It was a warm and sunny day on the hazy moon of Fiddlers Green, with the system's primary sun Georgia and the secondary protostar Murphy tracking almost equally through the bright blue sky. Despite the presence of two suns, Fiddlers Green wasn't overly inhospitable, as it was orbiting the gas giant Elphame along with three other moons, all of them roughly equal in their distance from both of the stars so much so that they could all support life well-enough without lending to danger. That wasn't to say it wasn't hot, or without its drawbacks, of which there were plenty.
The planet had greenery in patches across its surface where pockets of humidity tended to gather more freely, but they also tended to be both swampy and dense, almost jungle like in their setting. The far drier and semi-plains like areas of the planet were where the majority of towns were settled, and work on Fiddlers Green consisted primarily of harvesting the trees of the jungle-like swamps as they were constantly flourishing, leading to the planet being a little bit sparse in other places to make way for its export of lumber. The towns had a rustic feel to them, almost old western in the structure of the buildings due to simplicity and the sheer abundance of wood, and the communities were small and tight-knit to better get along and survive.
The people of Dirtside were friendly enough, mostly to one another, and were generally amicable towards strangers and outsiders, the hillfolk that preferred a more secluded lifestyle, and even the forest dwellers that lurked in the swampland to help support the lumber business. Although the townsfolk tended to gather and wonder with a level of interest when an honest-looking spaceship like Serenity came roaring overhead as it had not long ago, landing a few miles from the small town. A couple of them talked amongst themselves as they watched a few new people outside the bank at the town's edge, having come in a couple of minutes earlier on foot.
With the suppressed warning shot fired, the few townspeople hurried off immediately from the small crowd they’d been amassing into, fleeing with the haste of people that would much rather be safe and sound in their homes than be too curious and get shot by the group of strangers. Jayne made a snide remark accompanied by a laugh as they went.
“Yeah, keep on walkin’, ya idjits,” he said with a sneer, resting Vera on his shoulder. He lovingly patted the powerful semi-automatic rifle with a smile to himself. “You know how to handle a crowd, don’t ya, girl?”
Jayne was a simple sort of man. He enjoyed roughhousing, booze, women, and guns. If he could spend a day drinking and beating the shit out of people that annoyed him, got a new firearm in the process and bedded a wench or two, he would be all too pleased and call it life-changing. Short buzzed dark-maroon hair and steely blue eyes accompanied a fairly handsome suntanned face, along with a chiselled and intimidating physique that sent women weak at the knees.
He wasn't the smartest of men, known for his greed and general quickness to anger, but he was someone to have in the friendly corner during a scuffle or gunfight, and on occasion, had a measure of intelligence to share from his rough life and skills for survival. For all his faults he was dependable when the chips were down, and he was a man that loved his family. No one talked poorly about Mama Cobb unless they very quickly wanted to find themselves eating through a straw for the foreseeable future.
The moment he'd taken to praising Vera for her well done efforts on his behalf was the exact time another of his shipmates showed up, and he lowered the prized weapon as he was fixed with a scrutinising look.
“Jayne, are you talkin’ to that rifle again?” Zoë asked, making Jayne scoff as she stopped her jog around to his position from around the side of the bank. “Any trouble?”
Jayne waved her off. “Nah, jus’ the townsfolk pokin' their noses in.”
“Let’s keep it that way. Captain says not to fire any shots ‘less there’s Alliance, can’t keep a low profile outside a bank if you’re firing at people,” Zoë warned with a look, hefting her lever-action up, the sawed-off rifle commonly called a mare's leg. “Mal wants this clean and quick, and we don’t wanna attract undue attention. That hunk of iron aint exactly what you'd call subtle.”
“I like shootin' at 'em.” Jayne started, throwing her a look, but begrudgingly slung Vera on his back, unholstering a massive .38 calibre Civil-War-style wheelgun he affectionately called Boo and using that instead. While not silenced it probably wasn't as loud as Vera, even without any suppression on the barrel as the rifle possessed.
Ignoring him, she turned about and briskly paced back around the side of the building, kicking up dust and dirt as she made her way to the Captain who was busy currently trying to break into the secluded bank on the outskirts of the small town. This was seemingly the perfect crime and the job was going well so far, but their jobs never did go all according to plan, they never had and never would. If it did go without any hitches on a bank robbery of all things then she’d buy Wash that awful new Neo-Hawaiian shirt he’d had his eye on back on Persephone, during their visit to Badger to get this little shindig in the first place.
She loved her husband. Wash was an odd fellow sporting scruffy blonde hair, a tan, and an honest smile, with often amusing ways of doing things alongside a relaxed attitude to life that complimented her serious side. He was wonderfully funny and had a habit of getting along with everyone, always managing to diffuse tense situations with his sense of humour, so it lended to eccentricity at times but she tolerated such things along with his rather questionable dress sense. Zoë was quite practical like that, and a marriage needed two to tango, he equally put in tolerance of her stoicism just as much and kept her from delving too far into her old self, the yang to her yin, in a sense. She was pragmatic and efficient, career military before signing up with the Captain, always calm in a dangerous situation.
Her bright hazel eyes scanned her surroundings for even the slightest bit of movement that could land them in hot water, yet she saw little out of the ordinary. Zoë was efficient above all else, she didn't like to leave things to chance if it could be helped. Small things, like keeping her long dark flowing tresses tied back into a tight ponytail so it didn't obscure her line of sight, or not wearing a loose duster that would hinder her movements like the Captain did as a symbol of his oh-so-rugged manliness.
She also liked the feeling of the sun on her ebony skin but that was by the by, it was just better to not be hindered with what wasn't necessary. The only eccentricity she allowed herself were the shoelaces tied around her neck, of which she had her reasons that few were aware of. She was careful with many things, to which the Captain wasn't as careful as she'd like, though he was a man of action and steadfast resolve and he'd always take her word into consideration no matter the situation, and she would always follow him anywhere. Even to darkly hidden places the Alliance took great pains to secret away such as the hellish planet Miranda.
Zoë quickly looked back over her shoulder before coming to her original position and siding up to the Captain, the man standing with a focused and busy look on his face outside the bank. She glanced around warily for anything out of place before looking back at him.
“Sir, Jayne was just keeping the peace. Told him to keep it simple.”
“Good... Once this newtech cracks the door we’ll be in and out ‘fore the Alliance knows we were even here, the fed station a few miles out can rest easy.” Mal said, mostly to a panel that he was doing his best to jiggle around as the device he was handling was calibrating, then speaking into the short-wave radio he had on his upper coat. “‘Course, that’s assumin’ we aint got any trouble inside with the defences?”
“Like I said, Cap’n; should all be shiny!” Kaylee's cheerful voice replied out of his radio.
The bubbly mechanic was back on their ship Serenity making sure everything was going fine in the ship's engine room in case the plan went south and they needed a quick rescue, it was likely she was also caked head to toe in engine grease too, though that was very normal for her. With mousy-brown shoulder-length hair framing sweet jade-hued eyes on a homely girlish face, all-too-often smudged in something relating to her passion of working on engines and machinery; Kaylee was a young woman with more optimism about the 'Verse than Mal had personal gripes with the Alliance, and she was probably just about the nicest person that most people could ever meet in their lives. If someone had an issue, Kaylee had the time to talk, a shoulder to cry on, and a hug lined up. If someone had engine trouble, Kaylee was the girl to see about getting it fixed in a jiffy. She was also very handy with fancy newtech that the Captain didn't much care to understand.
“Badger gave us these codes an’ they should work just dandy; it’s gonna be red all across the board, an’ I made double sure that the system would be scrambled when it gets disabled. Only trouble’ll be whoever comes lookin’.”
"Thanks, little Kaylee." Mal said into the comm.
“Gonna be some townsfolk inside,” Zoë stated. “It’s early morning, people are still going to work but tellers and guards are a certainty, perhaps a few patrons. Aint gonna be many with any luck.”
“Best hope.” Mal nodded, his eyes glancing past Zoë, luck was never something to count on for their crew, least of all for him and Zoë. “An’ once we do get inside, we best keep an eye an’ ear out cos’ we aint got our albatross with us this time ‘round to alert us to anything.”
He meant River, of course, their little psychic assassin girl with an innocent heart.
“Duly noted, sir.”
“Wash, you ready with the ship in case things go south?” Mal asked curiously to the upper of his duster as a twig snapped to the side of them back the way Zoë had come. It was simply Jayne doing a sweep, and he reported nothing out of the ordinary and joined them. Mal's eyes darted to the hill a short distance away they’d come over from, hoping no one was poking their nose into their flying transport they’d hidden beneath a basic camouflage. The Mule was large and bright yellow, and wasn't exactly what he'd call inconspicuous.
“I'm good, Captain,” Wash replied from the comm, in his usual jubilant tone. "Just say the word and we'll come running."
With a triumphant smile as a sequence of flashes on the device pinged, Mal eased a little as the side door, far more modern and technological than a rural backwater bank's side-entrance should be, released its locks, and shifted with a heavy whir as it opened inwards. A security door like this would make folk want to try a frontal assault, only for them to be hit by the heavy defences inside. Knocking this way with their hack meant there was a bigger element of surprise. He took care as he removed the newtech device and stashed it in his inner coat pocket; Badger was going to want the expensive gizmo back as soon as possible.
“There ya go, Cap’n! I'm readin' all red on this side. Stay safe you three, I'll sort the fuel injectors for hard burn just in case." Kaylee chirped from the comm.
“Appreciated, xiǎo mèi mèi.” Mal replied to her. He lifted his reliable sidearm, bearing a mouthful of a name most simply chose to call the Frontier Model B ─he liked to call his the Liberty Hammer, but that was only to himself─ and slowly paced towards the open door. There was a sudden heavy knock from behind that made him jump to attention, he whipped around with his sidearm pointed squarely at the gruff mercenary of his crew. “Húndàn, Jayne! You tryin' to get shot?”
Laughing only to himself, Jayne came over with Boo resting loosely in his grasp, a nasty glare from Mal and a look of annoyance from Zoë told him his work was done.
“So we doin’ this or what?” He asked, checking his pistol. “I'm gettin’ restless.”
Nodding to the two, Mal once again faced the other way. Readying his gun while waving Zoë forward to take point, they moved up together with Jayne covering the rear. The doorway would remain open, the codes keeping the system in a state of flux and playing havoc with the internal electronics. It was hopefully going to be active for a good while yet, which was plenty of time to get things done with no fuss.
Well, that’s always the idea.
Striding through the entrance and down a low-lit hallway with his long coat billowing behind him, Mal quickly paced to its end and opened the worn wooden door set before him with a shove, immediately sighting a guard in a loose coat and a clear iron on his hip idly relaxing against a wall. He was very interestedly looking at a buxom young woman in a pretty red number as she looked in her purse. Firing a shot into the ceiling Mal then snapped his sidearm down at the guard the second he jumped in alarm and fixed his attention to their group. Zoë was already moving forwards and sweeping, as Jayne sided up to the surrendering guard who realised he was very outnumbered.
As per the norm, Mal spoke up as everyone instinctively dropped to the floor. Considered to be quite a dashing rogue mostly by himself, his short rich-brown side-flip, mischievous deep-blue eyes, and handsomely boyish good looks lending to the side of pretty atop a modest masculine build tended to make him someone many people underestimated, often to their downfall. Mal was a greatly charismatic man with a strict code of honour and ethics, underlain by a darkly serious streak when he was truly angry, a side that rarely came to the surface around his crew unless it was entirely necessary.
“Alright folks, it seems you know what to do so I’ll cut to the quick. We aint here to hurt ya, we’re just here for what the Alliance are hidin’. Now we don’t quite know where it is, we just know we’re lookin’ for a fancy black crate ‘bout the size of a… crate... I suppose.”
“Very eloquent, sir.” Zoë commented, helping Jayne with moving the bank's occupants into a corner.
She quickly frisked them down for any weapons as Jayne stood watch to make sure no one tried anything that would result in injury for both sides, although he was apparently a little more interested in eyeing the generously-breasted lady in the frilly red dress same as the guard had been. To their luck there weren't as many people as she’d guessed, and only few of them were armed other than the guard, giving their weapons up with no tussle.
“Now, we could spend a fair bit of time makin’ a ruckus lookin’ about for the thing, but that’d be mighty inconvenient for us an’ for you, an’ we don’t wanna be in your hair longer than we have to. So considerin’ we’re gonna be takin’ the modest reserve the Alliance stash here an’ all, we’d be plenty willin’ to split it with the kind soul that shows us where it is.”
Mal let that settle for a few moments, scanning around at the ceiling to where he could then see the turret hatches of the building's newtech defences. A frontal assault without the hack device would have been plain stupid. He hoped Badger’s codes were good for more than a few minutes, otherwise they’d be in very big trouble. It was a small boon that this place relied solely on its machines for security rather than having several guards.
“Captain Malcolm Reynolds, thought it might be you.”
Mal turned about to look at the source of the voice, being the security guard they’d relieved of his weapon. Zoë raised an eyebrow as the man stepped apart from the mass of people past her with his hand held out despite the rifle she was training on him. He was quite the sight now Mal took his weathered features in; the wizened face with wrinkles that spoke of experience, and the complete moustache and beard that was entirely salt-and-peppered with almost a full head of hair to match save the bald crown. With his steely grey eyes the man just needed a wide-brimmed hat to complete his casual on-the-range look.
“It would be an honour t’ shake yer hand, sir,” the man smiled, grinning. “And damn me if I didn’t show ya where that black box is at.”
“Well now.” Mal said with surprise. “Ain't that something. What’s your name, old timer?”
“Danny, sir. Danny Sallon,” he replied, as Mal cautiously met him but did indeed shake firmly, carefully lowering his pistol. “Fought my part in the war. 77th regiment, Scouters Eagles. Ain't a man alive fightin’ fer Independence who don’t know you an’ yours.”
“Unfortunately I’d reckon so,” Mal nodded, catching the small smile Zoë had. “Point of pride for most of my crew, hurtin’ the Alliance the way we did with the truth of Miranda, but it painted a mighty big target on our backs, and we've gotten into a little more trouble since as well, they're probably gunnin' for us something fierce.”
“Yet here ya are, still showing those Alliance dogs what for.”
“It does tickle to keep messin’ with them some.”
“Sir, clock’s ticking.” Zoë warned.
“True that is,” Mal nodded, looking at Danny. “So, fancy showing us this box?”
“It’s down past the generator out back, they don’t keep it inside.” Danny explained, he waved towards the townspeople who promptly eyed the trio of brigands but relaxed and went about their business, Zoë stopped training her mare's leg and Jayne read the situation as being acceptable as well, thankfully not starting anything. Zoë assessed there wasn't any remaining threat easily enough and laid the weapons she'd relieved down upon a teller desk as she moved to fall in behind Mal as he went with Danny, who kept talking. “Y’all don’t gotta worry ‘bout us folk, we’re all supportive of Independence. We all make nice faces at the Alliance and dance their tune but we don’t like it none.”
Mal scoffed as he amicably followed Danny back down the hall they’d entered in from. “So then how did the tactical geniuses of the Alliance Brass end up putting one of their shady assets in Browncoat territory? Surely they’d have sniffed that out?”
“I'da thought so too, but I suppose what with the fallout of Miranda an' losin' support from a dozen planets, coupled with that they’re so damn far up their own asses, they probably thought we was all glad they came along an’ stationed their shit in our backyard when we played nice for them,” Danny shrugged a little. “Maybe they was relieved we weren't tryin' t' shoot 'em. I mean, credit where it's due, them turrets is nice an’ all, an' they do stop small time robberies from the hillfolk that sometimes come in with poor intentions, but we was always able t’ stop things happen’ the second they started anyway. Folks are plenty armed around here when the situation calls fer it.”
“Just the benevolent Alliance helpin’ the little people with their endless love.”
“Amen.” Zoë deadpanned behind as they went.
Coming around to an iron door on the far side of the bank that led outside into a chain-link fenced area filled with scrap and debris. Mal glanced around and didn’t see anything that looked particularly interesting, and that was likely the point. He looked to his left seeing Zoë and Jayne step next to him, where Zoë immediately locked her eyes on what Danny was moving over to, ever sharp and inquisitive. Mal had been looking around at the various bits of scrap for anything that might hide something, but she'd seen past that.
“Y’all probably spied this lil' junkheap out here on yer way in, but it is mighty unsuspecting to the everyday traveller,” Danny then pointed at and casually kicked a water pump, pulling on it at an odd angle. “Them bastards hid it well, gotta give 'em that.”
With a jump, the ground to the side of the pump shook, and gravel and dirt shifted, falling into an opening that began to appear in the earth, perfectly hidden away. Jayne scoffed as it took its time doing so, grinding open at what seemed a snail's pace. Mal could have stripped his weapon and put it back together twice by the time it finished.
“The slow openin’ time is meant to give the Alliance ample opportunity t’ respond as usually by now they’re already on their way if the turrets go active, or this hatch gets opened without the right clearance in time. They show up every end of the month with a special badge that plays nice with all the newtech, but whatever ya did seems t' have screwed with the system.”
“Doesn’t that mean the system malfunctioning would also alert them?” Zoë asked, idly readying her weapon and glancing around to the hills for anything coming their way.
“Nah, ‘cos of the newtech them turrets got an’ the old electricals of what the bank’s got they tend to mess up, so they don’t bother runnin’ on over for each time a wire splits,” Danny shook his head, then pointed to the hole. “S’done, box is below.”
He led them down the dirty metal stairs into a low lit room with clean metal-tiled walls that certainly didn’t look like it would have fit into the architecture of the rural bank. The walls were a dull uniform grey and the floors were also decked in metal plating, strip lighting along the floor plates keeping things moderately visible. Their prize lay at the end of the underground tunnel in a storage area, a faint cyan glow emanating from the secure crate.
“Jayne, go grab the Mule, double time,” Mal ordered. “Zoë an’ I’ll get it up top ready for movin’.”
“I was hopin’ for some action. Damn delivery jobs…” Jayne grumbled, going back up the stairs and leaving them in the near darkness.
“Alright, let’s see what we got.” Mal nodded to Zoë.
Slinging her rifle on her back, she pressed the button on the front of the container, which gave a small hiss of air as it clicked in place. The top sides of the box split, raised up, and quickly opened outward. Zoë breathed out with an appreciative whistle.
“That’s a lot of paper-money, sir.”
“It is, ain't it?” Mal whispered, slightly awed by the sight.
“Also tracked, you think?”
A gruff laugh made them turn around.
“Nope, that’s the best part,” Danny smiled, his voice was an amused growl. “This lot of cash needs t’ be registered an’ finished, which is why they stored it here on Fiddlers Green. Feds bitch plenty 'bout havin' t' come out here 'cos of it. Couldn't tell ya why here, but it's here all the same.”
“It’s useless as currency on a border planet, so most people would have no reason to steal it.” Zoë deduced, looking back at the paper again. “And the time taken to find a buyer with the feds about looking for it wouldn’t be worth the effort. It's likely here because there's shady high-class business to be had in the Blue Sun system, and Georgia's a safe throughway.”
“Could be.” He shrugged, gesturing towards them. “‘Course they didn’t take account of y’all or some sumbitch crazy enough to try liftin’ it.”
“Well that's shiny, but a slight issue in that I did promise payment for helping us,” Mal began with a glance. “It ain't a currency used like platinum, it’s only generally for the fancy core planets.”
“Knowing this’ll hurt ‘em some is payment enough fer me,” Danny waved off, gesturing to the crate. “Want help shifting it?”
“That’d be a treat.” Mal nodded, looking at his first-mate. “Zoë, get yourself up top an’ keep an eye out for Jayne, we’ll get this up in a second.”
“Sir.”
She faced about and promptly marched up the metal stairs, her footsteps becoming faint when she left. Mal holstered the Liberty Hammer and took a hold of the box on one side with Danny handling the other, and together they lifted it. It wasn’t majorly heavy, though it was certainly easier to have two people moving it than one person struggling with the strain on their back in a semi-lit passage up some stairs.
Zoë turned her head back over her shoulder to see Mal coming out with the crate, the Browncoat helping diligently. She was slightly distrustful that he’d been so fast to offer his assistance, yet having taken the few extra seconds she’d not been mistaken seeing several clues as to the town being affiliated to the Independent's cause. A certain type of hat hung here, or a mark or emblem etched there from old squads, like secret code for those knowing where to look.
And he'd mentioned the Scouters Eagles. They'd been a damned fine regiment before they’d been mostly wiped out on Cojax during the war and the survivors reassigned to other ghost companies. For him to have served around his age, give or take a couple years, must have been quite the feat of strength.
She turned her head. “Jayne’s not long away, can hear the engine from here.”
Mal huffed, placing the box down to the ground. “Good, that’s what I thought it was. Hell, I’d hate to jinx it but things are going a mite easy.”
“Sir…” Zoë frowned, fixing him with a glance.
“Just saying, figured there might be a few more noses gettin’ bloodied.”
“Then we can stop by a bar on the way back to Persephone.”
The thrum of the Mule’s large engine turned into a roar as Jayne eventually drew up close outside the gated area. Danny moved forward and unlocked the gate itself, opening it and moving a few things out of the way for them. Mal was just about to radio to Wash before Danny spoke up, dusting his hands off.
“Alright, I think yer good to-”
Danny suddenly shouted in pain and was thrown backwards like he'd been hit with a giant hammer as there was a massive echo, a split second later came the loud subsonic clap of the rifle, the shot had to have been to the chest for that effect. He’d hit the wall with a thud and crumpled down. Immediately Mal, Jayne, and Zoë were into action.
Mal grabbed the crate with a hand and dragged it through the gateway while drawing his sidearm and keeping it at the ready. Zoë quickly went to the Browncoat, putting her arms around the older man and dragging him into a safer position behind one of the junkpiles.
“Anyone see where that came from?! Jayne, you got eyes?” Mal barked.
“Can’t see nothin’!” Jayne replied, scanning the hills and the area around them from his hunkered down position on the Mule. Another tooth-rattling shot rang out and impacted against the Mule’s frame so heavily that it pierced and buckled. Jayne ducked down into cover, swearing loudly as several more rapid-fire shots hit into the dirt around all of them from other weapons, helping Mal spot them from the flashes.
“About eight of them north-east of us, a good klick out!” He announced, taking a few blind shots in their direction. It likely wouldn’t hit at this distance but it would still make them scatter for any possible cover and approach more cautiously, Jayne adding to the fire with Vera as he took the rifle off his back after holstering Boo.
“Keep an eye out for the sniper, Jayne.” Zoë said, opening Danny’s shirt to see the rifle round had gone right through the man's light armour vest and through him, the basic layer of kevlar was only meant for maybe a round or two from a small calibre pistol, not a heavy weapon. He’d most likely died the second he’d hit the ground. “Dammit.”
“We’ll have to give our respects later, Zoë,” Mal warned, not looking away from the position of the feds. “Got more pressin’ issues right now, come help me with this.”
She glowered silently as she sprung forwards from her position, another shot ricocheting from behind her. If they kept moving around at this distance then the sniper couldn’t reliably hit them as they had with the older Browncoat, she grabbed ahold of the black box and lifted it with Mal, and together they got it fully onto the Mule before climbing on themselves. They were on it within a second as another high-velocity round smacked into the Mule's frame, and Jayne punched it at full speed. The kick of the vessel lurched them backwards, but they held steady.
A few more bullets zipped past, keeping them as low as possible. Jayne returned a few shots towards the feds running at them on foot, making them scatter again.
“That what you wanted, sir?”
“Wasn’t what I meant, no.” Mal frowned, knowing full well her meaning and feeling a tinge of guilt at her tone, radioing to Serenity with his comm over the roar of the Mule as it gained speed. “Wash! Get to us, quick as you can, we got trouble!”
There was a second before the crackle of the pilot’s voice came through.
“Sure thing, Captain. Alliance?” came Wash’s quick reply over the static-filled device, the comms were shaky at the best of times, it was likely the Mule was interfering somehow.
“Surely is, double-time it if you can, might be they got a patrol on us!” Mal finished, pressing off the button as there was an equally loud whir similar to their own transport. He sometimes hated when he was right.
“Sir! Cruiser!”
Mal looked behind after Zoë, seeing an Alliance manned vessel hurtling towards them faster than they were travelling on a smoother course, kicking up less dust and debris and gaining in swathes. He levelled his pistol against his other arm and fired off several times at the small land cruiser, making the three Alliance soldiers on it duck behind the heavy protective plating it boasted around its fore.
“Zoë, I see another!” he shouted over the noise of their engine, spotting yet another vessel zoning in and joining the first in their pursuit. They were far more well-designed and powerful and were going to catch-up in no time at all.
“On it!” Zoë growled, firing in the new cruiser's direction.
“This is more like it!” Jayned yelled, firing burst shots from Vera at each of the pursuing cruisers, managing to hit one of the men in the first, who fell back and nearly slipped off the rail until his fellows caught him. “Scratch ‘em one!”
“Good to see your spirits ain't dampened none.” Mal humorlessly spoke at him, pressing the radio button again. “Wash that’s two cruisers on us, if you can push her faster we’d be mighty appreciative!”
“Going as fast as Serenity’ll allow, Captain! Kaylee’s giving her a boost!” Wash replied, there was a pause. “I gotcha on radar, we’ll be coming in fast on your right side!”
“Got it!” Mal lifted his thumb, his other arm outstretched with his gun. “Hear that, Zoë, Jayne? Get ready to brace for a swallow!”
Zoë was aiming carefully as her mare's leg was better for shorter ranges. At this speed and distance she needed to be as accurate as she could. A bullet hit off the metal beside her and she didn’t flinch, then squeezing the trigger as she tracked. She hit her mark squarely, the man being knocked backwards before his allies could catch him and he tumbled off the speeder and rolled in the dirt behind the vessel. Now it was two to a speeder.
Jayne cried out in anger as a shot found its way into his torso but he still stood, the hit having punched his side near the ribs. A glancing shot that missed the ribcage and was quite luckily just a flesh wound. He’d keep strong on the adrenaline for the time being, and it didn’t stop him furiously firing the remainder of his magazine in response.
“Jayne, you good?” Mal shouted, shooting another round.
“Hǎo,” came the growled response through gritted teeth.
The Mule was kicking and starting to chug strangely, it was likely the repair done last week starting to act up, of all the times it could. They dropped in their speed and the cruisers were now almost upon them. It was thankfully an immediate turn of luck that Mal would rather credit to an outstanding pilot in which a scant moment later Serenity came thundering in at high speed from their right just as promised, the ship's main hatch open ready to take them in as it flew into position.
Clearly noticing the transport ship beforehand, the two manned Alliance vessels increased their fire on the Mule instead of taking practised shots, and it was all the trio could do to hobble down behind the thin protection the contraption offered. From low down between the seats Zoë haphazardly fired shots from her rifle with Mal and Jayne blindly doing the same.
They all braced as best they could and felt the impact, everything screeching and blurring as the bottom of the Mule collided with the inner deck of Serenity while she swooped and took them in. They were tousled about and back to and fro in the Mule as Wash harshly pulled the ship up in its trajectory, closing the hatch as he pushed hard for a fast ascent towards the open sky. Fumbling about trying to regain some balance as the thundering roar of the air cut off with the hatch shutting, Mal managed to right himself and stumble off the Mule once it had come to a very firm scraping halt, succeeding in making it to an intercom despite feeling like utter crap.
“Nice work, Wash, Kaylee. Get us out of the world nice an' fast, quick as ya can. Doctor, need you fired up and ready, we got-ah, damn, we…” he paused and panted for a split-second.
He stopped walking as he realised that he was actually shot, now noticing the sharp pain in his middle catching up with him as his adrenaline hit wore off, a hand going to the wound. He’d taken a bullet to the gut sometime during the chase that had punched through his armour vest. Placing his hand to the area that hurt most, it came away bloody.
“...Wounded.” he finished the sentence, letting the intercom buzz off and partly resting against a wall as the pain managed to overwhelm him before he could tough it out.
“Sir!” Zoë rushed to his side, supporting him. “Jayne, help me here!”
Jayne, having already slapped a quick packing of cloth over his far lighter injury, came bustling over gently sweating and slightly drained, but didn't grab Mal. “You’ve had worse, Mal.”
“I’m thinkin’ so.” Mal chuckled through a sweat as Zoë helped him across and around the cargo bay to its lower back exit, awkwardly leading him down the short stairs to where the Infirmary was with Jayne lumbering behind.
The Doctor, as Mal often called him, and their polite top-notch surgeon being who he was, Simon was thankfully quick on the draw and already moving around inside prepping what he needed. He stepped out and assisted the Captain into the small room and onto the gurney as the two crewmates shuffled him along. Kaylee managed to be heard as Mal was pushed down by Simon so he could be doped up, smiling as she rushed into the Infirmary and fretted over his condition, and he stopped waving her off as she came over and held his hand.
“Jayne, I’ll see to your wound while Simon helps the Captain.” Zoë commented, grabbing some sterile wipes and a sewing kit and pointing to space on the counter for him to sit at.
“Sure.” he grunted, moving on over.
Mal wasn’t under just yet, having felt the good doctor just prick him with what was likely a heavy sedative, a shot that wasn't in the gut but still central wasn't going to be fun to remove while awake. He patted Kaylee and looked at Zoë and Jayne with a small grin, groaning with the pain that hadn’t quite been dulled yet.
“Well… I’d say that went alright, all things considered," Mal said, then sighing. "We’ll raise a glass to the fallen later.”
"We'd better," Zoë somberly nodded. "Sleep well, sir."
"I plan to."
It wasn't all that long before he fell under.