“So,” Wash said, taking a deep breath of the sweet musky smell of her neck. “You mind tellin' me what reminded you that you loved me?” “I never forgot I loved you,” Zoë laughed. “Yeah, but still,” Wash insisted. “I need to know who I can thank for this sudden turn around in your disposition. I’m thinking about sending them a thank you card.” Zoë laughed again. “You know, somethin’ plain, ‘Your kind words meant a lot to me . . . they got my wife in bed.’” “Oh, be quiet,” Zoë said, nudging his gut with her elbow. “No, seriously, what changed your mind?” He said, kissing her neck as added incentive. “Well,” Zoë sighed. “If you must know. . . .” “E o!” Wash moaned, “I’m dying to know.” “It was River.” “River?” Wash asked, pulling himself away from his wife just a touch so he could look at her with a somewhat critical eye. “You’re taking romantic advice from a seventeen-year-old whose idea of a coherent sentence is ‘Two by two with hands of blue.’” “That would be the River.” “I suddenly feel less confident in your critical judgment skills.” Zoë laughed again, “How about if I told you the good Doctor Tam inspired me.” “Slightly more assured,” Wash said, kissing her right behind her ear. “Although the fact you can’t tell the difference between the brother and sister is still concerning.” Zoë sighed contentedly and rolled over so that she was looking her husband in the eyes. “‘Member couple nights back when River was screamin’ like a banshee?” “Not easy to forget,” Wash said gamely. “Well, when I was in there she started talking crazy,” “The girl is nothing if not consistent.” “She was sayin’ that all these things happened in that big old book she’s been readin’ were real, were happenin’ ta us.” “I hope her book has a happy ending.” “Sometimes it do, as it turns out,” Zoë said, running her fingers up and down her husband’s arms. “For instance, she called you Hippomenes.” “A hippopotamus?” Wash asked. “I know I’m not as buff as Jayne or gangly like Simon but . . .” “No,” Zoë laughed. “That’s a character, in her book. I’d been meaning ta ask Simon ‘bout it but boy’s been so busy with that sick girl.” “And the continually difficult task of avoiding Kaylee,” Wash added. “That too,” Zoë chuckled. “But I got my chance today.” “And? Why am I a hippopotamus?” “It seems that Hippomenes was a prince who fell in love with a beautiful warrior princes named Atalanta.” “A warrior princess, hum? I like this story already.” Zoe giggled a little, then continued with the story, “But this girl, she liked being a maiden, being able to run off in the woods and hunt all day.” “I can see the appeal,” Wash conceded. “So she swore off men. Said she wouldn’t marry any man who couldn’t beat her in a footrace.” “Clever girl.” “Not clever as Hippomenes. He went through a host a tests and trials so he could get a batch of magic golden apples.” “Ah, apples.” Zoë laughed again, “And when he had his foot race with her, every now and then he’d throw an apple off to the side and she’d chase after it, so he’d get ahead of her, then she’d catch up and he’d throw another apple and she’d go after it, and so on till he won.” “And they were married?” “Atalanta wasn’t going to break her word.” “Because he threw apples, wasn’t that cheating?” “Guess not.” “And did they live happily ever after?” “Very much so.” “I like that story.” “Me too.” “So River thinks your Atalanta?” “Seems so.” “And I’m the hippopotamus?” “Yes,” Zoë chuckled. “Well maybe that girl’s only half crazy,” Wash said, leaning forward so he could kiss his beautiful warrior princess. He was interrupted by a banging on their door. “We’re asleep,” Wash muttered. “We don’t hear it.” “Zoë,” Mal’s muffled voice yelled through the door. “Wash, I need you.” “We’re not that heavy of sleepers,” Zoë moaned, pulling away from her husband. “We could be if we tried,” Wash said, not letting go of her hand as the rest of her body slipped out of bed. “Who knows, maybe we were drugged? Maybe the vents in here don’t work and we asphyxiated on the CO2.” “Well then I’d better go tell Mal all about it so he can have Kaylee fix them vents,” she said slipping her hand out of his as she walked over to the ladder and pressed the button to open the hatch. “Yes sir?” “Hate ta interrupt ya,” Mal said. His voice was tight and he looked nervous. “But we got us a situation. I’d appreciate it if you both could join me in the common rooms as soon as you’re ready.” “Of course sir,” Zoë nodded. “Oh, and, ah, you ain’t seen ‘Nara recently, have you?” “Inara sir?” “Naw, ‘cours you wouldn’a,” Mal muttered. “Just move it along, quick as ya can.” “Yes sir,” Zoë said, closing the hatch as the captain walked away. “He said quick as you can,” Wash observed. “That he did,” Zoë said, grabbing some cloths to put on under her robe. Between the roaming eyes of Jayne and the multiple Kubat men Zoë didn’t want to show off more of herself than absolutely necessary. “I just could not, under any circumstances, get up there in less than . . . Oh, two hours at least.” “Baby,” Zoë scolded, grabbing the edge of their blanket and pulling it aside. “Hey!” Wash said, suddenly freezing. “Tryin’ ta give me a heart attack.” Zoe glanced at her husband noncommittally and threw him his pajama pants. “Up and at em, ya lazy old hippo.” * * * “Kaylee, what’s the news?” Mal said very softly. The whole of the Kubat family was in the infirmary (Simon had graciously allowed the prefects wife in the room so long as she didn’t touch anything) so Serenity’s crew stood conversing very quietly in the common area, looking nervously and suspiciously through the windows. “She’s gotta be in the shuttle,” Kaylee said, her childlike brow knit with very unchildlike worry as she stood close to her captain. “She ain’t anywhere else, been lookin’ fer over an hour. ‘Sides it’s locked from the inside now.” “Did you knock?” Book asked. Kaylee nodded, “Weren’t no answer,” she said softly. “Why exactly do we need to find Inara again?” Zoë asked. “She didn’t attack the Prefect.” There was a weighty silence. “Did she?” “Good Pa Kubat says that Inara was drunk,” Mal said. “He spoke ta her respectful and fer no reason he can see, she attacked him. Probably thought he was tryin’ ta make a pass or some such. Leastways, that’s what he figures,” Mal said. “What’s Inara care?” Jayne muttered, obviously resenting the fact he’d been dragged out of bed. “Ain’t like a Prefect couldn’t pay.” “Jayne,” Kaylee gasped, clearly horrified. The hours of searching had obviously worked on the girl’s nerves. She was jittery and nervous and looked like she was about to burst into tears. “They’ll be none a that,” Mal snapped at his mercenary. “We all know ‘Nara and we all know she she got more tact than all us here put together. She could talk her way outta most any situation, drunk or not.” “Was she drunk Captain?” Book asked. “I don’t see how that matters one way or another,” Mal insisted. “We gotta get her outta her shuttle, we gotta make sure she’s all right, an my gut tells me she ain’t. But, once we find her, if you wanna ask her ‘bout her blood alcohol level, well, then, I guess that’s your prerogative.” “Have we tried hailing the shuttle with the comm?” Wash asked. “I mean, I know it’s obvious but . . .” “We sent a message, no one answered,” Mal said quickly. “First thing we did.” “Why don’t we just break inta the gorramn boat?” Jayne demanded. “We could pry that door open easy.” “Ain’t an option,” Mal said. “Y’all’ve done a nice job a makin’ them boy’s feel ta home. Which means they ain’t gonna just accept they can’t be there when we do somethin’ as excitin’ as break open an air lock. There gonna get tetchy an’ their ma’s gonna get tetchy and their pa’s gonna get tetchy and then we got a whole passel a alliance blue bloods wonderin’ what we’re hiddin’ or worse, discoverin’ what we’re hiddin.’” “River,” Kaylee said softly. “’Xactly.” “She could open it,” Kaylee said, glancing to the captain. “From the inside.” “Ain’t we sposed to be hiddin’ her?” Jayne asked. “Maybe ‘Nara don’t want us in there,” Kaylee said, glancing at Mal with uncharacteristic timidness, as if she were afraid to speak loudly. “Maybe she’s hurt or scared or somethin’. But if we could get Simon ta talk ta River over the comm, she’d do what he asked.” “Can she?” Zoë asked. “Would she know how?” “Doc said she’s gao ming, how hard can picking a lock be?” Wash asked. “That ain’t a half bad idea,” Mal said softly. “We’ll be wantin’ Doc to look after Inara anyways, make sure she’s all right.” He glanced through the windows. “We gotta get the boy outta that room.” Clapping and rubbing his hands together, the Captain took a deep breath. “Zoë, Wash, you get the comm set up. Jayne, Shepherd, you stay here with the family. Keep’em in the Common area an kitchen, no one’s left unsupervised. Kaylee you’re with me.” “What we gonna do, sir?” Kaylee asked a little nervously. “We’re gonna pull Simon out, then break in on Inara and River.” The girl looked hesitant and nervous, “Cap, I don’ wanna . . . .” “I ain’t askin’, Little Kaylee,” Mal said very seriously. “It’s late and I was woke up ta find one a my passengers assaulted and one a my crew suspect. I’m in no kind of mood for you ta be a little girl in a lover’s spat.” “We ain’t . . .” Kaylee started, one sharp look from Mal quickly hushed her. “Yes sir,” she muttered. “Well then, come on,” he clipped, walking towards the infirmary. He could hear her following him and felt just a little bit better. It was illogical, of course, to think that she was in danger. Every person on the ship, with the exception of Inara and, possibly, River, was accounted for, and Kaylee was certainly not in any danger from Inara or River. There was no unknown dark shadowy figure to accost the young mechanic. But his laxness had already set Inara up for God-knows-what kind of assault. He wasn’t going to risk letting Kaylee out of his sight. When Mal opened the door to the infirmary and entered as dramatically as possible. All eyes were on him, which was exactly what he wanted. If he was in command of the moment he was more likely to keep his command of the situation. “Doc, how’s the patient?” “Hairline fracture of the cheek bone, very painful but not serious. Second degree burns on the face that could cause scarring, still, easily treatable.” “You much needed here?” “Ah, no, sir,” Simon said. “I think I’ve done all I can do.” “Then you’re with me, we’re gonna go check on Inara.” “No!” Mrs. Kubat said, stepping away from her maternal post to the left of her husband, with her worried children clustered around her. She was wearing an elegant black silken robe covered in embroidery which was, Mal guessed, about as expensive as his entire wardrobe. It was very impressive as it flowed behind her, very dramatic. Of course, it couldn’t hide the fact that she had a decidedly sexless flannel nightshirt on under it. “That harlot attacked my husband.” Mal’s jaw tightened and his glare became less gracious and more determined. Simon and Kaylee shot each other worried glances, the first communication they’d had in almost three days. “She did, ain’t no question,” Mal said, his voice made it clear that he was furious at the Kubat’s but all that anger was well capped. “An we’re gonna find out why.” “Damn Biao Zi was drunk!” Prefect Kubat muttered, although half his face was anesthetized and his speech was slurred. “Be that as it may, she ain’t in the habit a throwin’ kettles in men’s faces.” “I demand . . .” Mrs. Kubat started. “I don’t much care what you demand,” Mal said with perfect calm. “I am the captain, you are my passengers. I decide what is best for the ship and her crew, that’s what a captain does. It’s my job. You’re job is ta sit tight and wait till we get ta New Dallas.” “How dare--” “I dare,” Mal continued his temper never rising above icy, “Because, as previously stated, I am the Captain, Serenity is my ship. You chose to ride on her and, when ya did that, you chose to put yourself under my rule. Once we get ta New Dallas it’ll be different, I understand that. But here, on this ship, I’m in command.” No one dared answer. “Fine then,” Mal said, taking a deep breath and relaxing a little. “My crew’s been right generous in lettin’ y’all have the run of the ship. But tonight, in light a what’s happened, I’m gonna ask you to limit yourself to the infirmary, the common area, the kitchen and your rooms. Shepherd Book and Jayne’ll be hangin’ round ta see that you respect my request.” “Are we prisoners now?” Mrs. Kubat asked in a huff. “Ya ain’t prisoners,” Mal asserted. “Just folks who are bein’ kept outta the way of those doin’ some work. All yer needs have been attended too, so you got no call to complain.” “I’ll decide if I have a right to complain,” Mrs. Kubat asserted. “Guess that's true,” Mal mussed. “I just got no call ta pay you head. Doc, come on.” Mrs. Kubat turned her furious countenance towards the young doctor, as if she expected his loyalty in this situation. “I just have to get my med kit,” Simon said, brushing past the aristocratic woman to pick up his compact red case before following Mal and Kaylee out of the infirmary. “Is Inara badly hurt?” Simon asked with concern as the trio exited the common area and started through the cargo bay. “Don’t rightly know,” Mal said. “You . . .?” “She’s locked herself in her shuttle,” Kaylee said, glancing at Simon and then quickly glancing away again. “Leastways, that’s what we hope.” “What we hope?” “She ain’t ta be found,” Mal said. “So either she’s locked herself up with your sister or she took a space walk without a suite.” “Cap’in don’ say that!” Kaylee gasped, freezing in her spot. Mal and Simon took a few steps before they realized that the mechanic was not with them. “Come on now, girl,” Mal snapped, turning around to look at her. “We got . . .” The mechanic was trembling visibly; blinking furiously, trying to hold a stream of terrified tears at bay. She looked pail, small and weak and Mal found he had absolutely nothing he could think to say to her. “Kaylee,” Simon said softly and soothingly as he took a step forward. She didn’t shrink back. “It’s ok, you don’t have to be afraid. I’m sure Inara’s fine.” “That man,” Kaylee said, tears were streaming down her face. “What if he really hurt her, ya know, what if she’s . . .” “Shhh, shhh,” Simon said, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. “Inara’s fine,” he said with a confidence he couldn't possibly have. “She’s not badly hurt. If she was she wouldn’t have been able to lock herself in her shuttle.” “Doc’s right,” Mal said, taking a step closer to his terrified mechanic. “Someone unlocked that shuttle door from the out side, that ain't River’s doing, so we know she’s in there hiddin’. And there’s no blood, not anywhere. Not in the kitchen, not on the catwalks, not outside the shuttle. Got no call ta be so ‘fraid.” “Can’t help it,” Kaylee choked out. Mal tried to swallow his frustration, “Ain’t got time for this, Little Kaylee, we gotta see ta Inara.” “I know,” The girl said, she was practically sobbing. “I’m sorry.” “Come on,” Simon said, very compassionately, wrapping his arm around her and pushing her gently forward. Mal sighed as the pair went past him and started after them as Simon eased Kaylee up the metal staircase. This was not his best night ever. His ambassador had been assaulted and was now hiding; his passengers were in a snit that could, potentially, lead to serious ramifications with the alliance. But at least the two dumb kids had started talking to each other. “Shiny,” Mal grumbled. “This is just shiny.” * * * “River,” Simon said passionately over the comm system. “I know you can hear me and I know you can answer.” There was no reply but static. “River, please,” Simon pleaded. “Please answer. We need to know if Inara’s in there. We need to know if she’s all right.” There was a crackle, as the comm link was established on the other side, and then River's hushed voice. “Penelope’s asleep. Be quiet.” There was another crackle as the comm link went dead. “What the . . .?” Mal asked. “It’s a thing she does,” Zoë offered helpfully. “She says everyone in the crew’s part a the story in that big ol’ book a hers.” Kaylee, who was slouched in co-pilot’s chair wrapped in a blanket, let out a short gaspy, irritated sniff. “What kinda book is it?” Mal asked. “Writings of Accent Greece of earth-that-was,” Simon said. “Plays and epic poems about mythology.” “An’ she thinks Inara’s Penelope?” Mal laughed. “Why’s that funny?” Wash asked. Mal was snickering too hard to answer the question. Simon took a deep breath; “Penelope is famous for her chastity, staying loyal to her husband. She had hundreds of suitors after Odysseus was assumed dead. But she waited for him and she was rewarded, he came back. That’s why she wouldn’t let you or Jayne enter the shuttle, in the story Penelope knows her husband has returned because he’s the only one who’s ever seen her bed and he can describe it.” “An’ who,” Mal managed to ask between his snickers, “Does River think is Odysseus?” “You,” Simon said. “Wha-who?” Mal said, his chuckles gone. “She thinks you’re Odysseus,” Simon said slowly, an idea clearly unfolding itself behind his blue eyes. “She’d let you in.” “Wait, wait,” Mal said holding his hands up. “She thinks I’m Odysseus? Shouldn’t I be someone else? Jason, maybe, or Icarus?” “In her game she’s Cassandra,” Simon said, ignoring Mal’s protest. “I bet if you call her that, if you say you’re Odysseus and you want to see your wife, she'll let you in.” “Now, who’s Cassandra?” Wash asked. “Why not you, Doc?” Mal asked. “Why don’t you call her with your Greek name. Who are you anyways?” “She wouldn’t let me in,” Simon insisted. “My character, Phryxis, had nothing to do with the Trojan war, Cassandra or Penelope.” “Why’d she give ya that one?” Wash asked. The Doctor turned to Wash, there was something very serious in his eyes, like he was talking about more than an old story. “Phryxis rescued his sister from becoming a human sacrifice only to have her fall off the golden ram they were flying and drown in the sea.” “Was everything made of gold in Ancient Greece?” “Only stuff what was important,” Mal snapped. “I already asked River to let me in,” Simon said, turning back to Mal. “My story doesn’t cut it, But I think yours will.” “Doc. . .” Mal started. “Sir,” Zoë said, “It’s worth a try at least.” “Jin yuan shen hua gai si,” Mal muttered as he stepped up to the comm. “I feel damn foolish.” “It’ll work,” Simon said encouragingly. “You’re obviously familiar with the myths, you should be able to lead her on, convince her.” “Did River give you a character?” Wash asked, turning to Kaylee. “I da’wanna talk ‘bout it,” Kaylee said, sniffing and wrapping her blanket a little more tightly around her. “I may’a read a ratty ol’ copy a the Odyssey when I was a boy,” Mal said. “That don’t make me no expert.” “I can help you,” Simon offered. “Besides, this is something she wants to believe. She won’t make it too hard.” “This does seem to be the best option sir,” Zoë said. “Lot cheaper than having to repair the shuttle door after we cut it open.” “Fine,” Mal said trusty, stepping up to the comm. “Cassandra, this is Odysseus.” There wasn’t an answer. He glanced at Simon and Zoë, as if to prove that he’d been right. “Keep going,” Simon urged. “Talk about Troy.” “You, ah, you remember me, right?” the Captain said. His cheeks were a burning red. “We, ah, we met in Troy.” “You burned the city,” River’s timid voice came over the comm. “You killed my family.” “Yeah, well, those things happen.” “You let Ajax rape me.” Mal glanced at Simon. The doctor’s mind was obviously racing to think of a way out of that accusation. “Ah, tell her that, that’s not your fault,” he started uncertainly. “In fact, I think Odysseus had Ajax, ah, stoned for what he did to Cassandra.” “Cassandra,” Mal said, trying to make his voice sound confident and defensive. “You know perfectly well there was no lettin’ there. As, ah, as I recall we all got together and stoned Ajax for what he done ta you.” “Who’s Ajax?” Wash asked no one in particular. “’Cause I don’t remember stoning anyone.” “I’m a prophetess,” River said defensively. “I know the truth inside the pretty lie, I’ve heard the voices inside the hoarse.” Mal glanced at Zoë and Simon again, clearly annoyed. “This ain’t workin’.” “Try bringing up Penelope,” Simon said. “She doesn’t open the door after that we can try something else.” “Cassandra, listen, I don’ wanna talk about Troy or the war,” Mal said earnestly. “I’m worried about In . . Penelope. Let me in. You know I got the right.” “You do,” River said softly. “I can open the door.” “Thank you,” Mal said, closing the comm link. He glanced around at the crew around him, Kaylee was still a trembling mess, Simon seemed about as concerned as relieved that his plan had worked, Wash was mostly confused and Zoë, as ever, was attentive. “Well, to the shuttle I guess.” Mal turned and left the cockpit, Zoë and Wash followed. Simon was about to fall in line when he noticed Kaylee, still in her chair, shaking. “Come on,” he said gently, walking over to her and putting his hand on her shoulder. “Inara’s fine. She’ll want to see you.” “What if she ain’t?” Kaylee asked, looking up at him with her large brown eyes, made all the deeper by her fear. “He scares me so much. Before he did . . . whatever it is he did, he gave me the willies, ya know, like he was bad news. But I never . . .” “Kaylee calm down,” Simon said solidly. “You know that Mal would never let anything happen to you.” “Ain’t scared fer me,” Kaylee said. “I’m scared fer ‘Nara. ‘Sides, Cap’in didn’ let anythin’ happen ta her. Sometimes things jus’ happin’.” “Listen,” Simon said, brushing a few wisps of her hair out of her eyes so he could look into them. “I understand why you’re scared. But you can be brave.” “I jus’ keep thinkin’ ‘bout everything that coulda happened,” She said glancing away. “We need to go find out what did,” Simon said. “Kaylee, please.” The beautiful mechanic nodded and let Simon help her out of the chair. Once they got to the shuttle the doors were open and everyone was inside. “Get lost on your way?” Wash asked as Simon led Kaylee in. Simon’s cheeks burned but Kaylee was too relieved to be embarrassed. Inara was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking perfectly composed, if not a little annoyed at the crowed in her shuttle. The only sign that anything had happened was a bandage wrapped neatly around Inara’s right hand. “’Nara,” Kaylee said, pulling away from Simon and practically running towards the Companion. “Oh Mei mei,” Inara said, clearly taken aback by Kaylee’s overwhelming affection as displayed in an almost desperate hug. “It’s alright.” “I thought you was hurt,” the girl said, pulling back from Inara. Her worry was still painted clearly on her face. “I’m fine,” Inara said with a very composed smile. “I just got spooked.” “Spooked enough to smash a kettle in a mans’ face?” Mal asked, looking at the Companion critically. Inara didn’t answer and she didn’t even look towards Mal. “Kaylee, dear,” Inara said, “You don’t have to cry.” “I was just so scared,” the mechanic explained. “We couldn’t find ya.” “I’m sorry,” Inara said to Kaylee, and then turning to everyone else in the room. “I really am, I had no idea there was such a devoted search going on.” “Fei hua” Mal said, then he ordered, “Everybody out ‘sept Nara and the Doc.” “What about . . .” Simon started. “Yeah, River,” Mal nodded. “’spose she can stay too. Where is she?” “Hiding in the cockpit,” Inara said. “You can clearly see I’m fine so, why is Simon staying?” “’Cause there are big bits a you that I can’t clearly see,” Mal said, looking the companion in the eye. “You gonna tell me what happened between you and that Prefect?” “You don’t want to know.” “Details, no, big picture, yeah.” “I’m not telling you.” Inara said with a cold determination. “Companion’s are specifically trained to . . .” Mal didn’t let her finish. “Then you’re gettin’ yerself looked over by the good Doctor. That’s an order.” “I’m not part of you’re crew!” Inara said, detaching herself from Kaylee, standing up and walking forcefully towards Mal. “You have no right to order me around.” “You’re under my protection,” Mal said very, very softly so that no one but her could here. “I need to know what happened.” “It’s none of your business,” Inara spat. “What if it’d been Kaylee?” Mal asked very quietly. Inara’s bravado faltered. “I don’t need a doctor,” she said, a little bit louder, glancing in Simon’s direction. “I have a few bruised ribs and a burn on the palm of my hand. He couldn’t do any more for me that what I’ve already done.” “That sound right Doc?” Mal asked. “If her injuries are what she says they are, and I have no reason to suspect that they are not, then she’s right. There’re not much more I could do.” “I’ll tell you,” Inara said. “When we’re alone.” “Fair’s fair,” Mal said. “Everybody out.” Simon started to open his mouth. “River can stay,” Inara sighed. She turned to Mal. “I have a feeling she knows the whole story already anyways.” * * * “So here’s the deal,” Mal said firmly. He was standing in front of the infirmary, addressing his passengers, who were sitting in the common room, his crew stood behind him, listening nervously. “Somethin’ happened. I got my suspicions as to what, but seein’ as the whole incident happened between an official registered Companion and an upstanding Alliance Prefect, my suspicions amount to about a hill a beans. I’m lockin’ ya both up fer the remainder a the trip.” “That is unacceptable!” Mr. Kubat said, practically jumping up from the armchair he was sitting in. “I am a government official.” “Which don’t guarantee you’re the victim,” Mal said icily. “Like I said, yer both bein’ locked up fer the next day an’ a half till we reach New Dallas. Then we’ll let the proper authorities sort it out. ‘Till then is my responsibility ta keep both you, Prefect, and Inara safe. You’ll be confined ta the infirmary and she’s safe in my quarters. I’ll be sleepin’ in one a the extra guest rooms ta make sure that nothin’ else happens this trip.” “That’s unacceptable Captain,” Mr. Kubat said. “That the biao zi should have the captain’s quarters while I . . .” “This ain’t a luxury ship, sir,” Zoë said sharply. “The infirmary is larger, better lit and generally cleaner than the captain’s quarters.” “Hey,” Mal said, a little offended. “Plus you’ll be able to be close to your family, see them and they’ll be able to see you,” Book offered helpfully. “The Captain’s quarters are on the other side of the ship. This situation just makes sense.” “Now, Doc’s told me little Evangeline’s well enough to move to one a the regular passenger quarters, so you’ll have the room to yerself. Naturally, we don’t want you messin’ with the medical equipment. But I honestly believe that ain’t gonna be a problem.” “This is very unwise, Captain,” Mrs. Kubat said, her voice sending chills down Mal’s spine. “This decision will undoubtedly lead to more problems than you can even imagine.” “I’m gonna ignore the fact that sounded like a threat on account a it’s late an’ we’ve all had a stressful night. Myself, I only got the patience to deal with one problem at a time. I just wanna keep everyone outta each other’s hair for ‘nother day and a half till we reach New Dallas.” * * * “What I mean, Simon,” Kaylee said very nervously. “Is that I’m sorry. Ain’t fair fer me ta get mad at you fer what River said. And it ain’t right fer me ta be ignorin’ ya like I was. So I’m sorry. It’s jus’, well, I want ta be yer friend so much. Partly ‘cause ya need a friend so much. I mean, ya look sad even when you smile. But also cause . . .” words failed her. “Chi dai, Kaylee,” she muttered to herself. “Can’t even ‘pologise ta thin air.” She wrapped the blanket she’d been toting since her episode on the bridge more tightly around her shoulders and kicked the kitchen cupboards despondently with her toes, they made a sort of hollow thumping noise. The rest of the crew had gone to bed hours ago, exhausted after such an eventful night. And Kaylee was exhausted too, but not in the same way. She was weary, but not really tired. She knew herself well enough to know that, if she tried to sleep, she’d just be plagued by nightmares. That’s what always happened when she felt edgy and broody. She honestly didn’t think she could take a night mare; a dream where Serenity was swarming with giant ants that ate the crew in front of her, or where Mal decides having her as a mechanic was a mistake so he drops her at some foreign port and picks up Bester again. She’d much rather work herself into a state of walking sleep and then collapsing on her bed, too tired to do anything beyond fall into dark oblivion. But the more she worked the more she thought about the night and the more she thought about it the less truly tired she was and the more weary she became. Mostly she was ashamed. She was ashamed of how chi dai frightened she’d been. No one else had been worried. Everyone else was sure Inara was perfectly fine, not even the preacher had been concerned. But there she was, worrying herself sick. And she was ashamed of the way Simon had treated her, because she didn’t think she deserve it. She’d been miffed at him, unfairly, for days, and he turned around and treated her with all the compassion in the ‘verse. She felt weak and guilty and part of her wanted to go dream those nightmares because part of her believed she deserved them after being as pathetic as she had been. Instead she decided to work out her penance by cleaning the engine, wiping away all the dirt and grime that stuck it self to the oil that kept the engine running smooth. If you didn’t clean out you’re engine every now and then, well, then some of that dirt and grime would find its way into something important and gum up the works. It was an important job, sort of. I was always low priority, but it always had to be done. And it was easily the least intellectually stimulating, the most physically trying, and the dirtiest job anyone on Serenity ever had to do: far, far worse then a septic flush or garbage. It was good punishment, Kaylee thought. If menial tasks built character, than one good cleaning of Serenity’s engine should take care of one of her character flaws, either her cowardice or, perhaps, her selfishness. Although, as she stood in the kitchen during her short water break and tried to apologize to an imaginary Doctor Tam, she had to come to the conclusion that she just hadn’t cleaned enough of the engine She turned around to get back to work when ghostly form suddenly a form appeared directly in front of her. “Oh!” Kaylee screeched, one greasy hand flying to her mouth and the other to her stomach as she held back a scream. Mrs. Kubat was standing in front of her, looking about as pail as death, with a somewhat vicious glair in his eyes. Apparently cleaning the engines had built up some moral fortitude, because as soon as she got over the initial shock of seeing the specter-like woman she was able to push forward bravely. “I didn’t ‘spect ta see ya, Mrs. Kubat,” She said forcing a somewhat weak smile. “Thought I was the only one up.” “So did I,” Mrs. Kubat said very softly. There was an uncomfortable pause as Kaylee tried to ignore Mrs. Kubat’s icy eyes boring into her. “Ya want some tea?” Kaylee offered cheerily, trying to shatter the creepy mood that had entered the kitchen with the older woman. “I been workin’ so’s I don’ really wan’ any. But I’d be happy ta make some for you.” Mrs. Kubat just stared at her. “Or,” Kaylee offered, the creepy mood starting to creep into her. “If ya like I could always, ya know, make yer own.” Mrs. Kubat continued to stare. “Mrs. Kubat, M’ame?” Kaylee said taking a nervous step forward. “Y’all right?” “You should be asleep,” the woman said softly. “Away in your quarters. Far away.” “Maybe I should fetch the doctor,” Kaylee said, taking another step towards the woman. “Why don’ you just have a seat and . . .” “No!” Mrs. Kubat ordered sharply. Kaylee froze and started to feel a little afraid. “You shouldn’t have been up here,” the old woman continued. She took a step towards the Kaylee, Kaylee took a step back. “All good little girls are asleep at this hour. So, that makes you bad.” “Calm down,” Kaylee said, holding her hands in front of her. “Ya had a long day, maybe some . . .” “You can’t help me,” the woman said, her voice was low and threatening, Kaylee had to fight the urge to runaway. “You just have to be silent. That’s the only thing for it. The bad, dirty, girl needs to be silent.” Then, suddenly, with a graceful and deadly quick movement, Mrs. Kubat pulled something long and narrow that reflected the dim light of the kitchen out of the flowing sleeves of her black robe. The older woman charged the girl with a cool silence that made Kaylee’s shriek of surprise and fear seem all the more piercing. The mechanic instinctively threw her hands in front of her and turned her head, a weak and easily overpowered defensive position. For a fraction of a second she felt pain on her left forearm, but that was quickly overshadowed by the sharp burning consuming pain that exploded at the top of her chest. Kaylee gasped and screamed and sobbed without realizing it as she sunk to the floor. She didn’t hear the noise downstairs, the rustling of people woken by her scream. She didn’t notice the black robe glide out of the kitchen. Her mind was filled with bewildering questions; why had she been attacked, what had she been hit with, why couldn’t she get her eyes to focus, why did it hurt to breath, why couldn’t she move her arm, and more. But each question entered her mind and left unanswered, driven out by the throbbing pain. * * * “It sounded like it came from the kitchen,” Book said as Mal and Simon caught up to him bounding up the stairs. “I think it might have been Kaylee.” “I know,” Simon said. He had his medkit in hand and his serious-doctor face on. “I’m almost getting used to be woken up by screams,” Mal said. “There’s no end ta how happy I’ll be when this trips over.” “Can’t argue with you there, Captain,” Simon muttered. They reached the top of the stairs, rounded the corner into the kitchen and didn’t see anything. The room looked empty. The only sign that there was anything wrong was a soft whimpering, a combination of gasps and sobs. “Kaylee?” Simon said, pushing his way past the Captain and heading towards the weak sounds on the other side of the room. He found her hunched, leaning against the wall between the kitchen counter and the far door. She was pale and pain was etched in her deep brown eyes. A large, sharp, kitchen knife was sticking out of her left shoulder and a very dark red stain was spreading across her greasy coveralls. “Kaylee,” he said droping to the floor. “Are you all right?” The doctor’s voice seemed to draw the girl out of her shock a little, “M’ shoulder hurts,” She said, staring up at him. “Nothing else,” Simon asked. “Can you move you’re feet.” “Feet feel fine,” Kaylee said, her boots shifting. “Told ya, my shoulder hurts.” Mal and Book reached them as Simon put his hand behind her head and was easing her to a reclining position on the floor. The Shepard quickly went around through the kitchen so he could help the doctor from the other side. Mal stood over them, watching with foreboding. “Kaylee, can you move you’re fingers,” Simon asked, glancing up towards Book, “Take her hand,” he ordered. The Shepard did as he was told. “Kaylee, Kaylee,” Simon said forcefully, keeping the girl’s attention through sheer force of will. “Squeeze the preacher’s hand. Can you do that?” “Squeeze the preacher’s hand,” Kaylee muttered. “She’s squeezing,” Book said. “But not with much strength.” “Good job,” Simon said, very carefully touching the area around the wound, as he tried to figure out just how deep the knife was and what it’d hit. “You’re going to be just fine Kaylee. Just try and be calm.” “You gonna pull it out?” Mal asked. His voice was thin and tense. “No,” Simon said. “Not yet.” “I tried ta take it out,” Kaylee slurred. “But it hurt.” “I bet,” Simon muttered softly before looking up at Mal. “Whoever attacked her was obviously aiming for her heart. But I’m guessing she was able to deflect the stab somewhat, that’s probably how she got the cut on her arm there. Right now the knife is embedded in her muscles, but it’s keeping her bleeding down, still I’m going to have to move her to the infirmary.” “Not an option,” The captain said. “Got a rapist in there. Can you do it here?” “Ahh,” Simon glanced around the room. The procedure was not a complicated one. Kaylee was in a lot of pain, and left unattended this wound could lead to a fatal infection or death by blood lost, but she was not going to be left unattended. All the knife had ripped through was muscle, all he really had to do was stitch her up. “Yes, but I’ll need some things.” “Right,” Mal said. “Shepard, stay here, keep ‘er calm and keep ‘er awake.” “I can do that,” Book said. Mal hit Simon on the arm, “Kay son, lets go fetch the band-aids.” “Right,” Simon nodded as he pushed himself onto his feet. “Don’ leave,” Kaylee begged, reaching out to the retreating Simon with her right hand. “I’ll bring ‘im right back ta ya,” Mal said as Simon hesitantly walked through the door. “No worries, Little Kaylee, You’ll be just fine.” Once they were both running down the stairs Mal managed to ask “I didn’ just lie ta that girl, did I?” “What sir?” Simon asked. He was clearly lost in thought; Mal hoped it was thoughts about the procedure he’d have to perform in a few minuets. “Kaylee will be fine, won’ she?” “Of course,” Simon said. “You know as well as I do that the main danger of wounds like that is infection and blood loss. The wound shouldn’t be hard to clean. True, she’s already lost blood and will undoubtedly lose some more as a result of the procedure, but not too much. She’ll be fine.” Mal nodded as the hit the bottom of the stairs and entered the common area. “I know it, still, nice all the same ta hear a bona fied doctor say it.” “Kaylee will be fine,” Simon reiterated. “Did something happen to Miss Kaylee?” Evangeline asked. Both Mal and Simon froze for a second, shocked by the presence of all five of the Kubat children sitting on the couches and the chairs, looking at the men expectantly. “Ahhh,” Simon stuttered, before Mal gave him a push on the back. “Go get what you need, Doc,” the Captain said, looking at the children. Simon nodded turned and stepped toward the dark, locked, infirmary while Mal took a step closer to the kids. “Nothin’ much,” he answered. “Why you all up?” “The ghost woke us up,” Robert informed him. “Did you hear the screaming?” “Yeah, I did,” Mal said. “Ya know, I’m starting to think the Ghost don’t much like Kaylee. Every time the dead girl screams our poor little livin’ girl gets hurt.” “Did Miss Kaylee ever . . .” Evangeline started. Before the doctor’s terrified voice cut her off. “Huo keng,” Simon gasped as he flipped on the lights to the infirmary. “Stay there,” Mal ordered the children so sternly that not even Jayne would think of disobeying, before he turned and walked to the door of the infirmary. “Doc, what is . . . ?” Simon was standing near the light switch, stunned. Mal felt the shock run through him for a second, then blinked a few times and forced himself to look away from the corpse of Prefect Kubat. The man had been stabbed, more times than Mal cared to count. The infirmary was drenched in the prefect’s blood. “Doc,” Mal choked out. “We gotta help Kaylee.” “He was brutally murdered,” Simon said, blinking a few times and forcing himself to look away, look towards his Captain. “While we were sleeping, someone was killing him.” “The same someone who stabbed Kaylee,” Mal said, his mind started racing as he thought of the only real suspect. There was so much to do, he had to tackle it one task at a time. “Tell me what ya need. You gotta help . . .” “Kaylee,” Simon said, coming to himself. He nodded and walked past the corpse to a drawer. “I need to prepare the dope. Will you grab the IV holder and an IV bag of pseudo-plasma? They’re over there, furthest draw to the right.” “To the right,” Mal said as he walked past the corpse as if it wasn’t there. He considered trying to close the eyes or, maybe, covering it with some sort of sheet. But that would be a mistake. The Alliance would want to see this; they would have to see this as it was. Technically they were already tampering with a crime scene; Mal didn’t want to make it any worse. “And if you could grab a clean sheet, to put on the table, do you . . .?” “Got it,” Mal said. “You ready?” “Yes,” The doctor answered. In one hand he had a loaded dope gun, In the other a pile of bandages and a spool of surgeon’s thread with a needle poked into it. He’d put on his apron and his gloves and looked professional and confident, not at all like he’d discovered a mutilated corpse a few seconds ago after a fistful of hours of troubled sleep. “Than let’s go,” Mal said. Simon nodded and exited, not even bothering to glance at the children as he hurried back to the kitchen. Mal turned off the lights to the infirmary, and then locked the door. “What happened?” Robby asked, still obediently perched on the couch. “Is everything alright? You’re lucky you didn’t wake Dad.” Mal starred at the kids and wondered how in the world he could possibly ever tell them that their mother murdered their father. “Captain?” Evangeline asked nervously. “Go to bed, the lot a ya,” Mal ordered. “In the mornin’ Shepard an’ I’ll sit down with ya, ‘splain some things. But talkin’ ain’t gonna do a thing but upset you tonight. So just, go ta bed.” “Yes sir,” Robby said, standing up and looking sharply at his brothers and sisters. “You heard the Captain.” The boys filed into their quarters silently under Robby’s sharp eye. Evangeline, with almost graceful weakness, followed them. “Have a good night Captain Reynolds,” she said, before slipping into her room. “Good night,” Mal replied, forcing a sort of a smile. Then, once all the doors had slid shut and all the lights were off Mal turned and started heading to the kitchen, to drop of the supplies. After that, for the second time that night, he was going to have to rows the crew and order a search of the ship in hopes of finding the woman who’d assaulted Prefect Kubat. “A good night,” Mal muttered again to himself. “This sure as hell ain’t.” * * * Mrs. Kubat had the rather unusual talent of being able to pick locks. As an aristocrat, a politician’s wife, it had been an unused talent. But as she lied in her bed and contemplated what her husband had done, not only solicited a companion, but assaulted one, she realized that the only thing keeping her and her rage from him was a locked door. A locked door she could easily unlock. And as she tried to figure out how to make good her escape she realized that the only thing that there was a shuttle the Companion used to do her business in, a luxurious shuttle that would, no doubt, be the most comfortable place on the ship. And the only thing keeping her from the comfort and safety of that shuttle was a lock; a lock she could easily pick. She threw the door open to shuttle-one and discovered the plush interior of a Companion’s studio. The woman smiled, a little, and then hurried in. Finally, something tolerable on le se boat. She’d chosen it because she’d needed to be able to control the ship the way she could control the household. A large ship would have a strong captain, she’d assumed, so a small ship would logically have a weak captain. But that’s not the way it had been. A large ship would need a competent doctor, a small ship would, logically, have an incompetent medic. But that’s not the way it had been either. Had she thought through it clearly she would have realized that people who chose to live on a scrapper like Serenity would be the kind of people who were too strong-willed and insolent to get a job on a decent ship. She’d miscalculated. Still, it had turned out all right. This would be her shuttle. She could go anywhere in this. She could be free of her corrupt husband and her whiny boys and her seditious daughter. She could truly be free. She closed the door behind her, locked it again and headed towards the cockpit with a giddiness she hadn’t felt for years, since before she’d been promised to her husband, since she was a little girl. But as soon as she saw the many complex controls her giddiness faded. She’d never had to do anything like fly a shuttle, she had no idea what buttons did what, which dials to turn and what would alert the whole ship to her attempted theft. “Klytemnestra killed Agamemnon,” a very soft voice said from behind her. Mrs. Kubat nearly screamed. She pivoted and saw, lost somewhat in the folds of the curtain separating the cockpit from the rest of the shuttle, the almost angelic figure of River. Of course, if River was an angel, she’d have been an angel of judgment, because her brown eyes seemed to see right through Mrs. Kubat. “Who are you?” Mrs. Kubat demanded, she couldn’t keep her terror out of her voice. “I’m Cassandra,” River said, taking a step out of the folds of the curtains. “But I’m not you’re husbands lover. Things aren’t adding up, things don’t make sense. It seemed so clear but the words and world aren’t the same.” The young girl’s confusion gave Mrs. Kubat a new confidence. She was no angel, she was hardly sane and she seemed easy to manipulate. “Can you fly this?” Mrs. Kubat asked. “Standard configuration, retro-fitted for Firefly docking, short range, dent in the starboard fin inclines the shuttle to the right.” “You know, don’t you,” Mrs. Kubat said. “You could fly this.” “I’m just a slave,” River muttered. “A prisoner of war. I used to be a princess. But that was a long time ago . . .” Mrs. Kubat grabbed the girls arm as violently as she could and threw the girl at the shuttle’s controls. River whimpered, but offered no resistance. “Get us out of here, now, or I’ll kill you.” The older woman said viciously. “You kill me no matter what,” River said as she slipped into the plush pilot’s chair. “Do as I say and you’ll live,” Mrs. Kubat said. “You don’t believe me,” River mused, there was an incredulous tone in her voice as she started to work the controls, overriding Serenity’s locks and pushing the shuttle gently away from the ship. “You know what you plan and you still don’t believe me.”

To be concluded . . .