All standard disclaimers apply. I don't own these characters, Joss does.

Routine “Health and Safety” inspections of cargo vessels were rarely routine. Which is only fair because they were rarely about health nor safety of the vessle being inspected. It was all a game, a dance that the Alliance and the various cargo ships, smugglers and the like performed with each other.

Serenity had been ordered to heave to 3 days out of Borus. The faster patrol ship popped out of nowhere, demanded permission to board, and warned of the destruction that awaited if they should flee.

River and Simon hurriedly moved to Inara’s shuttle, before Mal could ask. As a professional companion, and a beautiful lady, it was hoped at least the inspectors would not check her private shuttle too carefully. Besides, companions had friends, and no one wanted to wreck their carreer for making a friend of the powerful too uncomfortable.

Now Mal was seated at the dining room table of his own ship, across from the Alliance captain. Ship’s papers spread all over. Next to a computer laptop used by the Alliance officer.

“From your logs, I see you get around a lot. How long have you been Master of this vessle, Captain Reynolds?”

“It says right there, 4 years and some change.” Mal replied over his crossed arms. Polite, but not friendly, far from friendly.

“And before that?”

“I, uh, bummed around a lot, since the war.”

Looking up over his computer screen,“You were in the war? You are that Malcolm Reynolds?”

“Well I am not sure which one you are looking for. But my service record is no secret.”

“You were at the battle of Serenity Valley? One of the Independence Survivors?”

Mal looked deep into the eyes of the older man across from him, not at all sure what this was about. “Umm. War has been over a long time now.”

“Just answer the question.”

I am, er, was, Sergeant Reynolds. I was at Serenity Valley.”

“Served under Lietenant Andrew Baker?”

“Yes.”

The man across from Mal aged 20 years in the blink of an eye. Sadness fell across them like lead weights.

“How did he die?”

Mal caught completely off guard, stammered. “Uh, what? I am not sure what that has to do with me running this ship..”

“Indulge me Captain.” and then he said something Mal could not recall any Alliance officer had ever said to him. “Please?”

Still confused, “Well, I don’t rightly know. I was out on patrol when he got hit. Sniper fire to the chest.”

“Sniper fire? Ground fire?”

“I think so.”

“He died quick?”

For a split second, Malcolm Reynolds got angry. But one glance at the Alliance captain boiled the anger away. It was not rude curiosity that was driving these questions. Something else.

“I doubt he knew what happened.”

“Was he a good man, a good officer?”

“One of the best I served with. A bit green, but still. A real stand up guy.”

“Thanks captain. I don’t think we will detain you any longer.” And he rose.

“Hang on a second. What is this all about?”

The older man looked up, let out a long slow sigh. “I was in the war too. As was my son.”

Slowly the light dawned on Malcolm. A mix of emotions flooded him, confusing him. “I flew skiffs, and was at Serenity valley. I did not know my son was their,” he choked, “died there, till it was all over. I never saw the body, nor found a grave for him.”

“Things were pretty…. Things were not pretty in those days. We buried them as quick as we could, buried too many. Now I got a question for you. How could you betray the Independents and your son’s memory by putting on a purple belly’s uniform, accepting their commision?”

The older man looked bewildered for a split second, and more of that increadable sadness swallowed his eyes. They talk about the 1000 meter stare that some men get who have been to war, seen that there is no glory, just death.

“I had the commision before the war, Captain Reynolds. I flew and fought for the Alliance in the war, at Serenity. Against my own, and only son.”

Mal just looked down at his hands, relaxing them from the balled fists, feeling sympathy for this man. “Fathers and sons don’t often see eye to eye, ” he offered lamely.

“Yep.”