Simon saw them approaching Serenity, and lowered the cargo door.
"Oh, my god," he said at the sight.
"Get Wolfe strapped down to your table, Doctor," ordered Mal. "You need to get him fixed up before he comes back to life." He paused, then said, "which is an order I never thought I'd be giving."
"What about him?" asked Simon, gesturing to the obviously wounded Niska.
"If we live, he lives, but Wolfe is your first priority," said Mal.
"Okay! Follow me," he said to the ones carrying Nick.
Duncan and Mal sat Niska down against a crate. Mal crouched down next to him.
"Here's the deal," he said. "You already killed me once, and caused me and mine a great deal of trouble. Now you're causing trouble for my new friends, which is also irritating to me. But, since your crew might decide to shoot at my ship, I need you alive for a little while longer. So you're going to call your ship and tell them we're going to drop you at Albuquerque Drift, and they can pick you up there after we leave. Then you're going to forget you ever heard of Immortals, much like I plan to."
He looked at Duncan, who said, "That's a good idea."
"Me and mine are going to continue to stay out of your way, and not give you any excuses to come for us," continued Mal.
Niska said, "Coming for you did not work very well for me last time," he said. "You ended up costing me a very good bodyguard, and you did far more damage to my facilities than your paltry payment covered."
"So we're agreed?" said Mal.
"Will I receive medical attention?" Niska asked.
"Enough to keep you alive," said Mal. "You might have noticed that our infirmary is otherwise occupied."
"You will not die before your crew can meet with you," said Duncan. "I swear it."
"Old-fashioned nobility," said Niska, "is rare in the 'Verse. I believe your word will be sufficient."
"Let's get him to the bridge," said Ben, who had just arrived with River. Michelle closed the cargo door as they came in. River was already running for the bridge, yelling "doing the preflight!" back at Mal.
For once, he didn't complain.
In the infirmary, Simon and Zoe finished restraining Nick to the bed. Jayne and Amanda let go.
"Thank you," he said. "I could use an assistant if I'm going to do this quickly. How do anesthetics affect you?" The last he addressed to Amanda.
She didn't look up from Nick's face. "We go under as quickly as anyone, but we tend to wake up faster."
"About what I expected," he said. "Amanda, this won't be pretty. You might want to leave."
She shook her head. "No. I'll watch. I owe him that much." He gave her a nod as he opened up the drawers to get his surgical equipment.
"Will he wake up as a Reaver?" asked Zoe, after a few moments.
They both looked at Amanda, who said, "I don't know."
Simon nodded. "I would suspect he won't, but I'm going to keep him restrained anyway. I don't want him panicking or reacting badly, whether he's a Reaver or not."
"Of course." Everyone excepted Simon turned to look at Michelle, who was listening at the door. "The Pax. He's been trying to stop it. That's why it was at a lower concentration than we anticipated — he's likely been damaging the atmosphere towers so the Pax isn't mixed in. He's been sane longer and longer each time."
"That was my thought," said Simon. He carefully threaded an I.V. needle into Nick's arm and started the drip. "There," he said, "that will keep him unconscious long enough, I hope."
The ship shuddered slightly. Simon knew his sister was at the controls and taking them home.
"Fly smooth, mei mei," he muttered. He looked around at everyone. "I still need an assistant."
"I will assist you," said Marcus, slipping in past Michelle. "I did a stint in a hospital back on Earth-That-Was. At least I know the names for the tools." He looked at Simon. "I was a Roman general. I'm not squeamish around blood."
"Scrub up," said Simon, nodding toward the sink. "Everyone else, out. Except you, Amanda, you sit over there."
Simon got his tools ready while Marcus washed. "What's your plan?" he asked Simon.
"I've seen how fast you immortals heal," he said. "So I have to work quickly."
He held on to Nick's cheek, and sliced sharply down past the bolt.
"Take the knife," he said.
Marcus did that, and Simon, using both hands, quickly let the sliced cheek heal upwards. He watched as the tiny electrical discharges played over the wound. When he was done, there was a slight pinch in the skin along the line of the wound, but he was satisfied.
"Interesting idea," said Marcus. "Not quite perfect."
"Experimental surgery has that risk," he said. "Now let's turn the other cheek."
After Niska made his transmission, he'd been tied to a chair in the kitchen common area. Zoe and Duncan were watching him. Duncan had traded his guns for his sword. Niska had tried to speak with them, but neither responded. They still had five hours before they reached the Drift, and they planned to watch him every second.
River had "heard" Simon's earlier thoughts, and so was trying to fly as smooth as possible. The voices of the Reavers were starting to get very loud, and she had asked the captain to be ready. He was already sitting in the co-pilot seat waiting to replace her if she needed.
And he was going to be needed.
"They've lifted off," said Annie. "Can you stay ahead of them?"
"They're faster than we are," said River. To the captain, she said, "and I'm not Wash."
"Leaf on the wind," he said. "Do your best, little albatross."
Jayne was sitting on the hallway couch, relaxing at the events of the day. Michelle walked around the corner and said, "Oh, there you are."
"Nothing for me to do," he said, holding up Vera, "unless we get boarded."
"Nothing for me to do either," she said, and sat down next to him.
They were quiet for a few moments, then she started to talk.
"Jayne," she said, "I know what kind of man you think you are, and I think I know what kind of man you really are. When we decided to rescue Nick, I looked around, trying to find a good ship and crew. What I found was a place with a statue of Jayne Cobb."
Jayne shook his head. "It didn't happen like they said."
She leaned on his arm, and snuggled up. "I'm sure," she said. "But then I found a whorehouse on another moon. They told me how you are your crew defended them."
"Yeah?" he said. A slight smile graced his hard features. "Them was fun times, for awhile."
"I spoke to one of the woman. She told me how you taught her about firearms and treated her like an equal. She enjoyed your company, which is more than she managed for most of her clients, I gathered. She told me how she learned from you. She is the house's defender now. She told me she thinks of you often, and what you did for her. You changed her life."
"Huh," said Jayne, thinking. "That's somethin', I guess."
"You aren't the hero that Canton thought you were," said Michelle, "but you aren't the villain you think you are, either. You could be a good man, Jayne Cobb, or a bad man, but I hope that when everything is over, you end up being happy with what you do."
"Never had anyone tell me that," he said, "not even my mother."
She laughed softly. "Whatever else you do, I hope we see each other once in a while."
Jayne looked at the woman leaning on his arm. "That'd be okay, I guess," he said. "More than okay."
"Good," said Michelle.
Suddenly the captain's voice came from everywhere.
"All hands, prepare for a full burn," he said. "Kaylee, ride herd on those engines. We've got Reavers on our tail, and I want to outrun them."
Michelle tried to stand up, but Jayne held her arm. "No need to move yet," he said. "Cap'n will let us know if one gets close. Then you and me, we'll be ready for 'em."
Mal wasn't nearly as calm as Jayne. River had been curled up in a ball at the pilot's station, suffering from all the ravenous thoughts from the Reaver ships, so he'd sent her to the infirmary.
He never thought he'd miss Wash this much, but without River, Mal was the best pilot left on the ship. At least, he figured he must be, otherwise he was one of his passengers would have spoken up. They hadn't been shy talking about their other abilities when the subject came up.
Ben Adams entered the bridge. "How close are they?" he asked, studying the sensor display.
"Too close," said Mal. "I'm wishing a mite that you still had a Navy ship."
"I tend to agree," said Ben. "It looks like ten, no, eleven, ships following us. Was it this bad last time you came here?"
"Much worse," said Mal. "But we had an entire Alliance fleet waiting for us on a nearly uninhabited moon. I don't dare lead this group to Albuquerque Drift."
"Maybe I can help," said Ben. "May I send a 'wave to some friends?"
"If your friends have guns, be my guest," said Mal.
The immortal said, "Not them specifically but, as they used to say, I know a guy who knows a guy."
He picked up the microphone and said, "Xenophon Anabasis. Albuquerque Drift." He set down the mic and sent the 'wave.
"Very cryptic," said Mal. "The March of the Ten Thousand?"
"It wasn't nearly as big as history paints it," said Ben.
"I 'spect nothing is," said Mal. "How long until they meet up with us?"
Ben stood. "I don't know. If you feel the need to turn before we arrive, do so," he said. "I leave it in your hands. We knew we had to keep the communication vague. The others don't know I arranged this. I was hoping not to use it—it will cause complications." He turned to leave.
"For you, you mean," said Mal.
Ben smiled. "You already know me better than most, Captain Reynolds," he said, and left.