Author: little_murmurs
Recipient: Tommygirl
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Roswell/Firefly
Spoilers: Post Big Damn Movie and Roswell S3 finale.
Summary: "The transmissions are breadcrumbs; come hell or high-water they plan on finding the gingerbread house."
Author's Note: All credit due to 'the_charioteer' who held my hand through the nitty-gritty of aligning these two fandoms. Although he's not on LJ, and not part of online fandom, he gave his ideas and time freely and I am overwhelmingly grateful.
The planet below is shades of blue and grey, a dark speck of a maelstrom the only variation on its drab surface. They look down from high.
"Terra-forming's started."
Mal nods, "Alliance is keeping its schedule, nice and tidy like," he glances at his co-pilot, "Any sign of trouble on our horizons?"
She pauses her dino battles, sniffs inquiringly, "I don't smell any fish."
"Good enough for me. Zoë," he picks up the intercom, "you and Jayne ready?"
"Almost, Captain, except ..."
"Except Jayne wants to bring grenades. Tell him 'no'."
There's a squawk in the background, "Ready when you are, sir."
"Right," he looks at River, "you ready for this?"
She whistles a happy tune.
Seems like a simple job.
"Most jobs do seem," Zoë had said.
The planet is Elysia; the newest planet to undergo the terra-forming process. The job is to take samples from the land before the process is complete, for a collector. A wealthy collector, to be precise, with a willingness to part with his credits and a disinclination to listen to Alliance prohibitions on entry into the space surrounding new planets.
They plan is to land on the continent furthest from the centre of the terra-forming event, so as to increase the likelihood of finding original materials.
They are set to gather earth and air samples, maybe some rocks to bring a little excitement to their collector's world. But what they see, what they find…well, it just wouldn't be fair to bring back a little clump of dirt.
"Are you seein'...?"
"Doin' a mite more than seeing, Jayne, I'm beginning to wonder."
"That don't bode well."
They find cities, no inhabitants, but numerous settlements. The architecture is ...
"Shiny," breathes Kaylee.
"Not human," Simon adds.
Mal, Jayne and Zoë venture out. The environment is unfriendly; they need to wear their suits. There are houses, buildings. The innards have been stripped, nothing left but the bare walls.
"Anybody else got an overpowering sense of confusion?"
"That'd be just you, Jayne," Mal responds, but there's barely any flippancy in his voice. He's had enough of ghost planets to last a lifetime, and here comes another rock with the creeping lingering of those made to leave this place before their rightful time had come. It's not confusion that's taking over his senses; it's a feeling of wrongness.
Kaylee's voice comes over the wire.
"Cap'n, we're getting some weird energy readings. I think ya better hurry back."
And hurry they do. Zoë doesn't say much, which Jayne makes up for with his questioning and quibbling like an ailing old woman, and they move quickly. They take samples and a data recording and get back onto Serenity as fast as they can.
"Easy as pie," bravado returns in the safety of the cargo-hold, back in the clean air and the company of friends.
Mal ignores Jayne and heads straight to the bridge, "Get us out of here, River. Now."
Inara appears at his side, but even her peace can't touch the tribulations he feels coming, "What's wrong, Mal?" Sees him check the energy readings that are increasing, "Mal?"
He turns to her, grasps her shoulders – and it's not just an excuse to touch – and tells her: "Get everyone strapped in; might get bumpy."
She hurries away, and he settles into the pilot's seat, "River girl, I've got a powerful hankerin' to be bidding farewell to this rock."
She leans forward, peering out as the ship gains height, "Something sparkly this way comes."
"Would that be a wicked sparkly something? You got some special insight? 'Cause now's the time I'd appreciate a bit of caring sharing," Mal looks anxiously at River but she just smiles serenely, starts strapping herself more securely into the seat. Another look at the energy readings from the planet below, and he starts fiddling with his own seat.
They've just broken atmo, and space extends far beyond them. Mal urges Serenity on, onwards and upwards.
And then ...
And then.
Everything.
Everything.
Everything. Slows.
'Til it seems like they're moving backwards not forwards, pulled back towards the planet. Mal tries to yank on the controls, but his movements are sluggish, like he's moving through treacle. There's a sucking sensation in his belly that makes him give a kind of gasp and he sees the energy readings on the dial spike higher than the instruments can take.
And then there's light.
It takes him a few moments to straighten-out up from down, and winch open an eyelid. His muscles are aching and his joints are screaming, feels like he's gone ten rounds in Niska's chamber of horrors. He hears River whimpering to his left, tries to swivel his head to look at her but movement seems a step too far right now.
"You alright? River?" he croaks.
"I can see my breakfast."
"Okay then," he blinks, and blinks again. "Okay, so moving. I'm going to try moving."
Grunting he struggles to sit forward, shaking his head like a wet dog. He's got starbursts dancin' across his vision and a ringing in his ears; a rolling, roiling sensation churning in his stomach that's less than pleasant and threatening to be more than messy.
A cool touch to his forehead, "Temperature mildly elevated," River diagnoses, two fingers close on his wrist, "pulse steady. I predict a full recovery."
"Appreciate that," he opens his eyes fully, and the world's a little blurry around the edges.
The world: same one as before, dull and grey only ...
"Are my gorram eyes playing tricks on me or are there ...?"
"Aliens," she is seated once again behind the controls, "I think we should leave."
"Ain't no such thing as aliens, River," Mal frowns, trying to identify the spaceships heading towards them, "probably Alliance, and a dignified departure sounds appropriate right about now."
"Thank you," she beams, "and those are definitely, definitely aliens."
"Now's not the time to be arguing. We need to be going," and Serenity turns tail and starts to run, "though, those ships are ..."
"Alien."
"Strange," he says firmly, gets on the com, "Zoë; report."
There's a brief pause, during which a beam of energy sears through the space above them. It sends shockwaves through the ship, and throws Mal forward onto the controls. He groans, clutching his stomach, "Zoë?"
Her voice comes now, harried but even, "Everyone's fine, sir, no injuries. We got company?"
"Seems like it, Alliance must'ave detected us. Tell Kaylee to get down to the engine room, see if she can coax a little more kick out of the ship."
"Will do, sir."
River's grinning as she guides them between the beams of the weapon, twisting and spiralling through space; taking more pleasure than seemly in their peril. But she's managing well, as well as Mal could so he just barks orders into the comm.
"Cap'n," Kaylee on the wire, eager and pleased, "she's gonna give you more juice now, I re-routed the ..."
"That's great Kaylee. River, you hear--"
"Serenity's all juicy ... like a peach," she scowls, "been too long since I had fruit."
"Escape first, fruit later."
And they start to put some distance between them and their pursuers; not much at first but then slowly, gradually and then a big push and there's nothing but black.
"That's a gold star for you, mei mei," Mal taps River on the head, "now we just need to plot a course for -- "
"Can't."
"Can't?"
"Can't. Can't store everything up here, only hold so much and if she doesn't know then I shouldn't be expected to know either."
"No-one's expecting you t'know anything, I want a course plotted for --"
"Need to know the stars to write the plot."
"We're lost?" Jayne's got a gift for making questions sound like accusations, eyes darting furiously between Mal and River.
"I ain't sayin' that."
"So, you know where we are?" Simon suggests.
"In relation to Elysia? Sure."
"But we don't wanna go back there, right Cap'n?" Kaylee asks anxiously, "Not with those Alliance ships hanging around."
"You think they got a fix on us, sir?" Zoë enquires calmly.
"No way to tell."
"Am I the only one who's hearin' that we're lost?"
"Jayne!" Mal snaps, "We don't need any histrionics right now."
"All I is saying is that if we're lost, we should just say that we're lost."
"We're not lost, and you can head to your bunk if you're thinking of dwelling on it," Mal stares at Jayne until the latter looks away with a grumble.
"What we got is a temporary loss of direction, whatever hit us at Elysia has taken down access to the Cortex and our NavSat."
"You've tried sending out a Wave?" Inara asks quietly.
Mal nods, spreads his hands in front of him, "Nothin'."
"Our options, sir?"
"Way I see it, we got two. We can stay put, do whatever we can to get our navigation online. Or we can head back to Elysia, take our chances. See if we can rustle up some help there."
"Stay put," Kaylee puts up her hand, grabs Simon's and waves it around. He smiles sheepishly, "I, uh, agree."
"Course ya do. Inara? Zoë?"
"Let us see what we can do here and, if needs be, we can always go back to Elysia," Inara offers, and Zoë nods her head in agreement.
"I don't like stayin' in one place," Jayne argues, "feels like we're sitting, uh, sitting ..."
"Ducks?"
"That don't make no sense. We're just sitting, is all. You know how easy it is to hit somethin' when it's sitting? Not hard," his eyes widen, "not hard at all."
"Objection noted. River?"
She stretches up onto her tiptoes, "I wonder what they look like?"
"Who?"
"The aliens," glee lights up her face, "do you think they have big heads? Or green skin? Or long tendrils for fingers," she sways, "like branches in the breeze."
Mal sighs, rubs a hand over his face.
Mal's never been afraid of the black; seen nothing to fear in the empty nothingness. Long as he can feel the thrum of Serenity beneath his feet he knows him and his are safe, knows they're free.
But he's never been any good at waiting.
The proximity alert wakes him, followed by Zoë's voice over the comm. Three ships approaching fast, no markings.
He struggles into his shirt, speeds to the bridge.
"Alliance?"
"Hard to tell, sir," Zoë's at the helm, "never seen anything like them," she glances at him, "they're fast."
"We'll just have to be faster," Mal settles into the co-pilot seat, "they send us a Wave, hail us at all?"
"No contact, sir, they're just coming."
And coming they are, fast.
"Right," he grabs the comm, "Kaylee, we need a little help here. Need a real good hard burn."
"Captain, I need time."
"Just do something Kaylee, this boat needs a little more wind in her sail."
They start firing then and it's nearly more than they can manage to keep her afloat, keep ahead, keep safe.
Whatever Kaylee does, whatever strings she pulls, she manages to give them what they need to drag their asses out of the fire.
Once again, they're all alone in the vast emptiness.
"Is that a planet?"
Small speck in the distance, a blip on the screen.
"Looks like."
They investigate, but it's not inhabitable let alone inhabited.
Still, it gives them hope.
They pass numerous planets, but with no sign of life.
It's not normal, this quietness, not around planets. All they've ever known are worlds and moons colonised by man, forced to be amenable to their demands. There's no sign of terra-forming, no indication of humankind.
Space isn't just quiet now; it's gorram eerie and unsettling. Feels like they're alone; like they're the only ones left.
"Do you think we'll be alright?"
"Inara." It's late, she can't sleep and neither can he. Food is low, fuel is low and so is morale. They try their best, except for Jayne, but tempers are fraying and there's a downswing in everybody's mood. Mal thinks there's a solution around every corner, but he keeps hitting dead-ends that are testing his will to believe, like the Shepherd had asked him.
Inara's stomach rumbles and she flushes, embarrassed; he doubts she's known a day's hunger since she entered the Training House. Something familiar starts to constrict his throat; she would have still been there if it hadn't been for –
"Don't take that route, Mal. I chose my place," she lays her hand open upon the table, meets his eyes and doesn't say another word.
Given time his hand is in hers.
They receive transmissions first; some garbled, some clear and distinct, but all mentioning the same thing, the same places, the same world.
Earth.
"Can't be," Kaylee looks around, "can it?"
"Earth's gone, all used up," Mal says, "been centuries since folk walked that land."
"Could be old," Simon hypothesises, "could be old satellites they never bothered to take down, still sending out signals."
"Could be; probably."
The transmissions are breadcrumbs; come hell or high-water they plan on finding the gingerbread house.
Many a tall-tale had been told about Earth-that-was; of its beauty and its riches, of its fall from grace as humanity spread and spread, and consumed all around it. By the time man had done with it, there wasn't much left worth taking from the earth; all used-up inside and out. Near enough to black rock, was what they had always heard, it had been suckled dry by its children.
This world looks living, green and vital. There are satellites in orbit, blinking and transmitting. Serenity's bombarded with signals, none of them useful, but all of them current.
"I don't understand," Simon mutters, "none of this makes sense."
"Doc's right," it's not often Jayne sees eye-to-eye with him, and so the others are quieted for a moment.
"No sign of spaceships, vessels of any kind," Zoë points out, "could still be deserted."
"As long as the atmo's good, and we can land on it, I'm not sure that I mind. Wouldn't do us any harm to get some clean air."
"We shouldn't get our hopes up," Inara warns, even as the corners of her mouth turn up tremulously.
"I'll take a shuttle," Mal decides, "go alone; safer. We don't know what might be down there."
Takes some convincing, but they accept his plan. The chance to get off Serenity is a tantalising prospect but in the end he leaves alone, while they stay in high orbit above the planet.
Once Mal breaks atmo he has to stop the shuttle and gives himself a few minutes to just stare.
And stare.
And when he finishes staring he begins to descend.
Stops.
Stares.
He lands in a desert, away from prying eyes, but near enough to a shiny big city; a glittering mass of metal and light rising out of the sand.
It's almost noon, and the sun's beating down hard. Wind's carrying grains of sand that sting his cheeks, and there's perspiration gathering on his brow and upper-lip. He breathes in deep, allows himself a smile.
It's a fine day.
He'd noticed a building several miles to the east. Good a place to start as any.
It's farther than it looked, so by the time he gets there he's hungry and thirsty. It's a single-storey building, low slung. 'Diner' is written in lights over the door. Mal begins to send up a prayer of thanks.
Inside it's pretty much deserted, aside from a solitary waitress filling up the salt and pepper shakers at the counter. It's an old-fashioned kind of place, plywood and formica tables and booths. No sign of cameras or screens, just some music drifting from a black box in the corner.
He walks up to the counter, perches on a stool.
"Um, excuse me, miss?"
"One second," she tightens the lid on one of the shakers and approaches, rubbing her hands on her apron. She's young, maybe twenty-seven, twenty-eight with shoulder-length blonde hair, bee-stung lips and wide green eyes. She smiles, taking out a notepad and pen, "What can I get you?"
"Well, I was just wonderin' whether you took credit here."
"Sure we take credit cards; Visa, Mastercard and American Express."
Mal frowns, "Um, how about Core credits?"
"Uh," she shakes her head slowly, "sorry, I've never heard of that card."
"Platinum credits?"
"Visa platinum?"
"No."
"Sorry, we don't do that one either."
Mal slumps.
She smiles sympathetically, "Look, how's about I give you some water and a cup of coffee --"
Mal opens his mouth.
She waves a hand, "On the house, coffee's turning into sludge as it is. Someone should drink some before I throw it down the drain."
"I appreciate that."
He's always been more of a tea drinker, but this coffee is strong and dark; it's a welcome break from the bland taste of rationed water and food supplements.
"You in town for a convention?"
"Beg your pardon?"
She nods at him, and he stares blankly back.
"Your clothes," she explains.
He looks down, "What's wrong with them?"
Her eyes widen a mite, "Uh, nothing, nothing at all," she starts to wipe the counter-top intently.
"They look odd or something?" his tone's more curious than insulted so she responds blithely.
"Well, you're a little bit on the home-on-the-range side of the fashion spectrum, if you get my drift."
"Hmm," he smirks, "I'm not from around these parts, didn't think styles would be so different here."
"Well," she shrugs, grins, "this is Las Vegas, if you can't get away with it here, you probably couldn't get away with it anywhere."
"Las ...?"
"Las Vegas," she says slowly, her grin withering into mild bewilderment, "where we are now? You do know where you are, right?"
"Right, right," he assures her, drinks some water, decides to try a different tack, "do you have access to the Cortex here?"
"The who-da-whatta?"
"The Cortex, y'know, big intergalactic interactive network."
She freezes, "Did you just say intergalactic?"
"No," Mal denies instantly, judging by the look on her face that this was not a word that she was fond of hearing, "intergalactic? Ha! Why would I?"
"Right," but she's still tense, doesn't believe him, "do you mean the internet?"
"Maybe."
"World wide web?"
"World wide, so it just covers this world."
"Uh, yeah, like what other planets would it cover?"
"None in this galaxy, I s'pose," he mutters, thinking of all the uninhabited planets they had passed on their way to this strange little world.
She freezes again, "Are you one of those UFO nuts?" she demands briskly, throwing the cloth she had been using to clean the counter into the sink. Her arms are folded across her chest now, and she looks angry as hell now, and more than just a little bit pretty. Primarily, though, there is the anger so he decides to dwell on that first.
He puts his hands up, in surrender, "I don't even know what a UFO is, swear it on the grave of my sweet, departed mother."
Her eyes narrow, "I bet your mother isn't even dead."
"Mayhap you're right about that," he concedes, "been a long time since I was on the homestead."
She eyes him with baffled aggravation, "What kind of convention did you say you were attending?"
"Not here for any convention."
"What are you here for?" she stares past him, out the window.
"Sight-seeing."
"Sight-seeing."
"Yup," Mal thinks it would probably be prudent to withdraw at this point, but he still doesn't know or comprehend this planet, it doesn't align with what he knows of the 'verse and he's got to understand it if he and his crew have any hope of getting home. He sighs, grips the counter firmly, "You got any fuelling stations around here?"
This relaxes her, more familiar ground it would seem, "Sure, you just get back onto the 157 and head east, shouldn't be able to miss it."
"And, uh, what kind of ships would it be for?"
"Ships?" she stiffens again; girl's a regular pendulum, "Do you mean cars?"
"No," he steels himself, not certain whether this disagreement will be detrimental to his goals, "I mean ships, as in spaceships."
"Oh, spaceships," she pronounces slowly then smacks her hand on the counter, "out."
"But I--"
"Out now."
"Listen, miss, I'm sorry if I upset you in some way."
"Take your crazy-ass space talk out of my diner."
"Hey!" Mal protests, "who's crazy here? Not me, that's for gorram sure, I'm not the one shoutin' and screamin' for one."
"Sure, but I'm not the one talking about spaceships and wearing cowboy-wannabe breeches and boots," her eyes flash, and again Mal's distracted by the 'pretty' thought, "you're like a one-man genre clash."
"What?"
"Get out!"
"You don't believe I've got a spaceship, is that it?"
"Oh my God, I'm calling the cops if you don't leave."
"The what?"
"The poh-leese," she enunciates carefully, "the local authorities, the town sheriff, are you receiving any of this?"
"Y'know, for such a young woman you're mighty uptight."
She grits her teeth, and points back into the kitchen, "There is a big man in there who knows how to use a carving knife, and believes strongly in the right of young ladies such as myself to pass through life without being accosted by random crazies like you."
"While I'm awful tempted by this 'accosting' you speak of, I don't believe I've laid a hand on you."
"Yet."
He grins broadly, "Yet," his humour slips and humility creeps into his voice, "miss, I need help."
"Good, acknowledgement is always the first step."
"I'm lost."
"Aren't we all?" she replies with a little roll of her eyes.
"Geographically, physically, I'm not exactly sure where I am."
Clearly there's something in his expression that gives her a little pause, an atom of doubt in her gaze that means she doesn't snap back a smart response immediately. All the cheek and spark seeps from her in an instant and she says: "What country is this?"
He stares blankly at her, "Las Vegas?"
"Right," she sighs, "right." She walks to the kitchen door and pushes it open, "Betty, I'm going to head out for lunch, you want me to put the sign up?" And indistinct mumble responds and she says, "Sure, see you later." She takes off her apron, grabs a bag from under the counter, pops her head back inside the kitchen, "If I'm not back in an hour call the cops." She walks around to Mal. "You've got a spaceship?"
Wary but, with very little to lose, he first says, "I thought there was a big man in there."
"Good as. You have a spaceship," a statement, a challenge and a new tone of impatience.
"Have my shuttle, spaceship's in orbit."
"Orbit - sure, course, naturally…whatever. Show me your shuttle space-man."
She goes inside tentatively, gripping her bag with white fingers. She examines but doesn't touch, her mouth a small 'o' of consternation as her eyes pass over the control console, the engines, the unavoidable solidity and existence of this object. When she's finished she goes outside, sits on the sand and cries hot angry tears while she digs her hands deep into the golden grains.
Mal stands back and doesn't interfere with the inclinations of this intense, and mildly exhausting, young woman.
Eventually the tears subside, she hastily dries her cheeks.
"My name's Maria," her hand juts towards him aggressively.
"Mal."
"We're in the what?" Jayne's breathing's a little erratic, but it's a singularly justified occasion for hyperventilating and no-one thinks to hush him.
"We're in the past, the year 2012 if you want the exactitude of our position," Mal reiterates, smirking at their stupefaction while conveniently ignoring his own gobsmacked state when Maria had imparted this fact to him.
"How is that even possible?"
Mal shrugs, "Only thing I can think of is that energy wave, pulse, doo-hickey that hit us back at Elysia. One minute we were over a near deserted planet, the next we had unidentified ships headin' our way."
"Told you," River sniffs and continues to brush Kaylee's hair.
"Told me what?"
"Aliens."
"No aliens in the 'verse, never been found."
"You believe all the stories they tell?" she queries softly, and that's enough to put a temporary zip on Mal's mouth.
"Anyway, this girl, Maria, she thinks she might know people who can help us. And she gave me some food," he points to the paper bags in his arms, "to make things a little easier."
Jayne dives for the bag, rapturously lifts out a plastic packet, "Is this meat?"
Mal grins, as Jayne and Zoë begin to sort through the bag. Jayne sniffs and prods each object while Zoë pulls out enough items to make a decent fresh meal for the first time in months.
Inara seems somewhat distant, "I thought you said this planet was barely technological; how are they going to be able to provide energy for the fuel cells?"
"That is a problem, but this girl's our only guide right now."
"Why don't we just go to the authorities, the government? Surely if anyone has the technology they would have it?" she questions.
"Maria says we can't trust them, says we might disappear and never be heard from again."
"And you believe her?"
"Got no cause to think otherwise, she wasn't overjoyed by my appearance, can't see how it would benefit her to lead me astray in my trust."
Zoë starts ordering people around for preparing the dinner, and Mal can tell she's trying to get them to focus on the prospect of a belly full of food rather than the fact that they are thoroughly humped. Questions abound nonetheless, and the desire to get down on solid earth is dominant. Kaylee's a little fretsome, murmurs the current level of fuel still available to them and that knowledge makes the food somewhat unappealing.
But then he recovers, regroups and regains an inkling of hope.
He has to believe.
Maria's boyfriend Michael is a sullen fellow, Mal reflects, as he, Zoë and Inara make themselves comfortable in the tiny sitting-room. Inara is wearing one of her plainest dresses, but she still glows against the background of this drably furnished little room. Zoë's standing in the doorway, her face a perfect blank although she does cock an eyebrow in response to Michael's gaze, which quietens his pouting disposition some.
"You should lose the guns," Maria informs them as she squeezes past Zoë with a tray of coffee and cake.
"Lose them?"
"Put them away, out of sight, away from prying eyes," she elaborates as she pours out the coffee.
Inara accepts the cup with a gracious smile and murmured xie xie, a flicker of consternation crossing her face at the strong aroma emanating from the brew. Mal grins to himself, but returns to Maria's suggestion.
"Got to be able to protect ourselves."
"Swaggering around like John Wayne is a great way to ensure death," she responds, giving a mug to Zoë.
"Maria says you have a spaceship," Michael says abruptly.
Maria scowls at him, shoves a cup into his hand and emits a 'hmph' of satisfaction when it splashes onto his knee.
"Woman!" he stands up and stalks into the kitchen, muttering under his breath.
Maria bestows a sunny smile upon her guests, "He'll be right back."
Silence descends upon the room, interrupted by the sounds of cautious sips.
Michael returns and settles down next to Maria.
"We have a spaceship," Mal confirms.
"Where are you from? What planet?"
"I was born on Shadow."
"Sihnon."
"On a spaceship," Zoë says quietly.
"And you're human?"
"Course," Mal snorts, "what else would we be?"
Maria and Michael look at one another.
"Am I missing something?" Mal's feeling twitchy under the weight of their unspoken words, behind him he hears a soft rustle as Zoë tenses up.
"I'm not from here," Michael spits out.
Mal blinks, waits.
Michael looks at Maria pleadingly but she prods him on with a glare. He sighs and leans forward, takes a cube of sugar from the sugar bowl and places it on the coffee table.
Maria's smiling; one of pride and now Mal's real interested in what happens to that sugar cube.
A wave of the hand, and the sugar cube disappears, replaced with a bouquet of flowers.
Inara's fingers tremble as she places her cup on the coffee table.
"Again, Michael," Maria urges him on, and Michael shoots her a quick smile before his hand passes over the flowers to leave a cup of fragrant jasmine tea in its stead. He picks it up and passes it to Inara.
"You don't look like a coffee drinker."
Maria's mouth purses a little when her beau sends her a smirk before they turn their attention to their guests.
"Any questions?"
"I have to go down on your next trip," is Simon's immediate response.
"Hold your horses, doctor, you're not planning to stick many needles into our fine new friend are you?"
"An alien, Captain, you sure?"
"Oh, he's sure, Kaylee," Zoë pats her on the shoulder as she sits down, allowing Mal to field the barrage of questions.
"That's crazy-talk Mal, how can he be an alien? Ain't no aliens in the future. Don't make sense they'd be here."
"Not tryin' to make sense of it, just telling you what's fact."
River puts up her hand.
"Yes, River?"
"Can I say 'I told you so'?"
"This planet doesn't have the technology to have built those ships, River."
"But --"
"No, this man is our ally. Those who have a predilection for aiming weapons at us, have lost the opportunity of that title, if I'm making myself clear."
She sticks out her tongue and skips out the door.
"Technically, he's half-alien," Inara interjects, her eyes fixed on the ceiling of the kitchen.
Kaylee's been doing some calculations, he can see by the fix of her eyes, "How is he going to help us?"
"Seems like he's got a way with machines and, failing that, he says there are others."
"Others?" there's an unholy gleam of delight in Simon's eyes.
"Planet's a rutting freak-show," Jayne mutters.
"I have to go with you," Maria's voice has a note of indecent stubbornness to it; should be unbecoming to a lady. Mal's sorry to say that it's not.
"I, uh," he casts his eyes to Zoë for help, but all she does is try to hide her grin, badly, and continue flicking through the channels on the telly-vision. Next time he wants a second-in-command, he's holding interviews. "I don't think Michael would appreciate you disappearing into the starry night with us."
A roll of the eyes, something that he is beginning to identify as a Maria speciality, "He's going to be gone for ages and I am going bat-shit crazy waiting around for him."
Michael has departed on his quest to find his fellow half-alien buddies, who seem to be less than easy to locate; for safety purposes it would seem. There are more than passing similarities between the government of this world and the Alliance of his time. Mal wonders if there was ever a time when it wasn't so hard to be free.
"Don't you have work?"
Maria shrugs, "I own the diner. Not in my name, because that would be risky, but it's mine. I can take a day or two off."
Zoë pipes up, "We could use her help in locating some supplies, sir."
"See?" Maria beams, "I can help, in fact, you really need my help."
"Need, really? Events have indeed turned in an interesting manner."
"Come on," Maria whined, "I have been dating an alien for, like, twelve years and not once do I get to go on a spaceship. Does that seem fair to you?"
"Sounds like an imbalance of great magnitude, Captain," Zoë adds with an innocent look before returning to the news feed she was watching.
Mal's about to reply when he notices something on the telly-vision, "What's that?"
"That?" Maria glances at the telly-vision set, "Space probe, first American-Chinese joint venture or something. People are very excited about it, it's going farther and faster than any previous probe."
Zoë and Mal stare at one another.
Maria interrupts, "So can I go up with you?"
"Wow," Maria lets out a long low whistle, "this is amazing."
Mal's so used to folk deriding Serenity that it takes him more than a minute to realise that there isn't a sarcastic inflexion to her voice.
"Well, sure, that's true. Serenity is one of the finest vessels in the 'verse," he executes the shuttle docking procedure with a flourish, "want a tour?"
"So, how long have you had your crew?" Maria's perched on the kitchen table, swinging her legs like a little girl.
"Long time," Mal settles into a chair, "been with Zoë the longest; were soldiers together."
"Soldiers? You're in the army?" she arches an eyebrow sceptically; "I thought you were all anti-establishment or something."
"Well, that was part of the anti. War was with the establishment, the Alliance."
"Who won?"
"They did."
"Oh," she stops swinging her legs, "sorry."
"No need; all that could be done was done, and now we get to live with the way it is."
"Uh huh, quite the philosophical approach you have there, Mr Reynolds," she smirks.
"Yeah, well, wasn't always so one with the Buddha on this matter, but time and tide and all such notions of getting over things."
"So after that you started doing what exactly?"
"Got Serenity, got a pilot…" his voice trails off, "got a mechanic; went into the skies and started to earn our bread."
She looks like she's going to ask something then pauses and says instead, "So where'd you pick up the doctor, his sister, the man-meat and the supermodel?"
"Heh," Mal stretches out, "those are lengthy tangled yarns, you sure you want to hear?"
"Only if I get to tell mine in return," her legs start swinging; a teasing lilt to her smile.
"Liz!" Maria runs towards the dark-haired woman who steps out of the vehicle – car – and wraps her up in a painful-looking hug. A tall man emerges as well, and Mal notices River shiver by his side.
"All right?"
"Can't see in there," she whispers, "all shiny like a mirror."
Michael and a tall blonde appear, and River steps back. Mal grabs her wrist, "Talk to me, little one."
She shakes her head, "Too, too, too alike," she mutters and runs into Simon's arms.
"So much for getting the inside track," Zoë murmurs.
"Worth a shot."
At first Michael, Maria and the new arrivals stay near the car, deep in discussion. Eventually they approach Mal.
"I'm Max," the tall man states, extending his hand.
"Mal."
They've been in the desert for hours, talking, discussing their options.
Liz and Maria are huddled in the corner, entertaining Liz's young son and conversing in strained whispers; they glance at Mal occasionally.
Their shiny new alien friends have two ideas for them; one, to see whether they can, through combined use of their powers, give them enough juice to keep Serenity in the sky, and two, go to their 'pod chamber' and see if that could both power up the ship and provide some navigation for them.
The time travel element, however, remains a stumbling block.
A shout from outside, Zoë rushes in, "Sir, we have inbound air and land vehicles."
"Fuck," Michael grunts, "I knew they would notice this shuttle eventually, I knew it."
"Who is it?"
"The military," Max replies tersely, "we need to get out of here."
"We could fight," Michael hisses, his hands lighting up with a sizzle of heat and sound.
"No, no fighting," Max glances at his son, "I don't want to risk it."
Michael grits his teeth but bows his head in agreement.
"How many can this shuttle take?" the statuesque blonde – Isabel - asks sharply.
"Not more'n five, maybe six if we stay in the atmosphere."
"That's not enough, Max," Liz has gathered up her son into her arms, and the anxiety in her voice sets him a whimpering.
"Sir, they're coming at us from all sides," Zoë shouts, "Are we fighting?"
"I respect you're a family man, and all," Mal addresses Max quietly, "but I don't think we got a wide variety of options open to us at this juncture."
"We'll protect your family," Zoë assures him firmly, "the Captain and I, we can make certain of that."
"Your powers, they're good for more than the pretty light show?"
"Oh sweetie," Isabel drawls, "you have no idea."
All aboard the Serenity now, with more than a smattering of wounds to keep the good doctor busy at his trade. Not that he was complaining, took to the mending with a zeal that indicated an unhealthy interest in gaining samples from their new friends.
Far as they know Earth folk can't follow them into the black but Mal likes to err on the right side of caution so they take the boat out further, even if it means using up a little more of their fuel cells than preferable.
He finds Maria outside the infirmary, waiting for Michael to get patched up. She looks wan and tired, a pinch of misery tugging on her lips.
"How is he?"
"Simon says he'll be fine, just wish Max would wake up, but noooo he has to go and get himself concussed," she taps her foot impatiently.
"Max could help?"
"The healing, it's how he saved Liz. How he changed her too," she sighs, looks at her feet, "I hate these shoes."
"Uh," disconcerted by this addendum, "seem mighty appropriate to me."
"Yeah," she cocks him a sweet half-smile made more appealing by its side of disbelief, "well, I'll take the 'mighty' part of that compliment."
"Take and do as you will."
"Doing and taking," she rubs her eyes, "that sounds about right."
He's quiet a beat, looking at her and thinking on her.
"You and your friends, you're risking a state of peace to help us out."
"Yeah, well," she glances at the infirmary door, "we know what it's like to be on the outside, and they know what it's like to not belong."
"Do you think they knew who you were?"
"The military?" she attempts a diffident shrug but the hunching motion simply makes her appear more vulnerable, "Nothing there that we can't leave behind."
"You could come with us," words are out before his brain's done processing all the implications of such a statement, "All of you, I mean to say."
"We could…" eyes no longer drooping but wide now, "I ..."
"Take a spell to think on it."
"Why do you think there are no aliens in our time?" Inara asks of him when he retreats from all the kerfuffle to her shuttle.
"Rightly, I don't know," he yawns and leans his head back, "though I wouldn't be surprised if they were on Elysia at some point."
"Do you think Elysia and their Antar are the same place?" it's a rhetorical question so Mal waits as Inara muses upon it. "It would explain certain things; the buildings on Elysia, why that collector was so eager to get some samples from it, why there were ships there when we arrived in this time."
"Strong possibility, though it don't explain how they suddenly disappeared. If they were so advanced, how did they die out?"
"Oh, I don't know," she picks up a brush and begins to pull it through her locks, "too many questions come with everyday, Mal. All those certainties there once were ..."
"Gone up in smoke, darlin'; should have known that River and her troubles were only the tip of the iceberg."
"They seem nice, honest."
"That they do."
"It would be sad to have to bid them farewell."
Mal senses some questions of a probing nature approaching; he sits up slowly, "That it would, for all of us. Time for me to hit the bunk, Inara. Big day tomorrow."
"Of course," she rises as he leaves.
He pauses at the door, tries to muster up the courage to say something of importance but the urge passes on by.
He bids her 'goodnight'.
Isabel's in the kitchen when he arrives in, with a steaming cup of hot chocolate before her.
"I know you didn't get that from our stores."
"Perks of being an extraterrestrial, Captain," she smiles primly, "want a cup?"
"Don't mind if I do," he grabs a cup and fills it with water, presents it to her for transformation. A wave of the hand, and it is accomplished.
A sound behind him and Mal turns to see the tail-end of River scuttling away.
"She's an unusual girl," Isabel observes simply.
"People do tend to say that."
"No, Captain," she blows gently on the hot liquid, "that girl has a mind unlike any I've seen."
"You takin' a walk in the brains of my crew?"
"People in glasshouses, Captain Reynolds, do seem prone to picking up rocks."
"Not the issue of interest here."
She shrugs, "Like a reflection, little River, with no glimpse of the other side of the looking glass."
Mal chokes on his chocolate.
"Something wrong, Captain?"
"No, no," he whispers harshly, "nothing wrong."
They're monitoring the comm traffic between military commands near the aliens' crash site when the proximity alert is set off.
"Captain, we have two ships approaching rapidly," Zoë shouts as she takes the helm.
"Markings? Class?"
"None, sir; same as last time. Orders, sir?"
Isabel and Max are on the bridge and in unison they say: "Stop."
"Begging your kindly pardon?"
"It's them," Max states, turns to Isabel and says, "get Michael." She leaves the room quickly. To Mal and Zoë, "They're our people, from Antar."
"And you can tell how?"
"I can tell."
Everyone's feeling more than a little shifty with the two alien vessels parked alongside Serenity. Even more so when Max announces that he, Isabel and Michael are going to go over to one of them.
"I'll take you," Mal offers, leaves Zoë in charge of the ship.
Once there, the three aliens disappear into the ship while Mal's left kicking his heels in the shuttle. Atmo not suitable for a mere mortal like him, it would seem.
He dozes off, comes too with a start to find three aliens peering down at him; unsettling state of affairs for a man.
"Time to go."
Liz and Maria waiting when they step out into Serenity, so much relief on their faces that Mal wonders whether their visit had been more fraught with dangerous possibilities than he'd been lead to believe.
"They've always been afraid we'd leave," Isabel whispers in Mal's ear before sweeping away.
He gazes at the two couples, waits awhile but when they don't seem to be ending their reunion celebrations he simply murmurs, "I'll be in the kitchen, you folks take your time."
"It was their fault," Max explains.
Man's got a powerful way about him, Mul cogitates, even Jayne shuts up to listen.
"It was an experiment, to see if they could send a ship into the future."
"Your folks got time travel?" Kaylee's mouth is a full circle of awe.
"Not very good time travel," Michael interjects, "they opened the time-space wormhole-thing and instead of going forward, they pulled you back."
"Shiny."
"Can they send us back? Will they send us back?"
Max looks at his hands, "I'm not certain, they don't generally tend to care about humans."
"Then why they talk to us, to your good selves I mean," Mal gestures towards them, "if they're not interested in our plight."
"Information, and," Max sighs, "there's been a revolt on Antar; Kivar is no longer in power and the new government is seeking our return as symbolic figureheads."
Liz stiffens, stares at the table.
"It also turns out that probes from Earth have been arriving in their system, so far these have only been surveillance probes and most are destroyed before they reach Antar's atmosphere, but they are uncomfortable with the situation."
"I didn't think we could send anything that far," Maria glances around for confirmation.
"That's what we've been told, doesn't mean it's true," Liz says quietly.
"They apologise for attacking you previously, they didn't understand what had happened with the experiment. Your appearance shocked them."
"How did they go from 'shocked' to 'attack'?" Mal wonders, "It's a point of interest for me."
"We might be able to persuade them to help, but it will take time."
"Time ain't something we have an abundance of; our dwindling fuel situation is a sort of pressing issue."
"I understand, and they understand that but ..."
"They want something from us in return," Michael finishes, looking at Maria.
"Do you know what it's like loving someone who belongs to a different world?" Maria demands when she corners Mal in a corridor.
"If we're speaking metaphorically I may --"
"No, not metaphors," she pokes him in the chest, "I have given up too much, I have spent too much time, I need…" she stops, breathes deep and levels him with a searing stare, "I can't lose him."
"We don't need much sleep," Isabel explains when Mal finds her in the kitchen in the middle of the night.
"Michael and Max seem --"
"It's different when you have someone," she sniffs at the mug of hot chocolate before her, "I think this needs a little something, do you have Tabasco?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind," she sighs.
Mal settles into a chair, "What do you do, back on Earth?"
"I'm a doctor," she smiles, "not a bad one either."
"No-one there knows you're other-wordly?"
" 'Other-wordly'," she tilts her head as she considers that, "I like that," shakes her head, sips her hot chocolate, "and no, would be the answer. No-one there knows about me. Used to be someone but he's gone now."
"Oh."
She sips, "His name was Kyle, he came from Roswell…he died," she finishes harshly, eyes challenging him to comfort her.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. We haven't been able to try to power up your fuel cells, we just can't generate significant amounts."
Mal blinks, processes the change in topic and replies, "I thank you for trying, you've been very kind."
"Yes, well…" she sips.
Mal never thought he'd have a yearning for the Cortex, for the Core planets or anything that rings of the Alliance to him but he has placed his rose-coloured spectacles firmly in place, and has managed to drag from the depths of his memory one or two reminiscences of a pleasant nature.
There is little time left, and he wonders, looking down at Earth-that-was, whether he is looking at his new home.
Simon grabs him as he passes the infirmary, "Do you have a minute?"
"Are you asking?" Mal wonders as he is lead into the infirmary, doors shut firmly behind them.
"I've run tests on our friends," he widens his eye on 'friends' in case of doubt, "and I've noticed some similarities."
"Similarities?"
"Yes, similarities, look," he pushes a print-out in front of Mal, "see this and this?"
"No."
"One particular gene-marker occurs, in all three aliens, that also occurs," he flips the pages, "here."
"And these would be?"
"These are results of tests I've run on --"
"Cap'n!" Kaylee appears in the doorway, smile bright as sunshine, "Been looking for you; our aliens got us a deal."
Just like that, there's real hope again. Feels like someone's turned the volume up on Serenity, with all the bustling and the preparations being made. Jayne and Simon are sniping at one another, Zoë's dragging crates around and organising the hold, Inara's distributing endless cups of tea with a side of that grace she holds.
He catches River peeking into the engine room, where Max is helping Kaylee fix some worn parts.
"Not scared of them anymore?"
"We're one tree, it's easier when you see that," she informs him solemnly and slips into the room to observe them more closely.
"We only promised them contact, nothing more," Max assures.
"You sure they settled for just that?"
"That's all they could settle for," Max is steady and even but his smile is somewhat sheepish, "we were never going to go with them."
"Don't look apologetic; you've got kin to take care of here, that should always come first."
"It does."
They look down at the game taking place in the cargo hold, watch Michael and Maria gang up on Jayne and Kaylee.
"You didn't tell them the truth, did you?"
"About?"
"About the future."
"If I did that, I would have condemned the human race," Max says quietly, "the Antarrians would never accept the extinction of their own kind."
"So you told them..."
"That you were on an exploratory mission from Earth, just coming into range of the planet when you were hit by the time-experiment."
"They believed that?"
"They do not place much confidence in human intelligence."
"Good to know."
Yet, after so much waiting, it seems the remaining time slips from their grasp without warning. The Antarrians will guide them to their home-world, and then they shall repeat their experiment, hopefully, returning them to their rightful time.
Serenity is ready for her voyage, but her crew are feeling the urge to linger, unwilling to say goodbye. There's no space for waiting, however, now that plans are in motion. So when the time comes for farewells and teary separations, it comes as a surprise.
Inara will take Max, Liz and their son home. Zoë will bring Isabel, Michael and Maria to where they need to be. All routes and landing spots been neatly arranged, all local radar and comm traffic will be dealt with by their friendly alien friends. Nothing left to do now, but set the folk on their way.
They're gathered on the gangway outside the shuttles, and it's an awkward affair. Difficult to owe someone so much and know you'll never be able to repay them at all.
Handshakes and some hugs – Kaylee got to know Liz best – and Mal makes his way through the group to the one who set all these wheels a-turning.
"Hey," she says softly.
"Hey," he responds, feeling more than a shade of awkward.
"I, uh," she puffs out her cheeks, "I'm sorry I snapped at you when --"
He waves a hand, dismissing it from relevance, "Not worth settling on, was a time of some consternation for all concerned."
"But I just want you to know --"
"Not something I have an interest in discussing," he states firmly.
She lapses into silence.
"You can't go back home?"
Maria wrinkles her nose, "It's not safe there anymore for me and Michael, we need to move on."
"You know that you're ..."
She silences him with a hand on his arm, "I thought about your offer, I really did. But...I can't leave this world, and I can't leave him," she glances over at Michael who is talking to Zoë. She smiles up at him, "I would have liked to see the stars."
Mal thinks he's more disappointed than he should be, all things considered. "I'm sorry for the upset we've caused you. You didn't need to help us, don't think we don't appreciate everything you've done for us."
She shrugs it off, "I was getting bored of Las Vegas anyway, and it was a pretty crummy diner," she grins, "and it's been awhile since we've been dodging the law and engaging in alien shenanigans. It was fun, mostly."
"You ready?" Michael shouts, and Mal realises that they've started to board.
"One second," Maria calls back, and he disappears into the shuttle with Inara and Isabel. Maria looks at Mal intently before leaning up to press her lips gently to the corner of his mouth. She smiles and squeezes his arm gently, "It was a pleasure to meet you Captain Reynolds. Good luck."
And she walks away.
"Sir, the Antarrians have communicated that they are ready to begin the experiment," Zoë informs him.
"Alright then," Mal gets on the comm, "this is the captain speaking, you might want to strap yourselves onto something immovable like."
Him and Zoë on the bridge this time, staring at a dull blue-grey rock of a planet. Just hovering in the black until the instruments on the control panel start to go all doo-lally.
River's voice comes over the comm, very brief and crackly like, "Captain?"
"Not now, little one."
Everything's starts to slow, slow, slow right down and Mal exhales on the longest breath. River's voice comes through again, all distorted and garbled, but it makes sense. It still makes sense.
"Told you so."
And there is light.