CHAPTER 2 Book insisted on seeing Alegra, Wei, and Tyler off. Wei was shiftily checking out the quiet town as the sun peaked over the horizon. Tyler, having woken up on the way, complained of hunger, not getting to say goodbye, and his untied shoelaces. The shuttle seemed to tremble and loll in the same tired way Tyler did, but Book attributed that to his own mediocre flying skills. Once down, the four headed directly for the spaceport. “It may not be good for you to be associated with us on security cam,” Alegra whispered as they approached the ticket terminal. “You can’t just walk in there and buy passage,” Book told her. “We can’t have been flagged already?” “We have,” Wei said ominously. Book motioned the three to stay back as he approached the ticket counter and checked the registry for ships taking passengers. Only three ships were leaving world today, offering limited destination options and an easy trail for any fed to follow. “Three tickets, please,” Book told the attendant. “I need to see some ID,” the attendant replied disinterestedly, in a rough Irish accent. Book reached for his ident card. “No, I need to see their ID.” Book ignored the man and handed over his ident card. Irritated, the man scanned the card. Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed. Standing straighter, he nodded respectfully, almost fearfully, at Book. “How many tickets, sir?” “Three to New Melbourne. And no names.” “Yes, sir,” the man said compliantly, handling the transaction. Book accepted the tickets and ushered the three toward the appropriate space dock. “New Melbourne?” Tyler asked, bleary-eyed, tripping over his untied shoelaces. “Can’t we go somewhere with less fish?” “We won’t stay long,” Alegra assured him. “We just didn’t have much of a choice.” “From New Melbourne, you should find port to just about anywhere. I recommend you go to Haven . It will be safe for you there.” “Haven?” “Find a disreputable ship,” Book told her. “They all know the way.”

*~*

River sat at the edge of Serenity’s cargo hold as the morning rain covered the island. While most of the crew had retreated to the dining room to enjoy Jayne’s green eggs and ham, Mal still fumed and paced the cargo bay waiting for Book to return. River was monitoring rainfall and wind speed in effort to predict the end of rainy season on Three Hills. Statistically speaking, it should have ended at least a week prior to their arrival and she suspected the persistence of the rain may be correlated to a groundhog shadow, as science failed to offer any reasonable alternative. River flinched as Mal kicked over a metal toolbox, sending a flood of nuts and bolts through the grating on the floor. “He may not even come back,” Mal ranted. River met his eyes, heartbroken by the helplessness behind them. “You’re brother is right. I don’t even know if he went willingly.” “He did,” River assured. “He’ll come back.” “Is that a fact?” “Don’t steal,” River said simply, remembering the morning. “He wouldn’t let them steal.” Mal stopped pacing and cast an angry stare on her causing her to shrink back. “Did you see them go?” How could she explain to him so he would understand? Book had been gone for almost two hours now. His absence was approaching her maximum estimate of elapsed time and in another fifteen minutes, she would start being concerned. River kept this to herself, not wanting Mal to become more upset than he already was. The rain pounded harder and harder, muddling her thoughts. Her vision crowded with dozens of flying shuttles, all descending on one location, throwing her backwards. Water filled her mouth and nose—she was drowning! The current pulled her under, but Wei still had her hand, anchoring her to the surface. Her face barely above the rushing river, she gasped for breath. “River!” Simon called above the din of the rapids. “I don’t know, Doc, she just fell over,” Mal was saying. The past and future reorganized, leaving only the confusion of the present. River lay on the floor of the cargo bay, her clothing soaked with rainwater, Simon cradling her head. Mal and Kaylee looked down at her with concern, but she paid them no mind. The dozen shuttles had converged into one and she could see the tracking lights through the open door. “He’s back,” River whispered softly, sitting up. The others followed her gaze. Book had returned.

*~*

Inara stood, mesmerized by the duel playing out before her. She realized that she and her guard were not the only spectators. Two men in business suits watched impatiently, quietly discussing the work that lay before them. The spar came suddenly to a halt as the two fighters connected forearms in a narrow stance. The men gave a slight bow before breaking tension and reaching for bottles of water. “Mr. Jantis,” the guard called. The taller of the two duelers looked over. Inara’s heart jumped into her throat as Jantis approached her. He walked sharply, mopping the sweat from his brow, already engaging in conversation with his two lieutenants. She feared his interaction with her would be just as efficient and brief and, if she could not give him what he wanted, deadly. As he strode across the lawn, his attention on all the business taking place around him, Inara felt invisible. She found it increasingly possible that the man would walk right past her without taking a second look—a reaction she was unaccustomed to from men. When he did stop, he gave her only the briefest glance and spoke instead to the guard. “Is this my gift from Jiang?” he asked, his deep voice pleasant, and his grandfatherly features disarming. His skin darker than Book, Inara guessed him to be at least as old, though his hair was dyed black. “No, Mr. Jantis. This is the subject sent us from Prio.” “Subject?” Jantis repeated, surveying Inara. “Stupid carbuncle has no eye for beauty. Send word he’s not getting her back.” “Yes, sir,” the guard said and took his cue to leave. Inara relaxed, but only a little, and offered her best meek smile. Jantis took little notice as he resumed walking back toward the complex, motioning Inara to follow. However briefly, she had held his interest… now all she had to do was keep him interested in not killing her. At the moment, he and one of his lieutenants were walking backwards, pointing at the sky over the field they were leaving. “We need a third Firefly for this formation.” “We don’t have three,” his lieutenant explained. “Surely, there must be more nearby.” “If we use the naught-two, we can do it.” Jantis considered the sky as he walked backwards, then shot a question to Inara. “You are a companion, no?” he asked. “I am, sir. Mr. Jantis.” Inara was nearly jogging to keep up, and her shoes were working against her. Whenever she fell behind, one of the lieutenants was right there beside her, bustling her forward again. Jantis didn’t seem to hear her response, having resumed his previous conversation. “Keep looking for a naught-three, but go with the naught-two if you must,” Jantis said, turning to face forward again. His lieutenant made the note and turned to the next item of business. “You are well-kept,” Jantis said to Inara. It took her a moment to realize he was talking to her, because a moment later, he wasn’t. “We’ve found a Foxhound for your daughter’s birthday,” the lieutenant was saying. “If I had wanted a Foxhound, I’d have ordered a Foxhound. I want a Beagle,” Jantis answered, curtly. “What’s your name?” “My name is Inara.” Was he talking to her? Inara couldn’t tell. A fraction of a second later, his attention was gone. They entered a cool, air conditioned building, walked up three flights of stairs, then crossed through layers of cubicles before entering a large, glass office. The office was sparsely decorated, arranged with the same practical efficiency as one would expect from a Wing Chun master. Were it not for the single posh chair and model airplanes on the book cases, Inara may have mistaken the office as a conference room. As Jantis continued to talk to his second, Inara browsed the book cases, hoping to find some insight into the man. The shelves were surprisingly dust free, the books lined according to height and arranged on shelves according to topic: Wing Chun, modern aviation, ship design, orbital mechanics. Then among the history of spaceflight, a Christian Bible. Surprised, Inara reached for the sacred text. Jantis’ hand clamped down on hers so tight she feared her hand would break. Inara froze, unable to turn away from his glare, his eyes like hellfire. “Inara, is it?” The disarming, gentle grandpa was gone, replaced by a cold, efficient killer. “These are not for you to touch. Dong ma?” Inara wasn’t sure if she had gotten her head to move, or if she had merely blinked her yes, but Jantis let go. With a quick nod, Jantis dismissed his lieutenants and turned his full attention to Inara. “I want Chelsea Halden,” he said evenly. Inara braced her injured hand against her body, steeling herself as best she could. She was sure that whatever she knew of Chelsea Halden / Nia Stolte/ Elle was not enough to satisfy Jantis, nor was it safe to disclose. But it was her only bargaining chip. “And I want to be released. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.” She noticed a slight twitch in his eye as he considered her counter. “An arrangement?” he silked, icily. “Your pitiful possessions are not worth this information.” “Then I can offer myself.” “You are registered with the guild. I’d rather kill you than put a spot on your record.” “I would rather the spot.” Jantis considered her, darkly. “This isn’t about you, is it? You want your life, you give me Chelsea Halden.” “I’m afraid I can’t. You see, she’s dead.” “That doesn’t bode well for you.” “I’m sure we can come up with a solution that is mutually beneficial. As you said, I am a registered companion. I am not without skill.”

*~*

Book was hoping for breakfast, but foreseeing a fight when he returned. He hadn’t expected the trip to take so long, but was glad it was done. With the sunrise had come the morning post, and all three children had made the top as wanted fugitives. He tried not to worry for their safety, but failed. Not bothering to dock with the ship, Book set down on the landing strip next to Serenity, hoping the wall of rain would be enough of a buffer to diffuse Mal’s rage. By the time he opened the rear door of the shuttle, Mal was already there, staring him down. “Captain, I apologize—” Book began. “What the hell are you playing at, Shepherd? You’re lucky I don’t shoot you where you stand.” “It wasn’t safe for them to be here, Captain. You know as well as I—” “That doesn’t give you the right to go spiriting off in the middle of the night with my shuttle. MY shuttle. Talking about unsafe, you could have been shot and then where would we be?” Book remained calm, fighting down his own defensive reaction. He knew that what he did was right and he knew that Mal was not likely to shoot him. Thus, he had nothing to fear from this conversation. His voice placating, he replied, “Just east of town, there’s a hangout spot for the local teens. Land shuttles are coming and going all the time and no one is watching too closely.” “Don’t—” Mal paused briefly, having not expected this turn in the conversation. “Don’t try to deflect my anger with valuable recon.” “Of course not, Captain. But there will be plenty of time for you to berate me later. Right now, you’re wasting daylight.” Although Mal’s eyes still burned with anger, the suggestion of a plan had given channel to his energy. “Where’s this hangout spot?”

*~*

Despite the fact that Serenity was not moving, nor planning to move anytime soon, Wash sat on the bridge, fiddling with his slipper. The mouth of the stegosaur was detaching from the “body” and walking out on the pavement that morning had not helped. Walking around all week on the ship’s rough grate flooring had not helped either. The soft bottoms of the slippers were going threadbare, making visible the foam insulation. At the moment, the slippers were sitting on the console facing his scrutiny while he pressed his bare toes against the hard floor. Zoë was out on a job, so he tried hard to worry about her rather than think himself into that same old trap—the memory of the torture. It was hard to think about Zoë with the slippers sitting here in front of him and with the cold floor sucking heat from his toes. As much as it irked him worrying about Zoë so often, he preferred it to this new circle of thought. Wash dropped the dinosaur slippers to the floor, hoping to take his feet off his mind, then he picked up a pair of plastic toy dinosaurs sitting on the console. Caddock’s men had stolen these, but Zoë had broken into his ship and recovered them. Zoë hadn’t recovered everything they needed in that trip, but she’d managed to find all the things that made Serenity home—Kaylee’s dress, his dinosaurs. Zoë would be a good mother. Smiling at the thought of his unborn child, Wash coughed involuntarily. He had only smoked half of the cigar before he felt completely green… although he wouldn’t admit that. Jayne had tried to light him up again, but Zoë had come to the rescue and if it hadn’t been for the smoke on his breath, they would have had a very nice intimate moment. His feet getting cold, Wash slipped on his slippers and sent the Apatosaurus to chomp on the palm tree. The Raptor caught the Apatosaurus off guard knocking him to the ground and gnawing his leg. The Apatosaurus countered with a swipe of his heavy tail, sending the Raptor and the palm tree flying across the cockpit! River giggled. “Hello,” Wash said, surprised at having company. River picked up the dinosaur and the tree, contemplatively carrying them to the copilot chair. She said nothing. “It’s pretty quiet in here today,” Wash ventured, wanting his toys back, but not knowing how to ask. River curled up in the chair, bringing her knees to her chest, setting the palm tree on one knee and the Raptor on the other. Frustrated, Wash started looking for his T-Rex. He needed a carnivore to finish off the ailing long-neck. “Oh, so the party’s in here,” Book mused, coming in as well. “Yes, all the fun,” Wash agreed, sardonically. He found the T-Rex and tapped it against his palm. River suddenly went rigid, her eyes wide. Wash tensed just seeing her and habitually checked all the proximity alarms at his disposal. He glanced out the window, but the rain fell too thickly to see very far. “What is it, River?” Book asked. “A shadow.” Her eyes were alert, penetrating the rain. “Very hungry.” Wash could find no cause for her alarm and tried to relax, however the tension in River’s body filled the room. “Did we lock all the doors when the others left?” Wash asked slowly. “I think so,” Book answered absently, scanning out the front window and finding only the same wall of rain Wash had. “I think … I’ll just go check.”

*~*

Mal and Zoë trudged through the torrents of rain, Mal occasionally consulting his GPS which was directing him toward the Neptune’s nav sat. Since they’d left, the Neptune had been moved into town, presumably for repair, and he hoped that once he found it, Caddock would be nearby. Caddock had taken the Neptune through the war, hijacked her from the Alliance, and pirated the rim with her for half a decade. Mal knew that if it were his boat, he’d stop at nothing to get her spaceborn again. As the rain soaked through his coat all the way to his undergarments and his boots sloshed along the paved road, he began to seriously wonder how the locals got anything done in the rainy season. It was a wonder the city was not enclosed with a giant umbrella. Zoë kept pace, at his side as always. He briefly wondered how long “always” might last. He knew he could never trust anyone to have has back as he trusted Zoë. With Jayne next in line as gun hand, there was a fair chance he could one day find himself left on a planet watching Jayne fly away with his boat. Would she leave the ship? After so many years together, he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It was easier to imagine life without his right hand and than without Zoë … and Mal really liked having his right hand. He cast a sidelong glance at his first mate, and she completely misread the look. Zoë ignored him so sternly, he cringed. “Why didn’t you just come out and say you were with child?” “Didn’t see how it was your business at this stage.” “Not my business?! Zoë, our work ain’t exactly frilly. If you get shot, I need to know you’re fightin’ for two.” There was that stern look again. Zoë always wanted to keep her private life private. Her stoic calm in the face of battle came from her ability to compartmentalize and store the stray feelings of her personal life and focus on the task at hand. However, a pregnancy is not so easily compartmentalized. The rain let up and a breeze stirred through town. Zoë didn’t speak as they approached the position indicated by the GPS. It was the same back ally chop shop where they had rescued Kaylee on their previous visit. “This must be the place,” Mal said, swallowing hard, suddenly worried that the Neptune would be in a million pieces when he found it. Silently, Zoë led the way down the side ally, bordered with brick walls and a high, barbed wire fence. The old, rusted metal door had been replaced with a brand new, shiny, bullet proof door. Zoë tested the fence for electric charge and finding none, pulled a knife out of her boot. More by the strength of her movement than the sharpness of the knife, she detached the fence from its post and rolled it back so they could sneak through. Just behind the old building was the salvage yard with the whole ships. Mal spotted the familiar blue half-fish on the Neptune’s hull immediately. Again, it taunted him as though it were Caddock’s own ghost laughing at him. Mal’s heart sank. Caddock had abandoned ship. When Zoë strode toward the Neptune, Mal grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. “I doubt anyone’s home.” “I’m not looking for Caddock, sir. I came here to get Kaylee’s lucky wrench.” Mal considered the derelict ship, then looked back at the chop shop. The wall of windows had been boarded up since their last visit… probably because he had broken half of them. He looked at the snide merman on the Neptune’s hull, and decided what the hell. There was a chance the ship’s log might have information as to the current where-abouts of its Captain. “Alright, we go in. Thirty minutes.” “Thank you, sir,” Zoë answered. As the two climbed in through the Neptune’s side hatch, Mal immediately brought his sleeve to cover his mouth. The weeks of moisture and poor air circulation had covered the inside of the ship with mold and Mal could only hope it wasn’t toxic. “Ten minutes,” he told Zoë, through his sleeve, wanting to get out as quickly as possible. Zoë nodded, pointed him toward the bridge, while she headed for the engine room. “Sir,” she called, causing him to turn around. Had she found something disturbing already? “I’m fighting for two, sir.” “Thanks for saying,” Mal smiled. “Oh, and congratulations.”

*~*

Kaylee was enjoying her day out with Simon, despite the rain and despite Jayne’s pitiful chaperoning. At the medical supply store, Simon was completely in his element, knowing exactly what he needed. She felt especially helpful when Simon consulted her to make sure the devices would hook up properly to Serenity’s power supply. He was so sexy when he was confident. With the machines safely boxed in waterproof containers, the three braved the rain, toting their goods on a rented dolly. Most of the sidewalks on this side of town were protected by long awnings, but it hardly seemed to matter. The morning downpour had slowed to an afternoon drizzle, punctuated occasionally by patches of rain-free mist. As the curtain of water briefly lifted, Kaylee was surprised at the number of vagrants sitting on the street, soaked, and begging for food, work, or money. A few played instruments… some, having no instruments, used buckets and boards as drums. Most just sat, looking defeated. They hid their eyes as Jayne stared them down, hand on his gun, ready to draw. The locals walked by the vagrants with hardly a glance. Even Simon stepped around them without seeming to see them. “How many do you suppose there are?” Kaylee murmured. “How many what?” Simon asked. “If they were any thicker, we’d be tripping over them,” Jayne grunted, maneuvering the dolly around a sleeping man. “Do you suppose he’s just sleeping?” “I’m sure the government sets up shelters for these people. But you can’t force them to go there.” “Do you think we should help him?” “Kaylee, we can’t stop and help every faceless vagabond on the street.” “Simon, not stopping is what makes them faceless!” Kaylee’s heart was breaking at the sight of so many vagrants and at Simon’s callousness. She looked around, frustrated that Simon was right. They couldn’t help all these people and given the chance, which would she choose? Would it really make a difference? Biting her lip, Kaylee pressed on, wishing that the rain would pick up again and hide these people behind a wall of water. She stepped over a sleeping vagrant, nearly tripping over the woman’s long, black braid. The woman turned, her face burning a hole in Kaylee’s memory. “Wait!” Kaylee cried to the others, stooping down to help. “Kaylee, we ain’t got time for this,” Jayne complained, wheeling the dolly around. “Saskia, wake up,” Kaylee pleaded. “You know her?” Simon asked. Kaylee looked pleadingly at the two men. Simon knelt quickly, evaluating the woman’s injuries. “This is Saskia,” Kaylee said. “She took care of me on the Neptune.” Simon suddenly pulled back, anger burning in his eyes. “They nearly killed you on the Neptune.” “Nearly,” Kaylee agreed. “Jayne, give me the comm.” Grudgingly, Jayne complied, knowing that next he’d be asked to carry the woman. “Cap’n, we got a wounded friend here that needs to get back to Serenity right now.” “It’s been less than an hour, Kaylee! Don’t tell me one of you got shot!” “Not one of us, Cap’n. Her name is Saskia. She was on Caddock’s crew.”

*~*

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