Inara sat next to Cole on the couch just outside the burnt out Infirmary, eyes closed in fervent prayer. She had one arm around her son’s shoulders as she prayed, and she leaned her chin close to his head. His body was cold and still, his eyes staring vacantly forward. He didn’t lean into her, didn’t pray with her, didn’t respond. When she reached the end of her prayer, she kissed the top of his head, and started again from the beginning.

The incense she’d brought didn’t cover the smell of ashes, burnt flesh, and spilled blood. They’d barely done more than throw a towel over the mess, but Inara couldn’t leave Cole sitting there another minute. If it were a job gone wrong, she could’ve blamed herself, but this was nothing they’d brought on themselves. It would’ve been just as dangerous sitting planet-side in a cozy cottage or elegant mansion.

Cole’s left hand twitched in his lap, and Inara reached over to take it. He didn’t react, so she just held on, dropping her prayer to the volume of a whisper only he could hear. Inara had special prayers for all her children, and they each knew their own by heart.

It started as the prayer her mother had prayed over her when she was a child, but Inara had tweaked it over the years, creating a unique prayer for each of her kids, because each had unique needs for blessings. For Zoë, she prayed for connection and a sense of family. Little Zoë too often isolated herself, forgetting that family was more than blood. For Cole, she prayed for protection. He took too much after his father, being adventurous and daring. He had more broken bones to his credit than all the other kids on Serenity combined – except now with Michael … For her youngest, Michael, she prayed for peace, quiet, and rest in his mind. It’s what he always needed.

Michael had been groaning earlier, but they didn’t have any sedatives. She’d touched his face and said his prayer until he’d fallen asleep, then returned to Cole. She wanted to get her boys out of this dungeon, but Cole was too big to carry these days, and with the stretcher melted to the deck plates in the Infirmary, it wasn’t safe to move Michael again.

Mal came downstairs with Zoë, him holding a cup of broth, her holding a blanket over her shoulders. It had been a strategic move because as soon as Zoë reached the bottom of the stairs, her grip went slack and the blanket dropped to the floor. She recovered quickly. Too quickly. Inara could see the pain on her face, sourced deeper than the sight that had just greeted her.

“Zoë, come here,” Inara beckoned. She would pray over her daughter and this new burden. It was all she knew to do.

Zoë’s glance flickered in her direction, but she firmly ignored Inara, squared her shoulders, and looked at Simon.

“Uncle Simon –”

“Zoë,” Inara repeated, her voice gentle, but firm. “Come.”

Mal took Zoë’s shoulder, but Zoë knew she had no choice in the matter anymore. Quietly she came over, and because there was no space on the couch, she knelt on the floor. Mal put the blanket over Zoë’s shoulder again, then stepped back. Inara continued to pray.

-----

Jayne walked gingerly through the hall holding Sky’s hand because her shoulder was too bruised for him to lean on. He wasn’t playing up his limp, but he wasn’t trying to hide it either. He’d zipped up his jacket, added gloves to match the hat, and made a note for the next time he was on Kerry that the day and night temperatures varied significantly. Twenty minutes was hardly a decent rest, but at least his teeth had stopped chattering. Sky stopped in the galley to make coffee and get some sort of lunch for Emily. She told Jayne to wait with her, but he went ahead to see the others. There were thirteen people living on this boat plus six live prisoners and a corpse, but it was quiet as a ghost ship – like they were all dead.

Coming down the stairs, he could smell the mixture of blood and burnt flesh, poorly masked by perfumed incense. Combining that with the harsh glare of the temporary lighting made it feel like a descent into hell. There were better places for the crew to gather, but Sky had said that moving the wounded would be difficult. He rounded the bend to the lounge and Jayne understood why.

“Wo de tian, a,” he murmured, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself. Sky had been pampering him like he was the victim, but he realized that he and Zoë were the lucky ones in this.

His eyes were immediately drawn to his little girl, wide awake, with a content little look on her face as she walked around a blanket that had been set as her safe boundary. She had three dolls laid flat on the blanket and a stethoscope around her neck, and she played doctor, probably thinking that all the others lying on the ground were playing with her. Kaylee leaned against the wall, half on the blanket, keeping an eye on Emily. His daughter was safe, and Jayne was relieved, but only somewhat.

The Infirmary was completely black and sealed off. Simon lay on the floor, covered with both blankets and cool compresses, his face white like death. Genny was snuggled against his shoulder, the skin on her face red and peeling, one hand bandaged and curled against her chest. Jamie cuddled against Simon’s other shoulder, sleeping but whole. Simon’s shirt was splattered with dried blood, but he had his arms around the children, and though his eyes were closed, he wasn’t sleeping.

Zoë knelt next to Inara, while Inara said prayers over her and Cole. The vacant look in Cole’s eyes was the most heart-breaking of all. Jayne knew Inara would keep saying that prayer until Cole either said it with her or closed his eyes and fell asleep. But the boy was too traumatized even to blink.

Mal stood facing the wall, head buried in the crook of his elbow, praying too. He’d started doing that again – praying – about ten years ago, when little Zoë first got cancer. He didn’t do it often, and he never shared it with the kids the way Inara did. Jayne could see spots of blood on Mal’s shirt, and the cuts ran up the back of his neck, into his hair. Most of it was dried, but as he stood there, Jayne could see some of the spots getting bigger. With Simon lying flat, no one was forcing Mal to tend to the open wounds. Jayne would –

“Papa!” Emily cried delightedly, her little voice like a joyful song over the room. Kaylee tried to catch her before she ran off the blanket, but doubled over in pain before she made it to her knees. Emily knew this drill, though, and waited eagerly at the edge of the blanket, arms outstretched.

“I got her,” Jayne told Kaylee. “Sit back.”

Jayne scooped up his girl, and was rewarded with a tender kiss on the cheek. All his injuries faded for the joy of holding her again.

Kaylee fell back heavily against the wall, and her head lolled toward her family. Jayne looked at her in concern, but she waved him off.

“I’m just bruised,” Kaylee assured.

“You’re sure?”

“Doctor said.” She reached over Jamie and took Simon’s hand.

“Doctor said sit still,” Simon chastised firmly, peeking one eye open, then winking at her. With a nod, he beckoned Jayne closer, eyeing him critically, then freed one of his arms, touching Jayne’s face as he examined.

“I didn’t realize the smoke inhalation would be so bad,” Simon said, using his cold, business-like doctor’s voice. “Use the oxygen. Start with two minutes.”

“I’m fine,” Jayne dismissed.

Simon’s face screwed like he was about to strangle someone, but he couldn’t because his kids were laying on him. “Do not make me angry,” he warned. “I killed once today. I’ll do it again.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Jayne carped. Simon was bad at killing people, and he never handled it well. Jayne didn’t take it personally. Mal helped Jayne set up the oxygen tank, and for the first time, Jayne noticed the smattering of medical supplies littering the hallway. Jayne let Zoë use the oxygen first, once she’d been released from Inara’s prayer vigil. Zoë would’ve brushed off treatment too, except her next goal was talking to Simon, and the Doc had that look in his eyes.

Jayne motioned Mal away from the others, then twirled his finger, indicating he was going to bandage the holes on Mal’s back. He didn’t see any antiseptics or gauze lying about, so he went to the nearest dorm, pulled off a bed sheet, and then got a bucket of water from the sink.

“There’s time for this later,” Mal said quietly, as Jayne set the materials in place.

Jayne gave Mal a stern look. “Don’t make Simon kill you.”

Mal resigned more quickly than Jayne thought he would, and he carefully removed his shirt, wincing as the fabric pulled loose some of the scabs. Jayne handed over Emily who pressed her stethoscope over Mal’s chest and cupped a hand over her ear as she listened.

“Am I dead?” Mal asked her.

Emily nodded chidingly. “I told you a million times. Safety, baby.”

Jayne chuckled and pulled out his knife to cut the commandeered bed sheet into strips. Dampening the first, he cleaned away the dried, smeared blood on Mal’s back. Mal gritted his teeth and closed off almost immediately, before falling on captaining.

“Report?” Mal ordered.

“To what end,” Jayne complained wearily. Some of Mal’s cuts were deep and probably needed stitches. Jayne thought about finding some super glue. “Look at us, Mal. We’re barely walking. None of us have slept. Do you really think we can mount a rescue?”

“We have three hours left to try. Tell me what you found.”

Jayne wondered where they deadline came from, but figured someone had told him and he’d forgotten. He worked dispassionately over the wounds, and Mal covered every wince with a smile for Emily’s benefit. Within ten minutes, Jayne had described the shack in the woods, the endless supply of guards, and how River up and killed the first one without any provocation.

“Could be whoever has River isn’t affiliated with the people in the shed,” Mal said.

“If so, then who has River? Zoë said she knew the group guarding the shed.”

Jayne reached into his pocket and pulled out the insignia he’d ripped off the guard’s uniform. Mal took the patch, and swore under his breath.

“This was on the ship that shot us down,” he breathed.

“The ghost ship?” Sky asked, coming down the stairs with a canteen of coffee and a crateful of supplies.

Mal made a face. “It was just a notion.”

“It was a stupid notion,” Sky countered, taking Emily from Mal, and setting the girl back on the blanket with a plate of food.

Jayne didn’t know what Mal and Sky were bickering about, but didn’t care. They were all exhausted, frayed, irritable, and armed.

“There were at least five foot soldiers that chased us,” Jayne said. “Makes me wonder what happened to River when she stepped in that shed.”

He thought a little, then he added, “Not enough that I’d go back and see, though.”

-----

Simon and Zoë talked too quickly for Mal to properly eavesdrop on their conversation, but they had figured something out. He’d finally gotten the signal from them to round up the crew for meeting, when he heard the soft little sigh across the room. Turning toward the sound, he saw Cole lean his head on Inara’s shoulder and squeeze her hand. Inara closed her eyes and grateful tears spilled down her cheeks, splashing on Cole’s hair. Mal’s chest ached with grief. It was time to end this.

“Zoë, Simon,” he said, his voice ordering the report. The others gathered round, injured though they were. Simon carefully extracted himself from his children and tried to sit up, but in the end he was too pained, Kaylee sat behind him, and he leaned against her. Zoë stood to address the group, and faltered. She’d never had all eyes on her.

Mal got up and stood next to her. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he leaned close and whispered, “You look like you got this under control. I’m kinda tired; I’m gonna go take a nap.”

She laughed and grabbed his elbow pulling him back into the circle. It was all she needed.

“It’s fair to say I know my way around a hospital,” Zoë began, and a few light-hearted chuckles arose from the group. Zoë had been in and out of the hospital since she was five. When Cole was born, she had disappeared into the hospital for three days until Mal found her hiding in the ceiling.

“In my time, there are two wards I learned to avoid – the psychiatric ward, and this one.” She held up the insignia that Jayne had ripped off the guard’s uniform.

“What is it?” Mal asked.

“I’m not sure it has a name.”

“The Ward started cropping up in hospitals maybe ten – fifteen years ago,” Simon chimed in. “It’s most closely linked to the diagnostic ward. In fact, aside from the sign on the door and the tangible presence of demons, there’s no discernable difference to the patient.”

“But there is a difference,” Zoë continued. “When the Ward cures a patient, they don’t tell him he’s cured and they don’t send him home. They use him like …”

She trailed off, looking to Simon for help.

“Test subjects. Incubators. Tissue farms. There’s no way to know the extent.”

“So they’re like the Academy?” Inara asked.

“Very similar,” Simon agreed. “Only instead of preying on students, they prey on patients.”

Sky held up a finger, requesting the floor. “You’re saying there are Wards on dozens of worlds harboring legions of readers?”

“No, readers are rare,” Zoë said quickly. “Even in the Academy, Aunt River was unique among the other victims because of her ability. I think whoever has her has been using the Ward to find readers.”

“Only now they seem to have found another way,” Mal finished gravely.

“River was sedated,” Simon pointed out. “She didn’t run out of her on her own. If someone has figured a way to summon her mentally and control her physically, they mean to use her as a weapon.”

Jayne’s brow furrowed and his lips twisted in thought. “Something ain’t adding up. If the Ward is doing all this to her, why would she walk up to the door and kill the guard?”

“I don’t know,” Zoë said.

“If someone is summoning readers, why is Michael still here?” Sky asked.

No one had an answer.

“Why don’t we ask him?” Inara suggested.

-----

Michael lay on the couch, pale and fevered, and the others hovered nearby as Mal knelt by his face. Cole hadn’t moved, and no one was going to make him, least of all Inara, who still sat beside him with an arm around his shoulders. Inara leaned out of the embrace just enough to see Michael’s face. Michael whimpered at the movement that created in the couch cushions.

“Michael,” Mal called. “Son, wake up.”

Michael groaned tiredly. “Mama, don’t stop.”

“That’s Baba talking, sweetie,” Inara said. “Open your eyes and see. He’s not as pretty.”

Michael’s head lolled slightly, but was restrained by the neck brace.

“My song now, Mama?” Michael always referred to Inara’s prayer as his song.

Mal cradled Michael’s face and Michael blinked at him, confused. He tried to lift his head, but Mal caressed his cheek to coax him back down.

“Do you remember what happened this morning?” Mal asked him.

Michael examined his face quizzically and his lips moved soundlessly, like he didn’t understand what he was seeing or why.

Inara reached out and touched Michael’s hand. “It’s okay, sweetie.”

Michael’s eyes roved the room, searching for Inara. He twisted, writhed, and pressed his eyes shut, mouthing the words to his prayer.

Mal turned, angry. “‘Nara, say the damn prayer!”

Inara’s face clouded in confusion and grief, but she started a prayer for peace.

“Don’t have to be out loud,” Zoë told her. “He’s not listening with his ears.”

Mal looked from Zoë to Simon. “Could the hearing aid be damaged?”

“Very probably,” Simon answered.

Michael had never needed the hearing aid to understand Inara. It’s what made him so difficult to diagnose in the early years. Inara whispered the words, arm around Cole, hand ghosting over Michael, and Mal watched as Michael mouthed the words with her. He was jealous of that bond – especially now when he needed to talk.

When Michael finally calmed, Zoë tapped his shoulder and signed something with her hands. Michael shook his head. Mal only knew a little sign, and he’d forgotten most of it since Michael started talking. He didn’t know those two still used it.

“Do you remember what happened this morning, when you fell?” Zoë spoke as she signed.

“I didn’t fall,” Michael said. “Aunt River pushed me down. We had to hide. She covered me so I wouldn’t be seen. He took her.”

“She spoke through you,” Mal said urgently. “Do you remember? Zoë ask him.”

Zoë signed the question.

“She came from nowhere,” Michael answered cryptically. “Reading isn’t safe.”

“Can you read her now?” Zoë asked.

Michael’s jaw quivered and his eyes widened in fear. “If I go, he’ll find me – the Frankenstein man. I have to be careful.”

Mal stroked Michael’s cheek with his thumb, imparting comfort with his touch because his voice couldn’t reach.

“Do you know what happens in three hours?” Mal asked and Zoë translated.

Michael shook his head. “Ask River.”

His eyelids flickered and Mal tensed. He slapped Michael’s cheek.

“Son, what are you doing?”

“I’ll get her.”

“No!” Zoë cried. “Michael –”

“Shh, Mama,” he hissed.

Mal watched helplessly as his son faded away. He turned to Simon.

“Does River know sign?”

Simon shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“She’ll hear Mama ‘Nara,” Zoë said worriedly. “I think. It’s still Michael’s mind, no matter who’s in it.”

Michael’s eyes shot open again and he screamed so loud the other kids woke up. Mal clamped a hand over his mouth.

“River?” Inara called.

Michael - River - stopped screaming, and panted frantically. “Why aren’t you here? Why haven’t you come?”

“It’s been a busy day,” Inara said calmly. “We need more information.”

“Pulled ‘til we snap,” River moaned. “Biggest piece wins.”

“Shh,” Inara soothed. “What happens in three hours?”

“You have to stop me!”

“Stop you from doing what?”

“Stealing the ship! Stealing them all! All the … whatever we are.” River’s tears streamed down Michael’s cheeks. Helpless to do anything else, Mal wiped them away.

“Don’t be late for dinner,” River said urgently. “Stuffing in the turkey. Pick out the cranberries, feed the rest to the dog.”

Inara looked at Mal, but he didn’t understand either. Simon hmm’d, and Mal figured he was getting something.

“Is anyone else gettin’ hungry?” Jayne asked and Sky swatted him.

“He swallows. We become him.” River trailed off and her eyes went dead. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“Where is the ship?” Inara asked.

“I can talk to you,” River said in an eerie whisper. “I can talk to you and he doesn’t know.”

“That’s great River. Tell me something useful,” Inara said firmly. “Where is the ship?”

“On the second moon, waiting.”

“The one you’re going to steal?” Inara clarified.

“Always leave your shoes by the door,” River said, then her eyes flickered sideways. “Michael.” She looked back at Mal. “I can’t hear through his screaming.”

Mal panicked urgently, and cradled his son’s face. “Michael. Come back.”

River screamed, and then, just like before, the scream went silent. Mal had called Michael back, but this time he trembled violently. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he started seizing.

“Zao gao!” Simon swore, trying to move, but unable. “Someone get me that trash can! And light! I need light! Something to use as a table. Mal, keep him breathing.”

Mal’s heart pounded in fear as Michael seized. Then his body fell limp as death. Could he risk chest compressions? Michael’s sternum was broken from the morning! Mal pressed his ear to Michael’s chest and thankfully heard a weak beat.

“Doc!”

Simon worked swiftly, then handed Inara a syringe.

“The neck. It goes in –” he motioned with his hand. “Just like before.”

Inara injected the needle, and Michael’s whole body bowed. Then he just lay there, breathing.

-----

It took ten minutes for Mal’s heart to stop pounding. The only one in the room not quaking from the experience was Cole, who was still sitting in the same spot, staring at his hands, working out the trauma from just before this one. Simon was alternately sitting forward to prepare more doses of the medicine, and leaning white-faced against Kaylee trying to keep from passing out. They had the facts; they needed a plan.

Jayne spoke first. “So we’re supposed to run out to the middle of the woods, guns blazing, and hope that that’s the place where a government-trained assassin is kidnapping a bunch of readers and stealing a ship and we want to stop them before they take off and rendezvous with that other ship knocked us out of the sky with barely a blink.”

“Possessed,” Mal corrected. “River is a possessed, government-trained assassin. And yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

“Hmph,” Jayne grunted, crossing his arms and looking adventurously at Sky. “Told you that cannon was a good investment.”

Jayne was referring to his 20mm Vulcan Rifle that stood taller than he did. The thing only had three rounds and was outlawed on no less than fifteen worlds.

“Only if you’re planning to kill River.”

“If it comes to that,” Jayne challenged. Simon swallowed a protest. Zoë did not.

“No!” Zoë said firmly. “You can’t!”

“Which is more important?” Sky asked. “Saving River or stopping this ship from taking off. Seems River made it pretty clear it was the second.”

“We have to assume that if the ship takes off, River is lost,” Mal agreed.

“Then we have to stop it from taking off,” Zoë said adamantly. “No contingency plans. No what ifs unless it makes us a better plan.”

Mal placed a hand on her shoulder to quiet her but she shrugged him off.

“We’re losing time!”

“We need a plan,” Mal countered quietly.

Zoë grunted in angry frustration, but channeled it toward ideas. “The Ward will be connected to any high-capacity hospital in town, probably by underground rail. We take Uncle Simon in for treatment, and once we’re there, it shouldn’t be hard to find the access point. I know what to look for.”

“That gets us in,” Simon said.

“Not with a cannon,” Jayne pointed out. “You can’t stop a ship by looking at it.”

“Don’t our prisoners have a ship stunner-majig?” Kaylee spoke up, chewing thoughtfully on her lip.

“It didn’t do much to us.”

Kaylee shrugged. “It works like a toggle. We already had so much down and it only killed what was fixed. If we can figure out how to run it, it should stop the ship and stun those inside.”

Mal nodded, formulating the plan. “Zoë, you and me are going in hospital-wise to try to find this ship and stop it before it takes off. Kaylee, you and Sky work on the ship stunner-majig and have it ready in case we fail. Jayne, Inara, take the shuttle. If that ship gets past the stunner, don’t let it break atmo. We have a little over two hours left, then everyone can sleep in tomorrow.”

-----

Mal knelt in front of Cole, holding his one unbroken hand, waiting for Simon to be done so he could carry him to the shuttle. Kaylee and Simon were talking to their kids about what was going on and Simon was showing them what to do if Michael stopped breathing again. Jamie started crying and Kaylee did her best to console him. Inara leaned over Michael, whispering soothes, promising she wouldn’t go far and that she’d say his song the whole time.

Mal looked at Cole’s hand, so tiny inside his own. He didn’t have any words to say. If only he’d kept Cole with him instead of sending him to the Infirmary. It was supposed to have been safer there. How could he have known.

Cole’s fingers twitched inside his, and suddenly the boy pitched forward, nuzzling his face against Mal’s neck. Mal hugged him, rocking gently.

“I’m so sorry, Baba,” Cole whispered, his voice drowned in guilt, but dry of tears. Mal wished he’d cry.

“What are you talking about, little hero? You saved my skin, and you did it without breaking the night-vision goggles.”

It failed to get a laugh, but he felt Cole sigh and relax a little.

“And look at your little brother,” Mal continued, tilting their embrace sideways so Cole could see. “Look at him, breathing, talking to Mama. You saved his life. You know that right? So what are you sorry about?”

Cole buried his face miserably in Mal’s shoulder. Mal ran a hand through his hair, and held onto his son until the others stood, ready to go.

“You sit tight, now,” Mal told Cole, pulling back. “There’s work to be done. Mama and I have to save the ship … again.”

Cole’s breathing quickened. “Can I come?”

He didn’t want to help; he just didn’t want to be left alone. Mal stroked the hair away from his face and smiled gently. “No. You wait here with the other kids. Stay with Michael so he won’t be lonely.”

Cole looked back at Michael, then nodded obediently. Mal stood and backed away. With one last look at his parents, Cole scooted around, and then laid down next to Michael, putting his one good arm across tenderly Michael’s chest. He started that word game the kids always played when they were told to sit still and wait for trouble to pass. Genny informed him that Michael’s hearing aid was broken, so Cole spelled the word out in sign. Genny and Jamie joined the game. All the kids were using sign, and Mal watched, mesmerized, because he never knew they’d learned it.

“You think we’ll get there in time to save River?” Kaylee asked, touching his arm.

Mal didn’t answer. He just motioned the others to help him get Simon up the stairs and into the shuttle. Before taking off, he checked to make sure they had sufficient survival gear for three. Inara touched his arm.

“Zoë first,” she said. He understood. She was telling him not to let Zoë sacrifice herself for River. The kids were always first in this. That was why there was so much opportunity to fail. Mal would protect Zoë first. Sky and Kaylee had the rest of the kids to consider. Inara and Jayne were their last leg of defense, and the only ones not seconding their mission to the safety of the kids. In all likelihood, either they would die, or River would. Mal pulled Inara close and kissed her sadly, but she turned away.

“That was a lousy victory kiss,” she teased, and then she stood on tip-toe and pecked his cheek before pulling out of his embrace. “Try again after we’ve won.”

-----

Chapter 9