No one could fly like Hoban Washburne. It was one of the articles of faith in Zoë’s life. If anybody could get them through this safely, it was him.
Some time later — seconds of juddering upheaval that felt like hours—Serenity righted and leveled out. Zoë staggered over to the nearest rearward viewing port. Below, a mountain was dying. Its slopes were sinking inward on themselves, sending up a mighty pillar of dust and debris like smoke from the cauldron of a volcano. Huge chunks of rock had sheared away and were slithering down towards the plain some quarter-mile below. Amidst the tumbling avalanche she glimpsed Covington’s yacht and the vigilantes’ Komodo-class vessel. Both were rolling end over end, losing sections of hull plate and chunks of airframe along the way. They crashed to the bottom and were engulfed by rubble.
Of the Browncoats themselves there was no sign, but then Zoë wasn’t expecting any. They would have been vaporized when the HTX-20 went up. She wished she felt sorrier for them than she did.
Mal appeared beside her and looked on as the mountain continued to implode, shelving down into itself, becoming a crater. Gradually the turmoil receded into the distance as Serenity gained more height.
“Care to tell me what this was all about, sir?” she asked as the pale blue of Hades’s atmosphere started shading into the inky blue of low-orbit space.
“Long story, Zoë,” Mal said forlornly. “Long story from long, long ago. Another time, maybe. Right now, my throat’s as parched as a sidewinder’s belly and I believe there may be a bottle of sorghum wine somewhere in the galley. Care to join me?”
“You have some baijiu?” Jayne said. “That rotgut? I’m in.”
“If it’s not considered insubordination, sir,” Zoë said, “I would rather go up to the bridge and smooch with my husband. I reckon he’s earned it.”
“Know what?” said Mal, with just a hint of the old familiar twinkle returning to his eyes. “I reckon he has and all.”
So we’re all back on one boat again, the nine of us. Serenity has both her shuttles nestled on her wings, the chicks back with mama bird, and we’re heading off once more into the Black to see what we can find, work-wise. The usual deaclass="underline" whatever’s going, if it pays, we’ll take it. Sorry state of affairs, but that’s how it is. Ain’t a kind or just ’verse, and nobody’s owed a living.
Simon says my neck’s healing nicely. Rope burns won’t even leave a scar, thanks to his doctoring. Talking still hurts some, but on this boat, with Wash and Kaylee, to name but two, it ain’t as if there’s a scarcity of chitter-chatter.
Badger was rightly mad about his explosives. I pointed out that at least they’d blown up somewhere off my ship, ’cause if they’d destroyed Serenity and I hadn’t been on board, right now I’d be introducing him to the business end of a gun, shooting off little bits of him one after another; and if I had been on board, my ghost’d be haunting him till the day he died. Guess he feels I owe him one. Guess I feel we’re quits. Besides, Badger’ll get over it. He’s what you’d call the resilient type, too plain opportunistic or optimistic or whatever to burn a bridge permanently.
Elmira Atadema is a free woman now. Book’s pal Mika Wong didn’t even need to pay off her debt, what with Hunter Covington being buried under a mountain and no longer in a fit state to collect and all, so he was pleased about that. I met Elmira for all of five minutes, after we’d rendezvoused on Persephone with Book, Inara, and the Tams. Even in that brief span of time she made an impression. Despite all she’d been through as a bondswoman and a confidential informer, all that suffering and peril, she seemed as if she was coping and would be able to move on with her life. Like Badger, resilient. Also, unlike Badger, not a pain in the ass.
And now that we’re flying free, I’ve got time to think. About the past. About lost loves, damaged friendships and heart-wrenching regrets. I won’t ever be free of Jamie and Toby, I reckon. Wasn’t free of Jinny before. But it does seem as though some things that needed fixing have been fixed and some loose ends squared away. Maybe if Jinny and me had been honest with Toby from the start, none of this would have happened. It was Jinny’s call, though, and I went along with it because I respected her decision and I loved her. You can’t change the past and you can’t do aught but rue the way you sometimes acted back when you were young and stupid and thought you were immortal. Doesn’t prevent you from wishing you could.
I’ve been thinking about stopping by Shadow, although not sure I’m up for that. I hear there’s plants pushing up through the cinders now around the spot where the Adares’ cowshed stood. I might like to see that for myself, but then I mightn’t want to reopen those old wounds either. Might also pay a call on Sheriff Bundy, Governor Bundy, whatever his title is these days. Assuming the overweight bastard’s still alive and some clogged artery of his hasn’t popped. Maybe he and I can have words, get to the bottom of what happened… and if he did what I think he did, I’ll teach him the error of his ways.
Maybe some other time.
For now, we’ll do what we do.
Find a job. Keep flying.
Captain Malcolm Reynolds
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’d like to thank Nancy Holder for letting me pick up her ball and run with it; Miranda Jewess for remembering me when Firefly came to call; and Cat Camacho and Sam Matthews, each of whom was zhēn de shì tiān cái during the editing process.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
New York Times bestselling author Nancy Holder has written numerous Buffy and Angel tie-in novels, as well as co-authoring the first two Buffy Watcher’s Guides. A four-time winner of the Bram Stoker Award, she is the author of dozens of novels, short stories, and essays on writing and popular culture.
James Lovegrove is the New York Times bestselling author of The Age of Odin and several Sherlock Holmes books for Titan, including his highly praised Cthulhu Casebooks series. He was shortlisted for the Arthur C. Clarke Award in 1998 and for the John W. Campbell Memorial Award in 2004. He also reviews fiction for the Financial Times.