Thank you, Mr. Whedon, for a shiny pilot episode. And for Simon-- without his heroics, there wouldn't be any River on board.

~~~~~

How could a man with such a low IQ retain such knowledge of weaponry?

Simon found himself wondering that often as he encountered the muscular alpha male shine one of a plethora of weapons on the common room table.

Jayne. That is what everyone on the firefly called him. Simon never had heard of that name for a man, though he was sure if he mentioned this Jayne would not hesitate to pull the trigger on one of those shining guns.

With a wad of spit, Jayne polished a small handgun and looked at Simon with a scowl. Uneasy, Simon pushed the last bit of protein on his plate with his chopsticks, and then gave up. He had only stuck around after the meal because he had nothing else to do. His chopsticks clattered on his plate louder than he wanted.

Jayne glared at him and then ginned menacingly. “Somethin’ wrong, rich boy?”

Simon had no desire to bump into Jayne; the man held a grudge against him for being ordered, during dinner, to his bunk by the Captain. Jayne had returned not long afterward, with his weapons on display, and began to spit in Simon’s direction.

“Uh—no.” Simon looked down and got up from the table. He washed his dishes and went to his room.

There was not much he could do at this later hour. Most of the crew was somewhere else on the ship. Dobson had retreated to his room and the preacher had saved a plate of leftovers and shuffled off somewhere. Captain Reynolds would not let any of the passengers go unaccompanied to the cargo bay, so Simon had little to do but sit-- and worry-- and wait for the opportunity to access his luggage.

Simon closed the door to his room and sat on the bed. He sighed and put his head in his hands.

The only thing he had left to live for was in that cargo bay. He had to get to a rim planet, find a reputable hotel and—inconspicuously—bring a 300-pound metal box to a room. . . His “plan” was vague. It was stupid, and it was only the beginning of all he must do to survive. He was out of his element, had been for days-- now he had gotten himself onto a smuggling ship!

WHAT AM I DOING? WHAT HAVE I DONE? It was the thousandth time he had asked himself.

And that Captain Reynolds, so proud, and cagey with everyone. Simon’s questions only made the Captain more acrimonious. The sidelong glances at the dinner table from the pilot to the mechanic only confirmed the truth. And he was certain he had seen a warning look shot from the first mate to the pilot. Shady business was being dealt on this ship, under Simon’s nose, and there was something in particular that had made things complicated. Perhaps, the innocent passengers brought on for extra cash?

At first, he had thought the ship worked regularly for the Alliance. It was only at dinner that Simon had read into the crew’s lies. Only a complete dolt—like himself-- could put the Captain, the cool and sleek first mate, and a mercenary like that Jayne character onto a creaking monstrosity of a ship Firefly and still say he was in honest company.

The only thing Simon could not comprehend was why a decent citizen like a Companion would rent a shuttle from Captain Reynolds. A perceptive woman such as herself would not be ignorant of the crew’s misdeeds.

But that was another matter. Simon rubbed his eyes and stood up. He just had to get away from this ship. Was it wise to ride all the way to Boros?

A knock on the door startled Simon. Who wanted to speak to him?

He slid it open. The dim light in the hall showed him a round, honest face that was smudged with something. It was the mechanic. The girl did not quite fit in with the crew, either. It was interesting how the Captain defended her from Jayne’s heinous remarks during dinner. Simon had been embarrassed for her and for himself over the crude comments.

“Hi, Doc,” she said shyly. She blushed. “My name’s Kaylee—ya know, the mechanic?”

Awkward silence.

“Oh, hi,” he said, not sure what else to say.

Simon saw her greasy jumpsuit, the only thing he had seen her wear. He remembered getting stopped by her on the docks yesterday, sporting an umbrella and seated in a deck chair. She had been the reason why he chose this ship for passage. Honest and all smiles. And she was persistent.

“Is there something about which you would like to speak to me?” he asked.

The young woman stood there as if mesmerized with his question. She held something in her hands and, after a moment, suddenly remembered she held it.

“Oh! You left this on your chair.” She held out Simon’s black suit jacket. “I got it before Jayne could snatch it. He was eye-ballin’ it when you got up.”

Simon took the jacket from her. “Thank you, miss.”

At that, her face lit up in a schoolgirl smile. “Aw, I’m no miss, Doc. Just Kaylee’s fine.”

It had not taken long for Simon to realize she was slightly infatuated with him. Jayne had picked up on it, for it was quite obvious the way she kept looking at Simon since they first shook hands on Persephone. It startled Simon, for it had been a long, dark journey to get him here, and anything as innocent as Kaylee had never crossed his mind. He had no idea how to respond. But he did notice the strands of brown hair that framed her face nicely. Her big, hopeful eyes shimmered as she looked at him, then at the floor, self-conscious of herself.

“I’ll call you Kaylee, if you’ll stop calling me Doc. It’s Simon.”

He said it politely and she smiled wide. What was she, seventeen? Eighteen? She looked about the same age as--

A pressing thought came to him. He needed to get to cargo bay as soon as possible. He had to check the cryo levels—that box must be secure, he reminded himself.

“When will I be allowed to get my things?” he asked abruptly.

Kaylee’s face changed. She was surprised. “Oh, well-- Cap’n hasn’t said nothin’ about it to me. And I don’t wanna do somethin’ he don’t want done. Want me to go ask?”

“No,” replied Simon, perhaps too quickly. It was hard enough to deal with the Captain without aggravating him. “I’ll just wait until he offers.”

He hung his jacket carefully on a hanger and made to close the door.

“Such a nice jacket. You like bein’ a doctor?”

Simon pulled himself out. That’s right, she was still there.

“Yes,” and he closed the door.

What he didn’t hear was a soft, forlorn, “I’ll see ya later. . . Simon” from the hallway.

Taking his journal from his black bag, Simon pulled out a pen—the one his father had given him at the MedAcad commencement. He had not written in his journal for a few days. Jotting down a few notes, he was overcome with the strain of his recent exploits, and the immensity of his upcoming decisions.

~~~ Simon’s Journal~~~

If Captain Reynolds or the mercenary ever guessed a runaway and her brother were on board, I shudder to think. After all my desperation and hope, I have secured passage on a Firefly Class transport. I have a meager amount of credits left to me, so my next move must be careful and calculated. As of yet, my cover has not been blown.

[He stopped writing. What was he saying? His COVER? I’m no spy, he thought.]

In the worst case scenario, I can try to sell my extra supply of medication and bribe this bunch of hooligans, but something tells me that Shepard Book would frown on that. And this Jayne fellow I’ve met would turn me and River to the Alliance before I could find someone who would buy the medication.

Not long ago, that would have been welcomed. “Save me from the smugglers, the low-life crooks who defy the noble government.” Yes, not long ago, I would have turned over two such fugitives on the reason of my moral standing. The higher ground. I have seen the horrors of the Alliance, how they toss aside life—to a Doctor, that is the greatest sin. I keep life. What I saw in the Academy’s walls was unimaginable cruelty. My heart still breaks at the thought of River’s screams. How could I ever go back to my old life, an upstanding citizen, when my government funds such terrible programs?

River is going to need my help when she wakes up. In the moments before she went into cryo, I noticed severe psychological trauma, though I am a physician and no psychologist. My supply of meds should keep her stable until she can adjust to the world around her. But I have no plan beyond that. If River needs more help, it would be beyond my skills. Sheer love cannot heal her and protect her, though I have an unending supply of love for my sister. I fear for our future, and our parents cannot offer assistance. They will not offer assistance, but I do not expect them to risk their safety.

[It was here where Simon was interrupted.

“Excuse me. Testing one, two, three.” The droll pilot’s voice was muffled coming from the speakers in the hallway.

“To our fine passengers, we extend the honor of entering the cargo bay. Notice the lovely metallic design, in gray tones on your—ow!! Okay, honey, you don’t have to be so strong. Ahem, members of the crew, make your way there, also.”

Simon turned back to his journal and finished his thoughts.]

I must go check on my sister, and must be careful in the coming hours. I have risked all for the chance of seeing River well, to see her succeed the way she is meant to succeed. If it is all in vain, I do not regret a single credit I have spent or a single moment of danger. If a sister cannot depend on her brother; if a brother’s love is not enough, there is no hope left in these worlds. I would die for her. To see a smile on her face, to watch her dance again, to know she is safe.

~~~~

Simon laid his pen down, closed the journal, and buried them both in his valise. He made his way to the cargo bay, desperation and hope in his wake.