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The Alliance Negotiator turned away from the window, tired of staring for another day at the formal garden, the carefully edged flowerbeds, the same gardeners trimming what he could swear were the same trees over and over. Did they come back at night and glue the leaves back on, for the sake of job security?
"Your honor." The assistant's bow was only a shade away from the correct depth. That would be taken care of later. "You are asked to return to the table."
One look at his opposition, whose iron face seemed to be rusting from the inside out with unshed tears, and he knew the war was over. The man's head bowed. "We accept your terms." He slid a hand into the deep pocket of his brown coat. "End the fighting."
The Alliance Negotiator inclined his head solemnly. "Send word to the army: cease fire."
The assistant and the other minions scurried away to do his bidding.
"I implore Your Honor, General Lee, please allow me to send ships to relieve my troops, to move them away from the battle."
"I see no reason for that. Your people wanted to live their lives outside the shelter of the Alliance; they may continue to do so."
"But they are dying on Serenity and Pax and Ruhe and Adoration Dale!"
"My name is Liber, not Lee. Liber, as in book." The Alliance Negotiator stood. "Would you care for lunch before returning to your companions? I'll have someone pack a sandwich."
***
"Isn't she beautiful?"
"Too dark; that's not the fashion any more, I hear."
"Oh, that doesn't matter, since Mynheer Jules is so fair. I wonder what their baby will look like?"
"Shhh. Is it over already? He's making the announcement. Listen."
"... I have the pleasure and great joy of announcing the birth of my daughter, Adeline Inara, named after my mother and my wife..." The portly little mayor smiled broadly at the crowd of townspeople clustered on the dirt street outside his small home.
***
"You will stand up straight, son. I want you to be a credit to me at the academy."
"Yes, sir. Father."
"You'll make a fine soldier, and I believe someday you'll be a great leader for the Alliance."
"I'll try to make you proud of me."
"It's not easy to get into officer training. I'm already proud of you, Jayne."
***
"If you leave this family, you need not come back."
"I'm going. I can't believe you'd abandon one of us."
"Believe what you will, child. You're on your own now."
Within ten minutes she'd stolen his favorite cruiser and gone on her quest, insane though it might be. Perhaps he should have listened to his wife and sent River to that school for gifted children, but wasn't it enough that Simon was already there? Besides, River's hands were more talented with a scalpel or a replasmator than anyone he'd ever seen; why encourage her to dance and sing nonsense when she could be a fine doctor? She could dance and sing on her own time. As for Simon, clearly that 'code' River was so certain about was just another of his games.
***
Some people still held to the old ways, but not Wash. He jumped ship on Clemency, took his things, and went looking for another job, and they let him. He'd been excess, as it was; they already had two pilots, working shifts, and a chief engineer with an assistant. They didn't need him, so he broke the indenture and made the leap.
And didn't look back.
After the Dragonfly left, he wandered around the docks, sniffing out possibilities.
"Hey." This from a woman with a bamboo-bladed parasol, who sat on the gangplank of a small cargo ship, a Firefly.
"Hey."
"If you're interested in passage off-world, we've surely got room if you've got the fare." She waved a hand.
"I'm actually looking for a job."
Her gaze sharpened and they looked each other over. "And you do what, exactly?"
"Mechanic. Pilot." He thought a moment. "Whatever you need done."
"Do you come with references?"
He shook his head. "I ... had to leave the last job a bit suddenlike. For my health."
"Ah." She looked him over again. "Let's have you take a gander at what we've got, and we'll see if we can come to an agreement."
"And your name ..." She waited for him, and he shook himself out of his reverie.
"I'm George Washington Lincoln III, ma'am. People call me Wash."
"Good to meet you. I'm Kaylee, and the people on this ship call me captain."
She stood, and smiled, and he lost his heart. He'd always had a thing for red hair.
***
"What was that?"
"Another varmint. Don't worry about it." She went to retrieve the carcass. If it wasn't too blasted with shell fragments, it'd go into the stewpot.
"By damn, you're the best bartender we've ever had, not to mention bouncer."
"I don't bounce coydogs, just gorillas." She dropped the carcass on the scarred working table on the porch. "Pelt's yours, if you want it. And I'm not just the best bartender, I'm the only one you've ever had."
"True enough. True enough." He was already skinning the critter, gutting it and putting the entrails aside. "What time are we opening?" They'd learned to use every bit of anything either of them killed long ago. Even now, when they were relatively flush, the habit didn't change.
She scanned the sky overhead. "Soon as those ships get docked. I can guarantee you, we're going to have thirsty sailors in Serenity Valley tonight."
"Once they eat my mixed-critter stew, they'll be happy, too. Real meat, not protein powder like they get on those ships." Mal shook his head. "Don't ever want to do that again."
"What, fly?" Zoe smiled at him indulgently. "You know, if you got that leg fixed, you could go anywhere you wanted."
"I know." He quirked a grin at her. "But I'd miss the bar. Had enough of travel during the war." She handed him his cane, and he hobbled inside, skinned carcass in the other hand.
Yep, that new leg was fitting better, and it looked less painful. She'd custom-carved it herself for him, after the sores from the last one nearly went gangrenous. She resolved to keep an eye out for another likely piece of wood. Wouldn't hurt to have a spare.