Mal

Nobody spoke at first; the bleak little housing unit served as a home and a refuge, and there was a sense of relief that came from being back inside. Inside might mean grey walls, cement floors, and metal bunks, but also warmth and friendship, even comfort. Unfortunately, it trapped them as well, preventing them from taking time alone to recover from the rush of hostility, fear, and adrenaline.

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“So. News?” asked Mal softly. Khiloh looked like he’d been fighting a war; his eyes were bloodshot and weary, his posture limp and uncoordinated. Mal imagined he hadn’t gotten any sleep since they’d talked the evening before. There was a faint look of hope on his exhausted face as he raised his head.

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Finally Wash spoke. “I’m sure the story behind that’s gonna scare me half to death. But by all means go on.”

Mal looked away again. Truth was, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to tell Wash, or anyone, this story. He wanted it locked safely away in his mind where he didn’t have to look at it, but another part of him desperately wanted someone to listen, to tell him it was okay. Problem was, he strongly doubted that person would be Wash.

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“Noticed anything odd?” asked Wash. The two were standing in the yard, breathing heavily after spending a half an hour playing a rousing game of catch with assorted pebbles. Wash had been unusually sober after the previous day’s discussion, and Mal knew that Wash’s mind was still filled with questions and conflicts. It hadn’t been the only odd thing about the mood that day.

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Wash grinned, a dreamy look in his eyes as he recalled the jubilant reaction to his successful flight. It occurred to Mal that even though Wash was a happy person, today was the first time he’d seen such pure joy on his face. The man really does love to fly, he thought.

“I wasn’t given any more assignments for a week after that, and I kinda started wondering if I was in trouble, or if I’d messed something up they didn’t want to tell me about. Then one day the Captain pulled me into his office.”

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Wash watched in fascination as Major Myers displayed maps and diagrams. It turned out that Independent forces wanted to strike some critical Alliance targets on Shinon, but the planet’s air defense capabilities were nearly impenetrable. Automatic targeting systems would detect approaching craft, lock on and fire without even requiring the use of fighters. Nonetheless, patrols flew a constant rotation around the planet, monitoring approaches on a secondary system and challenging any non-Alliance craft that might make it through what had been termed the “net;” the automated defense system.

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Emerging from an afternoon nap, Mal wandered outside to find Wash leaning against the fence, staring at the sky. It was a familiar sight by now, one that was starting to tug at Mal’s heart. Wash seemed genuinely relaxed and even content in this place, but nothing could keep his soul from wanting to fly. As Mal watched the silent young pilot, lines from an old song started running through his head.

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“All prisoners, report to the gate, now!” The harsh voice of the intercom ripped through the housing unit, startling the occupants. Trading uneasy glances, the six men headed for the door.

Straaker held to the back of the group, and Gray grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him forward. “You first, fearless leader,” he said with a sarcastic grin.

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Mal was still distracted, thinking about the two boys and their oddly warm family when the increasingly aggravated guard yanked him roughly to a stop outside a solid metal door. Where’s Khiloh when I need him, he wondered, reminding himself to breathe. He’s a cranky bully, doesn’t mean he’s gonna break you into bitty pieces.

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Mal stared uncertainly at the housing unit before him, wondering what he was going to say to the men inside it. The guard who’d brought him out here was considerably irritated by the trip, and he gave Mal a harsh shove into the compound, locking the gate behind him as Mal staggered to maintain his footing. So much for an introduction, he thought, stifling a glare.

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