CHAPTER 7 Mal encountered Book and Simon in the kitchen, each nursing a cup of soup. “Looking for something, Captain?” Book asked, pointing to the flashlight Mal carried. “Just want to see who’s behind us,” Mal answered curtly, continuing his walk through. He stopped suddenly at the door, a thought hitting him. “Shepherd, what do you know about this hatch?” Book shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just what the girl said.” “The girl?” “Well, yes,” Book said exchanging a look with Simon. “She’s the one who told us to come here.” A new alarm sounded in Mal’s head. He set off quickly, this time headed for the Infirmary. Fearing for the safety of his patient, Simon rushed after him. In the Infirmary, they found the girl lying on her side, watching Jayne as he realigned the finder scope on Vera. Mal was momentarily relieved to see Jayne’s attention on the gun, as if life was normal and he hadn’t forsaken Vera for the girl. Jayne’s face was animated, telling her about Caddock’s weapon collection and comparing it to his own. The girl listened as if it were a bedtime story. When he noticed Mal and Simon, Jayne stopped talking; the girl rolled onto her back to see the new visitors. Though lying flat, she seemed to grow taller, letting Mal know she wasn’t afraid of him. “What is this place?” Mal asked her, pointedly. She didn’t answer, but cast a sidelong glance at Jayne, who laid Vera down and scooted his chair closer to her. “Does it matter?” Jayne asked. “It matters!” “It’s a safe place,” the girl wheezed as she spoke. That phrase alone seemed to knock the wind out of her. “How do you know it? Are you a smuggler?” The girl closed her eyes, looking as though she were trying to catch her breath. Mal knew she was stalling, so he persisted. “Do you use it often? Is this place a trap?”” She didn’t answer. Mal got impatient as his head filled with conspiracy theories. “You work for law enforcement don’t you? You’re with the Alliance!” Then a new conspiracy arose. “How did you know Kaylee was on the Neptune? Why did Caddock try to kill you?” “Damn it, Mal! Back off!” Jayne roared, standing to his feet. “She can barely talk as it is!” Mal scowled at the girl, not believing it for a second. The girl, for her part, seemed in no rush to defend herself. Her breathing slowed and she leveled her gaze at Mal. “Can you take me to Stolte?” “Stolte!” Mal yelled. “I can’t take you anywhere till I get my mechanic back.” The girl nodded. “I can help.” “How’s that?” Mal asked, intrigued. Given the delays, the Neptune would have almost a two hour head start and Mal didn’t even know what direction they were going. “I have a contact,” she began, then clutched her chest and began gasping. Simon rushed over, forcing his hand under hers to trace the source of the pain. Jayne helped roll her sideways, grabbing a plastic bowl for her as she coughed up blood. Mal ignored the scene, new conspiracy theories forming in his head. “You’re contact wouldn’t happen to be on the Neptune, would it?” he said coldly. “I’ll introduce you,” she spoke, through the blood. Simon grabbed a hypodermic needle from the medicine cabinet and injected it in the girl’s neck. She stayed on her side, eyes closed, gasping for breath. “What did you give her, Doctor?” “Just a muscle relaxant,” he answered. “She won’t be able to speak for another hour and hopefully she won’t choke on her stitches either.” Mal pursed his lips, frustrated at having come across more questions than answers. Jayne was wiping blood from the girl’s mouth, adopting the roll of care giver. Simon applied antiseptic and a new bandage to the girl’s throat. Wary, Mal paced the Infirmary, keeping his distance. It was bad enough having one stranger on board, but this girl had turned Jayne into a stranger as well. Already, Jayne had left his favorite gun lying in the dirt and volunteered to give money for this girl’s passage. “Who are you, girl?” he demanded, quietly, not expecting an answer. As Mal turned to leave, Jayne spoke up. His eyes never leaving the girl, he said “Elle. Her name is Elle.”

*~*

Inara sifted through the items Mal and Zoë had brought back from the Neptune. While she understood that they were mostly concerned with food and essentials, she managed to find a few of her clothes in the large rolling crate. She picked up Kaylee’s dress, her heart catching in her throat. She remembered when Kaylee wore it on Persephone. Though Inara had been frustrated by Kaylee and Mal crashing the Shindig, Inara smiled at the memory. Kaylee had looked adorable covered with ruffles and ribbon, her face finally clean and plastered with a smile. Now, the dress was covered with dust and smudged with grass and grease from being handled. Some of the lace had ripped and the skirt had been punctured by Zoë’s shotgun as she had carried it back. “She’s alright,” Mal said softly, entering the cargo bay. Inara turned to face him, not letting go of the dress—of the memory. “I know,” Inara said unconvincingly. Mal’s hands remained diplomatically at his side, and though she longed for him to touch her, she kept her distance as well. Inara dropped her eyes and looked at the dress, pretending to examine the damage. “Kaylee can take care of herself. I would never leave her alone on Serenity if I didn’t believe that.” Mal let the awkward silence hang in the air a moment as Inara fiddled with the dress. “Did you tell her? ‘Bout you leavin’?” “I will,” Inara assured him. The conversation was cold, professional. Why? Why always, when he opened a door did she slam it in his face? Was it really a door to begin with or had she imagined it? He was waiting for her to say more. “How’s our new passenger?” “Good,” he nodded. “Doc’s sewn her up good as new.” “Jayne seems very attached to her.” “He does. Don’t rightly know why.” “She looks familiar to me,” Inara volunteered. “I’m not sure from where. Do you know her name?” “Elle,” Mal answered. “You think she’s a whore, too?” “I didn’t say that,” Inara retorted, angry at Mal’s insistence in calling her a whore. “I know people that aren’t companions, Mal.” “Just doesn’t seem to be the type to run in your circle. Smuggler. Friend of Jayne.” “You’re sure she’s Jayne’s friend?” “He knew her name.” “He knew? Or he volunteered and she failed to object?” “Well, he,” Mal stuttered, turning over the idea in his head. “You’re suggesting that she doesn’t know him? That she’s just going along with it?” “What would you do if you woke up on a strange ship?” “I’d probably keep my mouth shut and try to stay alive.” Mal made a note to question the girl without Jayne present. The two seemed to have a rapport, being able to communicate without speaking. But he’d been around enough skillful women in his day to take that fact with a grain of salt. Mal reviewed the words she had spoken. “She said something about Stolte. She wanted to go there.” “Stolte?” Inara repeated. “Isn’t that a privately owned planet?” “It is. That’s why we ain’t goin’. She didn’t seem too heartbroken over that. Says she has a contact that can help us locate the Neptune.” “She seems eager to help out,” Inara said. “She does,” Mal agreed. “But I ain’t one to turn down help when it’s offered. I also don’t like not knowin’ who’s offering it.” “I have contacts of my own. I can ask about Stolte,” Inara suggested. Mal nodded his approval. “Good.” Having accomplished his mission, he looked for an excuse to exit. “May want to strap yourself into something. We’re not gonna be here much longer.” *~*

After Mal and Simon had left the kitchen, Book went to the bridge. Wash was reclined in his chair, chewing on his thumbnail; Zoë alternately paced and stared out the window, like a caged animal. Every few seconds, Wash would press a few buttons, screw his face in concern, and then resume chewing the next finger in line. “You present the appearance of a man with a problem,” Book said to Wash. “Just a little Russian roulette,” Wash answered. “Except instead of one round in, we’re playing with one round out.” “How do you mean? I thought we were safe here.” “Oh we’re safe while we’re sitting. But as soon as that hatch opens and I start the engine, there’s a hundred ways for us to die.” Wash wasn’t usually so verbally pessimistic, but he had yet to think of a way for them to live through this. What if the engine choked and they couldn’t move at all, and then the ship behind them plowed them out of the way. What if the engine ran hot and they exploded before they broke atmo? What if they survived leaving the world and something broke while they were in space? With no mechanic, they could easily be on the drift and dead in a moments notice. And that was assuming that this hatch was as safe as he’d tried to convince the Captain and Zoë it was. They may still be tagged by a new satellite or hit by ground fire. “Is there any way we could remove a few more rounds from our revolver?” Wash thought a moment, but he was weary of thinking. “I need more time to figure out what Kaylee was doing before she was taken.” “When I spoke to her, she was planning to fix the radiator.” Wash checked the engine temperature again. It was still running hot. The gorram water-based cooling system left much to be desired on world. But should fortune strike and they make it to the Black… “Let’s hope she finished.” Book murmured his agreement, then took residence in the co-pilot’s seat. Zoë had not spoken a word since he’d arrived, being more concerned with what was outside her cage than in. Wash thought of the possibility of puddle jumping—finding a new hiding spot on world—rather than trying to leave. In the aft camera, he saw a weak beam of light cast shadows in the hatch behind them. He assumed Mal was pointing a flashlight out the rear window, trying to get them killed just a little faster. Having gnawed off all the fingernails on his left hand, Wash switched to his right. Zoë walked over and pulled his hand from his mouth. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, baby,” she said. Both Wash and Book were surprised at her sudden change in mood, though not unpleasantly so. “Sorry, sweetie,” he said, not letting go of her hand. “I know you hate it when I bite my nails. I’m just worried about bursting into flames when the engine overheats. If we had more than a half-hour to live, you know I wouldn’t be doing this.” Zoë wrapped both arms around his shoulders, pressed her cheek against his, and sweetly replied, “Baby, if you keep biting your nails, you won’t have to worry about bursting into flames because you know I’ll kill you first.” Both smiled at the joke; Book’s mind whirred as he tried to remember the conversation he’d had with Kaylee. “Did Kaylee tell you,” he began, but stopped himself, uncertain of where to go. Wash immediately sat upright, springing Zoë off his shoulders. “Tell me what?” he asked with urgent interest. Book searched his memory for the conversation with Kaylee, fighting clouds of sorrow and guilt over her disappearance. He could hardly see past the man on Serenity’s hull with a screwdriver jammed into his gut. But he persisted. “She didn’t intend to use the radiator until we left the world,” Book said slowly. Wash nodded, impatiently. “Well what did she plan to use?” “I don’t know. She mentioned using Serenity’s cooling system.” Wash slouched back in his chair, dejected. “That system’s busted. If we use that, we’ll explode even faster.” “Kaylee seemed to think we could use it to break atmo, then switch over.” Zoë and Wash exchanged a glance, each weighing the idea. “It wouldn’t have to last long,” Zoë said. “Ten minutes would do,” Wash agreed. A moment later, the hatch rumbled to life. The latch on the outer door released and it began to slowly open. The ground shook as the ships behind them engaged engines, prepared for a quick escape. “Time’s up,” Wash said, calmly, hands on the throttle ready to engage. “Let’s go, Shepherd!” Zoë commanded, darting for the engine room. “This is no time to burst into flames!”

*~*

River’s face remained glued to Serenity’s side window during take-off, her eyes intent and studious. Serenity shot into the sky, leaving a burning trail for the ships behind. As the hatch emptied, the sky filled with the blazes of engine trails, like fireworks on U-day. Newhall’s defenses were down and the bats were flying out with the setting sun. River watched the flow of clouds over Serenity’s engines forming a collimated jet. She felt the hull of Serenity deform in response to the change in pressure. The air was turbulent today. Her mind ran Bernoulli’s equations as she calculated a more efficient design for flying through atmo. As the engine rumbled and the ship fought gravity, River could almost see the temperature and density parameters changing as if they too were suspended in the air. Then came her favorite part. In a heartbeat, Serenity crossed the last barrier of atmosphere into the Black. The molecules here were not gravitationally bound and the density too low to diffuse sunlight. The glow of the planet faded; her eyes adjusted to the darkness and then stars appeared. Serenity took the change in stride, quieting down for the journey. Mal had not declared their destination as yet, but River knew it would change anyway. She could not see the next place clearly. Another vision plagued her. It would come out of her mind if she drew it. She looked into the Black once more. Their trajectory was wrong; they should be going 30 degrees to the left and 5 degrees below the solar plane. A fire flashed in her mind, people screaming, one man hanged. Who was it? River rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and shut her eyes tightly, trying simultaneously to remove the image and to bring it into focus. She traced the proper trajectory on the hull with her finger, then went in search of paper.

*~*

************************************** LINK TO CHAPTER 8