Mal and Jayne approached the sheriff’s station, hearing the grumblings of the people clustered around getting louder. As they got closer, the words became more distinct.

“Heard tell he cut her up really bad.”

“Mavis said there wasn’t much left, just shreds. Shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Someone told me there was no blood left in the body.”

“Shouldn’t be allowed. Not here in our town.”

“Someone should do something about it.”

“Make sure that monster doesn’t do it again.”

“Shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Shouldn’t be allowed.”

“Shouldn’t be –“

Mal stopped listening. As long as they were still at the ‘shouldn’t be allowed’ stage, Hank was safe. It was when they reached the level of ‘we’re going to do something about it’ that he’d start worrying.

Finally they were at the station, a squat building with high windows, across which a faint glitter announced a high energy forcefield protecting the glass. A look from Mal had Jayne wandering away, as if he had nothing better to do, when in fact he was going to check out the rear of the premises. At least the area in front was clear of people. Not that it mattered. As soon as Mal started for the door all conversation died behind him. He knocked loudly.

“Yeah?” The voice from inside was wary, and probably armed.

“My name’s Malcolm Reynolds,” he said, attempting to sound as unthreatening as possible. “I’m captain of the transport ship Serenity. And I believe you might be holding my pilot.”

“What’s his name?”

“Hank Mills.”

There was a brief discussion inside, none of which Mal could understand, only hearing the dull murmur of voices.

Finally the response came. “Yeah. That’s him.”

Mal pushed the feeling of inevitable dread back down into his stomach. “I want to see him.”

“Not letting you inside.”

“He’s my crew.”

“And you got my sympathies on that fact. But he’s been bound for murder, and that means until the judge sees him, he’s not available.”

“Just for a few minutes. To make sure –“

“I said no.”

Mal swal