The Last Spartan – Chapter Thirty-Seven

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The ride back to the estate was quiet. Between the wounded, including a live but unconscious Neera Trivett, and the recently freed prisoners from the facility, no one had time to dwell on the loss of Janos.

Mal sat on the bridge, the weight of Jayne’s envelope heavy in his hands. How would he tell River? Or Prim?

He sighed forlornly, his mind numb with what had happened.

Never thought of Jayne as self-sacrificing, Mal admitted. He’d miss the big man, he decided suddenly.

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River, Prim, and Kaylee were waiting when the ship entered the hangar. Simon was also nearby with several attendees, waiting for the wounded. As the ramp descended, the wounded were ferried out first, placed on beds and wheeled away to the hospital.

Mal descended the ramp last, dread settling in the pit of his stomach when he spied River watching anxiously. Prim was stone-faced.

“Mal, where. . .?” River started, then stopped at the look on his face.

“I’m sorry, Albatross,” Mal said softly. “He. . .he ordered the rest out, seems like, but he didn’t make it. He was. . .” Mal broke off, his own calm destroyed. River started shaking, and Mal wrapped her in his arms. Finally the dam broke, and the River ran free.

The tears fell for a long time. Mal stayed the whole while.

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“He wanted me to give you this,” he told Prim a little later, handing over the courier envelope. “Just in case.” He turned to River.

“This, I was entrusted to give to you, personally, ‘tross,” he told her, handing over the letter. She took it with trembling hands, and left the hangar, Dixon and Harwood in tow.

“Prim, I. . .” Mal started, but didn’t know what to say.

“I know, Captain,” Prim said kindly. “I understand.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, so the two men simply walked in silence toward the great house.

A house that would seem so mu