Gabriel charged into the ship as soon as the airlock opened, rampaging akin to a bull on two legs. He viciously attacked the two nearest guards, and although they took the blows and the falls professionally, creating minimal damage to their persons, they were, nevertheless, stunned or otherwise incapacitated. Damian Ritter stood waiting. Gabriel had already talked to him over the Comm, and so identified him immediately. He attacked, and so intent on his target was his concentration, he didn’t hear River scream, “No!” behind him until he was already committed. *************************************************************************

*Can’t believe he wanted us to watch this*, Mal thought to himself. *Security risk, allowin’ the four of us in the same area as where the action is. Damian’s gotta have a point, though. Man prob’ly plans how many times he brushes each tooth in the morning...* Damian, apparently without effort, performed a combination of a sidestep, a twist, and an arm/leg leverage that resulted in Gabriel’s face slamming into the wall with force. The mercenary’s troops made no move to help him, and for apparent reason: they would only have gotten in the way. Gabriel sprang to his feet, blood gushing from his nose, a split lip, and a slice across his right eyebrow. He drove himself against Damian yet again, and found himself with a forearm across his chin and a knee in his gut. *This guy ain’t even tryin’*, Mal observed. *We gotta do somethin’...* Jayne Cobb, of all people, made the first move, crushing the guard that they now knew as Coleman with one sledgehammer punch. “Run, Gab!!” he barked at the top of his lungs. “Get the hell away from him!! *Run!!!*” Mal and Zoe took this as their cue, setting themselves upon Tull and Addams. This quickly found them eating floor. *The Operative wasn’t this good*, Mal thought to himself from his fastidious study of the polished steel. *Who the hell *are* these people?* “Tranq him!” Damian shouted, knee against the back of Gabriel’s head. “Tranq him!” ...And that was when River Tam entered the arena. Tull and Addams ate wall, considering Jayne had already taken Coleman and... Sera, was it?... out of the picture. The blur that was formerly known as River then proceeded toward Damian. Before they even locked in combat, Mal could tell that this wasn’t going to be good. Damian moved so quickly that Mal couldn’t tell how River was missing him with her blows, but she, too, found herself suddenly and painfully making contact with the floor. She flew back to her feet as if the laws of gravity did not apply to her, and exchanged Damian’s favor with three quick, precise strikes that dropped him to his knees. Taking the chance that he was given, Mal scrambled forward, doubled over so much that his face was almost dragging on the floor. He managed to snag Zoe’s arm for a moment to get her moving, then fell upon Gabriel. “Come on!!” he shouted, pulling at the man until they both finally found their legs. Ahead of them, Jayne was ensuring the path to the airlock was clear. Hayze appeared before him, laser rifle aimed at the man’s head. Jayne froze, and Hayze appraised him for a moment. She gave him a small smile, then lowered her rifle and allowed Jayne to knock her unconscious. He did so as gently as an incapacitating blow from Jayne’s meat hook could allow, and he did it with an understandable look of confusion. “Kaylee an’ me will grab River an’ the shuttle!” he informed Mal upon his arrival. “I’ll see ya on Serenity.” Mal nodded, and suddenly a bleary-looking Zoe was there to help him with Gabriel. The war-buddy trio stumbled incoherently through the airlock, where a welcoming party of Simon, Inara, and Darcy were waiting. Simon hit the button to close the airlock doors and sealed them. “Inara, get to the bridge and get us away from these gorram monsters!” Mal commanded before stumbling and falling to the decking. Gabriel followed suit, and, with the weight of both of them pulling her down, Zoe also fell. Simon rushed to them, asking something, but Mal suddenly seemed to have cotton in his ears, and didn’t hear what the man had to say. *Musta took a harder hit to the head than I thought*, he concluded. “Sorry, Doc,” he muttered, his tongue seeming to have possibly grown larger and making his speech slurred. “Can’t... Kinda mussed up...” “*Contact from the other shuttle*,” Inara spoke over the intercom. “*Kaylee, Jayne, and River all made it out okay*.” At Mal’s elbow, face pressed against the grate, Gabriel chuckled. “Way to go, peoples,” he laughed. “We’ve got no fuel to run from Ritter,” Zoe voiced. “Yes, we do,” Simon corrected. “We have a full tank.” “Then, well, then run, then...” Mal slurred. “Jus’ run.” He flapped a hand. “Full burn.” Zoe moved to the intercom. “Inara, as soon as the shuttle docks, we need full burn.” “*Understood*,” Inara’s voice crackled. Against Simon’s protests, Mal forced himself to his hands and knees, then to his feet. The cargo hold tilted and spun, and he fell against the airlock’s control panel. After a few seconds, he regained his footing. “We still headed to St. Albans?” “Gabriel’s plan was to turn around and head back,” Simon informed, “since it’s still closer for now than St. Albans. If you want, we can have Inara-” “No,” Mal interrupted. “‘S fine. That’s okay.” *Still ain’t got my talkin’ right yet...* He blinked rapidly, as if that would clear his head, and it was then that he finally noticed the pulsing pain at the base of his skull. “Wait,” Gabriel sluggishly exclaimed from the floor. He began grabbing at the deck, as if that would help him to his feet more easily. Giving up on that, he crawled to the control panel, pulling himself up. After a moment, with Mal and the others watching him, he found his feet, although they were much less sure than Mal’s. Straightening, he faced Mal and extended a hand. Mal shook it. “Captain Reynolds,” Gabriel announced, “the ship is yours.” He then performed a face-plant on the deck, utterly unconscious. *************************************************************************

Damian brushed blood from his eyes as he rushed to the bridge. More blood immediately flowed from his brow into his eyes, and so he resolved to blinking incessantly. Hayze was the only one besides himself who had managed to pull herself to the bridge, and she was already set upon the controls. The side of her face had begun to swell and turn purple. “Can we catch them?” the team leader inquired, reaching for a first-aid kit. “Doesn’t look like...” Hayze hesitated, studying her instruments. “No, Sir. Full burn. They’re gone.” “Niao se dub doo gway,” Damian muttered, pulling a roll of gauze from the kit and wrapping it around his head. *Should’ve expected the psychic*, he mentally cursed himself. *Should’ve been waiting for it, but she still took me by surprise*. “These people have advantages beyond any idea we’d previously deduced,” he informed, tearing the gauze off at the appropriate length and replacing the roll in the kit. “I’d thought we’d gone *way* overboard on our precautions, but these people are resilient and loyal to the point of *insanity*. They are willing to die for no reason whatsoever except the fact that they are dying for each other.” In a rare moment of self-control loss, he threw the first aid kit against the wall hard enough to shatter the plastic case. “*That*, Hayze, is loyalty you cannot buy. It must be *earned* through wars, through *blood*, through the Alliance and Reavers and losing loved ones and hating each other as much as you love each other.” He finally paused to take a breath. “It’s insane, unreliable, and disorganized. It’s also the most admirable thing of which I can possibly think.” Hayze glanced over her shoulder. “I am loyal to the death to you, Sir.” Damian took a deep breath to calm himself. “Your loyalty, as well as the rest of my team, is purchased with paychecks and training.” He sighed. “This puts us at a disadvantage that most people would never see.” “Your orders, Sir?” Hayze inquired, resuming her cold professionalism. Damian considered for a moment. “We assess our injuries and possible casualties. Then, we continue to track Serenity. However, we are assuming a new priority that is equal to Davin’s capture.” He sighed. “I regret splitting the primary mission in such a fashion, partially because I’ve never had to do it before, and partially because it’s an inconvenience.” “What’s the second mission?” Hayze inquired. Damian brought a hand to the gauze on his head, where the blood was already soaking through. “That much should be obvious. Assassinate the psychic.” *************************************************************************

“Well,” Darcy started as she and Jayne made their way toward the door to her home, “I wish I could say it’s been nice spendin’ some time with my oldest son, but the past few days...” Jayne chuckled. “I feel for ya. What ya went through was more than any folk should *ever* hafta go through.” Darcy shrugged. “It’s been a learnin’ experience, though I conjure I won’t be sleepin’ right for awhile.” Jayne laid a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Ma, when ya first see Reavers, they’ll haunt yer nightmares for the rest of yer life.” He halted, turning her toward him. “I’m powerful sorry for that.” Darcy pushed into her son’s arms, wrapping him in a hug. “I fear for ya, Jaynie,” she implored. “I fear for ya somethin’ fierce.” “Aw, Ma,” Jayne returned. “Yanno I took after Pa. I’m too dang ornery to die.” Darcy squeezed her son even more tightly. “That’s what I’m afraid of, Jaynie, ‘cuz he ain’t here.” She pulled back to look him in the eye. “He ain’t here.” Jayne stood in silence with his mother for a moment. “C’mon,” he finally spoke. “Let’s go see how yer grandkid’s doin’.” Once inside, Janie rushed to greet her father and grandmother. “I got Ice Planet!” she exclaimed. Jayne smiled. “That a fact?” “She never had it ‘fore,” Matt explained, coming up behind her. “What kinda ruttin’ world did she come from?... Never had Ice Planet...” “Language, Mattie!” Darcy exclaimed, swatting Matt on the arm. “Ow!” Matt growled. “Sorry, Ma.” “It was a rey-ward,” Janie explained, “fer me stayin’ put when Unka Mattie talked to his grumpy friends.” Matt’s and Jayne’s eyes widened at the same time. “*Ma*,” Jayne hissed in barely a whisper. “*Me ‘n’ Mattie need to have a talk*.” Matt swallowed thickly and nodded. “Don’t be fightin’, you two,” Darcy ordered as they went outside. Jayne closed the door behind him as Matt turned to face him. “Ya took ‘er on a drug deal, din’t’cha?” Jayne spoke. It was more of a statement than a question. Matt shook his head. “Na, Bro, I swear. It was jus’ some guy that gave me the stiff, an’ I went there to reason with-” Jayne grasped Matt’s jacket in both hands. He lifted his brother’s one hundred and ninety pounds into the air, turned, and slammed the younger man into the wall with force. “If you *ever* take my daughter *anywhere ever again*,” he growled viciously, “I swear to God, I will break you.” He let go, and Matt slid down the wall to the ground. Matt immediately came to his feet, but said nothing. “I know ya weren’t sick, Matt,” Jayne continued. “When I was sendin’ money home to Ma to help out with ya. Ya weren’t sick, like Ma thinks.” He drew his face menacingly close to his brother’s. “Ya were *poisoned*.” Still, Matt remained silent. “One of yer rivals, I suspect,” Jayne guessed. “Fact of the matter is, I’m a pile of fey-oo, an’ I know it. But at leas’ I know enough not to expose a child to my ugliness.” He stepped back. “I ain’t bluffin’. I find out anything I don’t like about you, regardin’ my Janie, be assured of this fact.” He stepped past Matt to the door so he could say goodbye to his mother and daughter. “I *will* break you.” *************************************************************************

The first thing Gabriel noticed when he awoke were strong feelings of affection, concern, and relief., as well as a smallish hand grasping his. After opening his eyes, and upon regaining focus in his vision, the first thing he saw was a pair of big, dark-brown eyes. “Nice thing to wake up to,” he mumbled, “gorgeous pair‘ve eyes like that.” River grinned. “Thank you very much... my ‘Makeshift Captain’.” “Indeed,” Gabriel announced lazily, his eyes half-closed, yet now fully alert. “Coupla days,” Mal spoke from behind River, “to answer yer first question. That’s how long you’ve been out. We’re back planetside already.” “Shininess,” Gabriel replied, suddenly scowling as Simon appeared on his right with a light to shine in his eyes. “Ow?” he exclaimed questioningly. “Doctor stuff,” Simon explained. “Any nausea, dizziness, loss of color vision?” “Laying down,” Gabriel returned. “Can’t tell if I’m dizzy. I know I can still see the color brown.” He winked at the grinning River. “Seems we’ve been real, real close to the rolling of late.” “The *what*?” Simon queried. Gabriel frowned at Simon. “We’ve been in real hairy situations for too many ruttin’ days straight.” “Slang from Hera can be awkward and weird,” Mal explained. “Just take it in stride. Now,” he redirected toward Gabriel, “it’s been explained to me how I have a mess of laser pistols aboard my ship, but you’re the only one who can tell me the *why*.” “Uh... One trouble,” Gabriel replied. “I don’t know. Ask me again in two weeks, though.” He lay his head back and closed his eyes. “All can be explained at that time.” Before he fell asleep again, he felt a pang of sorrow, regret, and guilt emanate from Mal. *It wasn’t yer fault*, he thought, and drifted into the dream world. *************************************************************************

“How’s that arm, Tracey?” Sergeant Reynolds inquired, glancing over his shoulder. “Kinda hurts, Sarge,” Private Tracey replied. “Bullets don’t seem to feel the greatest.” “We need food, rest, and medical supplies,” Corporal Alleyne reminded. “We might not get the chance for long, bein’ as we just lost three squads, and our platoon now consists of five.” Mal nodded. “We take the last of this continent, it’s on to Serenity Valley. That’s Hera, boys an’ girls, an’ we’ll have won it, thankin’ God.” He nodded toward a nearby collection of farm buildings. “That farmhouse oughta do us,” he suggested. “There’s smoke from the chimney, so someone’s gotta be home. What with the Alliance raids these parts, I’m surprised they’d take the chance of advertisin’ their presence.” “They’re farmers, Mal,” Staff Sergeant Monty Reigns reminded, scratching his beard. “Don’t know nothin’ about war.” “You’d think that would be common sense, though,” Private Ducast wondered aloud. “It’s cold,” Mal decided, shivering as he reminded himself of it. “Folk gotta stay warm, non-combatants included.” Monty nodded. “Agreed. So let’s go.” They approached the farmhouse across the barren cornfield. Zoe took point with her AK-47, although her slight limp reminded Mal of the bullet that had sliced her thigh. She was followed by Mal, then Monty and Ducast. Tracey brought up the rear, strafing sideways and pointing his Sega into the darkness. Upon arrival, Zoe slinked onto the porch and pounded thrice on the painted, metal door. There was no answer, and so she pounded again. “Try the doorbell,” Tracey suggested quietly, and Mal thumbed the illuminated button. “Don’t think nobody’s home, Monty,” Mal said. “They either skedaddled, or the Alliance raids already got ‘em.” Monty nodded to Zoe, who tried the doorknob. It was locked. Ducast then moved into position beside her, and together, they kicked the door in. They cut the pie with their weapons as they entered the room. “Gorram Alliance bastards!” a man screamed, firing a shotgun into Ducast’s chest. Several of the pellets struck Zoe, and she stumbled into the wall. Mal appeared in the doorway, firing two rifle rounds into the man’s chest and one into his head. He then dropped the revolver-wielding woman who appeared behind the falling man. As Zoe coughed up a little blood and found herself again, she and Mal stepped over Ducast’s body as Monty and Tracey moved into the room. The woman was still alive, blood frothing from her mouth. “Yer not... *cough*... Yer Browncoats...” She sputtered another lungful of blood before dying. “They thought we were raiders,” Tracey observed, sounding heartbroken. “Let’s search the place for supplies,” Monty decided. “Got it,” Mal replied, moving over the bodies and rounding a corner. He suddenly found himself face-to-face with a young, teenaged boy. “Hold it right there!” he ordered. The kid stared up at him with a strange mixture of emotion. “Yer Browncoats,” he observed, a slight hint of Scottish accent to his voice. Mal kept his rifle trained on the boy. “Yeah,” he responded. After a moment of tense silence, he slowly lowered the weapon. “What’s your name?” “Family’s Davin,” the boy spoke in a monotone, the accent lessening as he practiced. He stared at the soldier before him. “Gabriel.” Mal nodded. “I’m Sergeant Reynolds of the Independent Army.” The teen observed the sergeant for a moment. “Then... why did you just kill my parents?”