Serenity barreled toward Niska’s space station like a huge, glowing bullet. The station was still in orbit around Persephone, but as Mal drew the ship closer, River placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. “He’s not there,” she said distantly, staring into oblivion. “They’re still on the planet.” “Gotcha,” Mal replied. He didn’t think he could ever bring himself to second-guess the girl’s intuition again. It seemed that their bond grew stronger and stronger by the day, and recent events were turning out to be the biggest kicker. Mal was still beating himself up inside for what had occurred earlier. *Should’ve stayed, made sure he was actually dead. Never thought the kid would live through that, but should've made sure...* “It’s okay,” River assured him. “We’re going back now, and that’s what’s important.” “No,” Mal argued calmly, “saving the kid is what’s important.” “Don’t worry,” River explained, moving to sit in the copilot’s chair. She drew her bare knees to her chin and hugged her legs to herself. “Just let me go first, and nobody will get hurt.” Mal eyed her apprehensively, but didn’t argue. Even if they could save the young man, Mal feared for his sanity. He hadn’t been entirely stable when they’d been reunited, and Mal feared what they would find when they reached him. *If we can’t pull Gabriel outta this mess, I promise that he won’t remain alive in Niska’s hands. If we can get him outta there, though, I swear to God for the first time in years, I’ll make him an honorary member of the crew. I swear it...* He sighed deeply. *I won’t lose another one; I just won’t.* Mal was fairly confident that River had heard what he thought, but to his gratitude, she said nothing. “You sure you want to be on point for this operation?” he inquired, looking in her direction. River stared at the captain. “I love him,” she confided. “I honestly do. And he saved you. Now, I’m going to save him.” Mal was taken aback. “Well, that was quick,” he blurted. Then, more sarcastically, he added, “Just make sure you invite me to the wedding.” River shot him one of her famous, side-glance scowls that melted hearts. “Don’t be a boob.” Her gaze returned to the window, and she said nothing more.

Niska wiped the blood from his hands with a cloth as he took a break from the torture. Malcolm Reynolds had held up very well under Niska’s attention, but somehow, the younger man seemed to be holding himself together even more impressively. *Yes, this will be an interesting project, indeed...* “Sir,” one of his men reported, breaking Niska’s thought, “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but it appears that your plan is working.” Dropping the cloth onto a nearby desk, Niska turned to the man. “Sooner zan I expected, but continue,” he implored, eyeing the servant intently. The man licked his lips and took a breath. “The Serenity has entered the atmosphere. Its landing coordinates are, as yet, unknown to us, but they have definitely returned.” Niska rubbed his palms together, his eyes scanning the warehouse’s neglected second-story executive office. “Excellent,” he preened. “And ze transport of mercenaries have arrived by now?” The messenger nodded. “They have, Sir. Over one hundred men, armed and in position.” “Very good, indeed,” Niska crooned, more for his benefit than for the man standing before him. “We certainly do not want a repeat of ze last time.” He took a bottle of fresh water from another nearby attendant and drank a sip. “Yes, Mister Reynolds,” he spoke into the air, “it is time, at last, to see who truly has ze keener wits.”

Gabriel was aware of his chin resting against his collarbone. He couldn’t remember what they’d been doing to him, but his entire skeleton felt as if it had shattered and was now proceeding to burn slowly. He knew this much for certain: he was glad for the chance to rest. Through the cloud of pain, exhaustion, and delirium, Gabriel tried to remember something other than his own name. Was he still in the Alliance Facility? Had he been shot, or captured, trying to escape? No… that didn’t seem right. He’d been somewhere… been on a ship. The only clear memory that finally arose was that of a pale, gorgeous young woman with deep, dark eyes and long hair. He knew her, but Gabriel could not bring himself to draw her name from the deep recesses of his brain. Therefore, he contented himself with focusing on the face, drawing some of the pain from his conscious thought as the image shoved agony aside. He couldn’t recall who she was, but as he watched the face, strong feelings for her that he still retained began to surface. *Focus on the face, don’t forget the face...* He knew it was his only chance of retaining some tiny semblance of sanity. Suddenly, the face spoke. *Gabriel,* she whispered in his head, but her mouth was not moving. *I’m sorry,* he thought. *Very sorry. I can’t remember your name...* *It’s okay,* the young girl reassured him. *You don’t have to remember my name. Just focus on staying alive, both physically and mentally. Block everything else out if you have to, but remember only that I am here.* Gabriel nodded, and the pain edged in closer around the face. *I can’t forget you,* he thought, fire in his mental tone. *I can’t.* *Don’t,* she instructed. *Just hold on, and don’t give up!* Suddenly, the girl’s face was replaced by a grinning old man’s features. Gabriel tensed up, glaring with hatred as the room swirled back into existence around him. “Welcome back to consciousness, Mister Gabriel,” Niska hissed, raising a red-hot iron poker to the prisoner’s sight. “It appears zat your captain has returned for you, after all.” *Sergeant Reynolds!* Gabriel thought, a memory snapping back to him. *I was on his ship...* Rage began building in him at the thought of his greatest role model and old friend falling willingly into a trap that was his fault. Niska leaned forward, waving the glowing iron back and forth. “I assure you, young man, ze mistake will be his last.” He lowered the poker and jabbed. The excruciating, burning agony tore through Gabriel’s very soul, pounding a much-sought memory into the front of his mind. He threw his head back and howled, “RIVERRRR!!!”

“Don’t like this Niska character,” the mercenary grumbled. “Gives me the creeps.” Rad grunted an agreement, tapping his assault rifle against his thigh. “Don’t bother me none, long’s I get paid. An’ Niska ain’t never stiff on payin’.” He hoped that would shut the guy up, but the other merc kept right on talking. “Don’t unsettle ya none that we’re standin’ out here to guard ‘im while he’s inside cuttin’ some poor rutter up?” A low buzz that had been irritatingly droning in the background rose to a soft rumble. Rad gritted his teeth. Between that noise, and this loudmouth… “Gorram it, it don’t bother me a bit; I’m gettin’ paid, and that’s that. So gwon nee ju jee du shu. We’re s’posed to be expectin’ these characters to show any time now, anyhow, so just…” Rad nearly jumped out of his skin as the rumble exploded into a tremendous roar overhead and the sunlight was blocked. The mercs jerked their heads up in time to see a starship just above the rooftops. As the front ramp dropped, Rad raised his rifle, opening his mouth to shout something, but he never got his chance. Fast as lightning, a wraith descended, darting from the ship to the nearby rooftop, and then dropping to the ground amidst the squad of hired soldiers. Moving like water, the shadow set to work dispatching the men with superhuman rapidity and dual-wielded assault rifles, the shots fast, accurate, and unhesitating. Some of the nearby groups of mercenaries rushed to the scene, while others began firing from their respective positions, but it was no use. A wraith can’t be killed…

Niska straightened at the sound of gunfire. He eyed Gabriel evilly. “Ze trap closes,” he explained. “I regret zat I must depart your company prematurely, but as zey say, ‘rats always abandon a sinking ship’. Although in zis case, it is an exploding warehouse.” He tossed Gabriel a wink and moved for the rear exit. “Alas, I regret zat ze rest of your rescuers should perish with you, but I will give Captain Reynolds your regards when I capture him shortly.” With this last piece of information, he exited the office. A dead calm came over Gabriel. His pounding heart slowed its beats tremendously as he gathered himself together. *This is not gonna happen,* he thought. *It’s just not. River, I’m sorry...* Gabriel’s energy reserves exploded into tangible form. He strained every scientifically-advanced muscle in his body against the heavy chains holding him to the support post, his feet digging into the wooden floor until it began to splinter beneath his heels. With every second that he failed to break free, the force he exerted upon the chains and the beam doubled. So focused on the task at hand was he, that he did not hear the cracking, snapping sounds of the wooden ceiling and floor giving way. He did not feel the splinters of wood hitting his skin as they fell. With a final, agonizing groan of failure, the post broke free from its position, allowing the broken section of ceiling to sag under its own weight. Stumbling, falling to his knees and attempting to maintain balance, Gabriel gripped the post with both of his restricted hands and pulled upward. Inch by inch, the post moved, painfully, between his back and the chains until it was free of both. Gabriel sluggishly shrugged the chains from his arms and torso. He shook his head to relieve the dizziness, but it didn’t work. He’d begun to bleed again, and although he fought it, unconsciousness began creeping into the corners of his mind once more. Pressing a blood-slick hand against the wall to steady himself, the newly-freed captive struggled to his feet.

Mal guided the shuttle to a landing in the alley behind the warehouse. From Serenity, he’d seen mercenaries in the back, but they all seemed to have moved around the front to assist in the battle. Mal’s concern wasn’t for River; the girl was more elite with the handling of firearms than anyone he’d ever heard of before, and Jayne was covering her from the ship with his rifle. The way she’d taken down that first wave of mercs… “Here we go,” Mal muttered, more to himself than to Zoe. “Hope Gabriel’s alone, but I doubt it.” There was also a bit of concern regarding the boat; with Zoe and himself taking the shuttle, and River performing merc-slaughter, the piloting of the ship was currently Kaylee’s responsibility. Granted, though, the mechanic, who had little experience with the piloting aspect of a ship, had only to hold altitude and position while the battle occurred. Even with the lack of experience, Mal trusted Kaylee to hold her end of the rope together, so he pushed the thought out of his mind. “Stay here,” he told Simon, who was awkwardly holding his rifle, “and don’t let nobody near the ship that ain’t one of ours. Soon as we get back, be ready to do some doctorin’.” “Worry about yourselves,” Simon recommended. “I’ll be just fine.” Mal nodded to Simon in confidence, then nodded to Zoe in confirmation. “Let’s do this,” Zoe told him evenly, and they ran out the hatch and into the alley. Hugging the wall and creeping left along the building toward the rear entrance, they saw no threats at all, which edged a heightened caution into Mal’s demeanor. “Don’t like this, Sir,” Zoe whispered from behind him. “There should be somebody, *any*body...” “I know,” Mal hushed, moving his head to follow his gun. *Just wait for it...* “Ahh,” the familiar and unsurprising voice of Niska called from around the far left corner of the warehouse, and several dozen mercenaries filed into the alley, aiming several dozen firearms at the pair. Niska himself appeared, staying safely within the screen of soldiers. “And now, my trap has caught ze quarry.” He twined his fingers together, pleased with himself. “Your mistake was in who you thought the quarry was,” came Inara’s voice from behind him, and her voice was backed with fifty armed city guards. “Now, the quarry should come quietly.” “Adelai Niska,” one of the officers announced, “you are under arrest.” Growling in frustration, Niska turned, waving a hand, and his hidden rooftop shooters began firing into the files of policemen. As Niska used the diversion to dash away, Mal fired several shots at his fleeing form, but was too late. Mal and Zoe both dove for sparse cover as a firefight erupted. “I’m goin’ after Niska!” he shouted into her ear. “Try to get inside and find Gabriel!” He turned and sprinted back along the wall, hoping to cut the nemesis off before he could make his escape…

Gabriel stumbled along the ground floor wall, gripping anything he could tightly for balance. His journey was almost complete. *Just a few... more... steps...* There wasn’t a molecule in his body that didn’t ache with pain, and he could barely see where he was going. He mostly moved by feel. *Right side of building, nearest window... gotta find... Gorrammit, there were windows all over the place when I first came in here...* Finding a target at last, he used what little strength was left to throw himself at the boarded, broken window. His reactions and awareness being slowed, it took him a second to realize he was outside before he tumbled into the sun-baked dust. “Gabriel!” came a shout, dim over the thunder of gunfire from both directions, but he finally realized that it was Zoe. Dropping to a knee, she pulled him against the wall as stray bullets zipped by from both the front and the rear of the building. “Don’t…” he growled painfully into her ear, “don’t let anyone go inside! Doors’re all rigged, explosives…” “I understand!” she shouted back. “What’s…” he managed weakly, “…what’s the situation?” “What?” Zoe asked, unable to hear his mumble over the deafening noise. “What’s our situation?” he spoke, more loudly this time. “Battle in front and back of the building. Inara’s client has a lot of sway on Persephone, and she managed to get the local police involved. River’s up front layin’ waste, and Jayne’s above in the ship, covering her.” She moved to a squatting position beside Gabriel’s head, turning his face to look at her. “How bad are you hurt?” Gabriel gritted his teeth and pushed himself into a sitting position. “Pretty weak, but I can move, with help.” He could barely hear his own voice over the din. Zoe nodded that she understood. “Let’s get you to the shuttle, then,” she instructed. “If this fight goes badly our way, we’re gonna have to leave planet in a hurry.” She helped him to his feet, and crouching, they both scurried toward the back of the warehouse. “Keep your head down; there’s a lot of gunfire comin’ our way in the back alley.”

Jayne hung, suspended in his harness above the open bottom hatch and the gunfight thirty meters below. He fired again, and another merc’s brain burst into fine mist. It didn’t matter how many he shot; River always seemed to kill fifteen for his every one, and she was on the ground. The younger Tam sibling moved so quickly and lithely, she rarely had to take cover. She never, ever missed. *Girl ain’t human,* Jayne thought, plugging yet another skull. *Just ain’t human.* Although he and River were outnumbered fifty to one at the beginning of the battle, the mercenaries still showed obvious signs that they were losing. The crossfire storm that raged beneath the ship was so vicious that the dust of the street rose into a cloud so thick, Jayne had trouble seeing through it to fire Vera accurately. *At least, they can’t see good ‘nuff to get off many potshots at me...* The most astonishing part, however, was that, amidst the thickest of the bullet hell in front of the warehouse, River Tam had yet to be struck with a single shot. She whirled and twisted, firing round after round, and when she ran out of bullets, she paused behind cover just long enough to reload. Then, she was right back at it, creating a death-scoring field of bullets around her. Vera barked again and again. *Yep, definitely ain’t human.*

Two blocks, a right, and a left, and Niska’s trail led Mal to a ladder mounted to the side of a building. He scaled the rungs quickly, stopping at the top to cautiously poke his head over the lip. There was no trap; Niska was hobbling quickly toward a shuttle. Throwing caution to the wind, Mal threw himself over the edge of the roof, standing and shouting, “Niska!” When the man didn’t slow or turn, Mal fired his pistol past the old man’s head. The round ricocheted off the side of the shuttle, and Niska halted in his tracks, just short of the shuttle entry. Mal holstered his gun and took several steps forward. “Turn around,” he ordered, and Niska immediately complied. Niska’s typically wretched smile creased his weathered face. “Captain Reynolds,” he observed. “And now, what do you plan to do next?” Without answer, Mal drew a pistol from a calf holster and tossed it to the roof. It skidded along, stopping in front of Niska. “Pick it up,” he instructed. “It’s loaded and chambered.” Niska’s smile vanished, and he stared at the captain in confusion and astonishment. Mal flexed his gun hand, which was hanging loosely at his right side. “This is the third occasion where we’ve tangled,” Mal explained, the determination so hardened on his face that his skull should have shattered. “There will *not*, I *promise* you, be a fourth.”