Disclaimer: For those of you who've been out on the Rim too long, Joss Whedon owns Firefly. I love Joss. I love Firefly. Its writers, crew and shiny cast. God bless them all.

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ELEVEN INHERENT METAPHORIC PARALLELS – Part 2

“Taikong suoyou di xingqui dou sai jin wo de pigu!”

“Whoa, Kaylee!” Mal exclaimed, clamping his hands down over his ears. “You could take a man's ears off with words like them. Specially if he had a weakness in that area.,” he said, absent-mindedly tracing a finger down the scar behind his left ear.

Kaylee flushed. “Didn't see you there, Cap'n.”

He crossed the engine room floor to stand beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. “So mei-mei, what's got you all tetchified?”

“Well, Simon was s'posed to be teachin' me some of that fancy dancin' you an' 'Nara was doin' at the ball...” She ignored his small frown of disapproval. “But then this happened. Looks like that poor animal has gotten real hungry. Look.” She knelt down and pointed to a frazzled piece of wiring. “Eaten clean through it. Knocked out our nav-com an' the cortex link.”

“Can it be fixed?”

“Sure. 'S fiddly, is all.”

“Here, let me give you a hand. I ain't a complete mechanical dummy.”

She smiled broadly at him. “That's good. This is 'lectrics.”

They worked in companionable silence to strip back the wire and repair the damage. Finally Kaylee nodded. “That's it, Cap'n. Good job.”

Their satisfaction was short-lived. Almost immediately the comms system crackled into life. “Firefly class vessel Serenity – by order of the Alliance of Unified Planets, you are ordered to land immediately.”

* * * * * * * * * *

This time the feds were all over Mal. Should've been careful what you wished for, he admonished himself as he was pushed into a cell at the federal police station.

He looked around. Bare walls and a small high window scarcely large enough to see the sky through. A concrete shelf for a bed. A bucket in the corner. It was all unpleasantly reminiscent of the processing station where he and Zoe had been held after the war.

The light visible through the window faded and disappeared. Mal lay down on the shelf and closed his eyes. Pretended to sleep.

Next morning a federal agent burst into the cell and roughly fastened handcuffs around Mal's wrists before pushing him along a corridor and into an interview room.

Burghan faced him again. “I don't like you, Captain – Sergeant Reynolds. Don't like you or your sort. Full of high falutin' so-called principles. Think you're better than the rest of us. Think you're so smart. Well, you're not. You're just browncoat scum. Sooner we get rid of you, the better the Alliance will run.”

Mal's face gave nothing away but his mind was working overtime. They've got nothing on me, he reasoned. Otherwise Burghan wouldn't be stooping to personal insults.

Burghan stood up and leafed through the papers attached to his clipboard. “We're keeping a file on you, Reynolds. And in the meantime, we've put a landlock on that piece of feiwu you call a ship. Alliance air space is no place for a malcontent such as yourself.” He paused in the hope of a reaction but none came. He signalled to his subordinate to remove the cuffs. “You're free to go. For the time being.”

* * * * * * * * *

“A problem is simply an opportunity in disguise,” Inara said encouragingly.

Mal scowled darkly at her. “You're startin' to sound like the Preacher.”

Her smile was polite, if a little patronizing. “You need some of his faith.”

“No,” Mal said slowly. “What I need is my genius mechanic and my ... my. playboy pilot...” Wash hung his head as Zoe gently cuffed him round the head...”to make this work.”

“So, no pressure then?” Wash said gloomily. “What d'you reckon Kaylee?”

Kaylee popped her head out from under the flight deck where she was lying, fiddling with the wiring and gave the faces looking down at her a dazzling smile. “Piece o' cake!”

River dropped to her knees beside her. “No power in the 'verse can stop Kaylee. Nor Serenity.” She said it as though it were a matter of incontravertible fact.

“Sshh, River, “ Simon whispered to her. “Don't go getting everyone's hopes up.”

Mal gave him a hearty slap between the shoulder blades. “Now then, top three percent. Don't go argui' with your sister. She's makin' perfect sense to me.”

“OK, Wash,” Kaylee called up from under the deck. “On my count of three, reverse the thrusters and double-disengage the brakes.”

Wash stared intently at the panel of lights before him.

“Three, two...ONE!” Wash's hands were a blur of activity as he flicked switches, slid knobs and pressed buttons.

There was a moment's silence, then the engine's roar filled the ship. Even over its din, a collective sigh of relief could be heard in the room.

Mal looked down at the display screen. “Landlock over-ride” flashed in blue letters.

“You can't take the sky from me,” River said softly.

* * * * * *

“Did you have to use my scalpel for that?” an exasperated Simon demanded of Jayne.

“Needed somethin' real sharp,” Jayne told him. “Besides, didn't wanna take the edge off Binky.”

“I'm not sure this is a suitable place for disembowelling,” Inara said, looking at the mess of fur and blood on the dining table. “I don't think Mal will be very pleased.”

Jayne just grinned broadly. “'Course he will. I done my job, ain't I? This little varmint,” he picked up the skin and waved it around like a trophy, “ain't gonna be takin' the food out of our mouths no more.”

He went over to the sink and began washing the animal skin carefully.

“Tell me you're not going to keep that?” Simon marvelled at the mercenary's continuing ability to appal and disgust.

“I think it's kinda beautiful,” Kaylee said as Jayne lay the ginger pelt back down on the table. She ran her fingers through the soft fur. “What sort of animal was it, Jayne?”

Mal viewed the skin with satisfaction as he entered the room. “Fox. A predator from Earth-that-was that spread right through the 'verse. One of the few that kills just for the fun of it. Or so they say.”

“What you plannin' to do with the skin, Jayne?” Kaylee asked..

Jayne cocked his head to one side and considered for a while. “Gonna make myself a mighty fine hat!” he decided. “A pioneer's hat. Like that Daniel Crocket fella.”

“Oh, but it's damaged,” Kaylee said sadly, placing her finger over what looked like a small tear. “You musta been cutting too quick.”

Mal and Jayne exchanged a look as, with a degree of embarassment Simon said, “That's its pigu, Kaylee.”

She withdrew her hand with a start as Jayne and Mal started laughing.

In a gallant attempt to spare Kaylee's blushes, Simon turned to Jayne. “You're going to wear a hat with a pigu on it?” He shook his head in disbelief. “What does that say about you?”

“Says I ain't afraid of nothin'. Not even a fox ass hat!”

* * * * * * * * * FYI, the eleven inherent metaphoric parallels were: “Wants to kill us.” “The Commissioner is very unhappy about your pilot.” The Commissioner. “We're not convinced he should be your husband at all.” The Alliance. “Think you're better than the rest of us. Think you're so smart.” “Alliance air space is no place for a malcontent such as yourself.” Landlock over-ride. “One of the few that kills for fun.” The Fox. The hat.