Mal

“Easy, sir, easy. Don’t try to move, you’re okay,” said a woman’s voice. Mal blinked, trying to conjure where he was. The question was answered for him soon enough. “You’re on an orbiting hospital ship, and you just came out of surgery.”

Mal tried to look up at the woman speaking, but he was lying on his face, and his head was responding sluggishly to his commands. The slight movement increased the swimming of his head, and he retched, trying to vomit.

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Mal and Zoe hone their Big Damn Hero skills saving each other in the war. This is a three-part story inspired by the line in War Stories. It was originally going to be part of my extraordinarily long POW story The Losing Side (as a flashback), but in an effort to focus that tale a little bit I decided to take it out and post it seperately.

~~~~~

“Sarge?”

“Yes, Zoe?” Mal grunted.

“You got something sticking out of your back,” she yelled, making herself heard through the thunder of artillery fire.

“Oh, never mind that,” replied Mal. “That’s just my new piercing, got it done the other day.”

“Well, it’s proving a little inconvenient, sir, it keeping you from walking and all,” she commented dryly.

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