
"We'll be seeing you around," Browncoat River said, clapping River on the shoulder. "Good luck. Try not to be so pathetic, huh? We're watching you."
River smiled to herself as the other Rivers faded into the black. "We're watching you" would be an ominous statement if not for the other woman being a literal figment of her imagination.
.
Victor jerked awake in his bunk, sweating and disoriented. He'd been having a bad dream. More of a bad memory, really. He crawled out of the bed and stumbled over to the toilet. Fumbling with the latch, he managed to get it down, just in time. He was still wearing his socks and nothing else. The rest of his clothes were in a pile at the bottom of his access ladder. At least he'd managed to get his weapons belt on it's wall hook.
Finishing up, he started washing his hands, avoiding his own face in the mirror.
He'd always been tall and skinny. He stood tallest of all of the fresh recruits in the formation, which was an achievement considering the varied heights of the boys around him. He'd long since forgotten what the DI had been screaming about. He remembered the triumphant feel of his knuckles connecting with the older man's throat. At sixteen, he hadn't fully appreciated how deadly a blow like that could be. Later, he would realize how lucky he'd been to escape jail.
Regardless of his natural talent for violence, taking a cheap shot at a trained killer who is expecting it doesn't work. The DI rolled with the punch. Then, he and two other Drill Instructors beat Victor unconscious with their fists and boots. Victor had woken up in a med bay with cracked ribs and blood in his urine. The extent of the injuries had bought him a general discharge instead of a dishonorable one. He'd been glad to come out without the black mark on his permanent profile.
Victor stood up straight, swaying. "I hate everything," he muttered, crawling back into bed.
.
Mal and Inara rolled to either side of the bed, nude and exhausted. Inara had returned directly to bed after the episode in the storage bay. At Mal's insistence, she'd discarded her robe and gone just one more round. Inara suspected Mal was trying to make up for the years he'd spent sleeping alone all in one night.
"I was thinking about River," she said after she'd caught her breath.
"While we were humping like rabbits?" Mal asked, rolling face down. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be falling asleep. Mumbling into the pillow he said "That's fine. I was thinking about Simon."
Mal grunted and chuckled at his own wit as Inara rolled to the side and put a knee into his hip.
"I'm serious," Inara said. "She's dealing with a lot right now. I think I'm going to start training her."
Mal sighed and rolled back over. "It's taken me the better part of two years to come to terms with your career," he said. He frowned at Inara. "I can't help but wonder what you think of my character, that I'd be fine with you going to someone else's bed just because it happens to be a pretty girl."
Inara frowned back at Mal. She was fairly certain he wasn't serious, but couldn't be sure.
Mal closed his eyes like he was going back to sleep. "Take pictures. I can sell them to Jayne for a fortune."
Inara, finally able to tell he was joking, punched Mal in the side of the ribs as hard as she could.
"Ow!" Mal snapped, putting a hand over the bruise. "Woman, you are getting violent! I wish I'd known to bring body armor with me."
"I meant I was going to teach her about meditation. Control of oneself," Inara clarified sweetly.
"Okay," Mal grumbled, turning on his side. He curled up in a ball to present a smaller target. "Just no hitting."
.
River came to herself, sitting on one of the bean bag chairs in the cockpit's lounge area. She quickly took stock of her situation. An Earth-That-Was-Cartoon about Hua Mulan was playing over the view port. Snow was in her lap and Kaylee was sitting next to her in the other chair. She was wearing her pajamas and eating popcorn. River tried to guess whether she'd been watching the movie without knowing or if she'd come in to watch it with Kaylee. River was fairly certain she hadn't hurt anyone this time. There was usually a lot more screaming involved in that. Besides, it's difficult to get into trouble with a puppy in one's lap.
"Why is there a talking dragon?" she asked Kaylee, looking around. They were alone, so it was probably still the same "night".
Kaylee turned, smile firmly in place. "I like him. Besides, Victor was telling me about these old movies." She made a face that looked like a creepy sneer and dropped her voice in imitation. "'When it doubt, throw a talking animal in. If that's not an option... Boobs'."
River laughed at how bad Kaylee's imitation was. "Why not just go all out? Have a talking cartoon animal with boobs?" she asked.
Kaylee rolled out of her chair and spilled popcorn everywhere in a fit of giggles. River felt hope flutter up in her chest. Maybe she'd be okay after all.