Sparks Fly

Okay, ready or not, here I come...more fiddler scribbles. This is the third story. Let me know if you need a breather, and I'll wait longer before posting the next one.

The thanks and acknowledgements come first. My sister beta reads for me, and she started with Adventures in Sitting and has read all the others since then. I got inspiration from Guildsister, Mal4Prez, and Cliosmuse, mainly for non-dialog treatment of Zoe, Mal and Inara. This story was originally in script form, and was written before I had read any other fanfiction, but I re-wrote it some months later in regular prose, and by that time I'd probably read most of what the above-named fanfic writers had posted.

Sparks Fly (03)
Part (01)

Follows ADVENTURES IN SITTING (02). Precedes EXPECTATIONS (04).


Sparks fly on Serenity. Mal and Inara try to talk without fighting, and Jayne sees a sight calculated to freeze off his…you know.

* * *

Serenity floated placidly along in the black, her cavernous belly full of large cargo crates bound for the dusty world of 尘球 Chén Qíu, a staging area for an ongoing terraforming operation on a nearby moon. Secreted somewhere within this perfectly legal cargo was a mysterious something that Mal had been asked to deliver personally to Jack Holden, head of branch operations on 尘球 Chén Qíu for Holden Brothers Interplanetary Shipping. Buck Holden, head of Holden Brothers’ main office on Beaumonde, hadn’t told him exactly what the mysterious something was, and as a matter of policy, Mal hadn’t asked. He knew it was dangerous enough to have cost three ship captains their fare, if not their lives. He didn’t intend to be the fourth.

* * *

She hadn’t known how many ways it was possible to miss a person. She missed Wash profoundly when she was alone in their bunk, and not just when she was alone in bed, either, though that kind of missing had a physical yearning to it that was hard to ignore. She missed being called “lamby-toes” and “秋花 qiū huā.” She missed having pillow fights in the nude. She missed Wash on the bridge. She could still detect his scent in the seat cover, though the back of the chair had been replaced. She missed the dinosaur plays. The dinos were still there, but they didn’t speak anymore. She missed his welcome when she returned to the ship from a meet. No one else made such a fuss over the mere fact of her being alive and unharmed. She missed how he was a newshound—not so much else to do but watch the Cortex when he was waiting for them all to return from a job. She missed how he was able to inform her of the petty scandals afflicting the lives of Core celebrities for whom she 并不在乎 bìngbùzàihu—she loved hearing about them because he wanted to tell her. She missed his corny sense of humor. She missed his appreciation of her cooking, and the names he came up with for her culinary experiments, like “wife soup.” She missed him when she was conferring with Mal about a job, because Wash had been the third wheel of the executive council, irreverently challenging Mal’s command decisions in a way that was both valuable and irritating. She missed him at the dining table, because his sense of humor had added so much humanity to mealtimes. She missed the way he was so often not at the dining table, and found herself still thinking about fixing a plate full of the best food on offer to take to him on the bridge. She missed him when she was surrounded by everyone else, because he was her other half, and the funny half at that. She missed him at hoop ball, because he could always be counted on for an assist. She missed him when she read poetry—something she’d never done before she met Wash, and something that none of her other shipmates knew she did. Wash had enjoyed poetry. Had a taste for it. Liked to compose his own. Was mediocre at the classic style but had a shiny talent for indecent limericks.

How do I miss thee? Let me count the ways…

* * *

She knew Inara was a professionally trained counselor—it was part and parcel of being a Companion, another one of those things that separated Companions from whores—but she avoided talking it out with Inara. Inara would be sympathetic, maybe too sympathetic for Zoe. Zoe just wasn’t one of those touchy-feely kind of people. She didn’t want someone to tell her to express her feelings, let the grief out, share tears. She didn’t want someone to say, “Who needs a hug?” and give her one. Didn’t want tea and cookies.

She may not have wanted to express her grief publicly, but she also did not want Wash forgotten. Although she rarely, if ever, brought up Wash’s name herself, it still bothered her that the others avoided it too. She knew it was out of concern for her—they didn’t want to remind her of her pain. The foolishness of it just made her angry. Hell, it weren’t as if they’d be reminding her of something she’d forgotten, now, would it? That she’d hear them say his name and suddenly remember that she’d lost her husband.

Mal was the only one who understood. He had seen so much death, and understood the pain of loss all too well. He knew she didn’t want anybody’s pity, didn’t even want sympathy, much. Just someone who understood. Mal checked in with Zoe frequently, asked how she was faring with a glance, caught from her look whether she was having a good day or a bad, and let her know with another look that he understood, never dwelling on the pain. Gave her work to do so that she didn’t have to dwell on the pain. Let her know that he still thought about Wash, and often. It was Mal who kept Wash’s plastic dinosaurs on the bridge, straightening them up when he thought no one was looking. It was Mal who would mention Wash’s name in passing when she was around, ignoring the looks and shushing of the others. Occasionally Mal would be goaded into trying to be sensitive and supportive, and he’d try to offer consolation in more overt ways—asking if she was alright, even touching her hand. But she’d set him straight, and he’d go back to the role he fulfilled much better—her other other half, the friend and colleague who never failed her, who accepted her unconditionally, as she was, who gave her support and who always watched her back.

Wash was her husband, and she was a widow. But she still had a family, and that was the crew of Serenity. At times, her family brought her out of grief, and she began to live again, even if only in temporary fits and starts. One evening, Simon and Kaylee brought her out of the numbness of her grief, by talking of home, of all things. Kaylee hadn’t seen her family for more than a year now, and was missing them something fierce. Her homesickness reminded Simon that he had lost his Osiris home, that he was an exile. And that’s when Zoe began telling them stories about her youth. She never had a home planet—she’d been born and raised aboard a spaceship. But she always had a home. Her earliest memories were of her mother and father, ship’s pilot and captain, respectively, and herself, traveling through the black.

“…and there we were, out in the black, completely turned around. Mamma thought she recognized the star cluster on our port bow, so we headed that way, and this planet loomed up.” Kaylee and Simon regarded her with eager faces, urging her to continue. “It was not Verbena, needless to say. In fact, when we got close enough to recognize it, it was the same mining moon we started out from.”

“You went full circle?” Simon asked.

“Your nav sats musta been miscalibrated,” Kaylee offered, unable to resist diagnosing the mechanical issue. “Or maybe the boards was shorting.”

“Smart woman!” Zoe replied. “One of ’em shorted out.”

“Now let me guess. The back-up unit had the nav feeds crossed, so the signal was reversed.”

“Right again, Kaylee.” The girl really was a mechanical genius. “When the shorted one went off line, Mamma switched to the back-up nav, and from then on we were circling back to where we started.”

“I’m glad to hear there’s a back up,” Simon said. “I mean, what if all the nav sats failed? How would you know where you were going?”

“Well, that’s why you fly with back-up nav sats.” Kaylee was well-qualified to answer: she had installed the units herself. “We have three. But they don’t often fail. They’re very reliable machines. It’s a good thing, too, ’cause except for the nav feed, the whole thing is external. If they was prone to breakin’ down, you’d have to go for a space walk every time they needed fixing.”

“I think I’ll pass on the space walk,” Simon said, shuddering at his memories of his few times in a spacesuit.

“Me too.” Kaylee had no fondness for spacewalks, either.

“I once read a story, from Earth-that-was, about the ancient sea voyagers,” Simon recounted. “They didn’t have nav sats, of course, and they navigated their way by the stars. I read about a man who sailed for months in uncharted territory, with nothing but a compass and a sextant.”

“He must have had a clock, too,” Zoe stated with certainty.

“You need a clock?”

“Nav sat uses a chronometer,” Kaylee said. “And it still uses the stars. It takes observations, communicates with the cortex, correlates the data, and gives us a fix on our position. Then the pilot uses that to set the course. The flight computers do all the calculating for you.”

“It’s just as well to know how to do it the old fashioned way. Takes a while longer, but Wash always said, with a bit of practice—” Zoe stopped. Gorramit, why couldn’t she even mention his name without that empty feeling taking hold of her heart? She swallowed and tried to regain her stoicism. Simon, good man, tactfully re-directed the conversation past the uncomfortable moment.

“Do you know how to navigate?”

“Not so much, just rule of thumb,” Zoe replied. “Captain can do it.”

* * *

Mal awoke in a darkened room. Smooth silky sheets caressed his limbs and the light scent of incense perfumed the air. This was not his bunk. This was not his bed. The hand on his chest was not his hand. Huh. Inara… A smile spread over his face as the events of the evening came back to him. Best night of his life. He hoped his part in the proceedings had been satisfactory. He’d certainly tried. Given everything he could. Go slowly and pay attention. It was advice his mother had given him, although he was dead certain this was not what she was referring to when she gave it. Best night of his life, and it wasn’t even over. He reached over toward his sleeping beauty, almost not daring to put an arm around her, lest he wake and find the fairy tale not real. She stirred in her sleep and nestled back against his chest. He cuddled her, spoon-fashion, and buried his face in the soothing scent of her hair, drifting back to sleep.

* * *

Zoe walked from the dining area to the bridge to relieve River at the helm, passing the crew quarters on her way. The hatch was open on the Captain’s unoccupied bunk. The Captain’s sleeping well, she thought to herself with a smile, as she entered the bridge.

“Yes, he is,” River said.

Zoe did a take. Had she spoken out loud? “My trick at the helm,” she said to River. “You best get some rest.”

“Sleepy,” River said, referring to Zoe.

“Run along then,” Zoe responded.

* * *

She had felt the attraction for so long, attraction as unavoidable as the gravitational pull between two heavenly bodies. The question was whether they’d pull each other closer, settle into near orbit around each other, or fly by each other at speed, the energy of their attraction flinging the other off into the black. Or they might smash together and both be destroyed in the collision.

It was also a matter of avoiding pain. She knew he already suffered, that pain had been his constant companion for many years now, and she didn’t want to inflict more. She’d wanted to spare him, but last night she realized that he was already too far gone to be spared. Last night his declaration of love had moved her more than she could express. She’d had clients who’d professed undying love, in every form imaginable, to the last syllable of recorded time. But most of the declarations had been offers of patronage, more or less disguised. The last syllable of recorded time was, in her experience, a short interval. She’d never even been tempted to become someone’s Personal Companion, the answers she’d made to that uncivilized 混蛋 húndàn Atherton Wing notwithstanding.

He was not her most skilful partner, certainly not the most experienced, nor even the best physically endowed. Yet his lovemaking touched her in a way that no one else’s ever had. He had devoted himself to her, seeing to her needs and her enjoyment fully and entirely. He gave of himself completely. He had offered her everything, and had given her everything he had. Her whole professional life was focused on the needs of the client. See that he enjoys himself. Tend to his needs. She was so used to fulfilling the needs of her clients, of being the fantasy they yearned for, that the reversal of the situation had her completely turned around. “Spin me about” indeed.

His words had moved her. Their first kiss had sealed their bond. Then every touch, every kiss had melted her completely. Before they even made it to the shuttle she had already reached a peak of sensation such as she had seldom felt before. And from there, she had ridden waves of sensation to a higher plane of pleasure than she had yet experienced. She knew, theoretically, that the female orgasm had a significant mental component. It was this element that carried the sensation beyond the mere pleasure of physical stimulation into the realm of the sublime. She had thought, before, that she’d enjoyed the attentions of a few true lovers among the many clients she had taken. Now she realized that she’d had multitudes of clients—and exactly one lover.

He was sleeping next to her. The worried, tired look she’d seen on his face more or less constantly for the last several weeks was relaxed in repose. He looked years younger, sweeter, more vulnerable. Her smile as she regarded his sleeping form was joyous, and had she been able to see herself, she would have been surprised at the great tenderness reflected in her features. She did not want to wake him, but she couldn’t help reaching over to stroke his hair, then his cheek. He slept through her attentions at first, then began to respond sleepily.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, when he had opened his eyes. She received all the answer she needed in the first look he gave her. Then he opened his mouth.

“Best night in bed I ever had.”

Damn it! Did he have to speak? The sweet, vulnerable lover’s face was covered over with a bit of a smirk. She had asked for it. She made her decision. If she was going to sleep with Mal, she had to learn to talk with Mal—without fighting. Determined not to let anything he said annoy her, she answered, “Flatterer. But you’re not answering the question.”

“It’s the truth Inara. Better ’n I ever imagined…”

“Oh, ho, so you imagined—” she answered, keeping to an amused, bantering tone.

“Are you sayin’ you never imagined—” he challenged.

Oh, she’d imagined all right, in very inappropriate places—at very inappropriate times. It had interfered very seriously with her work. It was the reason she had stopped taking clients. That time, many months ago, that she had nearly called an Alliance officer “Mal” instead of “Ephraim” as he reached climax—that had been the last time. She had come too close to disrespecting her clients, giving them less than the professional attention and courtesy she owed them. “I imagined,” she said simply, whispering, “and it’s better, by far.”

“Whoa, ho, now you’re stretching the limits of credibility here, Inara. You expect me to believe that? Inara, you’ve had—” He really did not want to think about it, didn’t want the shades of those lovers getting in bed between them, not now, not when they’d—“all those lovers—”

“Clients, Mal, not lovers—” she interjected, unable to keep a little asperity out of her voice. The distinction was vividly clear to her.

“—and you expect me to believe I’m—Inara, I ain’t no Leonardo—”

Leonardo? Whatever did he mean? A Renaissance man? What did Leonardo have to do with anything? She puzzled over his meaning.

“—Lorenzo, Don Juan, whatever.” She filled in “Lothario” to herself and smiled a bit. “I’m just an ordinary man. I got no special training—”

“Mal, you don’t need special training. I’m just trying to explain that you are special—to me. You’ve taken me to some place new—”

Mal put his finger on her lips. “I don’t believe it, 射线光 shèxiàn guāng, but it’s the sweetest thing I ever heard. Now let me explain what makes you special to me.” Mercifully, he stopped talking, and proceeded to explain with his hands, lips, and other parts of his body. There were no more words. The heat between them grew, passion flared, and the sparks flew.

* * *

Sparks flew.

On the exterior surface of Serenity, topside, were mounted a number of pieces of equipment. During take-off and landing and all atmospheric maneuvers, these instruments folded down under hatches or were covered with aerodynamic shells, but in space, the hatches and covers opened like flower petals and Serenity sprouted a vast array of sensors, antennas, and solar panels. Most of these items pertained to the communications, navigation, and detection systems of the ship. Key among them were the three nav sats—each one connected to a sophisticated long-range antenna for communication with the array of navigational beacons placed throughout the ’Verse for the use of civilian and military spacecraft. Each nav sat was a self-contained unit, and each one, in coordination with the cortex link that fed them the Universal Time Signal, was fully capable of providing all the navigational information needed for Serenity’s pilot to calculate the ship’s position and plot the course, with the aid of the bridge flightware. Serenity carried three for redundancy. As Kaylee had said, it was a serious matter to be without navigation in the black, and repairs in space were difficult. Repairs were best undertaken planetside, where one could climb the hull and work on the unit without the inconvenience of an EVA suit and gloves. The starboard nav sat was going to be needing some attention. Sparks flew, arcing from the base of the unit, over the bright Blue Sun logo painted on it, right up to the antenna. Sparks flew.

* * *

In the old times, Jayne had rarely had this problem. Sure, there’d been the odd cargo of smuggled cows, but in general, Mal had stuck to good old-fashioned contraband since Jayne joined the crew. Contraband was supposed to stay hidden, which meant it was stowed in the hidey holes, not clutterin’ up the cargo bay with gorram 臭鱼 chòu yú crates. Now a man couldn’t find room for a good workout on account of all the 青蛙的 乱伦 qīngwā de luànlún legitimate cargo in the way. With no one to spot him on free weights, he was aiming to do some pull-ups under the catwalk. Gorram 牛尿 niú niào crates were in the way, and he had to move the handles to another spot. Getting them re-attached at last, he pulled up with vigor and bumped his head on some gorram 拉屎 lāshǐ electrical fixture. A shower of sparks flew about his head and shoulders.

“Gorrammit!” He gave up on pull-ups and headed for the weight bench, which was wedged tightly between a crate and the bulkhead. He added some weights to the bar, lay down, and lifted the bar. Tried to lift the bar. Gorrammit again! Couldn’t lift the 该死的 gāisǐde thing without it bumped right into some piece of 狗屎 gǒushǐ 突出 tūchū sticking outta the side of the crate.

Jayne swore long and loud. It wasn’t especially creative, and he had to recycle some of the cuss words two or three times to pay proper homage to his feelings, but what it lacked in inventiveness it made up for in sincerity. “牛吸 臭鱼 青蛙的 乱伦 Niú xī chòu yú qīngwā de luànlún cargo takes up all the room! At least when we flew contraband, we could shove it in the hidey-holes, outta the way.” Time to throw in the towel. He headed toward the lounge in the passenger dorm, but as he approached he saw Simon and Kaylee sittin’ on the sofa in each other’s laps, laughing. Didn’t want no truck with that. A mood this foul was somethin’ to be treasured, so he stomped upstairs to visit the denizens of the bridge.

* * *

Jayne entered dining room lounge area to find it plunged in darkness. Some 该死的傻瓜 gāisǐ de shǎguā had turned all the gorram lights off, and he bumped into something he couldn’t see. Time to spread the joy. “Hey!” he shouted, “Who turned off all the gorram lights?”

He had his mouth all open to continue when he saw a sight calculated to make a man’s 睾丸 gāowán turn cold and drop off.

River Tam was standing on the coffee table, gazing up and out the skylight, holding a large wooden cross in front of her, gesturing with it towards the sky. She was dressed in some kinda flowing robe thing, muttering to herself, shafts of moonlight lighting her face and crazy hair. Like the High Priestess of…Somewhere Jayne had heard of once.

“What the 圣 臭鱼的 地狱 shèng chòu yú de dìyù are you doin’? Praying to the moon?”

River rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, chanting. Jayne didn’t catch too many of the words. Thought he heard her say, “Sidereal…declination…ascension” and whole strings of numbers. She turned to him with that creepifying smile of hers and said, “Salutations, Jayne,” then turned right back to the sky, touchin’ that cross to her forehead and singin’ out more of them eerie-ass numbers. He weren’t about to stick around with crazy River waitin’ for things to get any more increasingly eerie-ass than they already was, so he made for the bridge double-time.

* * *

Zoe was nodding in the pilot seat when Jayne stormed onto the bridge with all the subtlety of a herd of stampeding cattle. She awoke with a little start she tried hard to repress.

Jayne didn’t notice, and didn’t mince words. “That crazy girl’s startin’ some kind a’ new religion back there.” He gestured toward the lounge.

Well. That woke Zoe up. “New religion? What are you talkin’ about, Jayne?”

“She’s swaying, chanting, shoutin’ out magical words, like she’s trying to put a spell on us all—”

“That does sound a bit…”

Jayne hadn’t even paused for breath. “—holding this—” he gestured “—thing out in front of her, pointing into the sky, shoutin’ out numbers… She done completely lost it, finally cracked. Better put her in a bughouse, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t,” Zoe responded drily.

Jayne was still rolling. “We shoulda let ’em go on Boros, Alliance ain’t after them no more—”

“Jayne, she’s navigating.”

“That what you call it? I call it crazy, and it makes my 睾丸 gāowán curl up. Makes my John Thomas wanna run and hide in the nearest hole.”

Zoe stood. “That’s enough, Jayne. Out.” Zoe didn’t take to coarse expressions having to do with human anatomy. Anyone could see from her expression that she was not in a mood to be crossed. Anyone but Jayne, who lumbered on, oblivious.

“Girl’s crazier than a 潜鸟 qiánniǎo in ruttin’ season, all her eerie-ass 睾丸 收缩 阴茎 变软 gāowán shōusuō yīnjīng biànruǎn crazy talk. Next she’ll get the kitchen knife out and start castrating the crew.”

“Out! Get off my bridge.”

Even Jayne noticed this time. Sparks flew from Zoe’s eyes. She looked to be in a right murderin’ mood. A bit over the top, Jayne thought, considerin’, but he also considered the best course a’ action here was to get gone. He left the bridge, muttering, “Kitchen knife…”

* * *

The starboard nav sat had melted into a pile of fused plastic and metal. The electrical plague that caused the meltdown seemed to be contagious, because now sparks flew about the central nav sat, arcing through the blackness around the unit.

* * *

*

*

*

glossary

尘球 Chén Qíu [a world made up for purposes of my story line, lit. “Dust Ball”]

秋花 qiū huā [autumn flower]

并不在乎 bìngbùzàihu [didn’t give a damn, lit. “did not care at all”]

混蛋 húndàn [scoundrel]

射线光 shèxiàn guāng [ray of light]

臭鱼 chòu yú [fish-stinking]

青蛙的 乱伦 qīngwā de luànlún [frog-humping]

牛尿 niú niào [cow piss]

拉屎 lāshǐ [shitting]

该死的 gāisǐde [damn]

狗屎 gǒushǐ [crap]

突出 tūchū [protrusion]

牛吸 臭鱼 青蛙的 乱伦 Niú xī chòu yú qīngwā de luànlún [cow-sucking fish-stinking frog-humping]

该死的傻瓜 gāisǐ de shǎguā [damn fool]

睾丸 gāowán [stones]

圣 臭鱼的 地狱 shèng chòu yú de dìyù [holy fish-stinking hell]

睾丸 gāowán [balls]

潜鸟 qiánniǎo [loon]

睾丸 收缩 阴茎 变软 gāowán shōusuō yīnjīng biànruǎn [testicle-shrinking penis-softening]


Okay, sorry about all the Chinese words and phrases here…but Jayne kinda got on a roll.

Sparks Fly (03)
Part (02)

Follows (02) ADVENTURES IN SITTING. Precedes (04) EXPECTATIONS.


How did Serenity get so far off course? Jayne offers his unique perspective on orbital mechanics while Mal tries to deal with the crisis.

* * *

Mealtimes were Kaylee’s favorite part of the day on Serenity, ’cause they were the times that brought the whole family together. Everybody was here now, except River who’d eaten quickly and gone to the bridge to relieve Zoe, who hadn’t arrived yet. It was so cute, Kaylee thought, to see the Captain and Inara actin’ so sweet on each other. It was perfectly obvious that they were holdin’ hands under the table, and she reckoned they was also touching feet, and prolly knees and legs too, judging by the way the Cap’n was sittin’. Kaylee nudged Simon’s knee with her own and he caressed her foot with his in response. She knew they weren’t so obvious. Not that Inara was obvious—she was so classy about it, sittin’ with ease and natural style, but the Cap’n looked about like to fall off his chair with the effort of maintaining contact. The platters of food got passed around, and when Jayne tried to hand off the scallion pancakes to the Cap’n, he was so taken up with Inara he didn’t even notice. Jayne finally shoved the platter practically under his nose, and the Cap’n sorta woke up and joined the world for a moment, murmuring a “Thanks, Jayne,” and takin’ the platter in his left hand. That left him in a fix, ’cause he was holdin’ Inara’s hand with his right, and now he couldn’t serve hisself. So he just set there staring at the pancakes. It was so funny Kaylee wanted to laugh, but that wouldn’ta been polite, and she was wonderin’ should she take pity and help the Cap’n outta his fix, or would that just make it worse, if he knew she noticed. But then Inara gracefully solved the problem by serving first Mal, then herself, and then taking the platter and passing it on smoothly. Now the Cap’n had a new problem, which was tryin’ to feed himself with his chopsticks in his left hand, which wouldn’ta been so bad, ’cept he was a right-handed person. He weren’t managing so well, but then he kinda forgot to eat ’cause he was lookin’ at Inara again.

Zoe entered the room briskly and sat down, briefing the Captain as she served herself. “Got the course set, Captain.” Mal and Inara were gazing deep into each other’s eyes, and it was clear he hadn’t heard. “Captain,” she said, a little more sharply, “Captain, the course is set.”

“Course?” asked Mal, suddenly aware of the other people around the table. “Uh, right, Zoe.” He was back with the program, briefly. “Good.” He smiled, not noticing that Zoe had more to say, and drifted away to Inaraland again.

“Captain, number one nav sat is offline. Diagnostic read it as an electrical problem. We’re running with the second unit.”

He coulda sworn that music was playing as he looked into Inara’s eyes. There seemed to be people talking in muffled voices in the background. Inara’s eyes reflected his feelings, in perfect sympathy, as he thought on their glorious night together and his pulse began racing in anticipation of the night to come—

“—Sir, will you pay attention?” Zoe’s loud and pointed voice abruptly cut through his fantasy. He sat up and paid attention. One glance at Zoe was enough to read the reprimand in her look. When had she ever reprimanded him? He acknowledged he mighta deserved the reprimand, and focused on his duty.

“I said, the number one is offline, electrical failure,” Zoe continued. “We’re running with the second nav sat, but it’s reading hot. I’m wondering if there’s a bigger problem.”

“The third unit still reading proper?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s hope it holds on. You see any more signs of trouble with the nav system, call me to the bridge immediately. Kaylee, soon as you’re finished lunch, run a diagnostic on the electrical system, and check the nav feeds.”

* * *

The Captain accompanied Kaylee to the engine room after lunch and assisted her as she ran a full diagnostic on the electrical systems. She carried her handheld around, plugging into the various ports and checking the readings. Mal ran some tests on communications functions via a wall-mounted cortex screen.

“Need a hand with that one?” Mal asked, and plugged Kaylee’s handheld into a ceiling port that she couldn’t reach without a leg up.

“Shiny, Captain.” Kaylee’s only beef with the designers of Serenity’s engine room was the fact that certain critical switches and ports were located above the reach of a five foot five mechanic. It helped to have a six foot one captain around to reach the high spots. “You’re learning your way around the engine room.”

“I learned the hard way that you gotta have back-up, and back-up to the back-up, when it comes to the ship,” Mal said. “Won’t never forget how to install a catalyzer.”

“I believe it.” She looked over the results. “Cap’n, I can’t find anything wrong with the nav feeds, nor the main electrical. I’m seein’ some interference on the helm driver, but it don’t look serious. When we get planetside, I wanna go outside and check it out. May be some cross talk from the busted nav sat.”

“You do that, Kaylee. We should be at 尘球 Chén Qíu in a week. They have a small but decent repair yard there.”

As Mal left the engine room, he encountered Simon on his way there. Doc was fixing to distract his mechanic, he had no doubt. Mal waylaid him. “Hey! Doc! Just the person I need to see.”

“Yes?”

“There’s something I need to ask you about…the infirmary.”

Simon immediately guessed that the Captain was asking for a private consult, and switched into professional mode. “Well, why don’t we go down there? I’ll try to answer your questions.”

* * *

The two men entered the infirmary, and Simon closed the door. He motioned toward the switch that activated the privacy screens on the windows, but Mal waved him off.

“Uh, doc, I’m wondering, uh…” Mal began, uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

Simon already had an idea where this was headed, but it didn’t seem right to show that he had caught on so quickly. He settled for a calm, physicianly “Yes?”

“I…uh…need, um, do you stock, uh…”

“Captain, the infirmary’s well stocked. Are you anticipating a need for something in particular?”

“Well, it’s just that I, uh, you know, people on this boat, might be needing, uh…for, uh, intimate er…”

Relieved that he could at last speak openly and cut short the Captain’s painful stammering, Simon said, “We’re well stocked with contraceptives for both men and women. There’s the oral form and the inoculation. The men’s pill is about 90 percent effective at preventing the transmission of STD’s and about 95 percent effective at preventing a partner’s pregnancy. You take it once a day. The inoculation lasts for a month and is 99 percent effective in preventing pregnancy, about the same for STD’s. Either one is a good choice for a responsible man.” Simon was feeling rather responsible himself. “Would you like to give one of them a trial?”

“A trial, good idea, that’s—I’ll take the inock.”

Simon prepared the inoculation.

* * *

River took Zoe completely by surprise. She had been nodding off on pilot duty again, and this time she could not repress her start.

“River?”

“I’m not sleepy,” River said defensively.

Just who was that girl speaking of? Zoe thought. “I thought you were in bed. It’s my watch, you should get some rest.”

“There’s a problem,” River stated.

Zoe looked over the instrument panel, puzzled. Everything looked to be in good order. Well, everything other than the nav sat that’d already gone haywire before. Then as she watched, the alert sounded.

* * *

There is no sound in space. Sound requires a medium of transmission, such as air or a metal hull. If a nav sat explodes in space, does it make a sound? It certainly makes a flash.

* * *

“What’s this?” Zoe immediately investigated the alert. “Second nav sat’s down. Let’s get the third—该死 gāisǐ,” she said as the screen flashed “nav sat 3 unable to read” right below the “nav sat 2 off-line” already on it. “Call the Cap—” she began.

River was already speaking into the comm. “Captain, you’re needed on the bridge.”

* * *

Mal had heard two muffled thuds transmitted through the hull of his ship, and was already on alert when River’s voice sounded on the comm. He took the steps two at a time and arrived at the bridge directly. Zoe and River were busy with their view screens, checking readings and following up on the alert. The first thing Mal noticed as he looked out into the black was a planet looming unusually large amongst the stars.

“What’s going on?” he asked. He recognized the planet. “那死的地方 Nà sǐ de dìfang.”

“Trajectory projections are off, Captain,” River reported. “Our reported position doesn’t match visuals.”

Mal shared a dark, significant look with Zoe. She recognized the planet, too.

“Our course shouldn’ta run us anywhere near that planet,” Mal said, more to River than to Zoe. “How’d we get so far off course?” he asked, more to Zoe than to River.

Zoe avoided answering that question. “Helm’s not responding, sir,” she reported. “We just lost nav sat two—and three.”

“Pull up a nav link on the cortex—”

River was tapping something into her keyboard as he spoke. “Unable to connect to the cortex, Captain.” She continued her tapping, initiating a helm diagnostic sequence.

“We got a sky chart on board, sir,” Zoe noted.

Mal took Zoe’s seat at the helm and tried the controls. He let out a string of fluent Mandarin under his breath. River caught the words: Half a million battle dead, buried in Serenity Valley. “Run a diagnostic on the helm,” Mal ordered, and River popped the results of the just-completed diagnostic onto his screen. “Right, thanks, River,” he said, assessing the results. “We got gyros, attitude thrusters, but no trig functions, no ephemeris, 该死 gāisǐ…” he enumerated, skimming down the list. “We are far too close to that 墓地 mùdì planet, with a non-responsive helm. No telling what the gravity slingshot off of Hera will do to our course.”

“Captain, I can calculate—” River offered.

“No thanks, Albatross. Won’t take us where we’re supposed to go, that’s all I need to know now. Kaylee!” he hollered into the comm.

* * *

Kaylee rolled out from under the flight desk. “Captain, the helm problem’s not mechanical. Don’t see no cross-feeds nor shorts. We can try a re-boot.”

Mal eyed the looming planet. He judged that they needed to take some action before the lengthy system re-boot could complete. “We don’t have time now. We gotta act before we get slung the wrong way by that 致命 zhìmìng planet. We gotta slow her down.”

“I can shut down the engine,” Kaylee offered.

“That won’t do it, our momentum will still carry us forwards. And right now we’re set for that 可怕的地方 kěpà de dìfang to fling us off into the black. Go for a reverse thrust, ease the way off her. We need a position fix, calculate the vector, and see if we can park her in orbit while we sort out the helm and navs.” Zoe began to execute the reverse thrust.

By this time, everyone had come up to the bridge. Inara and Simon lurked just outside the door, knowing that they’d be more or less in the way of bridge crew’s work. Jayne had no such compunctions and parked himself right in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Inara asked.

“That’s not our destination, is it?” asked Simon, peering around the bulk of Jayne’s body.

Mal shot him a dark look. Zoe’s dark look misfired, and landed on Jayne.

“Are we gonna crash?” Jayne asked.

“No, Jayne,” Zoe answered, “the opposite.”

“We’re going to land?” Simon and Jayne were like a tag-team with the 笨 bèn questions.

Mal was gonna lose his temper if he had to hear any more of this 废话 fèihuà. “How do you all think this boat works, anyhow? Just point it at a planet and drive? We’re talkin’ orbital mechanics, people—” He broke off into an annoyed grumble, and turned his attention back to the serious task of working through the problem.

Jayne looked at Kaylee, briefly wondering if she were an orbital mechanic.

Kaylee summarized the situation for the newcomers. “Nav sats are down, we’re off course, and the helm’s not workin’.”

“Know what I think?” Jayne said. “It’s sabotage.”

“Sabotage?” Inara said. “Who would sabotage Serenity?”

“Inara, you got any nav or comm in your shuttle?” Mal asked suddenly.

“I’ll check,” she replied, and raced down the stairs.

“If the shuttle’s got nav, I can work a patch up to the bridge,” Kaylee offered.

“Might hafta do it, Kaylee,” Mal replied. “But it’s limited use. Shuttle’s nav system ain’t a proper interplanetary nav sat—it’s designed to use the short-range global positioning beacons parked in orbit around a world. Both our shuttles are short range, for near-orbit or atmospheric work. They don’t got the long-range antennas needed for interplanetary navigation. Still, could be useful, if—”

“Mal,” Inara’s voice sounded in the comm, “The nav system won’t even light up. I also checked the cortex, it’s completely shut down.” She added, before he could ask, “I’ll check Shuttle Two.”

“Kaylee, can you get us any helm at all?” Mal inquired.

“I’m working on getting the auxiliary helm online, Captain. The broken nav sats are interfering with the helm driver. If I can stop the cross-feed, I might could get the main helm back.”

“Can’t we send a wave?” Simon asked, earning him the Captain’s attention. “To—” he didn’t know what planet or moon he was looking at through the bridge window “—that world, and ask for assistance?” Mal and Zoe both gave him freezing looks, but he continued anyway. It was not a dumb idea. “Surely somebody there can…um, read our position for us, or send us out a new nav…thing in a shuttle, help us install it—”

Sounded reasonable to Jayne. “Ya mean, hire us an orbital mechanic?” he asked.

“I don’t need no help installin’ a nav sat,” Kaylee retorted, with surprising vehemence, while Zoe and the Captain redirected their freezing looks toward Jayne. “I’m perfectly capable of diagnosing this problem myself.”

“And I ain’t callin’ the Feds for help,” Mal stated decisively, and Zoe, without saying a word, backed him up fully. “Fact is, we can’t wave anybody at all, unless—” He directed a questioning look at Inara, who had just returned to the bridge.

“Shuttle Two is the same, Mal. No navigation or communication systems working.” She hesitated before making her offer. “Mal, as long as I knew exactly what piece of equipment we needed, I could fly the shuttle down and—” she was out of her depth here, and guessed “—buy one, and bring it back up…”

“No.” Mal was adamant. “Hera’s atmo is entirely controlled airspace. Can’t land without a clearance from Space Traffic Control. Send a pair of fighter ships after you if you tried. They’d ask you to ident, and since your comm is out, you wouldn’t hear ’em.” Mal and Zoe shared a grim look. “No one from this ship gonna set foot on Hera.” Again the Captain and First Officer exchanged a meaningful look, leaving Inara wondering what exactly had happened on Hera—besides Serenity Valley, of course—that had Mal and Zoe acting this way.

Simon wasn’t ready to give up. “Captain, surely there’s some sort of emergency beacon—”

“We are not puttin’ out a distress call. We are not in that kind of distress. Inappropriate, and it attracts all the wrong kind of attention.” Without saying a word, Mal made it clear that the town-hall meeting was over; he had made his decision. “Course log and star chart, Zoe. We’ll have to use dead reckoning.”

“I don’t like the sound a’ that,” Jayne stated to one and all, as Zoe pulled up the course log and got out the 3-D holographic star chart. The chart was dynamic, tracking planets and moons in their orbits.

“What do you mean?” Inara asked, as Mal bent over to examine the log and chart.

“Should be able to detect when the nav sat first started reading hot, and extrapolate from there…” Mal muttered.

River answered Inara’s question. “He’s going to use the navigational tools of the ancient mariners on Earth-that-was.”

Simon was ready with an explanation. “Dead reckoning is a means of finding your location by extrapolating from your starting point using the course traveled. It’s not as accurate as measuring your position. The ancient seafarers used primitive instruments like the sextant, cross staff and astrolabe to calculate their position from the stars. They sailed on a curved surface, and they used spherical trigonometry in their calculations. But we’re moving in space, so the calculations involve another dimension. And of course we’re moving, and so are all the planets and stars, so you have to take into account a moving point of view as well as the dynamics of the system…”

“Quiet, Simon, I can’t hear him think,” River snapped, as Mal said, “Shut it, Doc, will you, I can’t hear myself think. I’m workin’ the calculations.” He continued, almost to himself, “Hours ago…hours and hours ago, and there’s where the second one started to…I really don’t see how to do the trig. We ain’t got the tables, nor even an ephemeris.”

“A feminist?” Jayne asked.

“Declination 64 degrees, 18 minutes, 42 seconds. Right ascension 172 degrees, 37 minutes, 6 seconds. Radius 406,” River stated.

Everyone looked at her, mystified. Only Mal’s look was comprehending.

Jayne indicated River. “Is she a feminist?”

“Yeah,” Mal nodded at River, “that sounds about right.”

“What’s right?” Jayne asked while Simon inquired, “What do you mean?”

Mal ignored the comments, with a focused look on his face. River’s next speech was entirely mathematical, vector coordinates that must have conveyed a meaning to Mal, for he nodded. “We just need the angular momentum.”

“What is going on?” Simon demanded.

“Stop talking, Simon.” River shot him that you boob look. “I can’t hear him think!”

“Hear him think?” Simon blinked in surprise. She meant Mal was thinking?!

“Zoe, did Wash have a sextant?” Mal asked suddenly.

Jayne was intrigued. “A sex tent?”

Zoe was a little taken aback. “I’m not sure…sir.”

“Not sure?!” Jayne couldn’t believe his ears. “Weren’t you two married?”

“Let’s go check,” Mal said to Zoe.

“Come down to my bunk.”

Jayne’s bewilderment showed in his face. “Zoe’s invitin’ Mal into her bunk for a sex te—thing.” He looked at Inara. “That’s just downright unsettlin’.”

Kaylee finished her under-the-counter tinkering with the auxiliary helm system and re-joined the conversation.

“A sextant, Jayne,” Inara corrected, rolling her eyes. “For navigation.”

“It’s an ancient tool for measuring the distances between the stars and planets,” said Simon, getting it. “Doesn’t even need batteries. You can use it to tell where you are in the ’Verse.”

Kaylee was impressed. “You know how to do it?”

“No, I…just…read about it in a book…” Simon trailed off, suddenly realizing just how woefully inadequate theoretical knowledge was in time of crisis. He turned to River. “You must know something about navigation…”

“I don’t really know how yet, Simon. But the Captain does. He can set up the equations. And I can do the trig in my head, it’s a really basic form of mathematics.”

Mal and Zoe re-entered the bridge, Mal holding a sextant. “Time to shoot the stars.”

“Should I get Vera?”

Mal gave Jayne the briefest flicker of his No, you idiot look. “Zoe, on the clock.”

Mal descended the stairs between the flight desks to the starviewing area in front of the bridge, and started shooting the stars. Several times, he called out a star name, put the sextant to his eye, called “Mark!” and read off the numbers. Zoe was taking notes, and did, in fact, have the ship’s chronometer by her side. River did not write, but paid close attention, with the focused look of a person calculating in her head. The rest of the crew was mystified by the performance.

Having collected enough data for a fix, Mal climbed up the stairs. “Okay, we do the calculations, should be able to figure out exactly where we are…”

River pricked the chart. “There.”

Mal gave a low whistle. “Worse than I reckoned. I do not like where this puts us.” Zoe and Mal shared a significant look, another one of their no-talking conversations that spoke volumes in a glance. “But at least now we can figure the correct entry vector for a parking orbit. River…?” he cocked his head at his pilot and left the rest unspoken.

River busied herself with the task, and Mal addressed his first officer. “Zoe, once River gives you the specs, see to gettin’ her parked. Best you can, with the limited helm.”

Mal then turned to the others. “Jayne, prep the suits. Kaylee, go grab your toolbox. We gotta go out on the side of the boat and see if we can fix the nav sats. You don’t mind a spacewalk, do you?”

Kaylee did mind. Made her all bibbledy to think about nothin’ but a little mylar and glass between herself and the vastness of the Black, and even though she knew it weren’t right, bein’ out on a spacewalk made her feel like she was gonna fall off the ship and keep fallin’ forever. Funny, ’cause it never bothered her, climbin’ all over Serenity planetside. But she couldn’t say no to her Captain. Simon gave her hand a squeeze for support, but when she looked at him, he looked sicker than even she felt.

* * *

*

*

*

glossary

尘球 Chén Qíu [name of a world]

该死 gāisǐ [damn it]

那死的地方 Nà sǐ de dìfang [That place of death]

该死 gāisǐ [damn it]

墓地 mùdì [graveyard]

致命 zhìmìng [deadly]

可怕的地方 kěpà de dìfang [place of trouble]

笨 bèn [stupid]

废话 fèihuà [nonsense]

Sparks Fly (03)
Part (03)

Follows (02) ADVENTURES IN SITTING. Precedes (04) EXPECTATIONS.


Kaylee tells the Captain and Jayne where to go. Something goes boom! River and Mal try to navigate their way out of trouble.

* * *

Now suited up, Jayne, Kaylee, and Mal exited Serenity through the topside airlock. Jayne carried Kaylee’s zero-g toolbox, which differed from her standard toolbox in that all the tools were velcroed securely in place. He moved with the confidence of a seasoned spacewalker. Mal, too, moved with the assurance born of experience, and easily accepted the toolbox when Jayne handed it off in order to secure his tether to Kaylee. Kaylee, though already tethered to Mal, was nearly paralytic, and clung to the grommets and holdbars of Serenity’s topside with death-grip hands and feet. She was barely able to move, a panicky bowl of jelly, almost whimpering.

“Tether’s secured,” Jayne reported.

Mal spoke. “Kaylee, look at me.”

She did, with a terrified look. Mal had seen just that sort of look many a time during the war, usually on unseasoned recruits who were getting their first dose of fire and were like to do something might get themselves killed. But it wasn’t for nothing that he’d been a sergeant.

“I know you don’t like being out here. But we got you securely tethered between Jayne and me. We’re right beside you. Don’t look into the Black, keep your eyes on the boat. You’re gonna do it fine. You just ask for your tools and hand us the parts, same as if you was in the engine room. Boss us around, even. You tell me where to go. Hell, I bet you can’t wait to tell Jayne where to go.”

“Hey!” Jayne objected.

Kaylee gave her Captain the tiniest ghost of a smile. Jayne offered her a hand and pulled her to a standing position.

“一起深呼吸 Yīqǐ shēn hūxī,” Kaylee said, mostly to herself, trying to get a grip on her fears. Her voice was still unnaturally high-pitched, but steadier, as she said, “Right Jayne, first nav sat is starboard side.” Jayne led her by the hand.

* * *

Once they reached the nav sat and set to work, Kaylee became much calmer. Her attention was engaged in the work, and she almost didn’t notice the Black. Jayne was sight-seeing, looking at the big looming planet. Mal pointedly avoided looking at the planet, although he could feel its presence like prickles at the back of his neck. It was odd, that he should have to recall his sergeant skills here, right within sight of Hera. The presence of Serenity Valley and the hundreds of thousands of dead was palpable.

“Number six spanner,” Kaylee requested, holding out a gloved hand. Mal placed the tool in her grip. “The whole thing’s kinda fused together.” She worked at the bottom edge of a misshapen lump of metal and plastic. Remnants of a dial had melted into the edge of the distorted company logo, which ran into something that had once been a digital display. “Gimme a claw. Gotta prise it off.” Mal handed off the tools. “There.” Kaylee handed the lump to Jayne. “Can’t fix that out here. Let’s take a look at the next.”

* * *

They worked their way across the boat. The central nav sat was a similar mess, and the electrical malfunction that had apparently caused the meltdown had also taken out the nearby cortex link. Jayne’s bag had now acquired several more lumpy objects. It floated behind him on a thin tether attached to his belt. Kaylee had hit her stride and worked with confidence.

“It’s the same as the others, all melted. Time-delay fuse.” She pointed out the remants of an explosive device. “That there’s the remains of the timer.”

“Said it was sabotage,” Jayne said. “Someone planted this here…”

“All timed to go off, one after another,” Kaylee said, “once we was far enough into space to make it hard to repair.”

“Knocking out the cortex feed took some planning, too.” Mal was thoughtful.

Kaylee removed a last lump of nav sat-that-was, and handed it to Jayne. Her attention was caught by something odd. It looked like a bit of electronics that was still intact. “Now what’s that?” she asked, reaching toward it.

Mal caught a glimpse, and his reaction was instinctive—the kind of thing that had saved his life and others’ countless times during the war. “Kaylee, don’t touch it!” he shouted, automatically hooking his boots under a holdbar and pulling Kaylee under his body in a defensive crouch.

Jayne’s instincts didn’t serve him so well. “What, this—” he began, reaching.

The boom was silent. Mal crouched, avoiding the flying bits of plastic and hoping like hell nothing punctured any of the suits. An electrical arc like a small bolt of lightning struck Jayne, whose body flailed convulsively and hurtled off the side of the ship into space. Jayne’s momentum jerked the tether, pulling Kaylee out of Mal’s grip and stretching the tether between them taught.

“Captain!” Kaylee shrieked.

Mal held on by the tips of his boots hooked under the bar. The tether reached its maximum length and began its recoil. “Jayne?” he called, pulling in the tether, gathering them back in.

“He ain’t breathin’,” Kaylee gasped.

“I think his heart’s stopped.” Mal knew they had seconds to act. “Take him back to the airlock, double time!”

Mal and Kaylee did the closest approximation to running they could, wearing magnetic boots and tethered spacesuits. Luckily, weightlessness worked in their favor as they pulled Jayne’s inert body along toward the airlock. Mal spoke into the comm. “Zoe! Get Doc! We got a medical emergency!”

* * *

Jayne, Kaylee and Mal, still fully suited, were at the top of the ladder-like steps from airlock. Zoe, Simon, and Inara did their best to set Jayne down gently, but his heavy, inert form was unwieldy and the best they could do was to keep him from getting dumped on the deck too hard. The tether pulled Kaylee, then Mal, abruptly down the steps, and they did their best not to fall onto anyone. A clatter of bags full of tools and the suddenly heavy lumps of fused metal and plastic accompanied them. Simon took one look at Jayne’s face.

“Get his helmet off!” Zoe removed it, efficiently. “The suit!”

Mal had removed his own spacesuit in record time, and now bent to remove Jayne’s. Simon had placed an oxygen mask over Jayne’s face as soon as his helmet was off, and placed the paddles of his defibrillator as soon as Jayne’s chest was clear. As he worked, Simon eyed the burn marks on Jayne’s neck and chest worriedly.

* * *

Jayne lay in infirmary, drugged into a stupor. Simon said his heart was fine, but had him hooked up to a monitor anyway. He had treated his burns, saying that the pain from the burns would probably be Jayne’s most lasting problem.

Mal, Zoe, Kaylee, and Inara gathered outside the infirmary door as Simon updated his charts.

“…sabotage and a booby trap,” Kaylee was saying, indignantly. “A thorough muck-up of the entire nav system.”

“It was timed to go off well into our flight and disable the ship far from both our origin and our destination. Then it was booby-trapped to kill or injure whoever came outside to fix it.” Mal fixed Zoe with a significant look. “It was a Qianxia proximity detonator. Anti-personnel,” he added, for the benefit of Kaylee and Inara.

Kaylee gasped. Inara looked shocked.

“Haven’t seen one of those since the war,” Mal continued.

“I thought those weapons were banned.” Inara put in, unexpectedly.

“They are,” Mal answered. “Didn’t stop the Alliance from using ’em, howsomever.”

“This is the work of a master planner,” Zoe added. “Somebody took a lot of trouble to make sure we didn’t have plain sailing.”

“Somebody with access to Alliance military stores. They’re the only ones kept a stockpile of weapons banned by treaty.”

Zoe and Mal shared a significant look. “They’re after the cargo, sir.”

“What?” Inara exclaimed, catching the look. “I thought this was legal cargo, Mal.”

“Well, it is legal, but…”

“Holden Boys packed a secret parcel in one of the crates,” Zoe finished.

“Buck Holden’s got a notion that somebody wants to stop that parcel being delivered. Wang, Monty, Renshaw already tried and failed. All of them met with mishaps.”

“Mal!”

Simon exited infirmary, and Mal asked him for a report with a look.

“He’ll recover. It’ll take him a while to regain consciousness. I’ve given him a lot of pain meds for the burns. He had quite a shock.” Simon inwardly winced as he realized he’d made a horrible inappropriate pun. “You two saved his life, bringing him in so quickly.”

Mal ignored the commendation. “Kaylee, I know you and Simon were kinda busy entertaining those bounty hunters when we were parked on Beaumonde, but did you see anyone else lurking about the ship?

“Nobody else came in by the cargo airlock that I saw…” Kaylee answered.

“My attention was focused on the…” Simon began.

River’s voice sounded over the comm. She had been listening in from the bridge. “There was someone. Outside. I was too busy to look.”

* * *

Mal, Zoe, Kaylee, Inara, and River gathered around the vid screen on the bridge. Serenity’s portside security system was rudimentary, and the close-up from the external vid record was very grainy. A fuzzy, unrecognizable human figure was observed climbing Serenity’s starboard access ladder.

“So there’s the saboteur,” Inara said.

“Not enough detail to get any ID,” Zoe observed.

“Someone took a passel o’ trouble—climbing around the outside of this boat ain’t exactly easy to do planetside,” Kaylee said, adding “’Course, it ain’t exactly easy in zero gravity, neither.” She was thoughtful for a moment as she contemplated the time-stamp on the vid. “I still can’t work out how Inara’s shuttle got sabotaged,” she said, turning to Inara. “Weren’t you still away in the shuttle when this was goin’ on?”

Inara agreed that she was. She didn’t understand it either. “Trojan horse,” speculated Mal, “or a worm. Saboteur mucked with Serenity’s nav and comm. Once Inara linked up, it musta spread to her shuttle’s system, maybe through the cortex. Or permaybehaps it coulda been a jamming device.” He contemplated the fuzzy figure with intense scrutiny.

“I think it’s a woman,” Mal stated, with sudden certainty.

Inara looked at him sharply. “What makes you say that?”

“Climbs like a girl.”

The edge in Zoe’s voice could’ve cut through ice. “‘Climbs like a girl,’ sir?”

Mal suddenly noticed that he was surrounded entirely by the female members of his crew. He was on precarious ground, and knew it, and he was about to step in it. Explaining to his female first officer, mechanic, pilot, and his girlfriend, what makes a woman womanly.

“Well, you know, moves like…well, not like a man. Man would be usin’ his shoulders. This one moves from the hips…also has a big, round a—” He gestured with his hands in the universal male way of indicating the round parts of a woman’s body, then caught the looks on the faces of the women around him. Uh-oh. “—curves, you know, figure,” he ended, lamely.

He felt pinned by the looks on the women’s faces. Zoe, with a critical glare; Kaylee, shocked by his plain speech; River, with a scandalized grin—she knew what he was going to say, 该死 gāisǐ; Inara, with an amused smile that reached her eyes.

* * *

Mal and River huddled over the flight desk, examining the star chart and re-calculating the course from Hera to 尘球 Chén Qíu. Simon, Kaylee, and Zoe observed them as they worked.

“That book I read, about the ancient mariner—” Simon told Kaylee, “His crew mutinied and put him over the side in a small boat in the middle of nowhere. All he had was a compass and a sextant. He made it back to civilization. We have—”

“It’s fiction.” Mal looked up from the flight desk.

“What’s—what do you mean?”

“He had a compass, a sextant, an accurate clock, and an ephemeris, minimum, or he was writin’ fiction,” Mal asserted. “And if he actually wanted to get there, he had food, water, air, and a means of making his boat move.”

“What is an ephemeris?” Simon asked.

“It’s a table of calculated positions of stars and planets. We get ours through the cortex, when the nav sats don’t get it for us. But the cortex is still off line….I asked River to study the ephemeris a while ago and luckily she’s got most of it in her head. That’s what makes me different from that ancient captain. I got a good crew.”

* * *

Calculating the course from Hera to 尘球 Chén Qíu by hand was lengthy process. Long after the others had abandoned the bridge, River and Mal were still huddled over the star chart in close consultation. The sextant and River’s cross staff lay on the counter nearby, and from time to time, Mal or River arose and made an observation.

Zoe was quite impressed. Although she was a qualified pilot, navigation had never been her strong suit. Wash had been not only a superior pilot, but also a superior navigator, and on the rare occasions when the cortex connection or the flight computer had been on the blink, he’d always taken care of the course plotting. Zoe had never really considered what Mal’s navigation skills might be, and it was only now that they were needed that she realized how thoroughly he knew the subject. Wash had never been faced with a situation like this in all his time aboard Serenity. Zoe watched the interchange between her friend and River, and thought she had rarely seen Mal so positively engaged. The others looked to him as leader, plan maker, fighter, but rarely considered that he was also a teacher. Maybe not the most patient teacher, but he was good at assessing a person’s talents and knew how to motivate people to reach their potential. And in River he had a star pupil.

“They’re working so smoothly,” Kaylee observed, as Mal and River simultaneously pointed to a spot on the chart, and laughed. “It’s like they have an unspoken communication. I knew River could…I never saw the Captain communicate so well.” She always knew the Captain was a good man, but sometimes the others couldn’t see past his orneriness.

“I haven’t seen River so focused, so coherent, for such a long time,” Simon said. “She’s excited, she’s learning something new.” Simon wasn’t ready to admit it to anyone else, but what impressed him most—left him awestruck, actually—was the fact that it was Mal who had wrought this change in River. Mal was teaching his genius sister something new, Mal was leading her to new discoveries, Mal—who had impressed Simon at first meeting as the most intractable 混蛋 húndàn in the ’Verse, the living embodiment of everything that could be wrong about a person. Mal was teaching her everything he knew about navigation, and that everything was considerable. Simon found himself having a very Mal-like reaction to this realization. Huh.

* * *

Jayne awoke in the infirmary to find Kaylee sitting by his side. “Kaylee? What happened?”

“Oh, Jayne, you got blown off the boat by the booby trap. Stopped your heart, you weren’t breathin’. Me and the Cap’n got you in and you shoulda seen how fast Simon got you back. You got some electrical burns, too, and Simon fixed them up for ya.”

“You brought me in?” Jayne looked at Kaylee. “Thanks, little Kaylee.”

“It’s I should be thankin’ you, Jayne. I couldn’ta done it if you hadn’t helped me first. You got me past my unreasonable fears.”

“Turned out your fears weren’t unreasonable at all. Anyways, thanks.”

* * *

Mal walked his rounds that evening with a little more satisfaction than usual. River took to navigating like a duck to water. Zoe was flying the ship on the carefully plotted course, looking more alert than she’d been for days, and more alive than she’d been for weeks. Kaylee had overcome her fears and risen to the challenge on a spacewalk. Even though the nav sats were beyond repair, she knew just what needed to be replaced and would hit the ground running soon as they made landfall. Simon had saved another life, and furthermore had shut up talkin’ about stuff he didn’t know for once in his life. Jayne was alive, and already complaining that he didn’t need to be lying in the infirmary no more ’cause he felt fine and shiny—Mal figured most of the shiny ’d come from the happy drugs Simon had pumped into him. Which left Inara. Mal smiled and turned to knock on the shuttle door, and for once he wasn’t overburdened with problems or pickin’ a fight or nervous.

“Come in, Mal.”

Mal entered the shuttle, to find that Inara had draped a ridiculous tent-like hanging low over the bed.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I liked Jayne’s idea. It’s a Sex Tent.”

They both burst into laughter. Mal clutched his sides, he was laughing so hard, and Inara gave a most un-ladylike snort and laughed until the tears streamed out of her eyes. They laughed so hard they had to clutch each other just to keep from falling over, and then they did fall over, right through the open door of the tent onto the mattress.

* * *

Zoe was headed down to the infirmary to keep Jayne company for a spell, and passed Kaylee and Simon on their way up from infirmary, near Inara’s shuttle. They could hear muffled joyous laughter through closed shuttle door.

“Haven’t heard the Captain laugh like that since…before Serenity Valley,” Zoe observed, thoughtfully.

“It’s about time he climbed out of that valley,” Simon said.

Kaylee answered, “And into another one,” and aimed her own dirty flirty look at Simon.

* * *

Zoe passed by the closed hatch to Kaylee’s bunk, on her way to her own bunk to retire for the night. The nightly symphony was underway, the usual noises issuing forth through the hatch with even more than the usual volume. It was gonna drive her crazy. She rolled her eyes, and said to herself, “Gotta get better sound-proofing on this boat.”

* * *

fin

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*

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glossary

一起深呼吸 Yīqǐ shēn hūxī [Let’s take a deep breath]

该死 gāisǐ [dammit]

混蛋 húndàn [bastard]

This one is one of my favourites of yours, because of how interesting the situation was, the research you put into it, and the clever way you handled scene transitions. Plus there's that really great Zoe story at the beginning that establishes exactly where you're going with this.

>the answers she’d made to that uncivilized 混蛋 húndàn Atherton Wing notwithstanding.

Yeah, I also think she wasn't sincere about accepting Atherton. She was very uneasy with his interest, and seemed to suggest she was considering it just to anger Mal.

And the scene with River and the cross staff, Jayne mistaking her for a cult priestess, and then his idiot contributions to their conversations, all excellent. Though I have to give Jayne credit for guessing it was sabotage.

ebfiddler987 wrote:Okay, ready or not, here I come...more fiddler scribbles. This is the third story. Let me know if you need a breather, and I'll wait longer before posting the next one.

not really been near my 'puter this weekend yet; but have nabbed this to read - and the dénouement dialogue, i'll post to when i get back, also looks interesting.
no need to pause - keep posting!

They laughed so hard they had to clutch each other just to keep from falling over, and then they []did[/i] fall over, right through the open door of the tent onto the mattress.

minor formatting issue - as Rimbaud might say; i is somewhere else.
ah Kaylee though - do flirty glances ever work on Simon? Even dirty ones? And even when they're an item?
what is it with you and Serenity's soundproofing issues? LOL!

i think Byte covered the big stuff, i'm just having fun with the ride; mind "and into another" is ominous enough...

and talking of Mal; i love the scene where you twist from tense exposition (re; the alliance and the cargo) to Mal nimbly putting his foot in it (treacherous ground that is) as always, so very Mal - and so very Firefly.

"Climbs like a girl."

Scandalous.

Also, Zoe does not approve of accidental sexism. Zoe does not climb like a girl.

Bytemite wrote:great Zoe story at the beginning that establishes exactly where you're going with this.

Aww, shucks. (I guess it's easier to "establish exactly where you're going" when you write the intro after writing everything else! Because this was another script-to-prose story, and as such the meditation was added after the rest was complete.)

And the scene with River and the cross staff, Jayne mistaking her for a cult priestess, and then his idiot contributions to their conversations, all excellent. Though I have to give Jayne credit for guessing it was sabotage.

The River and the cross staff thing happened to me in real life. I took a navigation class at the university, and our homework typically involved "land cruises" -- we'd be given a starting point somewhere on campus, and have to measure, calculate, and navigate our way to somewhere else, and answer questions, such as, how tall is the building you are now standing in front of? (which would test both your measurement skills and navigation skills, as clearly you'd get the answer wrong if you measured the wrong building!) Anyway, we had to construct our own angle-measuring tool (I made a cross staff because it's pretty easy to make). And one night I was in the courtyard of our dormitory, taking sightings on the moon and various stars and planets for my homework, and someone comes up to me and asks, "Are you, like, praying to the moon or something?" I'm a very earnest person, so I just answered them straightforwardly, but I always wished afterwards that I'd started chanting or something to pull their leg, it was such a golden opportunity.

I had a blast writing Jayne in this story. I think this was the beginning of my deeper understanding of Jayne's character. Because it's not just the dumb remarks that are funny, it's also how he says obvious things that are *true* and yet no one else has managed to see them.

wytchcroft wrote:what is it with you and Serenity's soundproofing issues? LOL!

In grad school, I had to share a bathroom and a not-very-soundproof wall with a neighbor who liked to "entertain"...this is my revenge!

i love the scene where you twist from tense exposition (re; the alliance and the cargo) to Mal nimbly putting his foot in it (treacherous ground that is) as always, so very Mal - and so very Firefly.

thank you! (*takes a bow*)

Bytemite wrote:Zoe does not approve of accidental sexism. Zoe does not climb like a girl.

Hell no!

Self-indulgent extended author's notes (babble):
This story came about in a kind of odd way. It's the only one I've written where it kind of evolved via a series of logical deductions, rather than brainstorming a plot idea. I had written the first two, and I had the following story sketched out (they land on a planet and deliver the cargo that they got from Buck Holden in story #2). I knew, therefore, that this one was set in transit between Beaumonde and the delivery location. So it took place in space. Something needs to happen while they're in space. Reavers? nah, Joss did that. Alliance? nope, just did that in story #1. So, the ship breaks down. Okay. So far so good. But it has to be different from Out of Gas. Well, it would be cool to have a spacewalk. Well, then, what on the ship could break down that they would have to fix from the outside? Very few things are specifically mentioned in canon. I looked around and found the passage in Out of Gas where Mal says to Wash: "Then you put on a suit and get out on the side of the boat and...divert the nav sats to the transmitter." Aha! Nav sats! I spent some time thinking about what the nav sats are for and how the nav sats would work (It really helped that I took that navigation class.) and about how to extend the Earth-based navigation techniques I learned to space (requires a bit of extrapolating, and quite a bit of headcanon construction. For example, I decided that the Alliance has put into place a number of navigational beacons throughout the 'verse, similar to the GPS satellites placed all around the Earth. And what these beacons might reasonably accomplish, as well as what information they wouldn't be able to provide.) It also helped that my husband's job has to do with spacecraft instrumentation, so I had a few discussions with him about inertial gyros, spacecraft navigation systems, etc., as currently used, and problems associated with orientation and direction in space. So, yeah, this was a very geeky starting place for a story.

The story also let me vent on a few of my pet peeves. The implication that you just "point at a planet and drive there," like the spacecraft is a car, and space is two-dimensional, really bugged me, so I made sure to include some real issues of space travel, like inertia, accelerations and decelerations, gravity slingshots, and the fact that both the departure point and the point of arrival are *moving through space* the whole time, and not necessarily at the same rate, and such. I am by no means an expert in these subjects, but at least my POV on it is a little more science-y than some writers. (I've read some dreadful fanfic that requires the suspension of the basic laws of physics, and some of the script-writing by the professional writers is not a whole lot better in this regard.) The other implication that really bugged me is the implication that Mal is an incompetent, who relies completely on Wash and Kaylee to keep his ship running, and wouldn't be able to get it off the ground otherwise. Come on! He's a ship's captain, has been so for years, and has to have at least the basic skills necessary to hold that job, or he wouldn't have it for long. So I made this story highlight some of Mal's skills as a ship's captain, skills that I think he would have to have. Yes, he relies on Wash (or River or whomever) to do much of the piloting, but he can fly. He relies on the navigation computer for most of the course plotting and navigation, but again, he can do it, too. He relies on Kaylee to fix the ship, but he's not a total idiot who has no understanding at all of how the ship's systems work. I think he couldn't possibly be a licensed merchant shipmaster without this basic knowledge, and I also (headcanon) believe that Mal is (or at least was at the beginning) a licensed shipmaster (although he might easily have let the licensing lapse once he turned to more illegal sources of earning a living).

It does fit right into your storyline. Back-engineering the events from where you wanted to go in between point A and point B seems to have worked well.

You should have a star party sometime with telescopes in togas. Someone can swing around one of those incense lamps and chant as they circle the outside of the procession.

You can say it's so alien demons don't abduct you.