Disclaimer thingy: Firefly/Serenity are owned by other folks and not by me, though I appreciate being able to write some stuff purely for fun inspired by the Firefly 'Verse.

*********************************************

Second instalment, encouraged by some real shiny feedback from you great folks who read my first fanfic posting. Hope you enjoy Part Two… If so, there’ll be more.

**********************************************

Mal stepped off the rungs of the ladder onto the floor of his cabin. He slid his braces slowly off one shoulder, then the other; shucked his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside. Running water into the small metal basin, he washed his face then straightened up, towelling himself dry. His reflection in the mirror above the basin caught his eye: for a moment he looked at himself, expression impassive. That’s the problem with mirrors. They can only reflect back what’s put in front of them. And if what’s standing there is a mei yong-duh captain, the view ain’t gonna be an inspirational one. He gazed into his own eyes, noting the frown drawing down his brows. Didn’t mean to say what I did, how I did, to Kaylee. Didn’t mean to say as much as I did to Inara. Bad enough what happened, without I go spreading my discontent around to add to everyone’s load. He took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror. Quit whining, you sha gua, and do what needs to be done. Keep Serenity flying. Keep this crew together. Get some work organised and get folks busy. Don’t keep thinking about those we’ve left behind. Mal stripped off his trousers and lay down on his bunk, switching off the light. His eyes were still open, looking up into the darkness. The coffee he’d drunk had left him wakeful, as he’d known it would. He lay for a long time listening to the sound of the ship: the low pulsing hum of Serenity’s engines as she cruised through space. He was tired, but sleep didn’t hold much allure. Too many times since Miranda, he’d woken from the kind of nightmares he hadn’t had since just after the War. He could tell himself that they were only dreams; but the stuff they were made from was real enough. He shut his eyes and let out a long sigh. Back on duty in a few hours. So best sleep sooner rather than later, dreams or not. Captain getting short of sleep, likely to make wrong decisions. And that’s something Serenity and this crew don’t need no more of. Gradually Mal’s breathing slowed. His hands relaxed and fell open on top of the covers. In the darkness his face lost the frown it had been wearing, smoothing out as sleep closed over him.

Kaylee and Inara were finishing their breakfasts when Jayne appeared in the doorway, scratching at his ribs. He yawned as he ambled past into the kitchen area and began to haul food out of cupboards. “Mornin’,” he grunted. Kaylee and Inara both replied in kind, the two women watching as Jayne heaped food from several different packets into a bowl. As the big mercenary came over to the table and sat down, spoon in hand, Kaylee said, “Jayne, what in the world you got in that dish?” “Breakfast,” he grunted, pouring the best part of a carton of soymilk over the bowl’s contents. Kaylee exchanged a look with Inara, then asked, “Sure you got enough there?” “Uh huh.” Jayne reached for the sugar, spooned half a dozen heaping measures into his food, added another splash of soy milk, and began to eat. Kaylee watched him, a half-entertained, half-disgusted look on her face. Inara raised one elegant eyebrow, smiling, then got up from the table. “I’ve got things to do. Enjoy your breakfast.” “See y’later, ‘Nara.” Kaylee smiled brightly after her. As the Companion walked away, Kaylee found her gaze dragged back to the spectacle of Jayne shovelling down his food. She shook her head. “Jayne, you eat like there ain’t gonna be another meal for a coupla light years.” “Breakfast’s the most important meal of the day,” replied Jayne portentously. “A man needs somethin’ lining his belly at the start of a day’s work.” He shot her a look. “Especially when that man ain’t been able to get a decent night’s sleep on account of the goddamn noise comin’ through the wall of his bunk.” Kaylee laughed. “Did we keep you up? Sorry.” “Ain’t surprised the doc ain’t at breakfast. He must be restin’ up, the way you’re keepin’ him busy at night.” “No, he’s had breakfast already.” Kaylee smiled. “He’s down in the infirmary, busy doin’ doctory things.” She got up from the table and took her dishes to wash at the sink. “Don’t know where he gets his stamina,” Jayne muttered. “Less he’s got hisself some little chemical helpers… Him bein’ a doctor and all.” “No…” Kaylee walked back past the table. “It ain’t pills, Jayne. It’s just love.” She leaned in close to his face from behind, a mischievous grin on her face: Jayne turned his head to look at her with a suspicious expression. “Didn’t you know, love is the best medicine?” With that she gave him the smile of a woman getting what she most wants, then straightened up and walked out of the dining area. Left behind at the table, Jayne stared glumly at his bowl of food. “Ain’t never had that effect on me,” he announced to the empty room. Then he shovelled another spoonful into his mouth.

Humming quietly to herself Kaylee walked through the ship, her steps leading her to the infirmary. She could see Simon seated at one side of the brightly-lit room, going through one of the medical supply cupboards. She paused for a moment before going in, watching him through the infirmary window. She enjoyed looking at him, now more than ever. Now he was hers. Now she was his. She liked to watch him at work: intent on something, just a slight frown of concentration on his face, his hands precise and careful at whatever they were doing. She had a sudden picture of his hands touching her with the same precision and care, last night, and shut her eyes for a moment at the warmth of the memory. Then she opened them again and grinned. “Poor Jayne,” she said softly but insincerely, and stepped through the infirmary doorway. Simon looked around as she came in and smiled at her. She came to stand next to him. “Hi, there,” she said, smiling back. “You busy?” “Just checking to see what we’ll need to restock, the next time we hit civilisation.” He took a bottle from the shelf, checked its contents, then replaced it. “That’s always assuming we’re planning to hit civilisation again at some point in the near future.” “Captain’s set course for Beaumonde,” answered Kaylee. “We’ll be there inside a week.” “Beaumonde?” Simon’s eyebrows rose, then he nodded. “Not exactly a Core world… But it’ll have to do.” He took another bottle off the shelf. “Are we heading for Beaumonde because there’s a job waiting there, or because Mal hopes there is?” “Don’t know.” Kaylee shrugged. “And you want to find out, you can go ahead and ask him yourself.” Simon glanced at her, his attention drawn by her tone; then he returned his gaze to the supply cupboard. “Is something wrong?” “No.” Kaylee’s mouth pulled into a line. “Well… No.” She sighed. Simon smiled into the cupboard. “Come on. Tell me.” “Ummm.” Kaylee picked up one of the bottles from the shelf, studied it, then put it down. “It ain’t nothin’. Captain just got kind of…snippy at me this morning.” “Right.” Simon turned to look at her. “Well, he’s lost his temper before. You should be used to it by now.” “Yeah.” Kaylee nodded. “I am.” “So what’s the problem?” “It ain’t that he got angry with me. He’s always been one for a sharp word, at times. It’s just…” She thought for a moment. “He always used to make up for it somehow. Make a joke, give me a hug even; he’d act more like he was some kinda big brother than a captain, once in a while. Made it easier to handle when he was givin’ out the orders, ‘cos I knew there was that other side to him. But now…” She looked down. “I just feel like whatever I do, whatever I say, it just makes him mad. Seems like now he’s all captain. No room for anythin’ else.” Simon was quiet for a moment, taking in her words. He leaned back from the cupboard and took hold of one of her hands: she looked at him, her expression unhappy. Simon smiled gently at her. He didn’t like to see the cheerful light gone from her face; it was so much a part of her, she looked forlorn without it. “Mal’s a difficult man. I remember when River and I first came on board, I felt like that all the time. That whatever I said, whatever I did, was the wrong thing. That just by being on board Serenity, I was in the wrong. Every time Mal looked at me, I felt as if he was thinking how much better life would be if I wasn’t there.” He stroked her hand. “But I learned that you can’t always judge a person by the look in their eyes, or the words that they say. In time I’ve begun to understand that the captain is a far more complicated person than I thought at first. And that I’d underestimated him. He has a lot more compassion, a lot more integrity than I had assumed. And I began to understand what he feels for his crew. How protective he is of them.” He smiled a small smile. “And of River and myself, once we became part of this crew. It’s hard to say, how much that means to me. After what happened with my family, with my father - ” Simon paused, his mouth growing momentarily bitter. “My father gave up River to the Alliance as though there was no other decision he could have made. His own daughter. My little sister.” He shook his head. “Everything I had believed in was broken into pieces the day that happened. My family. My career. My love and respect for my father. But when Mal made a place for me and River on Serenity, however grudgingly, he gave us much more than a place to be. He gave me back some faith in my fellow men.” Kaylee was quiet for a while, letting Simon stroke her hand. At last she said, “I just wish he’d let up on us a little, is all. Things are hard enough.” “They’ll get better.” Simon kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry, bao-bei.” He held her for a moment. “Just what was it you said that got him angry, anyway?” “I was askin’ him about Zoë.” “Ah.” Kaylee shifted in Simon’s embrace, twisting to look him in the face. “ ‘Ah’? What d’you mean, the way you say that?” “Just… I wouldn’t talk to the captain about Zoë. Not yet.” “Why not?” “Because I think it’s a subject guaranteed to raise some unhappy feelings for him.” “Well, hell – Zoë’s got some pretty unhappy damn feelings herself, and seems like no-one’s helpin’ her with that!” replied Kaylee, sitting upright. “And who’s the person oughta be talkin’ to her?” “Kaylee, sweetheart.” Simon sighed. “You can see that; and I can see that. And I’m pretty sure that the captain can see that, too. But you know, sometimes it takes us men a while… Sometimes we need to get a run-up, at talking about feelings and things like that.” Kaylee looked at him for a moment – then a smile warmed her face. “That’s for damn sure,” she said, reaching out and stroking his cheek. “This one guy I know, took him a month of Sundays ‘fore he got to speakin’ up about how he felt.” Simon smiled back at her, reached up and took hold of her hand and kissed it. “But sometimes it’s worth the wait.”

The ground shook beneath Mal’s feet and he dropped to press himself belly-down against it, hugging the shuddering earth. His ears were filled with a roar of noise that drowned thought, tore at him so that all he could do was shut his eyes and press his face into the mud and hold on until it was over. A pattering of fragments showered against his back, then stilled; the noise rumbled away and he was able to lift his head. The flickering smoky light showed a landscape blasted and torn by heavy artillery, the ground pockmarked with craters and torn into a chaos of shattered rock and earth. He looked ahead, then from side to side. Here and there soldiers moved, crawling back to better cover from where they’d been dug in; or lay twisting and crying out for help where they’d been injured in the last round of fire. He didn’t want to stand up: his belly crawled and every instinct told him to stay down and hug the ground, press the earth to himself and keep low. But he couldn’t see the lieutenant anywhere. The officer had been standing somewhere near where the last explosion had hit and now there was no sign of him. Which meant that he’d just been field promoted. Again. And all around him soldiers needed orders, needed command, to keep what was left of them alive. “Zoë?” His voice choked on the smoke and grit; he spat into the mud, then shouted again. “Zoë! Goddamnit – where are you?” For a moment the thought that he’d lost her too filled him with fear. “Zoë!” “Here, sir.” Zoë’s voice sounded off to one side of him, ragged and weary. He turned to see her climbing out of a dug-out, her face smeared with grime. A relief flooded through him. He held out a hand to help her up the sloping uneven ground. “You okay?” “Been better.” She put a hand up to her cheek and touched a cut just below her eye, made by flying debris: wiped away the blood starting to trickle down from it. “How’s it lookin’ down there?” She shook her head. “Lost Peters and McCarthy in that last blast. Silvera ain’t looking too good.” She breathed out hard, then coughed in the still dispersing smoke and dust. “And Johnson’s got a belly wound. Don’t think he’s gonna make it.” She looked at him. “How about up here?” “Can’t see the lieutenant. Think he got hit, that last big one.” She turned her head to stare out over the battlefield, out across the valley, then looked back at him. Her eyes were full of dismay. “Jesus.” She pressed her lips together. “That’s all the officers gone.” “Yeah.” He tried to grin through the mud, ignoring the panic in his guts. “Exceptin’ of course my own self. Sergeant Reynolds, lately field promoted to…” He paused for a moment, pretending to consider. “Let’s see now. How ‘bout, Captain Reynolds? That kinda has a nice ring to it.” Zoë looked long and hard at him. To his relief, he saw the dismay fade, to be replaced by something like her old sardonic look. “Captain Reynolds?” She raised her eyebrows. “You want to be a captain?” “Why not?” He grinned again. “You gotta admit, I’m prime officer material.” “Sir – “ Whatever she had been about to say was lost in the whine of an approaching air attack. Instantly they both turned and ran back towards their platoon’s dug-out, diving down into it as the first blasts began to strike the ground behind them. He pulled himself upright into a crouching position as grit rained down into their meager shelter. Zoë was leaning against the dug-out wall, her eyes cast upwards in the direction of the attack. He moved closer so he could shout into her ear. “You got a problem with my rise through the ranks?” “Nope.” She turned her gaze to him. “But it’ll take more than this to make me call you captain.” She paused for a moment, then added, “Sir.” “How ‘bout if we win the goddamn war?” A close blast made them both duck down, shielding their heads from a rain of fragments. “That good enough?” “Nope.” They cautiously raised their heads and looked up at the sky. The bombardment had stopped again. For the time being. Zoë settled her head back against the dug-out wall. “Think they’re gonna let us alone for a while?” “Maybe. If we get lucky.” “That’d be a first.” She let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, then coughed. When she got her breath back, she nodded her head at the space before them. “Well, sir. You better take command.” He looked at the remains of the platoon scattered about them. Soldiers crouching in the mud, covered like themselves with dust and smoke and blood, brown uniforms torn and disheveled. Soldiers breathing hard through open mouths; men and women with faces taught with fear, blank with exhaustion. A figure lying curled in on itself, moaning with pain; another soldier rocking a bloodied limb cradled against his body. And in the shadows, two shapes simply lying sprawled still. The fear tightened Mal’s belly again, but he took a deep breath; pushed the fear away to someplace else. He had no time for being afraid. Someone had to give the orders, or they were all dead. He’d started this battle a sergeant in command of a platoon, just over thirty soldiers. Now the last senior officer anywhere to be found in this godforsaken corner of this godforsaken valley was dead and he was in charge of everyone who was left. God knows how many. And he didn’t know what the orders were; didn’t know what was happening up there in the sky with their own fleet and the goddamned purplebelly warships. “Sir?” Zoë was watching him. Waiting for him to speak. He took another deep breath. “Okay.” He raised his voice. “Listen up, all of you. This lull likely ain’t gonna last too long. Take care of the wounded and move the casualties to the rear. We’re in a tight spot here, but all we gotta do is hold on till our air support comes through. Might be a whiles in comin’, but they’ll come. Till they do, we stay put and give as good as we get.” He paused, and the faces all around the dug-out watched him. “We’ve taken somethin’ of a beating, but we ain’t run. Ain’t going to, neither. Alliance might think the war’s goin’ their way, but this is where we’ll prove ‘em wrong. We’ll make those purplebellies remember the name of Serenity Valley.” The soldiers in front of him murmured, began to set about their work. He turned away and found Zoë watching him. She said nothing, but her eyes held his for a moment and she gave him a slow nod. He rose and started to climb out of the dug-out. And then the world changed. It was as if he had stepped through time: now he was standing up on the battlefield, and it was no longer night but daylight. A thin yellow sun was stretching across the valley, piercing through wisps of smoke, glinting off the wreckage of shattered artillery. Overhead there were medships, flying low. He looked up at them and there was a sick rage in his heart, a terrible anger and misery that filled him so that he could hardly lift his head. A stink filled his nostrils, a vile smell of mud and putrefaction. He turned around and looked back behind him and saw the bodies lying in their hundreds, scattered across the ground. Soldiers barely alive, bandages black with blood, no longer even moaning for help. Corpses lying side by side with the wounded but still-living; the remaining few who could still walk moving about with the scant rations of water which was all they had left to give the casualties, whispering words of comfort to people so far gone in pain they didn’t respond. He walked unsteadily through the rows of wounded, noting in some far-away part of his mind that was still functioning those who should be evacuated first; and the others, the ones who would never make it now, those who would be left until last. His eyes ached and he wiped at them with a hand black with dried blood and dirt. He was beyond weariness: even the bitter anger sunk deep in his guts hardly stirred him. Hundreds of them had died, in the last week. Hundreds of men and women dying slowly in the stinking mud around him, while he had tried to organize the survivors to keep going. He had given commands and promised them help was coming; walked miles in the mud to find those he could and bring them together; even carried wounded on his own back to where they could receive the pitiful little they had. But still they had died in their hundreds around him, while somewhere the generals had bickered over a form of words. For all those long days. He stepped over a rise in the ground and there in front of him was Zoë. She was kneeling on the ground beside a dead soldier, cradling his head in her lap. Mal came closer, unsteadily, and she looked up at him. Her face was drawn with exhaustion and thirst, but her eyes found Mal with a terrible look of blame. He stopped dead, trying to speak; his mouth was dry. “He’s dead.” Zoë’s voice was bitter and full of grief. “I lost him.” Her arms tightened around the man who lay in her lap and suddenly Mal saw that the dead man wasn’t in uniform, wasn’t a soldier. It was Wash lying there, his fair hair bright against Zoë’s uniform, bright shirt stained sodden red with the blood that came from the terrible wound in his chest. “Zoë…” Mal’s voice came, but it was an effort to speak. “I’m sorry… I’m…” He didn’t want to see Wash any more, wanted to shut his eyes and not see the gaping wound, the lifeless face. Didn’t want to see the loss in Zoë’s eyes. There was a roar as a medship flew low overhead and he looked up, staring at the silver-grey belly of the ship. When he looked back down Zoë and Wash had gone, leaving only the stained earth. He turned around and the whole valley was empty, the wounded and dead and living all gone. He stood alone on the shattered earth of Serenity Valley, never to leave. He felt his legs give way and he sank to his knees on the ground, opening his mouth as a cry broke from him and rose to the unforgiving sky. The cry in Mal’s dream became an alarm, dragging him up from sleep. “…Mwuhh…” He felt himself reach up blindly, groping for the control panel. His fingertips grazed a button, then pressed it. The alarm cut off and a dim light flickered on over his bunk. He blinked and shielded his eyes, leaning up on one elbow. “Uhh… Da-shiang bao-tza shr duh lah doo-tze…” “Captain?” Zoë’s voice came out of the intercom. “You awake?” “Wait…” He levered himself more fully upright, sitting back against the wall, and glanced at the clock. “Guay… I only been asleep four hours… Ship better be on fire.” “We’ve got a situation.” Zoë’s voice stayed calm and crisp, cutting through his grousing. Mal looked at the intercom, suddenly alert. “What?” “Distress call coming in. Ship in trouble, requesting assistance. Thought you better take a listen, sir.” Mal rubbed a hand over his face and swung his legs out of bed. “On my way.” Two minutes later he strode onto the bridge, to find Zoë alone at the helm. She looked up as he came in. “Sorry to wake you. But reckoned you’d want to hear this.” “That’s okay.” He dropped into the co-pilot’s chair. “What’s the message?” “Started coming in about thirty minutes back. I hung on a while to see if there were any other ships in hailing range, that might go to their assistance. “ She shook her head. “Don’t seem like there are.” She reached across and touched a control and a message came from the speaker. “This is cargo vessel Lewington, requesting assistance. We are experiencing engine failure and are stranded without propulsion. Repeat, we are stranded and request urgent assistance. Any vessels within hailing distance please respond. Our position is - ” Zoë cut the distress message off and looked at Mal. He was frowning. “You sure no other ships are getting this?” “No other craft showing up on our scans. Which isn’t too surprising; this isn’t exactly a highway out here.” “So you reckon we’re the only ship picking up this call?” “Unless someone else is hearing it and not responding.” She tapped another control and brought an image onto a screen. “Their position isn’t too far off course for us, we could make it in a couple of hours.” Mal said nothing, still frowning at the screen. “Captain?” “Wait.” He hit the intercom. “Kaylee?” There was a pause, then Kaylee’s voice, slightly blurred by the background noise of the engine room, came through. “Yep, cap’n?” “We got enough margins on those fuel cells to make a little detour?” “Uh, yeah, probably.” “ ‘Probably’ ain’t what I’m wantin’ to hear. ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ would do fine.” “How big a detour?” “Coupla hours at most.” “Then yeah, we’ll make it. Where we goin’?” “Bein’ neighbourly.” Mal clicked the intercom off and looked out of the cockpit screen. “Okay. Set a course and let ‘em know we’re coming. But let’s go in mighty cautious. Wouldn’t be the first time someone pretended to be having trouble so’s they can get a jump on whoever comes running to help.” “We could just keep on going.” Zoë started entering headings for the change of course. “See if anyone else answers.” “We could. But we ain’t.” Mal turned away from the screen. “Like you said, this ain’t exactly a highway: help might come pretty few and far between. We’ll keep an eye on them and see what they look like when we get close enough. Any sign of trouble, we’ll hightail it outta there.” He looked across at her. “You see anything you don’t like the look of, shout.” She nodded. There was a step behind them and they both turned, to see Kaylee. She advanced into the cockpit, slightly out of breath from her journey from the engine room. “What’s up?” Zoë jerked her head at the console. “We picked up a distress call. We’re going to take a look, see if we can help.” Mal leaned forward and clicked on the com’s transmit button. “Lewington, we just picked up your distress call. You still needing assistance?” There was a hiss of static, then a voice came out of the receiver. “Thank God! This is John Stanway, captain of the Lewington. Yes, we need assistance. Who are you?” “Name’s Malcolm Reynolds, captain of Firefly Serenity. What kind of fix are you in?” “We’ve had a serious engine failure, we’re dead in the black. Whatever it is, it’s knocked out our long-range transmitters. Only got short-wave, thought we’d be sitting here forever waiting for someone to pass by within hailing distance.” “Well, we can be with you in about two hours. Your engineer got no solutions?” “Our engineer’s got no anything. He was in the engine room when we lost power, got caught in some kind of explosion. We’ve got him in med bay now, but he’s not looking good.” “Sorry to hear that. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.” “Good. We won’t be going anywhere. Thanks again, Captain Reynolds.” “Over and out.” Mal clicked off the transmit button. Standing beside him, Kaylee pulled a face. “Explosion in the engine room? That don’t sound good.” Mal rose from the co-pilot’s seat and glanced at Zoë. “Let me know as soon as you get them on visual. And make sure there ain’t no other ships nearby waiting for us to slow down.” She nodded in reply. Mal moved to the ship’s intercom and switched it on. “Okay, folks, we got ourselves a situation to deal with. Meet in the dining area in five minutes. That means you too, Jayne.” He clicked the intercom off. Zoë looked at him. “You need everyone there?” “Yeah; why not?” He paused and shrugged. “I’m losin’ sleep, least I can do is inconvenience everyone else’s day too.” With that he headed out of the cockpit. Kaylee glanced at Zoë; the tall woman said nothing aloud, but her eyes met Kaylee’s with unspoken understanding. Kaylee sighed, then turned and headed after Mal. Almost everyone had gathered around the long wooden table and Mal was standing with arms folded when Jayne finally appeared and took a seat. Mal cocked an eyebrow at him. “Okay. Here’s the news. We’ve taken a distress call from a cargo vessel ‘bout two hours off, needing assistance. They’ve lost their main drive and got some kind of engine trouble, so we’re going to take a look-see and maybe help ‘em out.” “Distress call?” Jayne narrowed his eyes, tilting back in his chair. “How’d we know they ain’t just puttin’ that out as bait? Could be they’re just waitin’ for us to show so they can jump us.” “Strange as it may seem, that was one of the many notions that occurred to me,” Mal replied, an iron edge of patience entering his tone. Most of the assembled people around the table heard the edge and looked up at him; only Jayne seemed unaware. “Hell, there could even be a whole bunch of ‘em sittin’ there, ready to pick us off,” he exclaimed. “This far out in the middle of this go tsao de corner of nowhere, could be any goddamn hun dan sendin’ that message out.” “Could be it’s genuinely someone in trouble needing some help, too.” Mal’s voice became quieter, but it was all iron now. Sitting along the side of the table, Inara saw him squaring up to Jayne, muscles in his shoulders tensing hard. She also saw the shadows under his eyes, drawn dark from lack of sleep. “Could be I don’t give a goddamn about their troubles,” Jayne retorted, automatically responding to Mal’s challenging stare. “Why’d we have to go playin’ the ruttin’ Good Samaritan?” “Could be you might want to stop talking. That’s unless you got something that’ll contribute some sense to this situation.” Mal uncrossed his arms. “Which’d be a first.” Inara spoke up quickly. “Surely we can go and see what the problem is, at least. Then if it looks risky, we can move away.” Mal and Jayne both looked at her, distracted from their mutual antagonism. “It seems like the least we can do. There’s so little traffic out here, just to pass by without at least trying to see if we can help would be wrong, surely?” “I agree with ‘Nara.” Kaylee looked around the table. “S’pose it happened to us? We’d want someone to come help us, ‘f we were in their place. Don’t seem right not to try.” “It did happen to us, remember?” growled Jayne. He jerked a thumb at Mal. “And remember the help that came callin’ on you? Weren’t exactly goddamn angels of mercy, were they?” Mal’s eyes flickered at this, but he made no reply. Zoë opened her mouth and seemed about to speak, then held her peace. Kaylee spread her hands out, palm up. “Jayne, not everyone out there in the ‘verse is out to do bad stuff. And maybe these folks really need our help. Sounded like they had a real bad engine failure, their engineer got caught in an explosion and all.” “Explosion?” Simon looked at Mal. “That sounds serious.” Mal nodded, his eyes moving around the table to each member of the crew. “Reckon it does. On the face of it, these folks need a helping hand. I aim to give it them, if everything looks like it should when we get close to. Zoë and me’ll keep a watch as we come in, be ready to move off at the first sign that somethin’ ain’t right. And River – “ He looked down the table towards Simon’s sister, who lifted her face and gazed back at him. “You come sit up front a while. See if anything strikes you wrong about this.” River tipped her head on one side. “Okay. Miner’s canary. It stops singing, everyone dies.” She looked around the table at their less than comfortable reactions. “Or everyone escapes. We can do happy endings too.” She smiled a quick, mocking smile. “Cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep.” Simon lowered his head to hide his involuntary smile at his sister’s joke, while Mal eyed River levelly. Jayne sat forward, thumping the legs of his chair back on the floor. “Think it’s so goddamn funny, us bein’ ambushed?” River rolled her eyes at him. “Hypothetically the probabilities preclude a manifestation of aggression. Maintenance of an optimum spatial alignment for precipitate exigesis should avoid adverse interaction.” Jayne’s face blanked under her storm of polysyllables and she rolled her eyes again. “As long as we keep our distance we can always run away if we need to,” she translated. She tilted her own chair back in an apparently innocent parody of Jayne. “Cheep, cheep.” Mal looked down to his right. “Zoë? You want to put a word in here, seein’ as how everyone else has had their say?” He waited for a moment, as did everyone around the table. Inara caught the change in Mal’s voice and look when he spoke to Zoë, who sat quietly listening with her arms folded on the tabletop. Zoë met Mal’s gaze, then spoke quietly. “I agree that we should check them out. Like you said, anything about this starts not to look right, we just leave.” “Okay then.” Mal faced front. “That’s what we’re gonna do. Kaylee, soon as we get within visual range and everything looks shiny you get yourself up on the bridge, talk to this Stanway and see if you can’t figure out what his problems are. Get your toolkit ready too, in case there’s a need for us to take a trip over there.” “If you’re going over to this ship, I should come too.” Simon leaned forward. “Whatever medical support they’ve got, they might appreciate some help. Cargo vessels don’t always have a doctor on board – often it’s just someone on the crew with basic medical training. And trauma from an explosion might need expert attention right away.” “Ain’t no-one going over till we’ve got the lay of the land,” replied Mal. “It all looks as it should, you can tag along, doc, if you want to. I’ll go first, with Kaylee. Zoë, you’ll take charge on board Serenity. Jayne – you’ll do what Zoë says, long as I’m over there. Understand?” “Bu yao ming duh fung kwong…” muttered Jayne under his breath. Mal’s mouth tightened into a grim line and he spoke again, sharply. “Dong ma?” His eyes fixed hard on the stubborn crewman. Jayne met his gaze under lowered brows and after a moment gave a reluctant nod. The tension around the table eased as Mal stepped back. “Okay then. Zoë, keep us on their heading. We’ll see how things look when we’re closer in.”