7.

A large framed portrait of Jack Tallis dominated the founder's hall to the south; to the north was a well-stocked bar and a buffet with hors d'oeuvres. In between were tables adorned simply with white linen cloths and red candles, and crowded with people. The crowd didn't bother Mal, but the heavy concentration of Alliance uniforms did.

He decided that staring into the crowd making a conscious effort to count Alliance uniforms was first of all fruitless, since they kept milling around and refusing to stay all in one spot in an obliging fashion, and second, that it was making him look conspicuous. He'd caught more than one of them staring back at him, hard. So he pulled himself away with an effort, drawing his attention back to the large portrait on the tripod in front of him. Pretty clear which side of the family Wash drew his blonde hair and blue eyes from.

Wash was telling Zoe some story of Tallis's youthful exploits. Zoe, far from looking sharp like Mal had ordered, looked completely absorbed and highly amused. Kaylee, standing next to Mal, looked the same. Wash finished his story, to the approbation of his pretty female audience, and Mal wondered irritably how the pilot managed that. First Zoe, now Kaylee. Maybe that was genetic, too. "He was married, right? Your Uncle, I mean."

"What? Oh, yeah. Couple of years ago," Wash said, shifting gears. "She ought to be here -- her name's Tawny Sommers."

"Tawny Sommers? What, your Uncle hit fifty and decided to go get him some hot little exotic dancer?"

"Actually, I'm not," said a husky voice at Mal's elbow. "But I could have been."

Mal turned to see a petite, well-built woman with a luxurious cascade of red hair who certainly could have been a dancer -- but who, he knew, was not. "Captain Sommers!" he said, taken by surprise.

"Captain Reynolds," she replied, inclining her head fractionally. "And you must be Wash," Captain Sommers -- Mrs. Jack Tallis -- added, clasping Wash's hand in both of hers. "