CHAPTER 4 Kaylee sulked back to Serenity, her illusions of a relaxing walk about town quashed. A hundred feet from men handing out food and she was being asked to walk the other way. Captain going about thieving meant a fast departure, which meant Serenity needed some tuning up. But since the pirates had taken any tool in plain sight, there were a few things that just couldn’t be fixed properly. In the two days since they had been robbed, her poor Serenity had Frankensteined itself. The stove in the kitchen was down to one burner; the electrical components of the rest having been sent to other tasks. The oven was completely dismantled, but should anyone need heat, they could just go to the engine room because the cooling system was almost entirely dysfunctional. She’d managed to construct a make-shift radiator by dismantling one of the toilets and running a pipe outside the ship to cool water before running it past the engine. At one point, the water pump had broken and Jayne had pumped it manually for nearly an hour while she tried to fix it with a twelve inch screwdriver and no wrench. It only helped so much. Water was a terrible coolant for such extreme hot and cold temperatures and the anti-freeze was spread thin. That would be their biggest problem. Being in atmo, they had no way to cool the water and thus the engine would run hot. Back at Serenity, Kaylee grabbed her last remaining screwdriver, a 12 inch manual slot. She’d been using it as hammer, a wedge, a skewer, and every now and then as a screwdriver. Scanning the dining hall, she looked at the last working burner. If they had food tonight, they’d need it. Besides, there wasn’t much she could think of that hadn’t already been done. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Book asked, startling her. She tapped the screwdriver on her hand, trying to look contemplative instead of clueless. “Not unless you can fix the compressor.” “I’m afraid I don’t know how those work.” “Then I guess the best we can hope for is that we don’t burn up on our way out of atmo.” Kaylee threw in a smile trying to turn her statement into a joke. “That serious?” Book was trying to help her think. She appreciated his effort. “We may be able to switch on the cooling system and break atmo before it explodes. Then we can switch to the water radiator real quick. That’s assuming the radiator didn’t melt. I didn’t really think about needing to leave the world.” “So maybe we should make sure the radiator is intact.” “It’s worth a shot.”

*~*

The Neptune was covered in a layer of dew having landed just before sunrise. In the middle of a corral, most of the grass around it had been trampled by livestock, forming a ring that was partially covered by the ship. It was much closer to town than the bureaucrats probably liked. Coming down a steep embankment, Mal, Zoë, and Jayne were running out of cover. “Keep in mind anything we take with us has to get back up this hill,” Mal told the others. He was beginning to wish he’d left his coat behind for this one. The Neptune was mostly square and though the back door was wide open, it was uninviting. The blue merman jeered at them from the hull. After a few moments of no one coming in or out, they made a dash for the ship. Waiting outside until they were assured of no voices at the immediate entrance, they crept in slowly. The area was most certainly a cargo bay, twice the size of Serenity’s with crates and frippery strewn about. Within a moment, Zoë could see the organization of it, haphazard as it was. Heavy things were closer to the door, light things farther away. First came a food crate. Zoë wondered if the folks of Newhall were taking kindly to having some of their food stolen. Just beyond that and to the left, Serenity’s pots and pans had been tossed carelessly into a box. Mal found a crate with wheels and began stacking the ware more carefully into that crate. To the right lay a few guns. Jayne went over immediately, loading up his belt with as many as he could carry, whether his or not. Swag and linens were to the back. Zoë surveyed the area, her eyes landing on a familiar frilly pink dress. She picked it up, gathering it towards the large hoop at the bottom and placing it over her shoulder. For a few minutes, the three went around, stocking their wheeled crate with as much as they could. After his second tour of the cargo bay without having found Vera, Jayne went to the food crate and kicked it angrily. It tipped over, the sound of the falling lid reverberating through the cargo bay. After a long cringe in silence, Mal hissed, “You think that was loud enough?” “It’s not my fault! The gorram thing is empty!” Jayne retorted. Another long silence passed as they waited to see if anyone had noticed or become concerned enough to check out the noise. “Damn shame too. We needed the food. Zoë?” Mal asked, ending the silence. Zoë knew everything about these kinds of ships. Before Mal had met her, she had spent three months stowed away on an Alliance scout ship gathering intelligence for the Independents. “Their kitchen should be up and to the left,” Zoë answered, indicating a narrow corridor just opposite the cargo bay entrance. “Where’s the Captain’s cabin?” Jayne whispered. “What?” “Vera,” Jayne said simply. “Vera would be in the Captain’s cabin.” “Gorram single-minded sha gua,” Mal muttered. “Just past the kitchen. Hallway to the right is crew quarters,” Zoë answered. She grabbed the wheeled crate and pulled it behind her, leading the others toward the kitchen. “May be easier to leave that here,” Mal said. “May not be coming back this way, sir.” “Right,” Mal nodded. As Jayne split off, Mal turned to Zoë and said, “Don’t know if there’s a thing in the ‘verse he loves more ‘n that gun.” “Money, sir?” Mal shrugged. “It’s a toss-up.” “Let’s get us some supper, sir.”

*~*

Kaylee spread a layer of clay over the radiator pipes on Serenity’s roof. Converted from plumbing tasks, they were marred with stress fractures. She used her screwdriver to slather the clay which was baking far too quickly in the hot sun. What she wouldn’t give for a cool lemonade with ice cubes clinking in the glass! Clay was caked on her face and hands; she continuously added water to her bucket to keep it from caking as well. “Afternoon, little lady,” a twangy voice called from the ground. She smiled, the quaint greeting reminding her of home. Since their arrival, a few other ships had landed nearby and many of the crewmembers had said hello on their way to town. “Afternoon!” she said back, walking to the edge of the ship to see who was there. Her smile faded quickly. Two dour-faced purple bellies were looking up at her, their polyester suits ill-suited to the weather or the lifestyle. They didn’t seem to notice her uneasiness. “You Captain of this boat?” the one with the twangy voice asked. His Alliance uniform was unbuttoned at the top and mismatched with a wide-brimmed hat. His friend looked more formal. “No, sir,” she answered unsteadily and uncertainly, stirring the clay more slowly. “Mechanic?” She didn’t answer. Backing up, her eyes scanned for her walkie talkie. “Where you goin’, darlin’?” the man asked, a subtly sinister tone in his voice. In a moment, Kaylee knew why. Two more purple-bellies were on the roof of Serenity with her. Though not impressively large, their uniforms made them all the more intimidating. One of them kicked the walkie talkie off the side of the ship. Kaylee thought of the layout of the ship and the probable location of the various crew members. Would anyone be near enough to the hull to hear her if she stomped? Maybe River. She looked toward the cockpit. Wash knew she was up here. Was he still in there? Making a split second decision, Kaylee began running toward the front of the ship. The two men pursued. Her heart pounded from adrenaline and her muscles screamed from malnourishment. Her mouth was parched. The men were gaining on her. As she approached the last few feet, she tossed the bucket of clay forward, but if failed to cross the window. At most, Wash would have heard only a slight thunk. The move had cost her; the men were there. One grabbed her arm, spinning her around. Using his momentum, she stabbed him with the screwdriver and he fell back. Stunned by her own move, the second man easily jumped on her back and knocked her over. She fell on top of the first man, the butt end of the screw driver jabbing her ribs. The second man had her arms. She couldn’t reach the screwdriver. “Don’t hurt her!” One of the men from the ground yelled. She kicked and screamed, unable to get free. Then, with one astounding blow to the head, her world turned to redness and stars.

*~*

Jayne crept through the corridor cautiously, knowing that at any moment a door might open and a crewmember emerge. Though they weighed him down, the guns he had found in the cargo bay were a comfort to him. He could hear three men talking just around a bend not 30 meters away; he assumed it must be a social area. They spoke of money, how they had none, how they needed some, how they wanted lots. It was a conversation Jayne could have easily been a part of, but not on Serenity. The crew of Serenity seemed content to just scrape by most of the time and there was little profit in that. This ship was very different from Serenity—the ceiling of the corridor was higher, the walls cleaner, shinier, and more perpendicular. The doors were adorned with official looking plates that showed the occupants name and rank in English, Chinese, and Brail. What annoyed him most was that the walls were flat (aside from the Brail) and there was no place to hide. It had the crisp harshness of a government boat. In it, the three men and the conversation about money seemed almost out of place. In it, he in his sweat soaked shirt and muddy boots were out of place. The door to the Captain’s bunk was locked. Clumsily, Jayne thought, jimmying it with his knife. The room was stately, despite being slightly messy. It was nearly three times the size of his own bunk. Caddock appeared to be a collector of weapons: blades on one wall, projectiles on another, energy weapons on the third, and archaic novelty weapons on the last. Among the guns was a rack with a dozen Callahans, all customized similar to Vera. Jayne approached it in awe, his hand touching each one. Three of them appeared to have never been used. One had a rusted barrel. Two did not have the double cartridge that Vera had. Furrowing his brow, Jayne considered the shelf again. Vera was not among these. Concerned, he scanned the room. Clothing was strewn about. Utensils and plates were left, dirty, on a small table. Every weapon was neatly stowed. If his Callahan was here, she was not on display. He started poking through the laundry, at the bed sheets, in the closet, fearing he may have missed Vera in the cargo bay. Or worse, that one of the crew had taken her to town. Frustrated, Jayne looked for something to kick. He went to the wall and felt along the border with his gloved hands, hoping to find a hidden closet or second door. Contrary to the floor, the walls and all the weapons displayed on them were clean. For a moment, he considered taking one of the other Callahan’s, but each time he touched one, he felt only the loss of Vera. He began a more thorough search of the closet, sifting through the neatly pressed and hung coats. Finally, in the folds of a purple Lieutenant’s uniform, he felt a familiar silhouette. He shrugged the coat from the hanger, revealing the bulky Callahan. The scope was knocked out of alignment, but otherwise she was fine. With two hands, he took her, gently disentangling the shoulder strap from the coat hanger. He touched the barrel, checked the firing pin and cartridge. This was his Vera. Shouldering her, he discreetly left the cabin and headed for the kitchen. The rendezvous was short-lived. Mal and Zoë were still gathering. The Neptune was stocked with mostly fresh food, which was notoriously bulkier, squishier, and harder to transport. Jayne took the rolling crate and agreed to get a head start back to Serenity. “If the door’s blocked, just come back here,” Mal told him. “No shooting people.” Grunting, Jayne dragged the rolling crate behind him back toward the cargo bay. It was completely empty, but he heard people congregated outside. He crept quietly, keeping the crate close. Two men were speaking Chinese off the starboard side. Jayne didn’t know why they weren’t inside, but he didn’t care. He sidled port-side and dropped the crate to the ground rather than rolling it down the ramp. The ground, fortunately hardened by constant trampling, allowed him to easily roll the crate around the side of the ship and away from the voices. Sneaking a glance, he saw more people coming down the road from town. The crew was returning. Would he be able to warn Mal? No. The crew was congregating and if he went back in, they’d all be trapped. Best get back to Serenity. The nearest cover was almost 50 feet away. To make the dash, he’d have to pick up the crate—a move that would leave him unable to draw a weapon. He listened to the people congregated on the opposite side of the ship. The conversation was heavy and focused. They weren’t likely to notice the rustling of a few bushes, or to move anytime soon. Shifting some of his guns to the side, he wrestled to pick up the bulky crate. His muscles strained. It might be faster to just pull it behind him and use it for cover. He shifted his weight and took a few steps, but didn’t have long to think. A gunshot exploded behind him, and a scream filled his ears.

*~*

The Neptune began to rumble, ready for takeoff. The cargo bay was populated and sealed. Zoë led Mal to a maintenance hatch on the far side of the ship, moving quickly to make their escape while still relatively close to the ground. Mal and Zoë crept out of the Neptune as delicately as they could laden with the bulky food supplies. The ground shook and the smell of exhaust filled the air as the Neptune prepared to take off. The sight of the wheeled crate tipped sideways sent them running toward the back of the ship. “Jayne!” Mal called. No reply. Jayne was nowhere in sight. “You see his tracks?” Mal asked Zoë, shielding his eyes. The sun glared and the food they had stolen was heavy and awkward. Kaylee’s pink dress was still draped over Zoë’s shoulder. Zoë scanned the ground, habitually covering her own tracks as she went. Finally, she saw it. “There, sir.” Jayne’s heavy boot print went around the starboard side of the ship. Cautiously, she and Mal peaked around the corner. No one was there. Carefully, Mal crept out of the cover afforded him by the rear of the ship. A body, too small to be Jayne, lay sprawled in the corral. Zoë walked cautiously toward it, recognizing the opportunistic pirate who had pulled Simon and River from hiding. Blood pooled around a head wound but also across his chest. She had seen enough to tell, this was more than one person’s blood, perhaps more than two. The second source seemed to have pooled awhile on top of the dead man, then it trailed away. The Neptune took off, kicking up dust around the scene and blurring the blood trail. Squinting, through the whirlwind, Zoë studied the path of the second source. “Looks like the blood trail leads back to Serenity, sir.” Mal nodded, only half hearing. Something in the dust had caught his eye. Inching closer, he finally recognized it. “Vera,” he whispered softly, picking up the weapon. It was lighter than he thought it would be, and hot from lying in the sun. The blood trail came across and over the Callahan, pooling somewhat, but in a manner unfamiliar to Mal. He wondered what kind of injury would cause Jayne to leave his beloved gun behind. “Sir, we should go back to Serenity,” Zoë prompted, shifting her load so that she could pull the crate behind her. Without a word, Mal took the stolen food on one shoulder and Vera on the other and they hurried back to the ship.

*~*

******************************** LINK TO CHAPTER 5