Chapter 5

Five minutes earlier...

"I hope wherever this beautiful little adventure is taking us, they'll have a fuel station there."

It wasn't always easy to decipher whether Wash was peeved, cheerful, or just nervous. He tended to speak in quips no matter what kind of mood he was in. But Kaylee knew him well, and she picked up on the underlying exasperation in his voice. So did Mal, and he shot him a warning glare from his place in the co-pilot seat.

"I'm just saying!" Wash exclaimed. "Someone wanted to go for hard burn, remember? And someone else said that would nearly deplete our tanks. And then that first someone said that nothing could possibly go wrong, and –"

"You made your point the first two times," Mal barked at him. "Just don't lose 'em!"

"Oh, I won't lose them. Not as long as that tracker keeps sending us that nice, fat signal. It's really Serenity you need to sweet talk, sir. She's a good, ol' girl, she is, but running on empty fuel tanks –"

"Honey," Zoë stopped him, "we get it."

That made Wash stay quiet for a while, but Kaylee noticed it didn't stop his wife from throwing worried glances in Mal's direction. It seemed she wasn't alone in thinking that the captain's behavior bordered a little on obsession at this point. Their contacts hadn't even been angry at them for losing the cargo once Mal had laid it all out for them. There wasn't a Niska waiting somewhere with vengeance and scary machines. They wouldn't be paid, mind you, but no one was going to kill them for it either. There was no reason for them to go on a wild goose chase with nearly empty fuel tanks, hunting something that could be replaced.

Unless, of course, it wasn't really the loot they were hunting.

Mal had stared at the console in front of him for a good half an hour now, on that little screen showing the star chart and the tiny blinking dot that was their precious crate, now headed somewhere unknown, along with a certain mercenary.

Allegedly.

Kaylee wasn't totally sure what to think. She hadn't seen Jayne at the drop site – because he, according to Mal, hadn't been there – and actually seeing him was probably the only thing that would one hundred percent convince her that he'd really switched sides. And yet, she wasn't so naïve that she didn't see where all the circumstantial evidence was pointed. The whole situation made her upset beyond measure, and standing here on the bridge, soaking up all the bad mood and terrible tension, didn't help. But this was where she had to be. She needed to be on top of everything.

"Aaa-and we've lost the signal," Wash said, partly overlapped by Mal's sudden and loud cursing.

He tapped frantically at the spot the tiny dot has disappeared from, as if that would help bring it back. "That settles it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "According to our contact, none of the middlemen knew about the tag. This has to come from Jayne."

"Could've just found it by chance," Zoë said, but Kaylee could see on her face she didn't even believe that herself. It mirrored the disappointment that grew like a dark pit inside of her.

"Please tell me there's enough for a course prediction," Mal said to Wash in a tone that dared him to tell him otherwise.

"Well, course predictions are notoriously hard to make, as you know. For people who aren't the finest pilot in the 'verse, that is. Lucky for you, you got one of those." Wash swiveled around in his chair and leaned in over his own screen. Mal stood and joined him, and Zoë and Kaylee also stepped in closer as the pilot zoomed in on the star chart. "Here's Aberdeen," he thought out loud, "here's where the signal was lost... They're not headed for any other planet... More likely one of the moons… Yup!" He tapped the screen. "Here. New Lafayette. I'm willing to bet on that."

"What do we know about the place?" Mal asked. "Ever been?"

"No." Wash tapped a few keys on the keyboard and skimmed the information that popped up on his screen. "Third moon out from Aberdeen… According to the Cortex... woodland, mostly... uhm, about fifteen hundred inhabitants... one main settlement... oh, nice, a fuel station!... and... ooh, interesting, there's a Fed outpost."

"That is interesting," Mal agreed.

"You think they're dirty?" Zoë asked.

"Maybe. Looks like more than enough forest for a boatload of scoundrels to hide in, nonetheless. Okay, take us there."

"And look for the needle in the haystack?" Wash said.

"And fuel your tanks, Wash!" Mal barked back. "Just, you know, stay clear of the Feds."

Kaylee had only half listened to the last part of the conversation, as she was still processing the first half. She had dared to hang on to hope for as long as that tracker had been transmitting. Hope that there was some coincidence at work here, and if not, at least a clear path forward. But that hope had been snuffed out with the signal, and there was no path, she realized, no plan, just chaos. And the ironic part was that this was where she would normally turn to Jayne for comfort or guidance. Because he always gave the most plain, direct, honest, and unfiltered answers.

Suddenly feeling sick, she left Mal and Wash to their bickering, and escaped the bridge to try and clear her head somewhere else. She ended up on the catwalk overlooking the cargo bay, a favored spot for a lot of people onboard whenever they needed a moment to themselves, and sat down with her legs dangling off the edge. She pressed her forehead against the cool metal of the rails and took a deep breath, desperate to untangle the big knot in her stomach.

She didn't even notice River before the girl sat down next to her, but didn't flinch. Somehow, she wasn't surprised, and she welcomed the presence.

"D'you think he did it, River?" she asked, not sure what kind of state the girl was in, not sure whether she really expected an answer, much less a coherent one. "You really think Jayne sold the cap'n out?"

"You're asking the wrong question," River replied.

Kaylee looked at her. "What?"

The brown eyes that met hers were grave, but seemed lucid enough. "You know he did. You want to know why."

Kaylee felt the tears sting her eyes and, a little irritated, blinked them away. "I just wish people would stop leavin'. It feels… wrong."

"It is," River agreed.

She grabbed the rails in front of her with both hands and stared dreamily up toward the ceiling. "Have you ever seen trapeze artists, Kaylee? Daddy took me to the circus once. They were so pretty. Sparkling. Like flying beetles."

She giggled, but as Kaylee looked at her, slightly confused by the sudden change in topic and demeanor, her face turned dead serious again. "It's trust that does that. What makes them fly. You need to trust that they'll hold on to your hand, you see. That there'll be a soft place for you to land. If you don't trust, you don't fly."

"You fall?" Kaylee suggested, grimacing at the thought of sparkling beetles smashing into the ground.

"You bet on both sides," River said after a moment's consideration. "And catch yourself."

Twelve hours later...

Here was a thing about Jayne Cobb: he was good at math.

He could easily calculate that seven percent of 350 credits was twenty-four and a half and that ten percent was thirty-five, and as such he'd made a sweet deal when he'd joined Mal's crew, at least as long as Mal brought in some coin. He knew that profit split fifteen ways meant less per head than split six ways, and that unless Svetlana pulled big jobs like this all the time, his stay with her would be even less lucrative. All this he instinctively knew. He just didn't know it was math. He thought math was something you were forced to do at school when you'd much rather be out hunting rabbits, and so he was unaware that he was good at it, and always had been.

But he did know he was good at shooting, so when Svetlana and Moab approached him with a rifle that first morning in camp, he suddenly felt a lot more on top of his game.

They had landed the night before, on a grassy field in the middle of nowhere, guided by bonfires and the flashing headlights of a truck. They had left the ship and trekked a couple of miles along a trail through the woods, to a semi-permanent settlement consisting of a few shacks and a whole lot of tents, where even more people had joyfully greeted them.

Even kids, Jayne had realized when morning came, and he could fully take in his new surroundings. It turned out Svetlana's people had families.

What in the gorramn hell?

He had not expected to find a whole little community here.

Wherever here was.

He wasn't quite sure, but yesterday's flight had been rather short, and so he guessed that the planet taking up one third of the sky above him was Aberdeen, and that he currently found himself on one of its moons.

One of its very woody moons.

There seemed to be thick forest surrounding the camp on all sides, except for a small field to the south, where a couple of vehicles were parked, along with one of The Sturgeon's shuttles. Apparently, the ladies, and that boy-whore Moab, had traveled from the ship in style.

The guys had let him walk freely around the encampment to acquaint himself with the place, but he knew they kept an eye on him. He'd discovered that once he'd drifted too close to the edge of the woods, and one of them had called him back with a shout and the wave of a gun. He clearly wasn't allowed to leave.

Not that he would.

Not unarmed.

Which is why he was glad when his new boss finally put a weapon in his hands.

It was a 51R McCormack. Not the best sniper rifle in the 'verse, certainly not the newest, but not the worst either and he'd be glad for any gun at that point. He took it when Moab handed it to him, and as soon as his fingers touched the metal, he felt like himself for the first time since they'd left Persephone nearly four days ago.

"I hear you're quite the marksman," Svetlana said, eyeing him as he weighed the gun in his hands, getting the feel of it. "I think it's time you showed me."

"S'pose I could. Even with this thing."

She pointed across the field to the tree line on the other side. "See the pine there? The nest at the top?"

He did. A tiny ball of twigs, close to two hundred yards away. But even a McCormack could do that, and he definitely could. He huffed and hoisted the gun to his shoulder to have a look down the sights. "Scope's bent," he said, noticing the smirk on Moab's face. He'd known, of course.

"Shouldn't be a problem for an expert like you," Svetlana insisted.

"Didn't say it was."

It wasn't. It only made it a little trickier. But Jayne knew math. He knew how to make the necessary calculations and adjustments. A bent scope, the force and direction of the wind… all just parts of the equation talent and experience had taught him to make in mere seconds.

He braced his legs apart, turned the safety off, and took aim. He inhaled deeply to steady himself, then slowly released the air, raising the invisible walls that shut out the 'verse just enough. He was aware he had an audience; people had begun to gather. He didn't mind.

He gently squeezed the trigger.

The loud bang echoed through the woods. Across the field the pine gently swayed, then the bird's nest tumbled to the ground. Around him people cheered.

Even Svetlana. And Moab just stood there gaping like the village idiot. A very satisfying sight indeed.

"Kicks like a bitch," Jayne said, gesturing with the gun.

He reluctantly tried to hand it back, but Svetlana stopped him. "You've earned that, I'd say. Welcome to Kuikui, New Lafayette, Jayne Cobb."

She left and Moab followed her, throwing a last warning look in Jayne's direction as he did so. None of the others approached him, nor said anything. But a few smiled and tipped their hats before they too walked away. Rufus pointed a triumphant finger at him and mimicked pulling a trigger.

Jayne looked at his new weapon and thought of Vera. This was nothing compared to her. But it was far better than no gun at all.

"Kicks like a bitch," he repeated to himself, caressing the long, sleek barrel with a gentleness he didn't even reserve for pretty girls. "All cross-eyed and bent in the head. Maybe I'll call you River."