The story continues as Serenity reaches the moon of Trinity. It's a slow-burner to begin with, but patience has its rewards - by Chapter 5 or so, things should really start to hit the fan... Thanks to everyone for taking the time to read Chapter 1, and for your positive comments. They keep me motivated when I'm typing away at two in the morning!

2

Trinity was about as far from civilisation as it was possible to get, short of leaving the system entirely, and it was no surprise to Mal that Ossie had ended up there. Most like he was on the hide from someone or other, he surmised. He usually was. Trinity offered privacy on a geographical scale: the population of the small moon could comfortably be estimated in double figures. “Take us in nice and careful, River. Don’t need to tell you that we’re not in the best shape for this.” “I understand.” The girl nodded firmly. “The engine’s sick now. We don’t have a wide enough power band to offset the effects of atmospheric resistance. So you want me to instigate a shallower angle of attack on entry, to minimise stress on the drive couplings without compromising hull integrity.” “Uh… yeah. All of that. Shiny.” The moon loomed large in the windshield now, a reddish-brown ball crowned by a halo of bright atmosphere. “Shiny,” River echoed. “Glass world. Shake it up so it snows on all the little houses.” “Well,” Mal said flatly, “we can do that later, maybe.” Trinity was not long ‘formed, and it showed. The only significant population centre was the single port, Trinity Station, where ships came to deposit new settlers. Almost by accident, it had become an important waypoint to those who chose to frequent this far-flung region: a place to land, refuel and restock, and to do business. Dotted around the sprawling port, like children keeping close to their mother’s skirts, a few farms struggled to scratch a living in the red desert, but it was a losing battle – in spite of the best efforts of the terraformers, the moon’s soil remained barren, stubbornly impervious to agriculture. Something to do with the wrong types of acids, Mal recalled, though he had not been here in more’n a few years, and it was wholly possible that the farmers had long since solved the problem. But the settlers were not his concern today. His eyes scanned the globe until he found what he was looking for. “There,” he said, pointing toward the dark blotch near the equator, but River had already seen and recognised it for what it was, and tightened her grip purposefully on the control stick, ready for business. Mal remembered her performing that same action on the handles of two bloodied Reaver weapons, not so long ago: an image he would not soon forget. He picked up the ‘com again. “Kaylee, are we all ready for atmo?” “Roger that,” came the engineer’s voice, all bright and nothing-wrong-Cap-honestly. He fancied that he could hear something clanking discordantly in the background. “You’re sure.” “It’s good, Cap. Just say the word.” “I mean it, Kaylee. We ain’t gonna be leaving bits of the ship behind when we hit atmo, are we? I’m talkin’ engines and the like?” “Should be fine.” “Oh. Now the word is ‘should’?” said Mal. “Kaylee, if it’s the tail happens to go wanderbout, I’m leavin’ you up here.” He slapped the ‘com back into the roof panel and returned to his position at his pilot’s shoulder. “Not long now, little River. Think you can handle it?” “I know I can,” she said archly. She tapped three switches above her head and eased back on the column, and Serenity responded to her deft touch, the nose pitching up slightly, so that their approach to the atmosphere became somewhat less acute. “Shouldn’t have to ask. Throw her in the sea, will she sink or swim? I know the answers. Not telling you, though. Not even if you ask nicely.” “Simple ‘yes’ would’ve been fine.”

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“They are here?” “Just set down.” Ossie checked his handheld once more. “Tower beacon confirms it as Serenity.” “Ah… Malcolm Reynolds.” The first man’s voice had a strange, slow, lilting quality that had put Ossie on edge from minute one. That wasn’t the only thing about him, of course. He didn’t like the sharp grey suit – men on border moons had no business wearing suits like that, in his opinion – nor the ship by which he had arrived: a silent, angular thing bearing an unfamiliar logo. Ossie had seen most ships during his travels around the worlds, but this was a new one on him. Still, the money the man had access to went a long way toward appeasing any qualms. And Ossie needed money. More than anything, he needed money. Or rather, other people needed money from him. There was a time when Ossie would not have sold Reynolds out so easily. Hell, not at all: Reynolds had been good to him, even saved his ass once. But too much had changed since then. His only obligation now was to his creditors, and even though Ossie hated what kind of a heel that made him, it didn’t make it any less the case. “He trusts you?” “I guess so. Anyways, I know he’s lookin’ for coin, so it makes no odds whether he trusts me or not. He’ll take the work.” “I hope you are right, Mr Chen." The man glinted his spectacles earnestly. "It is of extreme importance that Mr Reynolds see this job through to the very end.” Ossie ‘specially didn’t like the way he said that.

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River pushed the control column back into its recess and turned the chair to face the captain. “Told you so,” she said, wearing a satisfied smile. “Doubting Thomas.” "Not bad," he said, and he had to admit to being impressed. The girl was a natural, no question – how she had balanced the ship as it shuddered and buffeted its way through atmo, hands moving quickly and lightly over the control panels, reacting to problems almost before she had to… All things considered, having a reader at the helm, crazy or no, seemed not without its benefits. Even the landing had been so gentle as to be almost unnoticeable, barely stirring the drifting dust that covered the platform. “Light as a feather. I drop a feather and a stone from a tall tower; which falls the fastest?” “Alright. Go get your boots on. Work’s not done by a long chalk.” River nodded and disappeared aft, toward the passenger dorm. She still resided there, although increasingly her brother did not, much to Mal’s chagrin. He didn’t begrudge Kaylee any grapple time with her new beau, but how she expected Mal to get any sleep with that kind of noise going on a few feet away, he didn’t know. Mal moved into the chair and switched on the comms, tapped a couple of keys. A few seconds passed, and then a skinny Oriental face blipped onto the screen. “Hey, Ossie.” “Reynolds. You’re early.” “You saw that, huh? Well, you know me. Like to have somethin’ in hand. You get everythin’ I asked for?” “Sure did. Storage hold number seven, all ready for your folks to collect.” “Shiny. We’ll be along soon.” Ossie nodded and vanished in a crease of static. Mal switched off the screen and paused. He didn’t need to turn round to know she was there. As always, she brought with her a heady, exotic perfume, a cocktail of oils and incense that did unpopular things to his wits. “Help you?” he said, as brusquely as he could manage. “I think we’re past that, aren’t we?” she answered smoothly. “Helping me,” she added, for the benefit of the pig-headed. “Don’t know what you mean.” “Yes, you do. This is so typical of you, Mal.” He turned to face her. She was wearing several layers of long and flowing, mostly reds and pinks, and she looked as elegant as ever. Inara could bring glamour to a pair of coveralls and workboots. “Is there a problem you’re about to get to the point of?” “Yes, Mal. The fact that this litter tray of a world isn’t Sihnon.” She gestured crossly toward the windshield. “Just look at it out there. Where in the ‘verse are we?” “Trinity. Got work to be done first.” “You promised you’d get me home in time for Vesakha. We had an agreement.” “We did,” Mal said testily. “And we still have. Soon as this pays in, I’ll take you straight home.” “Mal…” “Money comes first, Inara. We need this job. No money means no fuel. No fuel means no Sihnon. We can’t get all the way into the Core on what we have left.” “And you were going to tell me this – when?” “Well, if you’d come out of your shuttle once, ‘stead of hidin’ away like some scolded child –” “I wasn’t hiding away.” Inara’s voice grew tired, and suddenly she looked like a woman, plain and simple, the woman that Mal always strove to see through the imperious façade of her Companionship. “If you must know, I’ve been talking with my people. Things are still complicated. I have some bridge-building to do.” “You? No. Who woulda thought?” She didn’t take the bait. Instead she fell silent, tapping her fingers on her arms. “So,” she said finally. “How long will this job take?” “Couldn’t say. Don’t yet know the workin’.” “Oh. This gets better.” “You’re welcome to lend a hand. If you’re not too busy with your bridges.” She looked at him oddly. “Mal, did I just hear you invite me to collaborate in your no doubt unlawful caper?” She laughed, suddenly and delicately; a sound that caused Mal’s heart to bob involuntarily. He hated the power she had over him that way. “Would I be required to wave a gun around?” “Not that kind of work. Leastways,” he added, remembering the way of most of their previous jobs, “not yet.” “So – why do you need my help?” “Got no room for passengers now. Seven people aboard, and each with a mouth to feed. Everyone needs to do their piece toward fixin’ that.” “Oh… Now I see. It’s not an invitation. It’s an instruction.” “Take it whichever way you please.” Mal sensed, from the way her eyes had suddenly narrowed with annoyance, that the door was about to slam closed between them once more, and tried to soften his manner. He needed everyone on his side right now. “Look… all I’m lookin’ for is someone to watch the ship, with Zoe. That’s all. Shouldn’t be here too long anyways – from what I heard, the job is off-world somewhere, so this ain’t but a stop for directions.” “So,” Inara said, after a pause, “no waving guns? I’m almost disappointed.” She folded her arms and smiled slightly. “Alright, Mal, you win. I’ll babysit Serenity for you.” “Well I - you will?” “It’s no trouble.” She turned to leave, and then looked back over her shoulder. “You know, you really should try just asking one day. You never know where it might get you.”

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Jayne’s new armoury was a thing a’ beauty, if he said so himself. He’d lost much a’ his prior stash in the black room firefight. Lotta good ladies’d fallen. But ladies could always be replaced, and replace ‘em he had. Foremost ‘mong his new harem was a beauty he’d named Lola. At heart, she was a Fillinger 350 full-auto rifle with gas-cooled barrel and was capable of putting holes through any kind of metal, but any fool coulda told that, ‘cept Jayne’d customed her with an underslung grenade launcher an’ now she looked more like she might be able ta take out a major buildin’. He longed for one day ta get the chance ta find out. Maybes that day would come soon enough. He knew Ossie Chen. Knew him pretty gorram well, point of fact. Mal didn’t know ‘bout that, a’ course, but then he never had asked. And Jayne was’n ‘bout ta tell him, neither. Jayne’s scores were his own business.

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Mal was off the ramp before its leading edge had even touched the landing platform. He wanted to get this done as quickly as possible. More than that, he wanted to get paid. He had to admit to feeling naked without Zoe at his shoulder. Oh, she was there, sure enough, standing at the top of the ramp, old hogleg strapped to her boot, looking for all the ‘verse like some imperious Earth-That-Was queen surveying her domain – but she wasn’t there. Not the Zoe he knew: Corporal Zoe Alleyne of the 51st. Something was gone from her eyes. This was Zoe Washburne, a grief-stricken widow, and he didn’t know her at all. Problem he had was, there wasn’t anyone else could fill her boots. Nobody was better at playing Zoe than Zoe. Jayne was big and tough, but that was all: he didn’t have her tactical nous, her eye for the whole picture. He was good at dealing with a situation, but not the best at recognising one before it arose. His main trouble was that Jayne usually started the situation in the first place. And that, he thought, surveying what remained of his crew, was all there was as far as muscle went, if he discounted the weapon-in-a-dress standing demurely beside the mule. Granted, she could likely take out any number of heavies without thinking about it, but he just couldn’t stomach the idea of River as a warrior. Didn’t seem right, somehow. “Alright folks, listen close. Inara and Zoe, you’re to stay with Serenity, keep her warmed. Kaylee and River, you’ll go to the engineerin’ stores on the far side of the complex. Ossie’s got some parts lined up for us there. Take the mule. I want you two workin’ quicktime – they need to be in place and ready for when we leave. Clear?” The girls nodded. “Good. Jayne, Simon, you’ll come with me.” Thug and doctor regarded one another distrustfully. Jayne opened his mouth to gripe, but Mal’s sharp look shut him up. “Talkin’s done,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go get our work.”

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