The two soldiers introduced themselves to be Sergeant Christine Wilkins and Corporal Matthew Perkins. As they sipped the coffee that Sarah had made for them, Jason questioned his two guests to try and get the measure of them. “So what gets the two of you so all fired up as to fight the mighty Alliance?”

“I’m an original native of Shadow, Sir,” said Corporal Perkins. “Reclaimed my family plot after the reterraforming. Not ready to loose it a second time.” Jason looked into the man’s eyes and found only honest sincerity. He turned to the young woman seated next to him.

“Me family emigrated ‘ere from Dayton four year back,” said Private Wilkins. “We was tryin ta find a better life. Afore this we worked in the sweat shops.” Christine spoke with a strong cockney accent like Badger’s. It was a sharp contrast to Corporal Perkins who spoke with the familiar Old Rim accent of Linda and Captain Reynolds, and the one Jason himself had adopted to better blend in. Jason knew that many cheap goods were manufactured on Dayton where labor was inexpensive, which meant that both stories held water.

Jason asked the two soldiers to retell their story of what had happened that morning, carefully looking for any inconsistency. He ground his teeth when Christine finally concluded with how they had watched from the bushes as the officer had condemned all the captured soldiers to death.

The only part of their story that did not fit was why they had not joined the fight when their camp had been attacked. Clearly if they were deserters they would not have stayed long enough to provide the full account of the battle, so that was not likely the case. The two pretended to be very professional toward each other, but something intangible between them told Jason exactly what the two had gotten up to in those bushes in the early morning hours before the camp was overrun. Jason decided not to push the issue however, as it was not important and they were not his subordinates to discipline.

“Isn’t there rules that say you don’t kill POWs,” asked Sarah naively, breaking the tension.

“Somehow, I don’t imagine that Alliance Commander cares,” Said Jason. From the description, it sounded to him like the same hu dahn that had taken his favorite pistol and knowingly left him unarmed on a planet embroiled in violent civil war.

“This puts us at a quandary,” Jason continued. “No way four people can take a camp of that size. So I'm thinking there is something you're still not telling me if you seriously intend to mount a big damn rescue.”

The two looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “So you’ll ‘elp us ‘en?” asked Christine.

“Good crew’s hard to find,” replied Jason. “Right now half of mine is with your platoon.”

“We have a major base about fifty clicks north of here in the mountains,” said Corporal Perkins. “It's hidden underground, so the Alliance likely won’t have found it; armed to the teeth, so they won’t have taken it if they have. If you fly your ship there, we can bring back reinforcements to take back the camp.”

“Fine, but we wait till tonight,” decided Jason. “We go anywhere during daylight, it’s like to draw undue attention to us.”

“Thank you. I had feared we would not find a brother in arms in time,” said Matthew.

“I’m not your brother,” said Jason.

“’Er a Browncoat. At’s family ‘nough fer us,” said Christine.

“I’m not that either. I just want my crew back.”

Later, as evening approached, Jason sat in his bunk thinking about what he was about to do. Rick had been his best friend for years and in the two months Linda had been on his ship, he had come to both like and respect the woman as a friend as well as value her as a reliable crewmember. He would go a long way to help either of them. Actively fighting the Alliance however, had never been on Jason's agenda when he set out to find his sister. By conventional understanding it would be suicide, a futile action that by all logic would most likely only serve to leave him dead with his comrades. He could still back out, and he doubted many would hold it against him if he did.

Suicide or not, there were lines that a man should never cross. When Jason’s father had still been alive, he had taught that to his young son. Allowing your sister to rot in a whorehouse (or wherever Emma really was) was one, and allowing other people dear to you to be wrongfully executed was another. The fact that it meant standing against the most powerful government in human history was certainly daunting, but it did not change the simple morality of the issue.

His decision now firmed by resolve, Jason went over to his small bookcase. This time he did not look at the rows of graphic novels and trashy paperbacks that Sarah liked to tease him about. Rather, he turned his attention to the top shelf, which contained a row of dusty old hardbound books that had been in his family for generations. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled it out. Inside the cover he found an old bejeweled medallion that was far older than himself or his father. Smiling at the forgotten heirloom, he put the signet aside and began to read the book, Sun Tzu’s ‘The Art of War’.

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That night Jason piloted his ship to the coordinates specified by the two independent soldiers. It was a location on the far side of the nearest mountain buried into cliffs similar to the ones Linda had identified as a likely location for a base. When the ship set down, it appeared as though they where simply on the side of another rain-washed and rock strewn rock slope. The two soldiers, however, confidently led Jason to a nearby granite overhang.

Inside the small grotto, Jason was surprised to find himself confronted by two armed Browncoat soldiers standing in front of a pair of heavy steel doors set into the rock face. From experience he raised his hands. Christine and Matthew however, simply identified themselves and led him inside. They traveled down a spiral corridor for several moments before coming to a large open cavern filled with people. The cavern bustled with soldiers who where rushing about with various weapons, rations, and electronic equipment. In short, they were busy with the preparations for war. Christine and Matthew left Jason to sit in a break area near a large coffee urn while they reported in to their superiors.

About an hour later Jason found himself approached by two soldiers he did not recognize. They escorted him even further into the mountain compound. After several minutes of walking through the labyrinthine network of tunnels, they finally came to a large conference room. After taking a seat, Christine, or rather Sergeant Wilkins appears at the head of the table and summarizes the situation.

“I’m afraid we cannot spare the forces to mount a rescue mission,” said an important looking officer once she had finished. The man had several starts pinned to his shirts collar, a general, Jason guessed. The nametag on his collar said Kurvis; Jason had heard that name before. "Preparations are almost complete for our counter strike on the orbiting fleet. We need every man for boarding parties and missile crews."

"We don't leave men behind," said a similar ranked man across from the table named Ellis, "certainly not to die like common criminals." It seemed an argument was about to erupt until Jason finally raised his hand to get their attention.

"If manpower is an issue, I estimate that we can get those people out if you can spare twenty five to thirty men. That's only half a platoon."

At that moment, most of the room looked at Jason as if he had grown a second head. It was less than a third the number of Alliance soldiers that now occupied the camp.

"I've worked out a plan," continued Jason. "We only have a few hours to prepare though, if you're willing to do this."

"Explain your plan," said General Kurvis, "this aught to be interesting, if nothing else."

"The Alliance soldiers are pretty busy hunting down your other gorilla camps that are spread through the hills," explained Jason. "They've met with moderate success and now have near a hundred of your men detained at this location. As they don't have proper prison cells, the prisoners are chained together in the main tent at the edge of the camp." The generals, or whoever they were, nodded. This they already knew.

"Alliance is stretched just as thin as you are, and there are not usually more than three guards in the detention area at any time. We need three things to pull this off. Number one is a diversion. A small force of three to five people can accomplish that, all that's needed is a big boom. Then while they're scrambling, we land my ship on the rise above the camp and lay down cover fire. I’ll need a pilot if you can spare one."

"That rise is on the opposite side of the camp from where the prisoners are," interrupted General Ellis.

"They'll assume its cover fire for a frontal assault," replied Jason, "but it’s not. It's a second diversion. Between the two, the Alliance forces shouldn't notice another force of about five to ten people sneak into camp from the back or take notice of the extra gun shots when they take down the guards. There are so many Alliance personnel coming and going that both groups should be able to sneak in unquestioned if they disguise themselves. I assume you have some Alliance prisoners you can take uniforms from." One of the generals nodded.

"Here is the third key part," continued Jason. "This group will bring weapons and arm the detainees. Most of the prisoners are trained soldiers. If half of them are able bodied, then we should be able to encircle the Alliance forces and take the camp."

"That's a rather daring plan, bordering on fong lu," said General Kurvis.

"There is one extra bit of icing for you," added Jason. "The Alliance already has media on site to cover the executions. If I'm not mistaken, they'll be planning live coverage, which means using a direct wave link to their broadcast satellites. As the expression goes, they can't stop the signal. You do this, and the rescue will be all over the Cortex by late tomorrow morning to go along with coverage of your counterstrike."

"I like it," said General Ellis. "It's daring, crazy, and just cunning enough to work. If' this succeeds, it will be a tremendous boost to morale. "

“It sounds possible, but I'm not convinced yet," said General Kurvis. "Who will lead this little adventure?”

“I will,” said Jason.

”We don’t even know you,” replied Kurvis. “You’re asking quite a bit. We’ll need some time to deliberate.”

It was time Jason knew they did not have. He would have to take a risk. General Kurvis seemed the one most opposed to him. If he could win him over he would have a chance, and as it happened, Jason had remembered where he had heard his name.

“Sir,” said Jason as the conference broke up. “May I have a word?”

“Something you need son?” asked the General.

“Just wondering, you sound like you’re from Persephone.”

“Grew up there. Moved further into the Rim after the first war. Spit it out boy, I know you’re not interested in pleasantries.”

“William Kurvis by chance?” said Jason. "Sir, I think you might have known my father, James Libby."

The general thought a moment. "Yes, yes, we were friends as boys; used to get up to all kinds of mischief. How is your old man?"

"Passed away sir, heart attack about ten years back," answered Jason.

"Why I'm terribly sorry to hear that. You had a sister if I recall, the two of you must have inherited the Willowbrook Estate."

"Unfortunately no, my mother lost it all to the Wing's," Jason had now dropped the Rim accent. "Shady business really, but that's not what I wanted to speak to you about. I intend to get my crew back."

“I intended a lot of things during the first war, my boy,” said the General sadly. “Most of them didn’t work out either.”

Jason took a deep breath. Playing the family friend card had been a long shot. “I imagine not, never mind,” said Jason. Perhaps it had been a bad idea.

“Wait a moment son; let me get a look at you. Poor James, you have his good looks you know. Can't believe your family lost your estate, yours was one of the oldest on Persephone.”

"So I've been told sir. But right now what concerns me is that two of my crew are being held in that camp. They're good people, as I'm sure are yours that are being held with them. I don't want to loose them. They don't deserve this, none of those being held do."

"Son, this is war," replied Kurvis. "By necessity that means sacrifices must be made."

"I understand that. My father used to tell me as a boy though, that there were things a man should never stand to let pass. This seems to be one of them."

"That sounds like James. The men in your family always did have a certain bearing." Kurvis smiled. "Never expected him to raise a Browncoat though; considering your lineage."

Jason smiled as well. "Not a Browncoat, sir, nor a noble. I'm just a transport captain who wants his crew back."

Twenty minutes later the panel reconvened. General Kurvis addressed the rest of the assembly. “I think I can spare thirty men from my division. Unfortunately, we do not have any officers to spare. Therefore, I move that Captain Libby will be given the acting rank of Lieutenant for this mission. I would not do this if I did not feel confident this plan will succeed."

"I'll go along with that," agreed General Ellis. He was soon followed by murmurs of agreement from around the table.

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An attractive Asian woman walked along the line of bound Independent soldiers while a cameraman followed behind. Most of the captured men and woman refused to talk to her, but a few took the opportunity to say goodbye to any family that might be watching. Finally, unable to take it anymore, she turned back to the cameraman and wrapped up her latest segment. "As you can see, it is a grim sight. In one hour these men and woman that you see around me will be executed for treason. This is Sherry Fong reporting live from New Shadow."

Sherry carefully kept her facial expression locked into a façade of indifferent professionalism. As soon as the cameraman signaled that the feed was cut, her face sagged, and she set about helping him disassemble his equipment. Being around the condemned soldiers was almost more than she could take. Sherry by no means sympathized with their cause. She viewed them as both foolish and ignorant to want to separate from the benefits of a unified government for all humanity. Regardless, they were still human beings, and the thought of what was about to happen sickened her. It was barbaric. She would need all her resolve to be able to get through it. Even the guards that stood watch over the prisoners seemed a bit squeamish of their task.

This assignment as war correspondent was supposed to be the defining moment in Sherry's career, maybe even land her an anchor position behind the news desk. Right now though, that seemed to matter very little. Right at that moment she just wanted to crawl back to her apartment on Sihnon and cuddle her cat or one of her boyfriends. No, the cat would be the better bet, as the boyfriends would all want something she definitely did not feel up to at this moment.

Focused as she was on helping pack away the camera, she was caught completed off guard when the camp was rocked by the force of a violent explosion. The fireball was so bright it filled the tent with an orange glow despite the heavy fabric walls. By the time Sherry regained her balance, the four guards had already run to the end of the tent to peer out at what was going on. From between them she could see men running about, attempting to put out the flames that were billowing from one of their troop transports, the orange conflagration bathing the camp in a dancing orange glow.

Just then, a ship flew overhead. At first it looked as though it were going to land in the middle of the camp, but it simply coasted over the camp, blowing men aside from the downdraft of its engines. No sooner did the ship set down on the far side of the camp then a dozen men leapt from its open cargo bay and began firing automatic weapons at the Alliance soldiers. A dozen men where quickly cut down before the rest of the soldiers could find cover, many not even with weapons to speak of.

Sherry's attention was suddenly jolted back to her immediate surroundings by the sound of gunshots directly behind her. She and the guards all turned at the same time to find themselves looking down the barrels of five rifles. The guards were doubly confused, as the five men holding the rifles were all wearing Alliance uniforms.

The brief silence was broken by one of the captives, "Christine, that you?"

"Ai, mate. 'Er to bail you ruttin lot out."

"Jay, is that you?" asked another captive, who then added to the woman next to him, "told you he would come."

"Gorram that uniform is not your color, sir," said the bound woman in response.

"That's enough talking, the lot of you," said the man in front before turning to address the guards, "You four gonna drop your weapons and hand over the keys or have I got to pry them from your cold dead hands?" Minutes later all of the captives had been freed, and the guards were now the ones that were bound.

"Listen up ya meat heads," yelled the woman named Christine over the sound of gunfire outside. "This here's actin Lieutenant Libby." She indicated the man in front. "E's yer temporary C.O. till we're outa this here mess. Now, everyone what can take up arms, grab a weapon."

Sherry quickly turned back to her cameraman who had already started pulling out his equipment again and was ready to begin filming. She quickly turned to the camera, "This is Sherry Fong from New Shadow where the Independents have mounted a daring rescue of their comrades. If it sounds like a war zone outside, that's because it is."

As Sherry spoke, she could barely keep the excitement from her voice. As a reporter she knew it was unprofessional to show emotion, but the last minute rescue she had just witnessed was truly of heroic proportions. At that moment she forgot her firm belief in Unification and the various benefits of the Alliance. All that mattered was that the wrongly condemned had been rescued at the last minute by daring comrades. This was a story she wound be far prouder to have mark the turning point in her career.

Sherry turned to the handsome man who appeared to be the leader of the rescue. She found she disagreed with the previous assessment of his appearance; he looked suai in the pilfered Alliance uniform.

"Excuse me sir, may I have a word…" She was cut short as the man quickly grabbed the camera from off the shoulder of her cameraman. At first she was afraid he was going to break it, but he simply switched it off.

"Haven't got a problem with you doing your job Ma'am, but I gotta ask you not put my face or any of my people onto to air. Can you do that?" After a minute both she and the cameraman nodded their agreement. The Lieutenant handed the camera back to its owner without another word.

"Linda, Rick," barked the Lieutenant, "Stop looking at me funny and get back to the ship, I'll explain all this later. Christine, I need you to take half these men and circle round the eastern perimeter of the camp. The rest of you lot's with me, we're taking the west side. Let's move people!"

The cameraman grabbed Sherry's arm as she moved to follow the Lieutenant's group. "Are you insane," he mouthed.

"We're just as likely to get hit by a stray bullet by staying here, Fred," she replied. "This is the kind of story that can make our careers." Boldly she pulled her arm free and ran after the soldiers. Fred soon admitted defeat and followed.

Sherry almost bumped into the Lieutenant after coming round the corner of a troop carrier. The taller man quickly grabbed her shoulders and forced her back as a hail of bullets spat from the direction she had been heading. She watched as the man pulled a large pistol from a holster and shot two soldiers in the chest as they came around the corner. The men were instantly knock flat on their backs by the powerful gun but quickly sat up and began to level their rifles again.

"Gorram body armor," growled the Lieutenant as he grabbed both gun barrels and pushed them upward just as they erupted with fire. He kicked one soldier in the temple, knocking him unconscious. Then in a single smooth motion he pulled the rifle from the limp man and clubbed his companion." There was a moment of quit relief, before they heard the sound of a weapon being cocked behind them.

"You, what the hell are you doing here?" said a familiar voice. Sherry turned to see the Alliance Commander that had sentenced the prisoners to death. He was leveling a gun on her. Sherry had only known the man for about a day since her arrival on New Shadow, but she had already taken an intense dislike to him. Even his own men seemed to follow him out of fear more so than respect.

"Just followed your instructions and put on a uniform so I could pick up a gun," replied the Lieutenant. "Though I've been advised these colors don't suit me." Sherry couldn't believe the audacity of his sarcasm in the face of near certain death. "Hey, that's my own gorram gun you're holding on me!”

"I see why you like it, good balance," sneered the Commander. "Knew you were a filthy Browncoat,"

"I'm not a Browncoat,” he said evenly. “I'm just a transport captain that wants his crew back." "Don't much matter what you are, because now your dead," said the Commander. "You two, move," It took Sherry a moment to realize he was addressing her and Fred. For a moment she thought he might actually shoot through her before she could comply. From the corner of her eye, she could see Fred begin filming again, though none of the soldiers seemed to take notice.

“Not so fast, Purplebelly,” said a new voice from behind the Commander. The Alliance Officer turned and it was then Sherry noticed a woman who had previously been a prisoner standing about twenty feet behind the Commander. She was holding in her hands what appeared to be a cut down rifle of some sort. “Drop it,” ordered the woman.

Sherry was caught by surprise when rather than comply with the order, the Commander quickly stepped forward and grabbed her by the wrist. Sherry was pulled around into a headlock and soon found the Commander’s pistol pressed against her own head. “You got the guts to shoot through this little miss here?” he growled in desperation. “You drop your weapons.”

Sherry found herself suddenly looking in fear at the people around her. The Lieutenant dropped the rifle he had taken from the guard, but still held onto the large pistol. The tall woman kept her gun trained on the two of them, but it did lower perceptively. Fred was standing stock still behind the Lieutenant, the camera capturing everything, though he was careful not to allow the Lieutenants face into the video frame.

Finally, the Lieutenant dropped his pistol. The Commander chuckled, “You Browncoats’ve got no belly you know. Never leaving a man behind, afraid of civilian casualties. It’s why you’ll never win,” he remarked as he suddenly took aim at the Lieutenant. “The Alliance crushes everything that stands in its path.”

“I swear, no one listens to me,” said the Lieutenant. Suddenly he leapt forward and grabbed the Commanders gun.

Sherry closed her eyes at the sound of the gunshot. As she felt the man holding her continue to struggle she opened her eyes. She saw that the Lieutenant had been shot, but not fatally, the bullet having struck him high in his shoulder. Despite this, his hand was still clamped in a death grip on the Commander’s pistol. The slide on top of the semiautomatic was biting viciously into the torn skin of his hand, but the weapon was unable to cycle so long as the Lieutenants hand jammed its action.

Sherry, now angry as well as afraid at being taken hostage, suddenly kicked her heal in to the Commander's shin. The man grunted in pain and the three of them fell to the ground. The Commander pulled the gun free from the Lieutenant's bloody hand just as another shot rang out.

Sherry looked up to see the Lieutenant lying on the ground nearby. His hand was pressed against his shoulder in an attempt to stem the flow of blood from where he had first been shot, but otherwise he was unharmed. She felt the Commander's hold on her neck slacken, and she turned to see the man staring forward at nothing. He blinked a few times as blood began to ooze from a hole in the side of his head. Sherry stared in fascinated horror as the light faded from his eyes. She had never seen a man die before.

"I reckon being on your crew's been a bad influence on me, Sir," added the woman as smoke curled from her weapon. "Makin' me break the Hippocratic Oath and all."

"Thanks Linda," said the Lieutenant through clenched teeth. "Reckon I owe you a vacation."

"I'll hold you to that, sir," replied the woman named Linda.

With a grunt of pain, Jason reached over and retrieved the Alliance Officer's gun. The battle around them lasted only a few minutes longer. The now leaderless Alliance forces were surrounded on three sides and soon were forced to surrender. As Sherry got shakily to her feet, she began surveying the aftermath of the battle. Surprisingly few had been killed on either side, though the body count was definitely higher among the Alliance, on account of having been ambushed and surrounded.

“Well then,” said Sherry, turning back to the camera. “As you can see, today was a victory for the Independents.” Her voice wavered slightly at first, but she soon regained her composure. “What I have seen today has given me many things to think on, as I am sure it has you. This is Sherry Fong, signing off live from New Shadow.”

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"Sir," an Ensign addressed an unnamed Admiral, "we've received word that our base camp has been attacked by the rebels. They're being overrun."

The Admiral sighed. "Send down reinforcements. Three platoons of Marines should be sufficient."

"When will these fools ever realize that this is futile?" asked the cruiser's Captain, who stood next to him.

The underling passed on the order. Moments later they watched three troop carriers detach from the big ship and drift down toward the surface.

"Sir," said the Ensign again. "I'm reading several small ships leaving the surface of the planet. Not ours either. Something else as well, moving faster,” the Ensign studied his display. “I think it might be surface to space missile fire."

The admiral chuckled, "They really are intent on going out with flourish."

"Man the guns and shoot them down Ensign," said the Captain. Several minutes passed. The Ensign's voice became slightly frantic as he continued talking on his headset to the ship's gunners.

"They're jamming us sirs! They're jamming our tracking radar!"

"That's impossible!" exclaimed the Admiral.

"Impact in three, two …"

The ship rocked violently with the force of the explosion. The two officers where knocked off their feet while the Ensign just barely managed to stay in his chair.

"Damage report!" demanded the Captain.

"Report on the rest of the fleet!" demanded the Admiral.

"C through G decks heavy damage and depressurization. No damage to engineering or primary weapons. Looks like several other ships have been hit. The light escort ships Catalina and Trias are lost. Tohoku cruisers Heart of Sihnon and Vengeance have also been damaged but not disabled. I'm reading another volley of missiles."

"Break orbit," ordered the Captain.

"Belay that," countered the Admiral. "To all ships, send the order to hold position and open fire on the origin point of those missiles. And keep trying to shoot down those ships. The Second Alliance Fleet does not turn tails to rebel scum."

The ship rumbled as it let loose it’s own volley of missiles, but as the Independens were buried in the dense arboreal forests below, there was not way to tell if they hit their mark. Soon the second volley of incoming missile fire struck the ships.

“We’ve lost three more light escort ships,” said the Ensign. “Vengeance is now critically damaged. We took another direct hit to decks C through G.” The Ensign's face went white as he looked over his display. “We get hit there again and it’ll break our keel.”

“They must know the weak points in our armaments,” said the Captain. “We have to pull back or we’ll loose the fleet. If nothing else, this is my ship and I will not see her sunk for your stubbornness.”

“The frigate Magellan has been boarded, sirs.” said the Ensign.

“What?” Exclaimed the Admiral and Captain in unison.

“They’ve been boarded,” repeated the Ensign. “Apparently they have our docking codes.”

“But that’s not possible,” said the Captain.

The Ensign paused to listen to something coming over his earpiece. “Sirs, Magellan has been taken by the Independents, and Heart of Sihnon as well as three other light escorts are also now reporting boarding parties.”

The Admiral glared at his underlings. “Gorramit!” he growled. “Fine, tell all ships to pull away from the planet.”

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Malcolm Reynolds watched in awe as the blockade was finally broken. The precision missile fire had erupted from the surface as if by magic and rained devastation onto the orbiting Alliance ships.

“We’ve received the signal,” said Zoe from the copilot’s seat. “Are we going in?”

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” replied Mal. “Let’s be heroes. Take us in Little Albatross.”

The young woman in the pilot’s seat had already read his mind and they began moving forward toward the planet.

TO BE CONTINUED

Authors Notes:

I thought I would be able to finish this arc with this chapter. Unfortunately there turned out to be more story to tell than I thought. Barring any more call outs from work, I’ll try to get the last chapter done by Friday, but no promises. After Battle for Shadow will come the final arc of the series. (Tentatively named Reunion)

As usual: It ain’t mine, I just like playing with it. (Does that sound right to you?)