Firefly Mafia - Finale

Serenity :: Cockpit :: Mal, Wash, Zoe
“Did they just shoot at us!?” Mal asked in disbelief as he craned his head to try and get a look back out of one of the peripheral windows. “I think they’re shooting at us!”

“Well, to be fair, we are running from them,” Wash shot back as he glided the ship through a series of ever-narrowing canyon walls. “They tend to frown on that kind of behavior, so I’m told.”

Another hit jolted the cabin, and Mal noticed a sudden drop in speed and altitude. Though Wash was quickly able to compensate for, pulling the ship back up as it raced insanely through the canyon, all it would take would be another well placed hit to force them into one of the nearby walls. If the Alliance couldn’t catch you alive, they sure weren’t going to let you walk away, and while Mal had no problem risking his own life in stunts like this, when it came to his crew…

“Wash, pull her up. We’re landing.”

“You sure about that?”

“Just do it!” Mal shouted, turning to Zoe, who had been watching events unfold, holding on to some cargo netting in the back of the cockpit. “I want the rest of the crew to get all cargo on the floor, in the open.”

“All cargo, sir?”

“You heard me,” he said, noticeably annoyed with all the questions. “Round up our passengers, and bring ‘em down to the cargo bay. Won’t do us no good to look like we’re hiding somethin’. These folk seem in an awful hurry to meet us, let’s not give ‘em anything that’s like to disappoint.”



Serenity :: Cargo Bay :: Crew, remaining passengers, Alliance boarding party.
As the cargo bay door opened, several men donning dark body armor, and armed with pulse rifles poured in. The men formed a defensive perimeter around the crew, who had gathered in the center of the room. Behind them, wearing the steel gray uniform of an Alliance officer, and carrying nothing more then a clipboard, a tall, surprisingly youthful, man took up an authoritative position.

“My name is Lieutenant Higgins.” The man started, in a delicate, balanced voice, seemingly oblivious to the armed men that surrounded him. “At 13:00 hours we received a transmission from this vessel. A transmission that raised a lot of questions. Questions that require answers. That is why I am here.”

“Captain Reynolds,” Mal said stepping forward and lifting his arm to single himself out. “This is my boat and I figure you’re here for an explanation of sorts...” The next words out of his mouth were to be an excuse for why they took off running rather then stopping for inspection, but suddenly realized that nothing he was about to say held any bearing whatsoever to the situation the Lieutenant just laid out for him. “Wait… what?”

“I was the one who sent the transmission, Lieutenant,” a voice said from behind him. Mal’s head shot around, and a confused look washed over his face, as a well built man of medium height sporting a pair of dark goggles stepped forward. “These men are criminals, in possession of stolen alliance cargo. If you knew what I had to go through just to get that transmission to you…”

“Excellent work,” the Lieutenant interrupted. “Arrest this man.”

“WHAT!?” Eliham shouted as a pair of guards moved in and seized his arms, forcing them behind his back. Bindings were forced over his wrists, and a second pair of guards took position behind him.

“Eliham McCullough,” the officer began, reading from his clipboard. “You are under arrest for violation of the Interplanetary Secrecy Act, theft of federal documents, the sale thereof, and high treason. You are entitled to a fair hearing on the planet of your choosing, should you give up this right, sentencing shall be administered by the governing council on your home planet, Ariel. Captain?”

“Right here,” Mal answered, still somewhat shocked that he wasn’t the one in shackles.

“We are also looking for these persons, if you would be so kind,” Higgins said, coolly handing the clipboard over to Mal. On the display were two images, one of a gruff looking man who looked to be in his mid thirties, the other a strikingly attractive woman in expensive clothing. Both had been on his ship. Both were dead.

“Never seen ‘em.”

“He’s lying!” Eliham screamed. “They were here! Check the crates, the locked ones in the back! These men are criminals!”

“Strong words seein’ as how I ain’t the one in shackles,” Mal quipped back. “If it’s these crates here you’re talkin’ about, why don’t we open ‘em up so all’s clear and honest?”

Lieutenant Higgins nodded, then gestured for his men to pull one of the crates in question to the center of the cargo bay. Mal knelt down and keyed in the pass code, then released the locks. The top lifted off with a sharp hiss, as compressed air escaped from within. The Lieutenant stared gravely inside, as the men around him gripped their rifles nervously. Higgins reached inside and drew out a piece of the suspect goods. Above the tension, a tiny squeak was heard.

“Dolls,” he said to Eliham. “Wobble-headed geisha dolls.”

“What… NO!”

“I’m afraid so,” the Lieutenant answered, seemingly un-amused by the turn of events. “Take this man to detention.”

Eliham screamed as the guards forcibly removed him from the ship. The Lieutenant turned back to Mal, and handed him the doll. “Now,” Higgins started, “I must apologize for firing on your ship, captain. It was deemed necessary to prevent this dangerous criminal from escaping. You fled from us, no doubt, under duress?”

There was a hint of understanding in the man’s voice, and Mal suddenly realized he had been underestimating him from the moment he stepped onto Serenity. “Yes, absolutely… tons of it.”

“Excellent, then I see no wrong doing on your part, Captain. If you wish to file a complaint for damages, you will need to submit your legal registry to the central authority and make an appointment to have your ship inspected and appraised.”

“I’ll be sure to get right on that,” Mal said.

Higgins gestured to his men, and they began to make their way off the ship. As the officer turned to leave himself, his eye seemed to catch on one of the other passengers. He frowned as he lifted his clipboard and moved his fingers over the surface. “WAIT!”

Higgins motioned to the two remaining guards who stepped forward, grabbed Peter and pulled him from the crowd. “This seems to be our lucky day, you’re a wanted man, Mr. Jepsen! How clever of you to make your way this far from the core, and interesting that you keep such company. Do you have any objections to us relieving you of this crew member, Captain Reynolds?”

“Oh, he ain’t one of mine,” Mal quickly responded. “Picked him up on Shadow not five days ago, rescued him you might say. Was planning on dropping him off, next stop we make, but if he’s running from the law it’s first I’ve heard.”

“Wonderful, I’ll make note of your cooperation in my report,” he said as he turned on his heels and left with Jepsen close behind. In stark contrast to Eliham, Peter made little effort to break free from his bonds, but rather seemed silently resigned to his capture. After two years of running, it was though he was relieved that it had finally come to an end. Mal watched as the cargo bay door closed behind them, and for the first time in nearly five days, he was alone with his crew. He turned the bobble-head doll in his hands, and wondered what the hell had just happened.

To be continued...