“Zoe!” Mal’s voice from the cockpit. “What’s keeping you?”
“Someone I don’t
recognize says he’s here to help?”
“I don’t believe
this,” he grumbled in Chinese, sticking his head out the door. “You think you can trust a gun-toting
mercenary to at least keep strange folk in one spot.... Look, just bring him in here and keep watch
on him; I need you.”
Zoe gestured toward
the door with her gun, and the Doctor happily went along. Once he stepped in, he got an annoyed scowl
from Mal. “This don’t mean I trust
you. This means I need to talk to one of
my crew, and I don’t got time for your foolishness. Quipping and crazy babble aside, stand in a
corner and keep that mouth quiet.”
The Doctor grinned
harmlessly and saluted. He stayed out of
the way, peering through the glass at the sky beyond and the large ship that loomed
before Serenity. They both seemed of the same class of
technology, though the ship he stood in was less refined. Most likely not aliens, then, or at least
aliens that were already part of this world.
Mal and Zoe put
their heads together, though she never took her eyes off the Doctor. They conferred in low voices. “How much did we look into that last job we
took from Davin?” Mal whispered.
“Not a lot,
sir. We had to do some heavy negotiating
to get an advance on the fee so we could fuel the ship just to do the job,
remember?”
“Remind me why it’s
a good idea not to look too close at jobs,” Mal said, rubbing a hand over his
face.
“Because not all
jobs do a conscience good to know what they are, even if we need them to keep
flying, sir.” It sounded rehearsed, like
she was throwing his own words back at him.
The look on Mal’s face confirmed it.
“Also, it’s stupid and dangerous.”
He scowled. “Those last two aren’t reasons why it’s a
good idea.”
“No,” Zoe said with
a straight face. “They’re not.”
“Might I point out
that they’re still trying to talk?” Wash said as he fiddled with some
dials. “I can only fake the
communications error for so long before they just decide to board us and talk
that way.”
“I could talk to
them,” the Doctor offered, not thinking twice about breaking the command not to
talk.
“Who is this guy?” Wash demanded, looking
over his shoulder at the Doctor.
“Someone who doesn’t
get to represent my crew,” Mal interjected before the Doctor could answer. “I don’t know who you are, why you’re here,
or even how you got here, but you stay out of my business, okay?” He ran his hand over his hair. “Things never go smooth.... One thing at a time. Wash, keep delaying. We’ll go ahead and let them board. You,” he pointed at the Doctor, “out. Zoe, go with him.” Mal followed them out as they headed back
down to the cargo bay.
Halfway down the hall,
they heard a squeal of unmistakable, yet feminine, rage. The Doctor recognized Amy’s voice and took
off, gun-toting soldier be damned. Mal
and Zoe were right on his heels.
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