Standing, Season 1, Episode 4

Cargo Bay

“You heard the Cap'n, Jayne. Start haulin',” “'n don't touch any triggers or buttons.”


"I ain't a moonbrained moron, Zoe." replied Jayne with a sneer as he picked up an armload of the rifles. As he stuck them into the hidden compartment, the mercenary added, "I know when to keep my finger off the trigger 'til somethin' or someone needs shootin'."


After loading the rifles into the compartment Jayne, scurried off to his bunk to find something to put inside the now empty crate. He thought about what Mal had said over the comm.

"Prize boom-makers? On timers?" he thought, as he scoured his bunk from top to bottom, throwing some girly mags onto his bed that he really didn't want to get rid of, but knew they'd get a good response from whoever opened the crate. Then it hit him like a bottle of bad rotgut on a Saturday night. "You gorramn crazy sum-bitch."


Jayne went to where he kept his stash of grenades and grabbed a few. They cost him good coin to get, even with his intimidating manner. He sure hoped he'd get reimbursed for them and soon. He figured at least three would get the job done and make for some serious hurt to the poor hun dan who opened the crate. He just hoped they didn't open the crate while it was still on Serenity.

He grabbed a few of the guns he didn't use, or that were broken, or he just didn't plain like, and added them to the girly mags and grenades. Sticking the grenades into his pockets, Jayne rolled the magazines around the guns and held them between his armpit and torso. Climbing the ladder up from his bunk, Jayne made his way back to the cargo bay.

Walking back over to the crate, Jayne unrolled the guns and placed them inside. Next he looked at each of the magazines and shed a tear.


"Goodbye, ladies." he said to the magazine covers. "It was fun readin' 'bout yer exploits and mind ruttin' ya an' all, but now ya goin' to a better place. A place where ya never have to worry 'about someone rippin' out yer pages, gettin' 'em all sticky, or cuttin' out your pictures."


Jayne got a little teary-eyed and stifled the urge to cry, only letting out a small sniffle. After a short moment, he sighed and composed himself before putting the magazines into the crate. Kneeling down on the metal grating, he fished the grenades out of his pockets, set them to their maximum fuse setting, and buried them under the guns and girly mags.


Standing back up, he looked over to Zoe and muttered, "I better be gettin' some kinda reimbursement fer this. Both fer the grenades and the girly mags."


<< Hun dan: Bastard. >>

This post has been edited by DrPain on Jun 27 2009, 04:37 PM

The Captain turned, walked over, touched her shoulder. The touch helped, relaxed her. It was a small sign that everything might turn out alright. Despite his silent reassurance, she stayed tense, the handle of the toolbox no longer slick - her hand had gone cold. What could he have in mind? "Kaylee? Need your special skillset on our side."

His smile vanished, eyes dark. Mal's voice was calm, his words still crawling with tension. "Remember that drifter we come across awhile back? The Reaver trap on the airlock?" The drifter. The booby trap attached to the airlock. The ship had been spinning slowly, no answer to their calls. It hadn't taken long to figure out why. Mal had sent Book, Simon, and Jayne over to see to the bodies of the other ship's crew before telling her their problem.

"I need you to suit up, go out there and recreate it on that ship that's dockin' up. Set it up to give us enough time to go full burn before they feel it." He gave her shoulder a little shake, "Not enough to kill 'em if they got their inner doors sealed right. Just enough to slow 'em down long enough for us get to runnin'. We'll stall long as we can. Give you time to get it done."

Recreate an explosive on an unfamiliar ship. Before doubt could settle in, she pictured the thing in her mind, the snake-like appendages that had extended to attach to Serenity. Spare parts. The entire thing had been jerry-rigged, created by skilled hands lacking sufficient parts. The technological knowledge held by Reavers was crude as well as inventive. Building a bomb, never mind diffusing one -

"Think you can do it, mei mei?"

Mal's voice broke in before her thoughts could run away with her. Kaylee blinked, nodded, swallowed, ignoring the feel of dark thoughts lapping at her brain like waves crawling along sand. The thoughts lingered, try as she might to shake them off, but she managed to focus. "Sure, Cap'n. Just need to find some parts."

As Book stepped forward, speaking against the plan, Kaylee beat a hasty retreat, already planning out what she might have, what she might need, and what other crew members might provide. The boom aspect would be better if it came from Jayne. If not, there was that untouched can in the darkest corner of the engine room, strapped down like none other. It was nothing, hardly coming to her knees, easily overlooked, and more often than not had a set of coveralls draped over it, hiding it from view.

It was a safety net, something Bester had bragged about when he'd first brought her to the ship. He'd kissed her the whole time, but the engine room was lighting her up more than his tattooed skin. "That over there? Don't touch it. That's my big ending. Anything happens to the ship, anybody invades, all I need is one sharp kick at that valve, make gas come out instead of liquid. It'll fill the place up, choke everyone, make me a hero. Worst case scenario, I add in some flame and the place explodes." He'd been so calm, his eyes slightly glassy as he talked, his lips still tracing her collarbone. She'd shivered, unable to look at it anymore, and pulled him closer to the far wall. Soon enough, she was on her back, the drum forgotten by both mechanics. They'd all but forgotten the ship around them by that point.

"Gorramit, Bester..." The words were a hiss, brown eyes narrowed in anger. In the silence of the engine room, Kaylee curled up on the floor, hidden by the spinning turbine. Her hands moved automatically, reaching at spare parts and fitting them together as best she could. All the while, her eyes didn't leave the small drum that could prove to be their salvation.

"You got a better plan, Shepherd, let's hear it."

”Captain, I am not a member of your crew nor do I believe myself more capable than you to make the decision that’s been presented. I will however refer to our shared history and allow you to glean what you will from my statements.”

The older man looked off to the side, as if reading the bones of Serenity herself…reading the stories she held,
”When Patience looked to betray you, your first inclination was to give her both product and payment in an effort to avoid a confrontation. In the case of the Pescaline D, you tried a similar tactic with Niska’s man, Crow, but he opted for a…different path. Still regardless of the outcome, your first thought was to relieve yourself of the property or money in dispute and avoid a confrontation. Again with Womack, you sought peace instead of war. Selfless and noble…rare in today’s world, that’s a certainty.”

Book’s eyes lowered,
”At the Heart of Gold, you went against your better judgment and faced a man of conviction similar in passion to Jing. Many innocent people died because a confrontation was not avoided.”

Finally the preacher looked back at Mal,
”I’m not suggesting that 'turning the other cheek' is a strategy that works exclusively in this part of the ‘Verse, but it does work well enough on most occasions. You didn’t construct these guns, Captain, nor did you conceive of the concept of war. You are risking your life to keep the club away from the troll…while a forest surrounds you. If Jing wishes violence, violence he shall find…regardless of your actions today.”

A slight smile touched his lined face,
"There are other ways to solve this mystery...ways that don't involve getting between the hammer and the anvil."

Cargo Bay

Zoe didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. Didn't like that the Captain asked Jayne to get grenades and didn't like that gnawing feeling in her gut telling her that this plan of his was bound to fail. And she certainly didn't like not know what the plan was in the first place. That he had asked for Kaylee's help only worried her even more and she paced back and forth across the cargo bay's deck, glancing up toward the catwalk. She was just about to head up there to have a little conversation with the Captain when Jayne returned with an armload of guns and magazines. If she hadn't been so concerned with whatever was going on elsewhere on the ship, she might have been touched by the way the gunhand was saying goodbye to those items.

"I better be gettin' some kinda reimbursement fer this. Both fer the grenades and the girly mags."

“If we survive this, Jayne, I promise I'll personally buy you the best magazines at our next stop,” she said and pulled the Mare's Leg from its holster, checking that the short rifle was loaded with a shell in the chamber. She returned the weapon to her side and glanced back up the stairs, then at the box, shifting impatiently on her feet. No, she definitely didn't like this and now there was a burning fuse, putting a deadline on the whole affair. “How long till those grenades blow?” She would rather not be in the same ship, let alone the same cargo bay with that box when it went up. Could end up getting messy, she thought.

Cargo Bay

“If we survive this, Jayne, I promise I'll personally buy you the best magazines at our next stop,”


"Now that sounds plumb shiny to me." remarked the bury mercenary, happy now that Zoe would personally get him some more girly mags to replace those that were about to be blown up.


“How long till those grenades blow?”


Jayne doing math in his head would be entertaining to watch, had it not been for the volatile contents in the crate before him and Zoe. To those looking at the man called Jayne, it appeared that he was either concentrating really hard, having a case of really bad gas, or making a mess in his trousers. Jayne never had much use for schoolin' as he called it. He was better at putting holes in people and chasing trim than calculating numbers and such.


"Well I ain't no gorramn rocket scientist and never claimed to be one." replied Jayne, eying the crate. He turned to Zoe, a worried look in his eyes, and continued, "But if'n the Cap don't get his pigu in gear and hand this crate off to the hun dan receivin' it lickety split, I done figure we got 'bout less than a minute or so 'fore we're turned to a bloody pulp."

River watched from up on the catwalk, one of the places she often went to when she was alone, or too not alone. These weapons would be trouble, because they killed so well and so easily that they'd be coveted. And the Alliance never liked losing something like that.

"Rockets are easy." she said. "Basic. An equal and opposite reaction. They've been around for over a thousand years. There are a lot of branches of scientific inquiry more demanding than rocket science."

She looked down at the crate, loaded with it's stray weapons.

"Go away." she whispered. "Find your own place to hide from them. I was here first."

"Rockets are easy." she said. "Basic. An equal and opposite reaction. They've been around for over a thousand years. There are a lot of branches of scientific inquiry more demanding than rocket science."

"River?" Inara, her favorite gold and white skirt swishing around ankles clad only in delicate fillagree chains, slid closed the door to her shuttle. Her left hand held an artfully woven reed basket holding, not her best sake, but a fine bottle of Sihnon honey-wine; a prized gift on the Rim and something she was certain a man like Jing would appreciate.

Her initial response to Mal's request was to refuse outright. She wasn't part of his crew. She was independent. Autonomous. Her shuttle. Her career. Her life. Her...

...Smile as she caught sight of him entering from the other side of the catwalk. Her feeling of confidence as she glanced down and saw Jayne and Zoe standing below waiting. Her surge of warm affection when she realized River was there, watching it all come together.

"....own place to hide ... here first."

River, so close to woman and yet still much a child, was murmuring about hiding and Inara fought and won against the urge to tell her to do just that. She had realized, perhaps not so long ago, perhaps during the incident in the snowstorm, or maybe long before then, even, back when Jubal Early had come, that River was like a broken whiskey bottle. She no longer held all the things that she was meant to, but among the shards was something sharp. Somewhere in the remains of River Tam's sliced-up mind was something that knew, that told her when to hide and when to use her curious strength to protect herself and those who loved her.

Inara didn't need to tell River to hide. River would just know. Inara beamed a grateful smile to her, gesturing below, to Mal, Zoe and Jayne, "You'll keep watch over us from up here?"

No, Inara wasn't a part of Mal's crew, she reminded herself, ignoring the whispered truth that bubbled up like a triumphant wellspring in her heart. They were a part of her.

MAL, (gm-d permission, uh, me!) ZOE, JAYNE are on are cargo bay floor. INARA & RIVER are currently on the catwalk.

"You'll keep watch over us from up here?"

Do you want me to put it up?

"I have to watch." she said. She watched them prepare the crate, but her focus was beside her, the way one might sense that a door or window in a room has been opened slightly by the changes in temperature and light they're hardly aware of consciously.

No, that's ok.

"This isn't what I should be." she said, still watcing the activity below, feeling the glow around her.

You have such lovely hair.

"I shouldn't be seeing this.

She reached up slowly and brushed her hair aside.

I'm sure the doctor would agree.

River looked up from the cargo bay, a stray lock of hair falling back over her face.

Who, Simon?

Simon?

She looked up at Inara's perfectly styled hair, brushing her own aside again.

"Mine used to stay like that." she said. "It doesn't anymore."

No, he's much too . . . I mean I'm just . . .

"Things know when they're growing from disorder. You know why he came."

And you're right, he is. But Simon can surprise you.

"I'd like it to, sometimes." she said.

It glowed all around her.

"She's still a girl, sometimes. When she remembers."

OOC: This Post Contains GodMOdding of just about everyone's characters, in brief in-character dialogue only. I've tried to keep it as In-Character as possible, but if anyone would like edits, please let me know.

Props to Harlan Ellison and his "How's the Night Life On Cissalda". ;)





Five Hours Later

Golden flare streams through the Black, an enigmatic trail. Following that mystery glow, diving through it's cinder flair, going deeper through lines of orange and red, the intense heat increasing, we move closer, going deeper. Suddenly, we're thrust through the trail and into a narrow tight channel of hot steel, glowing with the intensity of the burn.

Further still, and we see ahead engine turbines spinning, the glow illuminating a room of rust-coloured walls. The turbines catch us, toss us up through the opening and into the room where we land on our feet and can catch our breath. And recognize the familiar.

A hammock striped in sunrise colors hangs limply in one corner, abandoned. The steady roar of the engine behind us emphasizes the darkness of the doorway, beyond it, cavernous darkness beckons us forward.

Tentatively, we slip from the room with it's glow and heat, and into that dark corridor, revelling in it's shadowy cool. Noises come from ahead, brushing our hearing with sounds of fellowship: echoing of clanking metal, scraping wood, ringing laughter.

Sliding forward further, we can see into the room ahead, a wide open space. Here, there are people surrounding a table laden with food. Swiftly, we count the spaces, a sigh of relief when the only empty one is beside Zoe. With the ship in hard burn, Wash will be on the bridge.

Captain Malcolm Reynolds heads the table, and his bright blue gaze travels over his crew and the piles of food with an expression as enigmatic as the luminous line of crumbs that we've followed here, to this moment.

Shepherd Book, seated to Mal's right, is laughing, his head thrown back. Inara Serra, in a rare gesture, sits at Mal's left, with River beside her. River is picking apart her fluffy steamed bun as though she's searching for something inside of it, but there is a smile on her face. Simon's eyes are not on his sister's, but on the mechanic across from him, who eats with the haste of an appetite well built by hard work, grease still swiped across her forehead. Jayne, his powerful shoulders hunched over his plate, eats with the haste of a man who likes food and rarely knows when his next meal is coming. Across from him, Zoe carefully divides food between her plate and the one in the empty space.

"That, Shepherd, " Mal declares with a gulp of the wine in his cup... Inara's best, we can see now from the bottle on the table... "Was one heck of a plan."

"Well," The Shepherd's head lowers briefly in humility but humor tugs at the corners of his rich brown eyes, "I just figured you have enough enemies without risking making more."

"Enemies?" Malcolm glances around the table in dismay, his jaw dropping. "Why, how can you possibly say that! What enemies? Everybody loves me!"

Without so much as a glance from his plate, Jayne mutters through a mouthful of protein hash, "I don't."

"Me neither." River agrees, but she's laughing, and no one is even sure who exactly she's agreeing with.

"Kaylee?" Mal turns swiftly to the sweetest wrench-monkey flying the Black. "You love me, don't you?"

"Ooooooooooooh..." She grins, pretending to consider, "You get me a new compression coil and it might be love, Cap'n."

"Zoe?"

"If you weren't paying my salary, Sir, I'da shot you long ago."

"Ina..."

"Don't look at me, Mal. Ours is a strictly business relationship."

"Well, how do ya like that? I get us paid, I get us a new job and I get a whole pile of deadly weapons destroyed so the 'verse is safe from man's tyranny, and this is the thanks I get?"

"I think the lesson here, Captain," Shepherd Book grins from ear to ear, and everyone at the table leans in, wondering what wisdom he's about to impart, "Is that like the Lord, love works in mysterious ways."


Seeing that all is well here, and that the ship and those we love, our family, is well and strong and happy, that they are safe and content, we slowly withdraw, back down the corridor. This time the turbines cradle us, gently pushing us back through the heat of the engine vents, and out into the Black. The vacuum of space greets us, and as we find ourselves surrounded by starlight and the distant burn of a thousand gleaming suns and the dark glitter of a thousand waiting planets and their thousands of moons, we look back at that golden trail through the darkness.

And do we imagine it, or, just before she slips out of sight, is there a sudden flare from the engine, a swift and sure wink back in answer to our silent call? Did Serenity, our most beloved ship, just wave farewell?


ooc: Here ends the episode "Standing". Thank you to everyone who made this episode possible, to the fabulous writing and the amazing storytelling that was done here. Where-ever we might decide to go from here, and whatever capacity or role we give Serenity in the future, she will always be our home.