Chapter 11

Kaylee held the yoke, wishing she’d taken more effort to fix the fly assist, because all those back-to-back catnaps hadn’t helped a lick. The ship tottered and swayed with the weight of the stunner, still blowing in the wind. As near as she could tell, they were still lined up properly, and there was no reason not to set the thing down. She wished Sky would hurry.

Adjusting the angle of the outside viewer, she could see the flatbed with the device, swaying in and out of vid. This was where the hatch was supposed to be, but she couldn’t make it out for the camouflage. Sky said it was there, though, and Kaylee trusted her eyes. She lost all cause for doubt when the hatch opened up, blasting clean air through the smoke, revealing the shiny nose of a ship inside.

“Here it comes,” Kaylee murmured to herself. She tapped the comm. “Sky, what’s the status?”

No response. The people inside the hatch could certainly see Serenity… unless the ship was on some kind of auto sequence and it would take off at zero time regardless. Serenity needed to get out of the way.

“Sky?” Kaylee tried again.

Kaylee sighed, wishing the day had been going well enough that she didn’t immediately assume that Sky had fallen out the hatch and gotten mangled by the branches of the burning trees. She hated calling on one of the kids again, but the ship wasn’t fixed enough for her to leave the bridge. She hit the comm.

“Genny, honey. I need you to run to the cargo bay and check on Sky.”

Genny was at that age where she’d figured out that her parents were not invincible, although she hadn’t quite figured it about herself yet. Kaylee blamed the Captain because he’d been at that age … well, as long as Kaylee had known him. Genny could stay calm and take action, no matter what she found in the cargo bay – which hopefully wasn’t more than a jam in the mechanism.

Kaylee looked at the silent speaker. Genny hadn’t said okay, but then she was just a kid and didn’t always think in terms of protocol .

“Please, God, let the comm be working,” Kaylee muttered. She hit the button again. “Jamie, did Genny already leave?”

Kaylee waited. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The stunner wasn’t moving closer to the ground, and Kaylee knew for a fact Serenity wasn’t rising. She couldn’t drop any lower without skimming the trees, and Kaylee didn’t dare test her flying skills that far.

“Sky?” Kaylee called again, sending message over the broad speakers. “Is there anyone out there who can answer?!”

Trying to keep her head clear, Kaylee glanced back at the door. Her stomach twisted in knots. There was nothing she could do until that thing was on the ground and the only way to get it there from here was to cut the cable from the safety release. But then if the mechanism was jammed and Sky had climbed up to fix it and gotten tangled, she really would end up mangled by the tree branches.

“Sky, if you can hear me, get away from the hatch. I’m gonna cut the release.”

Kaylee waited, worried that she wasn’t getting a response. There was only a slim chance the stunner would survive the fall, with their remote activator in tact. But it was all the chance she had left. A red light flashed next to the hatch, signaling the eminent take-off. So Kaylee cut the cord on the stunner and got Serenity the hell out of the way.

-----

Mal hadn’t thought this through in the strictest manner. He couldn’t wrestle River off the ship and he couldn’t very well expect her to sit still while he and Zoë turned high-tail. He could try knocking her out, but given that she’d fought Sky while technically sedated and looked for all the ‘verse like she should be lying on a gurney now –

River pretzeled underneath him, kicking his boot off her neck, and sending him stumbling. She lunged for the gun again, but Mal knocked it out of the way, throwing his weight on her, using sheer physics to hold her down, because that was the only thing so far that worked.

“Zoë, get out of here!” he hollered. He could distract River long enough, but Zoë wasn’t leaving. She wasn’t fighting either. She was rifling through the cabinets of the galley.

“This is no time for a snack!” Mal cried.

River laughed haughtily, slamming her fist against his bleeding stomach, and twisting her knuckles inside the wound. Mal’s jaw clenched with anger as he jumped off of her and drew his gun.

“I did not ask you.”

Licking the blood off her knuckles and pushing to her elbows, River glared at him fearlessly, daring him to shoot. “How sweet – sending the little girl away so she doesn’t have to watch you kill me.”

“Ha!” Zoë said, pulling a stash of zip ties from a drawer and holding them up triumphantly. It wasn’t the strongest restraint, and maybe if she’d had them three minutes ago, they would’ve stood a chance of hog-tying River.

“We’re both leaving,” Zoë told Mal. She turned to River, who scooted away until she was backed against a wall. “You should come with us. You don’t want to be on this ship after take-off.”

River eyed Zoë appraisingly, her mouth partly open, the blood on her lips adding surreal color to her pallid, ash-smeared face. Looking from Zoë to Mal, River finally clasped her wrists together and held them up for Zoë to tie, as a sign of agreement. She stood slowly, and Mal tensed, motioning Zoë to give him the zip ties.

He took one step closer.

Before he knew it, River spun around, her elbow catching him squarely in the chest. Her foot connected with his wrist and hard enough that Mal felt his bones break. Charging back, Mal jabbed and kicked.

“Zoë, go!” he ordered. One day she’d listen to him. Today, she had her gun drawn.

“Let him go!”

“No! Zo –”

“Bi zui!” she said harshly.

She did not want to fire on River. Shouldn’t have to. Mal fought against River, struggling to keep her away from Zoë, and also to keep Zoë from getting an angle. River leered at him, loving the internal battle she sense in him. She smashed them sideways, jamming his injured side against a protruding cabinet handle. He cursed the world as it turned red, and then his ears filled with the deafening explosion of gunfire. When River fell, Mal fell too.

-----

Sky dashed toward the sound of her screaming children, her heart burning with anger and anxiety. They weren’t panicked cries for help, because for all they knew, there was no one who could help them. She heard Cole and Genny shouting warnings and empty threats and Ian hollering back at them, sounding more afraid of them than they of him. She switched weapons, dropping the sling, and drawing the pistol. One shot between the eyes would end this hun dan, and maybe she’d have enough time to go back to the cargo bay and finish her job.

Rounding the corner, gun drawn, finger twitching on the trigger, Sky took one look at the situation and her whole body stilled. Righteous anger and vicious maternal instinct simmered, starting at her feet, rising to her face. Ian held Jamie up by his face, and Jamie fiercely struggled to keep from dropping Emily. Emily whimpered, then cried hysterically, too distraught to notice her mother come to save her.

Cole had his arms outstretched, blocking off the path to Michael, and holding Genny behind him. Sky could tell the girl was a hairs-breadth from launching herself onto their attacker and saving her twin, but Ian had a small Alliance energy-pistol in one hand and pointed it alternately between Genny, Jamie, and now Sky.

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Sky asked, keeping her voice low, calm, and patronizingly critical. “Honestly. There’s no shuttle to escape on. Did you want to take over the ship?”

Ian’s breath quickened and he hefted Jamie up to get a better grip. Jamie grunted at the blow to his midsection, and nearly pitched forward as Emily kicked her legs to balance.

“I agreed to give you what you wanted,” Ian said quickly, his eyes darting around for an escape. “Let me go.”

“Let the kids go and we’ll talk,” Sky said evenly.

Ian ducked his face behind Jamie, pressing his back to the burnt out Infirmary, giving Sky the opening she needed to protect the other three kids. She took a step forward, but Ian pressed the barrel of his weapon right against Jamie’s temple and Jamie struggled to get free.

“Jamie, hold still,” Sky said calmly. The boy looked at her, white-faced, tears in his eyes. “You’re going to put Emily down.”

“No, kid,” Ian hissed. “If you drop that baby, I swear, I’ll kill you both.”

Jamie whimpered and his lips curled like he wanted to wail, but he was holding back for Emily’s sake. If she’d had any doubts before, Sky knew she was going to kill Ian now. Sky circled the room, facing off with Ian, placing herself between him and the other three kids. Ian shifted on his feet, looking toward the hallway she’d left open.

“Stay here,” she whispered to Cole, her body brushing against his ever so lightly. She didn’t dare take a hand off her pistol or glance to the side.

Ian sidled toward the hallway and Sky stepped boldly forward, crowding him out of the room.

“Stay back. I swear!” Ian cried as she followed him into the hall. It was darker here.

“Jamie, you got a good hold?” she asked, ignoring Ian. Jamie wasn’t looking at her so much as the barrel of her gun. His mouth flapped and his hands quivered.

“Remember how I told you about the apple. You trust me, right?”

“No,” Jamie squeaked, his chin dropping.

“Be perfectly still and close your eyes,” Sky told Jamie. He sobbed and sagged in Ian’s grip, too scared to fight.

“Emily, baby, safety.” It was all Sky could do to keep her voice steady as she said it. Emily looked at her and the gun in her hand and she swallowed her questions, like no two-year-old should know how. Scrunching her eyes shut, Emily wrapped one arm around Jamie’s shoulder, pressed her ear against his chest, then covered her other ear with her arm. Jayne had taught her, in the event that he was holding her while shooting at some villain. It wasn’t meant to be this way – her so close to the target.

Ian was about to run.

Sky waited for her shot. She waited for Ian to turn just enough so that his head was clear of Jamie’s and she fired, then she ran, trying to catch Jamie and Emily before they hit the ground. Jamie cried out as Ian’s grip went slack, and his eyes shot open. His ankle turned when he hit the ground, and Sky caught them both. She scooped Emily against her shoulder, then hugged Jamie, pressing his face against her neck.

“Don’t look. I got you,” she whispered.

Shaking like a leaf, Jamie threw his arms around Sky’s shoulders and wailed.

“I want daddy,” he cried. “I want daddy.”

Sky nuzzled her face against both children consolingly, keeping them turned away from the dead man on the floor. Emily’s eyes were still scrunched and her hands over her ears.

“Don’t look, baby,” Sky whispered.

Adjusting her grip, Sky lifted Jamie with one arm, wincing as his weight fell on her bruised torso. He was too tall to be carried like this, but he couldn’t walk on that turned ankle and she didn’t want him opening his eyes. She wanted to tell him how brave he was, and how good for keeping hold of Emily.

“See. You’re Auntie Sky never misses,” she told him. Jamie had a burn on his cheek where the bullet passed just inches from his face. They were very well-calculated inches on Sky’s part, but very frightening ones for Jamie. “You think now your daddy will let me shoot apples off your head.”

Jamie wailed. This probably wasn’t how Simon and Kaylee usually consoled their kids.

“Probably best he didn’t,” Sky agreed. “No sense ruining a perfect statistic with increased sample size.”

Sky set Jamie down in the lounge with the other kids, and Genny immediately ran to hug him. Cole stood protectively between Michael and the rest of the space, his eyes darting fearfully around the room. Leaving them there, Sky returned to the hallway where Ian lay bleeding out. Switching Emily to her left arm, Sky squatted, and lifted the corpsified idiot by his belt buckle, and hauled him back to the cargo bay, throwing him in the mix of other prisoners as an example. When one of them cried out in fear, Emily peeked.

“Hey, now,” Sky warned, turning her face away. Looking to the open hatch, she saw that the cable had snapped and they were no longer over the forest. She went to the controls at the bottom of the stairs and closed the hatch.

“Call the doctor?” Emily asked timidly.

Sky looked at her child, worried that she was injured, but Emily was looking at Ian.

“Doctor can’t help him,” Sky said matter-of-factly, heading up the stairs to relieve Kaylee. Jamie needed his mom. “This is why we don’t point guns at people’s heads. Safety.”

Emily nodded, but she was too young to understand death. She was too young to understand what she’d just been through. Hopefully, she was too young to remember.

-----

The force of the cannon recoil knocked Jayne back, throwing him so hard against the rim of the hatch, he thought his spine would snap in two. The shuttle bucked and Jayne swore, hooking his foot on the rung of the ladder so he wouldn’t get sucked out. The wind tore about him, ripping at his hair, stinging around his goggles with ice-cold pin prickles. Jayne’s stomach churned and knotted as they rolled and his head went so heavy that he flattened against the hull. They were spinning out of control!

Pushing gloved hands on the rim of the ship, Jayne fought the g-force of the spin which was countered madly by the shuttle’s internal gravity. He felt dizzy and his vision was foggy when he fell to the floor and for a second he just lay there trying to adjust to the two fighting gravities. Wiping the condensation from his goggles, he craned his neck to see when they’d be righted.

“Inara!” Jayne ripped the goggles off his face, double-taking in horror. Inara lay on the floor, bleeding from the head, moaning softly. Rolling onto his knees, Jayne scrambled past her into the pilot’s chair. The ground was coming at them mighty fast. Jayne yanked the yoke and the ship reared, righted, then spun the other way.

“Inara!” he shouted again. He gained attitude control and steadied the ship, just in time to see the enemy ship chase them through the clouds. Jayne veered sideways as they approached a high mountain peak, and the enemy ship followed him easily. So close!

Jayne glanced sideways at Inara. She blinked blearily, groaned, and pressed a hand to her head, smearing the blood over her eyebrow. Jayne swallowed hard, and released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, thanking any god vying for attention that he hadn’t killed her.

“I was going to say,” Inara chided, sitting up slowly, swallowing a grunt and a mouthful of bile. “Tell me before you fire so I can compensate. You lost half your momentum to recoil.”

“I noticed,” Jayne said, swerving sharply, then going low and fast. “Also, I think I ticked them off.”

Inara took another moment to catch her breath, then asked for the controls back. The only way to escape this enemy ship was to shoot it down, and this time, they agreed on a signal so the ship would be ready. Jayne rubbed his face to clear his head, took a deep breath, and climbed out the hatch again. His stomach was bruised from when he’d hit the rim before, but he leaned through the uncomfortableness, wrapped himself around the cannon rifle, and took aim. The wind came from the front, flowing past with perfect aerodynamic smoothness, keeping him from swerving left or right. The calm was surreal, but natural.

The ship followed closely, but kept ducking below Jayne’s site-line, as if they knew he had them in site. He waited. It would only take a moment. One slip. Inara banked left and as soon as she leveled, Jayne gave the signal. The sound of the cannon fire was lost in the blast of wind and thrusters. This time it was steady. The shot connected and the enemy ship lost control, veered into a mountain, and burst into flame. Within seconds, the smoke from that crash was indistinguishable from the haze of forest fires.

As soon as it was done, Jayne felt the world again – the harsh beating of the cold, thin air. He dropped down into the shuttle, if only to warm up before the next task.

“Any word from the others?” he asked as Inara turned the ship back toward their initial target.

Inara wiped blood and tears from her cheek, opening the throttle and racing them back.

“Can you make the shot from this distance?” she asked.

Jayne saw it too and his heart sank. The ship, the one they were trying to stop, the one with River on it – it was taking off, rising from the forest like a phoenix from the ashes. They couldn’t even chase it with the shuttle because by the time they got close enough to fire, they’d be in space, and Jayne couldn’t exactly put his head out the top then. All he kept thinking was he lost her. He lost River.

-----

Mal landed hard on his back, smashing his head against the corner, busting open the scabs on his back. His mid-section bled, his hand was broken, and his lip was bleeding from the fight. River fell hard on top of him, slamming against his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. In the foggy part of his mind that still clung to consciousness, he worried about the stunner knocking the ship out of the sky. He could tell by the rumble of the deck plates that they’d taken off. The vibrations rang through his body.

He threw his good arm over River. It was a little belated, but it occurred to him that he had to keep her from moving. It took awhile longer to realize that she wasn’t moving at all. He needed air. He needed to get her off his chest.

Mal wriggled and pushed, gasping and choking as he swallowed a mouthful of blood. His cheeks stung and it took a moment to connect. Little Zoë’s warm, trembling fingers cradled his face, and her tears splashed on his cheek.

“Baba,” she called. “Baba.”

The world reassociated just enough for Mal to clear his lungs and take in some air. He pushed to his elbows and River rolled off of his chest, landing crumpled next to him.

“Zoë?”

“I didn’t,” Zoë cried, leaning over him and putting pressure on his bleeding side. “I didn’t kill her.”

Mal sat up a little more, testing his head to make sure it stayed on. He remembered the gunshot.

“She just fell,” Zoë choked. She leaned over Mal and rolled River onto her back. She was cold and pale, looking like an aged corpse, eyes rolled up in her head so that only the whites showed. Shifting onto his hip and bracing his broken hand against his chest, Mal leaned close to River, pressing his ear against her chest. Her heart was beating, soft but steady.

“She just fell,” Zoë said again. Mal looked at his daughter and pressed his palm against her cheek, leaving a bloody print.

“Get to the bridge,” he ordered, then pushed her back.

Zoë pressed her lips together so tightly they disappeared, but she obeyed. She stood, found her gun, and ran up the stairs. If they made it this far without getting hit by Kaylee’s stunner, someone had to tell Jayne not to shoot them down!

Mal watched her go, glad she hadn’t said a word of protest, but worried at the same time. She was like her momma. She wore her heart on her sleeve a bit more, and Mal wondered if Zoë had been like that before the war. Mal worried that soon he’d see the light leave his daughter’s eyes, and little Zoë would become stoic, reserved, and untouchable. He didn’t worry too much. Momma-Zoë was his best friend, and if her namesake turned out just like her …

River groaned and Mal tensed immediately, reaching for his gun. The reflex sent pangs of hurt through his broken hand, and his gun had been flung somewhere far. Where was it?

Forcing himself to sit up, Mal braced his broken hand against his chest again, and nearly pitched forward as his head went heavy and bile rose in his throat. He leaned his head against River’s shoulder because he didn’t have much of an option given his current state of wooziness. She did not lash out or push him off. Her quivering hands reached out softly, but did not connect.

“Daddy,” she whispered. It was her voice. Hers! All choked with dehydration and dust, but present and familiar. Mal lifted his head and looked into her soft brown eyes, so weary and blood shot.

“How many times I got to tell you, you don’t get to call me that,” he chided.

She smiled weakly and tried to lick her lips, but her tongue was dry and everything stuck the wrong way. Her chest heaved, trying to get enough breath to speak and he pressed his finger to her lips, trying to keep her quiet. Then he tried to use his sleeve to wipe away the blood he’d smeared on her face. It was a royal mess – all of it.

“You did it,” she croaked.

“Did what?”

River blinked slowly and for a moment, Mal thought she’d passed out. Looking around helplessly, Mal wondered if he had enough command of his own limbs to get her some water. As he pulled himself to his knees, River grasped his hand and tugged. She pressed his palm against her forehead, like she needed the pressure to keep her brain from exploding. Mal splayed his fingers so they stroked soothingly through her hair, and her nose scrunched like she would cry, but she didn’t have enough water in her to form tears.

“He’s gone,” she whispered.

-----

Chapter 12