Firefly - What Makes Us Mighty E-Book

M. K. England

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A breakneck adventure for the Serenity crew in the seventh original novel tying into the much-missed Firefly series from creator Joss Whedon. A simple job Serenity is bound for the planet Kerry with a hold full of sealed, unidentified cargo for the planet's highest-ranking nobleman. The duke is a surprisingly genial man whose court brings all the fanciness and fun of Persephone's high society but little of the pretension—and, most importantly, he's got the promise of more work. Some fine hospitality Obliged to stick around while Inara is with a client—and hoping to score future employment—the crew settles in. The liquor flows freely at court, and there's food, entertainment, and comfortable lodgings to enjoy. Everyone is thrilled but Zoë. Her gut says something is off. A vicious massacre When the duke's estate is attacked in the middle of the night, Mal sends Serenity to safety while he and Zoë investigate. What they find turns the whole story of Kerry upside-down. Revolution is brewing, and each of them will have to decide where to make their stand, even if it lands them on opposite sides…

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

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Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

Author’s Note

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Acknowledgments

About the Author

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WHAT MAKES US MIGHTY

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Firefly: What Makes Us Mighty

Hardback edition ISBN: 9781789098358

E-book edition ISBN: 9781789098419

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London, SE1 0UP.

First edition: June 2022

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

© 2022 20th Television. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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To everyone fighting their own revolution, or suffering in silence until their moment comes. You are mighty.

(And, of course, for my best Browncoats: Dave and Lisen.)

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The events of this novel take place duringthe Firefly TV series, before the episode “Heart of Gold.”

The atmosphere aboard Serenity had seldom been more tense and full of murderous intent than it was on the eve of their arrival at Kerry.

It was nothing to do with the job. Pretty straightforward, that. Pick up some sealed cargo from a black-market broker. Drop it off to some guy who calls himself a duke. Get the second half of their payment. Dust off, get back in the black with pockets looking a little more shiny. True, the duke was an Alliance type—at least, in the sense that the Alliance left him alone to play at ruling his little empire—but his money spent the same. Captain Malcolm Reynolds didn’t love taking on any sort of work that might benefit Alliance folk, but a captain had to take jobs as they came, even when it meant rubbing elbows with those friendly to the enemy (still the enemy, always the enemy). They weren’t working directly for the Alliance, and they were staying far away from the Core, so there was a line there.

Somewhere.

A line that moved depending on how empty the crew’s bellies were and how many parts were currently falling off the ship.

So thankfully, no, there was no problem with the imminent delivery of their cargo. There was, however, a murder about to be committed. A murder between crew members. Fratricide, one could call it, considering how cozy and family-like the crew had become, and with all the associated complexities and irritations.

Unsurprisingly, Jayne Cobb was the would-be perpetrator of violence upon Simon Tam’s delicate personage.

“You rotten, no good hún dàn!” he shouted across the dining table, his face turning an alarming shade of vermilion. “I oughta strangle the life outta you with that fancy little tie of yours.”

Simon Tam’s eyes went wide, immediately flicking over to Mal and Zoë as if to ask, “Are you going to protect me from this madman?” Help was decidedly not coming from either corner, considering the amusement both seemed to be enjoying at Simon’s expense. As much as they appreciated having a brilliant doctor around, they equally appreciated witnessing his delicate, well-bred feathers ruffled at every opportunity. Their smirks told Simon he was most definitely on his own in the ongoing war against Jayne’s itchy trigger finger. He looked to Shepherd Book for one last plea, and the good Shepherd took pity, as his kind was wont to do.

“Now, Jayne—” he began in his soothing diplomatic voice, but Jayne cut him off.

“Don’t you start with me, preacher man. I ain’t feeling so holy at the moment.”

Book held up his hands and shrugged at Simon, returning his gaze to his cards.

“Come on, Jayne,” Kaylee said, ever the peacemaker. “It’s a game. You’re supposed to try to win. Simon’s just playing by the rules. Ain’t his fault he’s smarter’n all of us.”

She beamed at Simon, who lit up with a half-dazed grin under her attention, then promptly looked away with flushed cheeks.

“Hey, now, I take umbrage at that claim,” Wash said, sliding his game piece six spaces forward, overtaking both Simon and Jayne in one move. He looked to his wife and waggled his eyebrows. “Your husband is not only a master pilot, but a veritable king of strategy and deception.”

“Wiley as a fox, my man is,” Zoë deadpanned. She played a series of cards on the table in front of her, pointedly ignored the sputters of disbelief as she sailed past all three of them to win the game, then served up a cool smile.

And that was the last straw for Jayne.

“You got straight-up swindled, Kaylee. This ruttin’ game is broken. Waste of our gorram hard-earned credits!” Jayne said, scooping up his game piece and chucking it across the galley. It bounced off the long-serving counter with an anemic sort of ping, then tinkled gently to the ground somewhere behind it. Jayne, not satisfied that his ire had been sufficiently expressed, pushed back from the dining table and stood, his pistol already half drawn.

“No discharging of firearms on my boat ’less there’s a life in danger,” Mal said from his vantage point in the doorway to the forward hall. “Leastaways not while we’re underway.”

“Oh, there’s a life in danger, all right,” Jayne groused, but holstered his weapon all the same.

Good thing, too. As much as Mal would freely admit he enjoyed flexing his captainly authority at times, it could, on occasion, be a mite alienating to the rest of the crew. Being as they were about to put down and deliver to a brand-new client who paid well and had the potential to bring in future coin, Mal was of a mind to keep things light and easy aboard Serenity. Make a good first impression on the “duke” and his people.

Seemed the others hadn’t quite had their fill of teasing Jayne, though.

“I dunno, Jayne,” Kaylee said, leaning back in her chair and beaming cheerfully over at the now victorious Zoë. “I sorta feel like I’m getting my money’s worth of entertainment from our new game.”

“Did you know Kaylee was a secret psychopath?” Jayne asked, looking around to the others at the table. “Honestly, I’m not that surprised. Always was too cheerful by half. Ain’t natural. There’s a darkness lurking beneath, you mark me.”

Kaylee rolled her eyes. “It was the only nine-player game that merchant on Dyton had and I wanted something we could all play together! Course, River’s having an off day, which is fine—”

“Meaning she’s talking to herself in her bunk,” Jayne muttered. “Least she’s stopped shrieking for the time being.”

“And,” Kaylee continued, glaring, “Inara and the cap’n ain’t playing—”

“’Cause Mommy and Daddy got more important things to do than play your silly little games,” Wash said in a terrible impression of Mal’s Shadow-born drawl.

“’Cause Inara’s busy preparing for her next client, and the captain is a boring old stick-in-the-mud,” Kaylee corrected him as she rose from the table, swinging past Mal’s position to drop a no-hard-feelings kiss on his cheek on her way to get a drink.

Mal shrugged. “Someone on this boat ought to have a sensible head on their shoulders.”

“Damn shame it didn’t work out that way, sir,” Zoë said, collecting all the game pieces and returning them to the box. The others stood and helped pack away the game, snickering. All except Jayne, who grumbled and went in search of a snack instead.

Inara swept into the room from the direction of her shuttle, dressed in her finest. She’d foregone her usual palette of warm reds for a stunning jewel-tone blue sleeveless gown accented with gold lacework around the neckline and bodice. A golden sash was cinched around her waist, providing completely unnecessary accentuation to her figure. A sapphire sparkled at the hollow of her throat, and thin bangles tinkled musically on her wrists. She was a vision, as always, and Mal’s mouth went dry at the sight of her, his heart pounding so loud he thought the whole crew might hear.

He wished she were dressed so lovely for him. Hell, she didn’t even need to get all fancied up. She was lovely no matter what she wore. It was the deep brown of her intelligent eyes, the wry humor in the curve of her lips, the sharp wit and serene nature that filled up every room she inhabited right to the brim. Mal had spent time enough looking at his feelings for her from the corner of his eye, keeping a careful watch but never approaching, never really acknowledging outright. And yet, they were there, and they reared up in the worst possible ways and times.

Like jealousy.

Like now.

“Well, well,” his mouth said without input from his brain. “Aren’t you lookin’ mighty shined up! I’m sure this client of yours will count you worth every one of his pennies. Which lucky gentleman has engaged your services this time?”

Inara blinked in that sweet “I’d love to stab you” sort of way and smiled. “The duke’s top general. She is a formidable woman of learning and refined tastes, well respected by her troops. I look forward to spending the next few days with her.”

Kaylee, starry-eyed as always at the glamorous life of a Companion, hopped onto the edge of the table and kicked her feet. “What were you doing to get ready to meet with her? Just finding the right clothes that’ll be to her liking, or…?”

Inara’s knife-edged lips softened as she turned from Mal to Kaylee. “I prefer to meditate before meeting with a new client whenever possible, to align my energy with theirs and consider their needs.”

“I got needs,” Jayne interjected with a smirk.

Kaylee and Inara’s faces fell into disgusted scowls.

“Gross,” Inara said simply.

“Yeah, no one wants to hear about your needs,” Kaylee added.

A tone sounded, indicating Serenity’s proximity to their destination and drawing everyone’s attention.

“Ah, my mistress calls,” Wash said, then glanced at Zoë, anticipating a reprimand.

“Oh, please, by all means,” she said, gesturing for him to go. “Attend to your other woman.”

Wash pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you for not killing me.”

“I’ve got other uses for you yet,” she replied.

Wash stepped away from the table and squeezed past Mal to head to the bridge and take manual control of Serenity. Mal turned to Kaylee, who was quietly scooting closer to Simon as they sorted cards into the game box together.

“Kaylee, do us all a favor and keep an eye out in the engine room as we’re making our approach. Make sure that pressure regulator don’t go exploding on us during our descent, dǒng ma?”

“I can stare at it all you like, Cap’n, but it ain’t gonna stop it from explodin’ if it really wants to,” Kaylee said, handing her stack of cards to Simon. “Darn thing’s held together with spit ’n’ prayers at this point.”

She pressed her lips together and glanced back at Simon, cheeks glowing. “I mean, not that it’s my spit holding it together. Won’t catch me spitting. I more just—”

“Shiny. Hop to it,” Mal said, just as much to save Kaylee from herself as it was to save his own ears from her fluster. She snapped her mouth shut and scurried off in the direction of the engine room, pulling the strap of her coveralls back over her shoulder where she’d let it slip down. That done, Mal turned back to Inara and forced a smile.

“Well then,” he said. “Let’s get ready to meet His Grace and marvel at his very fine robes.”

Inara rolled her eyes and returned to her shuttle to prepare for landing. Mal watched her go, studying the way the light shifted and slid over the midnight black of her curls. Mesmerizing, it was. He shook himself, casting a quick glance to see if anyone had noticed; Zoë had, of course, but held her tongue as always. Never a better first mate in all the ’verse.

“Hurry it up, folks, and get yourselves strapped for landing,” Mal said, turning to head to the bridge. “We got ourselves some pockets in need of filling.”

The planet Kerry filled half of Serenity’s forward viewport, a yellow-orange ball of rock with vast continents and relatively small glittering golden oceans. On the bridge, Mal had taken up his post behind Wash as they made their approach, angling for the largest landmass in the northern hemisphere. Wash’s toy dinosaurs sat atop his console, silhouetted against the planet like a reptilian procession marching through the desert.

“You been here before?” Mal asked Wash, moving to take his seat in the captain’s chair.

Wash hummed an uncertain sound. “Eh, once or twice, long time ago. Ain’t done much on the planet itself. Did a few drops on Madcap, Kerry’s moon, back when I was a runner for PonyMacro.”

“Don’t look like much.”

“Not the loveliest hunk of dust in the ’verse, I’ll give you that. Orange skies, if I remember. Kinda creepy, some quirk of the atmosphere and the spectrum of their sunlight. But they got a whole mess of people living there, so must be some kind of redeeming qualities.”

“All the same, maybe we best keep our time on the surface short,” Mal said, leaning back in his chair as Zoë walked onto the bridge. “Everyone secure?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered. “Ain’t we sticking around until Inara’s appointment is up? Thought she said three days.”

“Three days it is. Don’t mean we gotta sit around in a dustbowl the whole time, though. Seems a mite cozier up here in orbit.” He gazed out at the planet, growing ever closer and filling more of the viewport. “Orange skies. T’ain’t natural. Makes you wonder if something went wrong with the terraforming, only no one wants to say.”

“Planets look all kinda ways round the ’verse. Don’t necessarily mean they’re duds,” Zoë said.

“Don’t necessarily mean they ain’t, either,” Mal said. “We’ll see what we see when we make landfall. Could be it’s pretty as a peach down there and I’ll happily eat my own words and enjoy their hospitality. But, knowing our luck, I’m gonna guess we’ll be bunking down spaceside tonight.”

“I do so love your cheerful outlook on life, Captain,” Wash said, leaning back to exchange an amused glance with Zoë. Mal pretended not to notice, instead pulling up information on the world they were about to visit. He’d done his basic due diligence already, but a deeper look never hurt.

Kerry was a Border planet in the Georgia system, fourth planet out from the yellow sun Huang Long. Many of the pivotal moments in Mal’s life had taken place in the Georgia system, though under the light of its other star, Murphy: his birth on the now uninhabitable ghost planet of Shadow, and the crushing defeat at Serenity Valley on Hera that broke his faith and changed the course of his life, among other things. He’d never had cause to visit Kerry, though, and no jobs had taken Serenity there. It had about the same population as its neighbor Boros, but spread out over a planet that was half the size, dry as a bone, and—its best feature—much less heavily patrolled by the Alliance.

What it lacked in actual feds monitoring the grounds and skies it made up for in self-styled nobility sucking up to the Alliance from afar. The world’s four continents were overseen by four people who, at some point in the planet’s almost two-hundred-year history, had decided to call themselves dukes and duchesses. The whole practice got under Mal’s skin. Didn’t sit right, people giving themselves fancy titles just to parade around acting better than everyone else. But he had done business with such folks before, and recently at that. The job for Sir Warwick Harrow on Persephone would not be one he’d forget anytime soon, most especially because they had yet to get the smell of cattle dung fully gone from Serenity’s cargo hold despite months of deep cleaning. Also, the stabbing bit that had preceded the cattle deal. Quite memorable. Harrow himself had come through for Mal, fancy title and sash aside. Business was business, even if some folks seemed to speak a different language about it.

The ground whizzed by beneath Serenity’s belly as Wash guided her in, giving them an opportunity to get a better look at the world. It was beautiful, in a way. Sure, the orange skies were creepy, but the world was also home to wide open fields of yellow-gold grasses grazed on by beasts of all sorts. Five hundred and fifty million people seemed like a lot, but when you spread them out across large landmasses instead of huddling them together in cities, it became quickly apparent just how many acres could be between folk. Some of the other continents had parts approaching city-like, but this duke apparently preferred to keep his holding rural. Sure, there were some small clusters, villages and the like, but by and large the people of the main continent, Killarney, needed a mighty fine set of binocs to see their neighbors.

But then, there were the duke’s grounds. They were visible from kilometers away, a bright point even within the golden countryside. White-walled buildings dotted the landscape, a few particularly tall ones towering over the rest, all ringed by the thin meandering line of a white wall. The grid pattern of crop fields was visible on the north side of the compound, right near what looked like a brand-new water tower. The closer they got, the more detail came into focus: fountains, pools, gardens, sculptures, sporting fields, a horse track, and so much more. Serenity flew low and slow over the long wall surrounding the duke’s personal holdings, directed by beacon toward a private landing pad ringed by blinking guide lights.

“Whoa,” Wash breathed, never once faltering in his control of the ship even as his eyes boggled at the sights before them.

“Yeah,” Mal agreed.

Zoë laid a hand on Wash’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Thinkin’ you might wanna reconsider shore leave plans, sir. I’m gonna need my husband to bring me a very nice whiskey at that fancy pool over there.”

Wash looked up from his piloting duties just long enough to cast an adoring look at his wife.

“Will you be wearing a skimpy bathing suit in this scenario? I’ll buy you one. I would love to buy you one.”

“Depends. Can I buy you a skimpy bathing suit too?”

“I vote no,” Mal cut in. “Do I get a say in this?”

“No,” Wash and Zoë said in perfect unison.

Mal shrugged and studied the view over the console in an effort to rid himself of the mental image of Hoban Washburne in a skimpy bathing suit. Zoë was right to be impressed; the duke’s grounds brimmed with luxury, but an understated sort. Not overwrought, or overly gilded, but simply fine in quality and amenities. The buildings were constructed from small bricks of a polished white stone that reflected the sunlight in a way that made each one glow against the backdrop of the orange skies. They’d flown over an old abandoned quarry on their way down, and Mal would bet that was where it had all come from.

The largest building, likely the duke’s personal residence and place of business, towered over the rest, but not ridiculously so. Other smaller but no less finely constructed buildings were connected to the main structure by well-maintained paths made from a different type of stone, one with veins of pink, orange, and gray woven throughout. The buildings had no external identifiers, but Mal could figure out a few from context: a barracks for the duke’s defense forces, a garage and maintenance shop, a hospital, and a stable Mal would bet was full of very expensive horses. Everything in the compound spoke of high maintenance standards and a great deal of care.

As Mal and Zoë disembarked to coordinate their arrival and transfer of cargo, Mal had to admit that the people seemed happy, too. They’d never gone a day without a shower in fresh water or a set of clean clothes, by all appearances, which was certainly not something Mal could say for himself. Beyond that, though, the men who came to receive them seemed in genuine good spirits. They wore big grins, and jostled each other and joked as they approached. More than anything, Mal noted the lack of stress around the eyes, that pinched, slightly wary look that most on the Border worlds (and especially on the Rim) wore even in the best of times. Existence in the ’verse was hard for all but the very rich and the very Alliance. These people, though, seemed… happy.

“Captain Malcolm Reynolds, I presume! Welcome to the Kenmare estate,” the foreman boomed as the ground crew neared.

“Sure ’nuff,” Mal said, then gestured to his right. “And my first mate, Zoë Washburne. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr.…?”

“Barnhart,” the man said, extending a hand to Mal and Zoë each in succession. “But most round here just call me Chief.”

Mal pasted a congenial smile on his face. Easy going so far. No warning bells from his gut. Could be the job would actually go off as intended, hitch-free and profit-full.

“Well, Chief, I’ve got a hold full of sealed mystery crates for Duke Farranfore here. I assume you know there wheres and whats for ’em?”

“Surely do, Captain Reynolds. If you’ll permit my men aboard, we’ll have them out of your way in a jiff,” Chief said.

“By all means,” Mal agreed. “Though there is the matter of the second half of our payment. We’ll be out of your hair quick and easy once all’s said and done.”

“Well, now, don’t be scattering before you have a chance to enjoy our fair home! The money guy up at the duke’s place has your payment,” he said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the palace. “I can have one of my guys escort you there. It’s only about a ten-minute walk. His Grace has also invited your entire crew to an audience with him. He always rolls out the best food and drink for his guests, so if I were you, I’d go for it.”

Mal had a brief flashback to getting stabbed at Atherton Wing’s estate after the shindig on Persephone and winced. Kenmare had an altogether different feel to it, but that didn’t mean Mal wanted to get quite that cozy. He exchanged a look with Zoë, who shrugged as if to say, “Do we have a choice?”

Mal sighed. An audience with a fancible noble type didn’t exactly sound like his idea of a good time, but he supposed he could manage to bite his tongue long enough to make nice with the man. Wouldn’t do to burn a new bridge that might bring them more work in the future. Besides, Zoë and Wash seemed to have their hearts set on a little R&R planetside, and while Mal’s feet got itchy standing on solid ground too long, he had to acknowledge that not all of his crew shared his affliction to quite the same degree. They were owed some shore leave, and he needed to provide if he could. The audience would be a good test, and if Mal smelled anything rotten, then they’d grab some space and wait out their three days in orbit.

Decision made, Mal hooked his thumbs in his gun belt and nodded. “We’ll accept. There are nine of us total, though our resident Companion has taken a client and may already be gone by then.”

“On the contrary,” Inara’s voice said from behind him, “I’ve just spoken to my client and I’ve arranged to meet with her at the audience. I would be delighted to join you all. Please thank His Grace for the invitation.”

She swept down the ramp and paused at Mal’s side, giving a courteous greeting to Chief and his crew. Chief, momentarily struck silent at the sheer presence Inara exuded, could only nod and gesture to one of his crew to deliver the message.

“Well then,” he said once he recovered. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”