FORTY FIVE MINUTES AGO

“But cap’n, why didn’t you bring them back?” questioned Kaylee. “Kaylee, there was atleast twenty men marching towards them, probly goin to try an kill em to. But I think our boys will be alright.” Mal Book and Zoe had just gotten back to the ship and were filling Kaylee, Inara and River in on the situation. “Mal,” this from Inara, “ you just said twenty men, well armed men that are healthy. Simon Wash and the others could be injured. I mean, yes Wash and Simon can shoot alright, but Jayne and Steve are the only two real fighters. What makes you think any of them will come out alive?” “becouse,” everyone looked at River, who had been remaining silent until now, “He’s a bird.” While everyone was saying that it made no sense, Mal decided it was time to let the crew in on what he, and aperently River, knew. “That ain’t no ordinary man.” Mal started, but was then interrupted by Zoe. “Sir, Jayne is not exactly normal, but that doesn’t…” “I wasn’t talking about Jayne,” Mal continued, the smallest hint of a growl in his voice. “During the war there was the Browncoats, the General Infantry, and we did a lot of fighting for independence, but we weren’t the only ones. There was a branch of the military that was made up of the best, they were called the Raptors, on account of the Purple Bellies being mice compared to these birds of prey. Anyways, the Raptors was split into different groups. One group was the Eagles. They were the fighting machines, There was no man on either side of that war that was stronger or more fierce. Another group were the Falcons, who relied on speed and stealth. Good fighters, but even better pilots. Now you put a small platoon of Eagles and a small platoon of Falcons on one side of the battle field, and a whole army of Purple Bellies on the other, and you can bet that at the end of the day the Raptors will have eliminated every last Alliance soldier on that hell. They’ll have done it without breaking a sweet or feeling even the smallest bit of nervousness. They weren’t afraid of anything. Now there was one more group of Raptors, the Hawks. You put a full sized platoon of Falcons and a full sized platoon of Eagles together, and you’ve got a force that almost no army in the ‘verse could withstand. Take that same force and tell them theres five Hawks out there and I garentee you, every last one of those men is going to piss their pants, and about half of them will turn tale and run. If their very, very, lucky, one of those Eagles or Falcons will survive the battle. The Hawks were feared by everyone. They mostly engaged in ‘Black Ops’, covert stuff.” Mal paused for a moment and then continued. “Each Raptor had a call sign that identified him and what group he was in, it was usually a type of bird from that group, Perigrin, Golden, whatever. During the war I was called Sergeant. Our friend Mr. Roberts was known as Osprey.” Mal finished his narrative and proceeded to slice an apple while the others took in what he had just said. Zoe was the first to come to her senses. “Sir,” she inquired, “What exactly are you saying, that Steve was in the Special Forces?” His answere was the definition of blunt, “Yes, and not only that, in less than three minutes he could kill everyone on this boat if he was blindfolded and his hands were handcuffed behind his back, even if he didn’t take the time to escape from the handcuff’s first.” What he said was finaly starting to dawn on the crew. Steve Roberts, their friend, was probably one of the most dangerous men in the vers, but he was helping them, and that was something. It was that moment that they realized just how lucky they were. A boat full of outlaws, and they had, for the first time since the Doc and his sister had come aboard, an ace in the hole. River was the first to speak. “The trees, the water, the sky, he lives there. He survives fire, ice, night and day. He doesn’t feel, and he thrives.” “That he does Lil’ Albatross.” Mal interpreted, and then looking at the crew: “She was only emphasizing what I just said, Steve is at home pretty much any where. He can ignore pain, and the places that most anyone would call Hell, he can make a good livin’ and get by.” Mal paused and then switched to business. “We’ve got Four hours until sundown, we’d best get movin, yal got work to do, so hop to it.” As everyone left to get ready for the rescue attempt, Kaylee stayed behind and asked Mal a question. “Cap’n, Simon will be alright, won’e? what I mean is, do you think there will be any shooting." “Kaylee, we will do everything we can to get them back, but with Steve on our side, they’ve got a pretty good chance of makin it. As for the shootin, I don’t plan on any taking place.” Of course, what Mal plans and what happens aint ever been similar. At three and half hours to sundown, the shuttle left serenity for the 45-minute long trip to the crash site, carrying the Mule under it. At three hours and fifteen minutes to sundown, the shooting started.

PRESENT TIME

Wash Looked up at the sun, and then down at his watch. It was only about nine years old, but looked older due to the chipped metal, and it was analog, the glow-in-dark hands gliding over the image of bird, diving through the air, that was etched on the face of the time piece. It had a leather wrist strap. It wasn't anything special, heck, you could barely read the letters on the edge around one end of the lense. It wasn't much, but it was his, and he had caried it through thick and thin, from his first mission, to his first imprisionment, to his first jailbrake, to his first job with Malcom Reynolds. He looked at the faded name, and it cast a shadow over his heart that you could only make out some of the letters, a "P" "R" "G" and just barely an "N" But then he remembered what it stood for, what he had stood for, and he felt the old, strong, sometimes hiden, but always present confidence that had momentarily left him, but not realy gone from him, return in full force.

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