Chapter Seven - *The characters and their world belong to Mr. Whedon and company; the mistakes and the follies are solely mine.

*Previously: Prologue and Chapters up to Six. - - ::Serenity:: - Simon dopes Livy as soon as she is settled in the infirmary, though he waits to operate until Serenity clears atmo and the sailing smoothes out. Inara stands in attendance, and Mal fidgets in one corner, watching. River, too, joins them. She sits on the second patient bunk, unusually calm in that room. As bad as it looked, Simon is quick to set things to right. In a few hours he is assuring Inara and River and Mal that Livy will be fine, will be running around soon enough. Just in need of rest now. Mal, relieved of a guilt he told himself he had no need to be feeling, sits back in lounge, amazed that once again his crew came through together and whole. And this time with a fair stack of coin. “What about her face?” Inara asks Simon, joining Mal in lounge. Mal sits up; he had forgotten the angry slash, the young girl’s cheek left swollen and red. “I don’t have the equipment, or the expertise, really, to do anything about that.” “So she’ll just have to live with that scar?” Mal asks, heart sinking as fast as relief had come. “No, no any half-decent reconstructive surgeon should be able to—” “The Guild will take care of it, Mal,” Inara cuts in. “She’ll have the finest treatment available to her, once we get her back home.” “Reckon she ain’t in much position to be taking transport to the Core by her lonesome, but I ain’t so cherishing the idea of weaving through a score of Alliance patrols to get to Sihnon.” “That won’t be necessary; the Guild has a strong presence throughout the Allied planets, Mal. Even along the Rim.” “She’ll be needing to see those fancy docs soon?” “Sooner is better, but it’s not an immediate concern. They’ll have to wait until the swelling goes down.” “Then it won’t be a problem if we stop over at Beaumonde? Like to pick up some supplies, while we’ve got coin to spend, and Kaylee’s soundin’ serious about a need for parts. Not to mention I’m thinkin’ we’d all like to be portside a day in a place that don’t look like Lotus.” “Medically speaking, she should stay put for a few days, but it hardly matters where those days are. And the infirmary needs stocking, painkillers, at the very least.” “Inara, you ok with—” “Sounds like a perfect plan, Mal.” “Yeah. Well. Don’t jinx it or nothing.” He stands to leave. “You got us a good job, ‘Nara. Conjure we owe you a fair deal of thanks.” Inara doesn’t know what to say, and Mal is up the stairs and headed to the bridge before she can speak. - - River’s birds keep to the cargo bay, and turn the catwalks into echoing tunnels of sound. Occasionally eerie, for the larger part of the two-day travel they are a welcome addition to the ship. Mal had wanted them in cages, ordered them into cages. Kaylee set one up, but its door had a way of regularly falling open. For all his complaints though, and threats of making Kaylee and River scrub the ship on their hands and knees, bridge to engine-room and galley to airlock, his boat stays remarkably clean. Or, clean as it ever is. Standing in the bay, listening to the birds sing like they were in the midst of an old greenwood, River catches his puzzled expression. “Simple, Captain. Explained to them the rules. Only the cage can be dirty.” Mal decides not to question what works. “Best stay that way, little one.” River just walks away, sounding all the ‘verse like she was whistling in harmony to the birds’ song. - - Livy spends most of her time in the cargo bay. Inara joins her, brings out tea and Simon’s latest round of pills. “It’s hard to believe such a little thing can make so much music,” she says to Inara, after thanking her for the cup. Inara settles down the floor next to Livy’s chair, careful not to jostle her leg. “River tells me you’re a musician yourself.” Livy blushes. “A bit. I play... played the violin, during training.” “But you stopped?” “Hard to keep an instrument in tune, bouncing about so. The first ship I was on was always too hot or too cold; strings snapped, wood started to warp, couldn’t take it out of the case to play. Just one more thing to carry, after a while. Better to let it go.” “It’s not exactly the training house, out here, is it?” “No,” Livy says, still looking up. “But then, out here, the beauty of the ‘verse is so much more present. For its rarity. Incongruity. So much more potent.” “Very true,” Inara answers, startled. Livy changes the conversation. “We are stopping on Beaumonde?” “Yes. Serenity needs fuel and a few parts. And we all need fresh food. And air.” “Lotus isn’t exactly a place to breathe deeply in.” “Not at all.” “I should be able to find transportation back, from there—” “Oh, sweetie, no. You don’t need to worry. We’ll take you. Mal was willing to fly you to Sihnon.” “That’s too far.” “Well, and a bit complicated.” “I’ve no need to go so far back. I’d rather not, if it’s possible.” “More than so. I know of several worlds where the Guild maintains offices, and there is a training house, not four days from Beaumonde. Where there will be doctors to help with this,” Inara’s fingers brush the air above Livy’s cheek, “and plenty of peace and air to recover in.” “How kind your crew is. You forget what good people will risk, in the midst of all... ” Livy drifts off, not completing her thought. Inara does not push her, instead they listen to the tiny choir above weave their melodies into a whole. - - Giggling, Mal supposes, is to be expected, right before leave, but he dislikes it intensely. It suggests tricks, and looking at the cluster of Kaylee, River and Inara, bent around Livy, he decides he has a strong desire to not be on the receiving end of whatever it is they are hatching. “You all needs be back by four local time, if you recall. We’re just touching down here, not settling a new town.” “We know, Cap’n, we heard the first couple of times,” Kaylee says, her voice full of good-humor and something extra. Mischief? Mal wonders. “River, how you getting those birds to market?” “Swept under a tall hat.” “Tyen shiao-duh” he thinks to himself. This is what he gets for being generous. Mischief and nonsense. “Fine then. Don’t get into trouble. We going on leave means I don’t gotta rescue a one of you.” “Captain?” “Wash, you need something, ‘cuz I unlike the rest of this crew, it seems, I got things to do.” The pilot is leaning down over a railing. He seems unrepentant about delaying Mal. “You sure we have to leave here by four?” “Yes, Wash, we got worlds to get to and this ain’t one of them.” “It’s just, they’re playing Tyrannosaurus Rex vs. the Giant Ape at midnight—” “Kwai chur hun-rien duh di fahng.” He pulls on his gloves and starts walking, away from both the giggling and now outright laughing. Zoe falls in, but he hears her snort. Least Jayne is quiet-like. Sulking over not getting to spend the night planet-side, no doubt. Livy stops her audience, before they can turn and follow. “Here,” she hands Inara a man’s watch and ring, “these are my contributions.” “Honey?” Inara asks, confused. Kaylee holds up the watch, a pocket one on a long gold chain. “Say, Livy, this is a real old bit of clockwork. Where’d you get such pretties?” “I believe they last belonged to the honorable prince Byron Park,” Livy answers, with a slow grin. “Least, I found them sitting in a drawer in his room.” “You pinched ‘em?” “I was a bit angry at the time. And thinking I might need to bribe my way clear of his compound.” She looks to Inara, frown-lines crossing the older companion’s brow. “Livy, these are valuable things. You rightly deserve recompense for what that wan nao did, but so you should keep them or sell them, for yourself.” “I don’t want them, or the money. I’ve no wish to keep anything of that planet. But I do owe your captain and the crew,” she turns to Kaylee, “for all your help. Rescue, medical assistance, transport, all of that costs—” “Don’t be silly, Livy. We ain’t lookin’ for—” “Please, Kaylee. Inara, I’m sure you’ll make a good trade with them. And River, take the credits and spend them on this party of yours. If you’d allow it, I’d like to help host. Not that I can do much, limping around. But this is something. As a thank you.” Inara catches the plea in the girl’s voice, the desperate sincerity, behind trained poise. Companions are not taught to take things unearned, or to sit idly by. River hears it too, or notes something, because she sticks out her hand. “Partners.” “Partners,” Livy says, in return, shaking hands firmly. “O-kay,” Kaylee grins, “let’s go burn some coin. We got a shindig to throw.” - - Mal has his arms crossed as he watches the last three of his gang come weaving up the walkway, two minutes before four. Their arms are thankfully free of nightingales; he guesses River actually sold the gorram birds, but they do have a suspicious amount of bags and boxes. “I ain’t even given you all your cut yet, how’d you buy half the world?” “You mean how’d River buy half the world, Cap’n. ‘Nara and me just helped.” “All those belong to River?” “Yes, Mal. She made quite the profit with her winged friends.” “Not enough to buy all... what’s that? An entire box of pineapples?” “Can’t answer questions and carry all these things at once, Cap’n.” “Fine,” Mal says. “Jayne!” He takes a box off Kaylee’s stack and holds out his arms for Inara and River to give him one as well. Jayne sticks his head out of a hatch. “Yeah, Mal?” “Girls went crazy and bought up the whole market. Help ‘em carry these things.” “You’ll find several more crates at the end of the ramp,” Inara says. She dumps all her packages into Mal’s waiting arms, takes a basket out of River’s hands, and heads to the kitchen. “I’m going to get Livy,” she says over her shoulder, to a giggling Kaylee, a calm River, and a wincing Mal. “All these boxes?” they hear Jayne shout from the ramp. - - Mal catches on that River has some sort of dinner planned, once the girls colonize the kitchen, ask Shepherd for his expert cooking advice and draft the doc’s skilled hands into chopping. He heads to the galley to make his complaints about people having, one, too much fun on his boat, especially fun they ain’t got permission to have, and two, not doing any work in the middle of a perfectly fine workin’ day, but finds his first mate leaning against the closed hatch to galley. She stares at him. “Zoe?” “They ain’t harming a thing, Captain.” “But we’ve—” “Got credits and time to spare at the moment. “Right.” He wonders if that flash bomb might have rattled something loose in her head. She’d seemed recovered well enough, before. The again it weren’t just Zoe. Whole gorram ship. Boo-tai jung tzhang duh. He decides he’ll spend the afternoon in his bunk. Away from the crazy bug that seems to have bitten everyone save his pilot, his merc, and himself. - - Turns out he was wrong about his casualty list of the kwong-juh duh, because when he finally surfaces he finds Wash, looking as cleaned up and formal as he’s liable to get, humming in his pilot chair. “Wash?” “Yeah, Captain?” “What’s with the get-up?” “River’s party.” “Party?” “Yeah, Mal, you know, a party. Celebration. Festivities, kind of thing normal people do when they are happy and—” “I know what a party is, thank you.” “Didn’t you read your invitation?” “My what?” Wash holds out a sheet of woven paper, delicately edged with a colored pencil border of interlocking branches and birds. Flowing characters invite the reader to a party, in Serenity’s Cargo Bay, at 8 o’clock, ship’s time, by their hosts-to-be River Tam, Olivia Wake and Kaywinnit Lee Fry. Jiang-jiu de fu-zhuang. Wash and Zoe’s names are in thick, curly letters, edged with glitter. “I didn’t get—” “Wash?” Zoe is standing in the hatch. “Time to go. Captain, you’re gonna be late.” “Late for what? It’s my gorram—” he turns and almost steps back. Zoe in red is always breath-taking. “Captain. Most money we’ve seen since Ariel. And River went and near-doubled hers sellin’ those Earth-that-was birds. Girl’s gotta right and a reason to celebrate.” “Maybe we should be looking into large-scale bird-napping,” Wash suggests, as he brushes by Mal and offers Zoe his arm. They can’t exactly walk down the narrow stairs linked like that, but they leave Mal staring on the bridge, shaking his head. When he sees Jayne climb up from his bunk, in his best shirt and shined boots, Mal decides he’s the only sane one left. Which makes him think he best be at River’s thing, just to make sure no one decides to juggle knives or open the air-lock. Walking by his door he notes a piece of paper on the floor. He picks it up, folds it in half and sticks it into his pocket, spilling some glitter, as he heads to the cargo bay. “Why the cargo bay?” he mutters, as he starts walking down stairs. - Everyone that walked into the bay stopped short. Mal is no exception. Wo de ma... Kaylee really is a wonder, he thinks, staring up into a space filled with lights. She must have strung tiny lanterns from the catwalks, strung a hundred of them. They make the huge room glow. And the kitchen table is set up on the floor of the bay, near the walkway, where real Chinese lanterns give off the unmistakable flicker and warmth of candlelight. Everyone is seated around the table, waiting for him. He clears his throat, and slides up to the empty chair at the head, finding Inara at his left, Book at his right, and River staring at him, across a table filled with more food than he remembers seeing on his ship, ever. Everyone is dressed something special, he notes, feeling a bit more nervous. Simon is wearing an immaculate white shirt and black vest. Inara is in a formal gown; Kaylee has an orchid pinned behind her ear. Mal clears his throat, again, and pulls the chair out to sit down, not sure what the silence means. “My compliments, ladies,” he says, looking at each of the girls, “place looks near miraculous.” He moves to sit down. “Can’t sit, Captain.” “No?” he asks River. “Not yet. First, responsibilities.” “Not sure I follow you—” “We work before we play on this boat, Cap’n,” Kaylee drawls. “I uh see. What’d ya have—” “Toast, Captain,” River says. She picks up the mug before her. “Oh, a toast.” He is suddenly relieved to know he is actually welcome at the party. That his attempts to dampen the day didn’t succeed, didn’t get him written out of their good graces. “Well then. Suppose chin-chin won’t due at a fancy party like this?” Everyone just raises assorted cups and mugs, and waits. “First, I guess, to a job well done. Everyone had a part, and everyone here, including our guest, did that part well enough to get us safely by and paid. Which to my mind is no little thing.” “To the job” echoes round the table. “And second, ‘course, to our hostesses pulled this fine feast together. Never seen Serenity looking so festive-like. Or smelling so good.” “Here, here,” says the crowd, as they bang the table and toast the girls. “Lastly, well, lastly but not least, to a crew made of the finest people you’re like to find in the ‘verse, now and ever.” “Damn right,” says Jayne, over the clinking of cups and laughs and “to us”. Mal sips, expecting Kaylee’s wine, and his eyes go wide. “You got sake?” “Best money could buy.” Kaylee is almost giddy. “Finest kind,” River solemnly agrees. “A whole crate of it, Mal,” Jayne says, pointing to an open box near by, then pouring himself another full cup. Truly spoken, Mal can see the blue bottles standing in neat rows. “A whole gorram crate.” “Ain’t that something,” Mal says, and offers Inara the bowl of expertly sliced fruit. - - River helps Inara brew tea after dinner, as the rest of the crew chat and walk in and out of the galley, stacking up plates on any flat space they can find. Book pulls out desserts; Kaylee takes them up to the table. “When are you giving Livy her surprise?” Inara asks River. “After tea,” she replies. “So she can play for us. Teach us what heaven sounds like.” “She must be very gifted.” “She plays with love.” River turns suddenly to Inara, looks right through her. “You must listen. Love without hope, music won’t last. Leaves you staring and empty.” “Shah muh sweetie?” Inara says as her hands move steadily through the ritual of tea. “Love without hope, as when the young bird-catcher/ Swept off his tall hat to the Squire's own daughter,/ So let the imprisoned larks escape and fly/ Singing about her head, as she rode by.” Inara tries to tease out River’s meaning, but the girl is carrying clean cups to the table and is gone before she can ask anything. The words worry her. River’s advice, she knows, is usually sound but wrapped in the nonsensical. The problem with most oracles. She puts it out of her mind, for now. Instead she takes the pot to the table and concentrates on Kaylee’s dancing lights, the ready laughter in the big room, and Mal’s smile, wholly warm for once, as he holds out his cup for tea. - -

*~*~* - Translations Tyen shiao-duh: name of all that’s sacred Kwai chur hun-rien duh di fahng: Go far away very fast. wan nao: trouble-maker, good-for-nothing kwong-juh duh: (of) crazy (people) Boo-tai jung tzhang duh: not entirely sane. Jiang-jiu de Fu-zhuang: stylish attire Wo de ma: mother of God. Shah muh: What?

Poem quoted by River, here and previously: “Love Without Hope” by Robert Graves. - - Note: So, finally, onto the parts I wanted to write. The next chapters are what started this story, and so comments will be doubly wonderful. An oddness though, every now and again, I’m getting emails saying someone has posted a comment (joy) only to find it isn’t there... If you are being so kind as to write, thank you, and can you make sure it posts? This even after the site appeared to be back up and clicking. If you take the trouble to write, I surely do want to take the time to read it. I truly enjoyed writing what comes next, and hopes some others might, too.

peace not pax – intopaper.