“She’s stable,” Simon reported on Zoe’s condition when he walked out into the lounge. A bandage covered his right ear. Mal, Gabriel, and Jayne sat side-by-side on the couch, while Inara paced the floors nervously. Mal and Jayne stood. “What happened?” Mal inquired. “Poison,” Simon replied. “From the looks of it, it’s been in her system awhile.” “Define awhile.” Simon shrugged. “Hard to say, exactly. Maybe weeks, but from the slow, yet extensive damage done to her nervous and digestive systems, I’d say months.” “She gonna live?” Jayne growled, not understanding all of the larger words but knowing that it was bad. “She needs rest more than anything,” Simon informed, “but she’ll live if I act quickly. I’ve placed her in a medically-induced coma and suspended all digestive processes.” He raised his eyebrows. “That means she’ll be living off intravenous sustenance and body-system supplement machines until I can synthesize a serum.” Mal studied the doctor incredulously, not understanding many of the larger words himself. “We have machines like that in my infirmary?” Simon shook his head. “No. This is more of a first-aid station than anything. I’ll have to cause her body to function manually until we can get her to a medical facility, but if her affected systems are allowed to function normally, she will definitely die.” “So you’ve got my first mate’s life as secured as you can until we get to a real hospital,” Mal concluded, “or, at least, real hospital equipment. What about your sister?” “She’s sedated,” Simon explained, “for now. I’ve altered her medication to compensate for her increasing... distress, but this latest attack had nothing to do with her condition.” “Whaddaya mean?” Gabriel put in, his speech slow and slurred. He was on a very heavy dose of pain medication. “She was triggered,” Simon explained. He looked at Mal knowingly. “Just like in the Maidenhead. What baffles me is not only *how* she could *possibly* have been triggered, but also why my safewords didn’t put her to sleep. When she went nuts here in the infirmary, I spoke them twice, then again, twice, in the cargo hold. It was as if she didn’t hear them.” “We gotta put all our info together, Sarge,” Gabriel suggested. “A lotta fey-oo gettin’ thrown at us at once.” “Agreed,” Mal concurred. “How’s our third patient doing?” Simon queried, the question directed toward Mal. “Stoned,” Gabriel interjected, his eyes glazed. “I wrapped his ribs again,” Mal replied, ignoring his young counterpart. “About all that can be done, for now. You got the situation handled, then?” “Yes,” Simon verified. “I’ll start on the serum right away.” He turned and re-entered the infirmary.” “So let’s recap,” Gabriel began, “if I may. Ritter is lookin’ fer me, but not fer River. Reavers stalked us fer several days without attacking, then tried to *contact* us right before they attacked. They also had a buttload of laser pistols. Now, we find out that someone poisoned Zoe months ago with a slow-acting toxin, an’ somethin’ triggered River to attack everyone she saw, but this ‘safeword’ Simon’s talkin’ about didn’t reach her subliminal programmin’. That about cover it?” “Decently,” Mal decided. “Plus, the matter of you havin’ contact with the Operative, who I’m sure knows a lot about this. Mebbe even *caused* it.” “We’re in my designated contact time frame,” Gabriel suggested, “so let’s make him a Comm call now, shall we?” “Sounds great to me,” Mal returned ominously. He extended a hand, and Gabriel took it. Mal pulled him to his feet, and the young man simply stood like a dumb cow, blinking slowly. “Jayne, do I need to tell ya to stay off the bridge?” Jayne looked quite offended. “What’s that s’posed to ruttin’-” “We got ourselves in quite the precarious situation,” Mal explained. “You ain’t gonna be there unless you can keep yer mouth shut.” “”What the hell are you-” “No arguments,” Mal commanded sternly. “Not right now. We need this info bad.” After a moment, where Jayne looked as if retaining his retorts might cause his head to explode, he nodded once. “Let’s go,” Mal urged, snapping Gabriel out of his haze momentarily. Gabriel nodded, allowing himself to be led upstairs and to the cockpit. Mal feasted a hand on Gabriel’s bare, muscular shoulder. The kid’s black, sleeveless shirt had to be cut off for the rib wrap, and he still needed facial sutures whenever Simon was finished with Zoe. Mal sternly guided Gabriel to the pilot’s seat. He pointed at the console. “That’s the keypad; *that’s* the screen. Dong ma?” Gabriel nodded absently, staring at the keypad. Mal waited a moment. “Punch in the number?” Gabriel started. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He hit a particular key combination, then a thin, green, horizontal line appeared on the black screen. After a short cough of blood, another key combination changed the screen to the unfortunately familiar image of the Operative. “Gabriel,” the Operative greeted, removing his electronic, wire-framed glasses upon accepting the transmission. When he noticed Mal and Jayne standing behind Gabriel, the man actually looked surprised. “Well,” he began, “I must admit, I am surprised that you informed your captain of our arrangement so soon.” “How could I *not??*” Gabriel stressed. “How much of this are you behind?” The Operative’s expression became one of incredulity. “Come, now. Both of you should know me well enough to be aware that I am behind many, many things. There is a far grander scheme to take into consideration than your little vessel and its little family. To what events are you referring?” “The Reavers,” Mal began. “The two hundred laser pistols I got stashed in my cargo hold; the fact of my first mate bein’ poisoned; the fact of my havin’ River troubles again; Damian Ritter. Take your pick.” The Operative’s gaze shifted slightly from Gabriel to Mal which, on his own screen, would have been barely a couple of inches. “I will make you the same promise I made Gabriel. I will not give you false information, as I have been doing with others. By those standards, there are particular questions that I am simply not at liberty to answer for you.” “Do the best ya can, Jim,” Gabriel told the screen drowsily, blinking and fighting to remain focused on the conversation. “Mal,” the Operative requested, “would it be acceptable if I conversed with someone who has *not* been heavily medicated?” “Just talk,” Mal urged. “Ignore him. Kid was given enough pain killer to kill me or you, easy.”” “Sorry, Sarge...” Gabriel slurred. “Tryin’ real hard, but can’t...” “Taking your questions in order,” the Operative interjectedly began, “and as best as I can answer them, I have no idea how or why your first mate came to be poisoned. I was not even aware of such an event occurring. Damian Ritter, as Gabriel should have already informed you, is working for Ray Foster. I have absolutely no connections whatsoever with Ritter and, in fact, he considers me his enemy.” “I’ll take that as meaning you *do* have connections with Foster,” Mal growled. “But I want to know about River. Something triggered her again, and she attacked my crew.” The Operative sighed. “River Tam is a highly unstable-” “Do *not* feed me that go se crazy-talk garbage!” Mal exclaimed heatedly, his temper becoming more and more difficult to control. He really did want to *never* speak with this man ever again. “Her condition is under control. She was *triggered.*” The Operative remained very calm. “Have you ever considered simply *asking* her? Of course you haven’t,” he concluded, not even waiting for an answer. Mal’s angry expression changed to a blank one. He glanced to Jayne, who shrugged cluelessly. “Musta slipped our minds,” Gabriel commented, apparently having drifted back into the gist of the conversation. “Quiet, Boy,” Jayne told him, making an attempt to be playful. Gabriel must have taken it in that manner, because he whined quietly like a dog. “Knock it off,” Mal ordered. His mood was considerably surly today, and things that he ordinarily would have ignored irritated him more than usual. “Perhaps I can make amends,” the Operative offered. “I could understand if you will have difficulties finding a buyer for your newly-acquired weaponry.” “Haven’t even looked, yet,” Mal admitted. “Kinda hard to find folk *that* insane out here.” The Operative shrugged. “You may wish to try the city of Brimstone on Beaumont. I just might arrange for a man named Baile to meet with you in the Takira House. I guarantee you’ll get an excellent price for your laser weapons.” Mal paused for a moment. “I’ll consider it.” “I apologize for the sudden end to our reunion, Mal,” the Operative concluded, “but I have an appointment with some crucial contacts.” “You told me I’d never see you again,” Mal reminded sardonically. The Operative shrugged. “I was not expecting to break my promise. You have Gabriel to thank for that.” He reached for his Comm unit. “I wish you the best of luck, Captain.” Immediately after the transmission was ended, Jayne voiced, “He’s behind the ruttin’ laser pistols the Reavers had.” Mal nodded, once again surprised at Jayne’s occasional use of deductive reasoning. “I agree,” he replied. “I’m gonna go talk to River. Take Gabriel somewhere where he ain’t liable to fall down.” “Has to be Damian,” Gabriel voiced as Jayne seized one of his arms and helped him from the seat. “Last one in contact with her who ain’t on the ship.” “It’s likely,” Mal admitted, “although that was two weeks ago, so unless it was some sort of delayed reaction...” Gabriel blinked in confusion before memory finally served him. “Oh, yeah. That *was* two weeks ago, wasn’t it?” Mal rolled his eyes. “Get him out of here.” He sat in the chair, pondering for a moment in the newly-found silence. The stars looked unusually bright and sharp, but that was due to the fact that, when the bodies and blood of the Reavers had been removed, a good majority of the ship had been cleaned with it, including the windows. Mal didn’t think he’d seen the ship this cleansed since he’d purchased and fixed her up. Finally, heaving a heavy sigh, Mal stood and went to retrieve River. *************************************************************************

Dante grabbed Lerek Tuvial’s ponytail with one fist and shoved downward on his head. The highly illegal and dangerous stimulator, street-named ‘Lectrocutors, was manufactured by mixing the crushed root of a *damerinus fransesca* fern with X-160 power plant coolant and heating it over a burner at three hundred degrees centigrade for three and a half seconds. The resulting product was then allowed to cool at air temperature before being ground again and capsulated. The weakness of the drug, as well as the amount of drug produced and stretched to make more sales, was determined by how many times it was heated over the burner. It was Lerek Tuvial’s own burner that his face was being held over. Dante brought his mouth less than an inch from the other man’s right ear. “*Let’s try again, Lerek,*” he hissed so softly that it was barely a whisper. “*Where’s Gabriel?*” He reached threateningly for the burner knob. “I *told* you!” Lerek squeaked, sounding panicky, “Gabriel disappeared over two years ago!” “Yeah,” Dante corroborated, “he did. He also showed up again recently.” He pulled the man’s head further from the burner and turned it on. “You was his dealer. Hell, you was his bloody *friend*. Where can I find him?” Lerek squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness of the small, blue flame. “I don’t *know*, Dante! Gorrammit, I haven’t talked to the kid in years!” Dante moved Lerek’s face forward, not into the flame, but into the intense heat of the air above the flame. Lerek roared loudly, and Dante pulled his reddened face back to cooler air. “Okay, okay!” Lerek gasped. “I might have a couple possibilities.” “Let’s hear ‘em,” Dante demanded. “William Haskal,” Lerek offered. “Gabriel useta work fer ‘im as a hitman. So’as he could earn Lava cash. He might’ve contacted Haskal recently, lookin’ fer work.” “Gabriel won’t have nothin’ to do with Haskal no more,” Dante informed. “I’m gonna pay him a ‘visit’ next, anyway, but I ain’t expectin’ nothin’. What else ya got?” “Dante,” Lerek implored, “I can’t think of a ruttin’ thing.” Dante shoved the drug dealer’s head forward again, this time long enough for the man’s skin to begin to blister badly. He pulled Lerek’s head back again, waiting patiently for the man to cease screaming. “You can think of *some*thin’ else.” Lerek gasped for breath, his screaming having winded him. “*Malcolm Reynolds!*” he blurted hysterically. “Browncoat sergeant who killed Gabe’s parents!” Dante’s blood ran cold. “So it was *him...*” he growled. “Gabe never blamed him,” Lerek wheezed, attempting to be reassuring. “He always said it was the Alliance’s fault. His parents opened fire first, thinkin’ Reynolds’ squad was another Alliance raidin’ party. That whole area of farmland was a *mess* o’ raids ‘n’ lootin’ ‘fore the planet fell to the Allies. Ya *know* that, Dante.” “Din’t know Reynolds did it, but I *do* know Gabriel is *with* Reynolds right *now*,” Dante hissed. His eye twitched twice which, in his psychosis, he did not notice. “I wanna know where they might go, or how to contact them.” “I don’t know *nothin’* ‘bout Reynolds, past what Gabe told me before he disappeared,” Lerek insisted. “There’s a couple others Gabe mentioned, though. When he was tellin’ his stories.” Lerek wracked his brain for information. “Zoe Alan, or Allene, or somethin’ like that. Monty Reigns is another, an... Lacey, no, Tracey.” “*There’s* a good lad,” Dante complimented. “An’ it’s *Alleyne*, not Alan. She’s accounted for an’ on Reynolds’ ship.” *This Reigns and Tracey, though... Worth lookin’ into...* “That’s all I know!” Lerek exclaimed, beginning to tremble from fear and pain. “I *swear*, that’s all I ruttin’ know!” Dante leaned forward and viciously bit down on Lerek’s earlobe. Lerek screamed, and Dante yanked his head back, tearing part of the ear away from the head. “*Huh choo-shang tza-jiao duh tzang-huo!!!*” Lerek screamed. “Thank you,” Dante calmly spoke. “You’ve been very helpful, Lad.” With that, he pushed Lerek’s face into the heat again. He held the head in place as the mouth screamed and the body thrashed wildly. Dante inhaled deeply through his nostrils, relishing the thick, choking scent of charring flesh that he loved so very much. A moment or two later, the grotesque body dropped heavily to the floor with a low, meaty *thump* as Dante released it. He turned, already bored, from the gruesome scene and strolled from the home as if he’d just finished an elegant tea party. *Reigns and Tracey...* he repeated in his head. *Reigns and Tracey...* *************************************************************************

“Gabriel,” Jayne spoke, glancing over to the spacey young man sitting next to him at the common room’s table. After a moment with no response, he nudged the boy. “Hey, Gabriel,” he repeated, more loudly this time. Gabriel jerked slightly. “Yeah?” he questioned. Jayne leaned in a bit closer. “I got yer attention?” Gabriel swallowed for the first time in over ten minutes. “Near enough,” he replied. Jayne sighed. *Bad time to have this conversation, but...* “Let her go,” he implored. “I’m tellin’ ya, there’s other fish in the sea. Let her go. She ain’t no good for ya, Kid.” Gabriel made a slight, rumbly noise in the back of his throat. “I ain’t no good fer *her*, Old Man,” he returned sarcastically. “Just look at me.” He sighed. “Everyone always assumes *River’s* the monster on this ship. Even *she* does.” There was silence for several moments before Gabriel started up again. “Jesus Christ Himself would attest to the fact that I got some major issues, an’ they ain’t the same kind as River does. You only knew *half* the fey-oo on me, ye’d agree.” He brought his hands together and sharply cracked his knuckles. “She’s an innocent girl. I’m the complete opposite.” Jayne could think of nothing to say that wouldn’t be offensive. “Ya a decently religious fella?” he inquired as he attempted to continue the conversation. even as awkward as it was becoming. Gabriel glanced over at the mercenary. “I’m a Christian, if that’s what ya mean.” Jayne arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, but yer specialty is killin’ folk, same as me, an’ ya don’t seem too bothered none by it.” Gabriel shrugged as he continued his staring at the far wall and the cupboards stationed therein. . “So I ain’t a very *good* Christian,” he chuckled. His face took a far-off expression again. “The Devil forever weeps for what he has abandoned.” As uncomfortable as he was, Jayne still made the attempt to continue idle conversation. “Sounds damn powerful poetical,” he commented. “Where’dja read that?” Gabriel turned to him with a frown of not anger, but of sadness. “Nowhere. I just *said* it.” *************************************************************************

“You okay now?” Mal inquired as he settled River into a cushion of the lounge area’s couch. His rear end found a cushion to the girl’s right. Her gaze focused firmly at some point beyond the wall between the infirmary and the nearby stairwell, River replied with a simple, “No.” Mal sighed. “River, I need to get anything you know out of ya. I’d let yer brother do it, but he’s kinda preoccupied with Zoe’s life at the moment.” River shuddered as if she were cold, and Mal took the cue, pulling the tattered comforter from the back of the sofa and sliding it around the psychic’s thin, bony shoulders. “Ritter,” River rasped, terrible anger hiding behind her quiet voice. Mal tensed, then placed a hand on River’s opposite shoulder. “Did Ritter say something to you when you were on his ship?” After a silent moment, River nodded. “While we were fighting. Don’t remember what, though. Direct link to my subconscious programming through verbal command that was designed to override previously established protocol would be my educated hypothesis.” She glanced over at Mal. “But I’m the crazy one. What do you think?” Mal stared blankly at her for a moment before blinking. “Uhh... Sounds pretty accurate to me,” he surmised falsely, yet confidently. “So it *was* Ritter.” River’s gaze fell to the ground. “Good thing you referred to the Operative, or I might have had to come to you myself.” Although the sentence sounded somewhat joking, her expression was one of intense sadness. After a few minutes of tense silence, River began to cry silently, although her shuddering shoulders added to the evidence of the tears running down her cheeks. Mal pulled her to his shoulder, wrapping his other arm around her middle, and the tiny woman accepted the comfort with sobbing gratuity. “I can’t let myself near him again,” River professed, and Mal knew immediately that she was referring to Gabriel. “But promise me you’ll let him know how sorry I am.” Her left hand moved to grasp his right, which was centered on her belly. “*Promise me,*” she whispered tearfully. As much as he had seen in the war and since the war, Mal still felt a lump forming in the back of his throat that greatly distressed him. He gritted his teeth together. “I promise, Albatross,” he swore. “But it would be so much better if ya told him yerself.”