(Disclaimers with Part 1, song credits at end of story)

"Where I Cannot Stand" Part 2 by HawkMoth ____________________

It didn't surprise Mal to hear snatches of the Soldier's Song being hummed on the return to the heart of the base. It was a powerful piece of music, and it reminded him of the prayer he always said before a battle. The verses were running through his mind as well, conjuring up all sorts of visions--what the far-off hills looked like at daybreak from the back door of the ranch house. How Shadow appeared from space, receding in the distance. The way a battlefield looked when the fighting was done, silently choked with debris and bodies. The sight of the enemy in retreat.

He was distracted from further reflection when he heard Ashby start to count out a cadence. The unit had been moving in a mighty casual fashion toward the main compound, befitting their off-duty status. But it only took a second for them to respond as one to Ashby's chant, not needing orders barked at them to form up in straight lines, to fall into the rifleman's pace--a few steps walked, a few steps jogged.

So they looked fairly smart and competent as they passed through the inner gate, tossing haphazard salutes at Lieutenant Baker, who gave a careless one in return. Mal grinned, knowing the sight would have given an Alliance officer a heart attack.

He left Ashby and Zoe in charge of getting the unit settled in and ready for their turn at scheduled maintenance around the base the next day, to attend a briefing over dinner with the other non-coms and junior officers. No definite orders had come through yet, although a departure for points unknown in ten days had been given confirmation.

Before he returned to his cubicle at the end of the barracks opposite from the lieutenant's quarters, he stopped outside the door to the bunk room. Zoe was there, watching the moons rise.

He stood by her side for a minute, taking in the sight. "You miss being in space, don't you?" he asked, scarcely able to imagine what it must have been like growing up on a ship, living your life in the black, going planetside only when you needed to.

Zoe didn't take her eyes off the darkening sky. "Sometimes, sir. A day like today--not so much. It was a good day."

It had been at that--though Mal had found himself missing home too much. But then, everything in space was far away, and Zoe had never known hills the way he had, to be sad for not seeing them.

She turned to him, with one of those pleased smiles she wore rarely. "Listen."

From inside the barracks came the sound of the fiddle, and Davey-boy keeping his promise.

"O'er the hills and through the black Who knows when we'll be coming back. Freedom calls and we obey Over the hills and far away."

******

Ten days later they lifted off for Bernadette, and Davey Daniels saw justice done when their platoon rejoined the main brigade, and with two others took out the Fed base on the northern continent. When they left a month later, Davey-boy taught them another of the old song's verses.

"When evil stalks upon the land I'll neither hold nor stay me' hand, But fight to win a better day Over the hills and far away."

They stormed a space station orbiting Pacquin, and served as escort when it was towed into Independent territory.

They raided an internment camp on Persephone and brought back fifty Browncoat sympathizers who'd been conscripted for hard labor. Primo Chan and Davey-boy held off a squad of Feds who surprised them at the last minute. Their unit became the pride of the platoon, and their platoon the pride of the brigade.

As the tide of war continued to rise and fall, they had a brief respite back on Talavera as the year was ending. The base was safe and secure and still well-supplied, so most of the platoon stayed put, while those who still had homes unscathed took actual leave. Mal made it to Shadow in time for Christmas.

In the three days he was there, the whole brigade was transferred to Athens Base, and he rejoined the platoon in time for new orders.

Intel reports hinted that the Alliance had Hera in its sights. Hera was the most fertile farming planet in the quadrant and the gateway to a mineral-rich asteroid belt. A small Independent space fleet had guarded the richly green world successfully throughout the war while the Alliance concentrated their efforts elsewhere.

But now the Feds wanted Serenity Valley and the space port beyond it and Hera was threatened. The fleet had been hit and decimated in several hit and run Alliance raids. Sixteen Browncoat brigades were sent in, supported by twenty air-tank squads, to guard the planet and hold Serenity Valley.

Mal had been on Hera long ago, living there for a time with his mother. He had a fondness for the world, and was pleased to be fighting for it.

It was a waiting game for close to a month, with the Feds mounting sneak attacks and feinting troop movements throughout the quadrant. Some of the brigades suffered heavy casualties and troops were siphoned off from one platoon after another. Mal lost some of his best fighters that way, and got replacements snatched out of training way too soon, or transfers from rear echelon support staff, who had never been meant to see battle.

They were eager enough to serve, but greener than Hera's lush fields. Their arrival was just one of the first signs that things were not going so smooth for the Independents. Davey-boy, their queen of the dark Meg, Primo the sniper, code-master Charlie and the rest of last year's recruits seemed like grizzled veterans by comparison.

The days dragged on. News from other fronts was dismal, and then devastating. The Alliance must have been building up strength and numbers undetected for months. When word reached them that several planets, including Shadow, had been firebombed by Alliance skiffs, Mal couldn't talk for a day and a night. He prayed in silent desperation for the strength to go on fighting, to keep on believing in the cause.

One night Green picked up a broadcast on one of the Alliance news channels. The Federal High Command had put the Independent Front on notice: Serenity Valley would be theirs within a week.

The report came through their own comm lines the next day, along with the Front's response to the Alliance boast: Come and take it.

The first assault came within hours, and was repelled. So were the second, and the third two days later. Green was able to tap another Alliance channel, so their unit heard the news first--the Fed forces were withdrawing to regroup. Even after nearly five years of war, the arrogant cods had underestimated the tenacity and endurance of the other side.

Lieutenant Baker and Sergeant Reynolds held their troops in check until the official report came through. All the brigades and squads kept the celebrations brief and subdued, remaining watchful and ready.

It turned out Davey-boy had another verse to teach them.

"Through smoke and fire and shot and shell Unto the very walls of hell, We shall stand and we shall stay, Over the hills and far away.

"O'er the hills and through the black Who knows when we'll be coming back. Freedom calls and we obey Over the hills and far away."

The Independents would hold Serenity Valley till Judgment Day if necessary.

They lasted one more month.

Every brigade lost soldiers in each new attack, and each air squad lost tanks. Ships bearing replacement troops and equipment were unable to get through the increasingly powerful Alliance blockades.

The Alliance assaults grew fiercer and more frequent. Their ground troops got a foothold in the valley and established gun posts closer to their lines. Skiffs bombarded the battlefield day and night.

Bit by bit, Mal lost his Talavera recruits. Five gone in one night when a trench collapsed under heavy shelling. Meg Pierson went down in a firefight. Primo Chan died of an infected wound. Three were lost on night patrol, another three during a supply raid.

Command promised they'd get reinforcements through somehow. Air ships were on the way from Athens Base.

They didn't come in time for Davey-boy. Ashby found him dead one morning, hit by shrapnel in his sleep, his fiddle unharmed beneath his body, silenced forever.

Mal let his helpless anger fuel his determination to hold on, to keep the others going. Zoe fought beside him without question, never showing any doubt.

It got harder and harder to communicate with Command--the planet's atmo was being choked with smoke and fog and flak, while the Alliance techies sent out jamming signals from ships in space and ground emplacements. Green kept working miracles. They all heard the message late one morning when he managed to maintain a clear open channel for more than a few minutes.

Airships on the way--hold.

"We will hold," Lieutenant Baker repeated, an order and a promise.

He was dead before nightfall, Ashby alongside him.

"We hold!" Mal told the remnants of his unit. He said it to the survivors from the rest of the platoon, to the stragglers and refugees from other brigades who had been drifting in for days now.

The dead and dying lay everywhere and there wasn't an officer to be found. Mal had no clear idea of how many soldiers were answering to him, but they were going to hold no matter what.

"Our angels our coming," he told them, and they believed him, spreading the word through the trenches and dugouts and caves. They believed, and Mal believed it too.

But only the Alliance skiff came out of the sky that night. When Green finally got through to Command, the response was not the one Sergeant Reynolds wanted to hear.

When Mal went out, with Zoe behind him, to deal with the skiff himself, he went armed with his gun, his faith, and the words of Davey-boy's song.

******

By any sane person's definition, his dreams about the war would qualify as nightmares. But the worst ones weren't about Serenity Valley, or the hell it turned into the night Command ordered them to lay down arms. Nor the ones when he watched tiny Meg fall dead, or heard Ashby tell him Davey was gone. He would wake shaking and close to screaming when he dreamed about the week they waited, dying by the hundreds before the Medships finally arrived.

Those dreams just made him angry.

It was far worse to wake up empty and cold, his face wet with tears, when he dreamed about the month on Talavera. About the day they learned that young Davey-boy could sing. The words would echo in Mal's mind as he wearily got out of bed to splash water on his face, trying to forget that day when they had complete hope and absolute faith that they would prevail, and the 'verse would be made right.

********

"Over The Hills and Far Away"--Traditional, additional lyrics for "Sharpe" written by John Tams. More information available here:

http://www.compleatseanbean.com/sharpe30.html

Davey's Chorus--by HawkMoth