Taking Back The Sky - A Firefly Continuation (Chapter 3: Talk Less, Smile More)

   The old trader’s credo, ever since the new solar system was discovered and exploited was A ship would bring you work; a gun would help you keep it.  

  To that end, he had seen his fair share of guns. Most of the time, they were pointed at him, with his own Outsider pistol miles away down his leg.  



  “Listen, gentlemen,” Mal had his hands held up by his shoulders. “What I think we have here is a slight miscommunication.”

  “You obviously talk worse than you draw.” The mercenary commander leered behind the rifle.    

  “You’re losing your touch, sir.” Zoe deadpanned.    

  “I am not!” Mal countered, almost hurt by her inferrence.  

  “Hey!” The merc was obviously getting edgy. Heartleaf may have been a nearly lawless backwater, but drawn guns have a knack for attracting attention. Since he and his comrades cornered Mal and Zoe in a narrow alley, the element of surprise was still on their side. “Let’s not forget who’s calling the shots here, yes?”  


  “So call it.” Mal was more annoyed at his inconvenience than fearful for his life. “We got places to go, people to see.”  

  “You’re pretty mouthy for someone who is outnumbered and outgunned by a factor of three.” The merc took a step closer. It was clear he was in no condition to make nice.    

  “So suppose we ashcan the wordplay and talk plain?” Mal put his hands down. “We came here to make a simple transaction. What do you want?”  

  “Me, I’m fine with a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a mug in my hand. But to get that, I gotta do what the boss says.”  

  “Fine. What does he want?” 

The rear guard got close, nudging them with the ends of their rifles. The universal “get moving” gesture.  

  Mal stood his ground. Seeing him, Zoe followed his example. Always was the sensible one. She thought.  


  “We’re putting down roots until you tell us where the sheng wushui diyu we’re going and why.” Mal stared the merc down the bridge of his nose as though they were gunsights.    


  The merc got close, grabbing Mal’s arm to force him. 

That was exactly what he had been counting on. Grasping his wrist, Mal jerked him in close for a snappy headbutt. His finger spasmed on the Boomstick shotgun, sending up debris from the side of the wall.    

  Zoe tucked and rolled to avoid the instinctive gunfire from the rear guard. She drew the M4 BlastGun carbine away from the shooter, driving her elbow into the underside of his jaw as she did so. As he staggered back, she kicked his legs out from under him.    

  The sick thud of his body hitting the floor gave her half a second’s pause. It was the same sound her husband’s body had made when the harpoon was removed, and he hit the deck on the bridge.    

  The other shooter had now recovered from the shrapnel flying. He brought his rifle  to bear.    


  The words “I’m a leaf on the wind, watch how I --” and their sudden interruption gave Zoe the emotional boost to kick it out of his hands.    

  The lead merc hadn’t been completely dazed by Mal’s attack. As Mal tried to wrest the Boomstick from him, he got in a couple of good blows to his upper body.  

  The old shard bullet wound screamed. The bullet never came out, despite doctor's best efforts. This tore through Mal with a wave of overriding pain.    

  Mal kicked out, his knee connecting with where the merc’s legs met. He howled, breaking his concentration. But he never let go of the gun.  

  Mal readjusted the Boomstick, ejected the empty shell, and fired backwards. The butt had been positioned just under the merc’s chin. The recoil hit him like the ‘verse’s worst uppercut, sending him sprawling back.  

  Zoe had broken the last one’s defense, and brought his face crashing down on her knee. He went down, bleeding profusely.  

  Mall called. "Lenyat!" They started to run.  

  They didn’t make it five paces before reinforcements arrived. They were even better quipped, and dressed than the mercs they left behind.    

  One of them, dressed in a bulky suit stepped out. His face was almost artificially perfect, the result of countless expensive procedure, no doubt. His smile was mirthless and the shocking yellow eyes gave him a nearly electric appearance.  


  “Very well done, Captain Reynolds.” He said, smoothly. “Or is it Sargent again?”  

  “It’s give us some leiquan kuanghong answers.” Mal scowled. Zoe steeled herself to fight all the way into hell if she had to. They noticed the open door behind them, just up the alley.  

  “You wanted to know what I wanted, Reynolds.” The electric man said. “Let’s step inside, and I’ll explain. Otherwise, I guarantee it won’t be so pleasant for you.”  

  Mal sighed, and started forwards. Zoe stood down, and cautiously followed her skipper.  


  As the last of the party entered the club, a lone figure stood at the end of the alley. He wore a leather jacket that brushed his booted ankles, and a blazing red shirt beneath. The shock of peroxide blonde hair should have made him stand out, but it didn't. He had been drinking from a brownbagged bottle, having finished it before tossing it away..  

  “Nothing ever changes.” He snickered through a cigarette as he fumbled with his matches. “Nothing ever bloody changes.”



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