“I know what you're thinking,” says a soft voice.

“Argh!” Mal yelps, hand automatically straying to his gun in his shock, and jumps nearly a foot in the air.

River simply stares at him, impassive. “You're thinking about opening them up to see what's inside. You musn't.”

He puts a hand to his chest a little theatrically, waiting a moment for the adrenaline to drain away some before responding. “Wuo duh ma River. Don't sneak around like that!”

“I wasn't sneaking,” she replies coolly.

He looks back down at the boxes, almost ashamed at snapping at her. Truth be told, she might not have been sneaking around at all; his conundrum of a cargo had been holding his full and miserable attention.

He glances back up to see River is watching the boxes too, and her expression is fearful. “Heard tell from the Preacher you're about as keen on these as I am,” he says softly and she nods carefully.

“It's like Christmas,” she says, “Can't open the presents early.” Her eyes are locked on his now, wide with the urgency of her message. “Or bad things will happen.”

“So I've heard,” he replies, “And not just from you.” He sighs, and decides there's no harm in trying. “Do you know what's in them?”

She considers this for a moment. “They're screamers,” she says, “They'll call them, out of the black. Two-by-two.” She shivers. “They're already out there. Musn't invite them in.”

“Fancy... maybe trying that again, in a language I can understand?” he says shortly.

She smiles faintly, sadly. “I am what they made. Chaos.”

He grunts. “Well, that makes a little more sense,” he concedes, and grudging concern wins over his annoyance at being startled into screaming. “You not sleepy?”

She shakes her head slowly, eyes drifting back to the boxes. “Too much dreaming for sleep.”

He wrinkles his brow as he tries to will sense out of her sentence, but gives up after a moment. “Well... I'm going to watch the 'scopes on the bridge after Wash goes to bed. Too close to Reaver territory to risk relyin' on sensors too much