Mal remembered when they had first met. It had been right after the Independent’s victory at Stadler River. He had been wandering through the trenches finally letting himself feel the battle when he had heard low chuckles. Gun ready, he had followed the sound.

There, in a dark corner, lit only by Nifong’s triple moons, were three men, the smallest backed into a trench wall. Light reflected off of the smallest’s eyes and he realized that it was Mina, the private everyone called “Big Mouth”.

“You’re just going to let a dieing man die?” wheedled one of the drunks. “I almost died today.” It was Sargent Nessel and his man Delmont. Delmont snickered and wiped some of the 50-proof spittle off his lips. “We should be celebratin’.” he said, reaching forward to trace Mina’s cheek with the spit on his hand. “’S bad luck not to celebrate.” The ratchet of a gun made both men flinch and spin around, combat training flushing away the effects of sake. Mal belatedly realized that he had no idea what he was going to do now that he had distracted them. A shadow moved behind them. “Urk.” Said Nessel. “Uhnk.” Said Delmont. They collapsed into an awkward heap of hairy fat. “Mina.” Said the shadow softly, gripping the private’s shoulders tentatively. “Are you here?” Mal took a step forward. BLAM! And was really glad that it had only been a small step. The shot left a small crater where his left foot would have been. “Is she okay?” he asked, trying to pretend that he hadn’t almost lost his ankle. The shadow moved in front of Mina, effectively blocking her from view, the gun trained on him. Licking his lips, Mal stepped out of the shadows into the moons’ light. “I was going to stop them.” He said cavalierly. “I had it all worked out.” The shadow stood, pulling Mina up with a firm grip on her upper arm. The private stood with the listless grace of a puppet. They sidled sideways away from him, but he knew that he was standing in the only escape route. The wisest course of action would have been to put his gun down and raise his hands, but he wasn’t too keen on exposing himself just yet. Clouds shifted and the shotgun’s gaping mouth was suddenly illuminated along with the woman holding the big gun steady with one hand. He’d seen her in the mess tent, eating with her back to the canvas. Always alone and always watching. A loner to even to other female recruits. The men had quickly learned that her solitude was not an invitation. Still, many had tired. Charmed by the intense beauty that no amount of mud or blood could conceal. Mal was sorry to say that he had been one of those fools. His confidence in his abilities with women and some stolen brass sake had swaggered him into that empty patch of rock beside her. The silence around her had been a wall so thick it dampened the noisy chaos of mess hall. His great pick up line had shriveled on the back of his tongue but he settled himself more securely on the rock and started eating. He had chewed on the protein hard-tack, pretending that it was the most natural thing in the ‘verse to sit next to her, but inside he could barely swallow around his nerves. The protein stuck to the inside of his mouth, refusing let go of his cheeks. He gulped some more sake down but choked in his haste. As he coughed, she flowed upright and strode away as his buddies scurried up to him. “Gorram, Reynolds! That’s the longest anyone’s been next to her besides the Captain.” They had crowed, slapping him on the back. Mal had wiped his mouth and grinned. “I told you I had skills.” He had said. But now he was wishing that he’d never been stupid enough to take that bet. Zoë padded towards him, Mina securely behind her. Mal backed up, gun still in hand and she kept coming, her gun just as steady. They walked this way through the winding trench, Mal walking backward, Zoë forward, neither willing to take their eye or gun off of the other. Then Mal tripped over something in the dark. He went flying backwards, having the presence of mind to swing his gun wide as his finger convulsed on the trigger. BAMF! BAMF! BAMF! Said the bullets as they embedded themselves in the trench wall. Mal slammed his head into something hard and blacked out for a moment. Cursing, he blinked away the dizziness and rolled back on to his feet, using the gun as a crutch. She was waiting for him, gun still at the ready. The moons made the small smile on her full lips gleam.