Chapter three: Girders of Babel

The first surprise is the light - triggered by their movements, sure, but it feels like visitors were expected. Mal has been picturing a derelict, dark and broken - but the walls run smooth, a bright vaulted space. A sense of dislocation, for this clean neutral space speaks of absence. There is nothing to show that people have ever walked these corridors - but gravity pulls their feet to the floor and Jayne's boot leaves a dark scuff. Mal checks the colour patch on his wrist, then real cautious, cracks the seal on his helmet.

Even before the first breath of air strokes his nostrils, Mal smells the memories. Seems impossible - and no doubt some Wash or other would point out that it WAS impossible - but all the same, this air that has been scrubbed and filtered so many times - become purely the idea of air - reeks of memories.

Flings him with that first breath - in a flash back years, back a life - back to a claustrophobic and excited first billet at an Independent blockade post. More than a life away now - back at the early end of the war, when people - children - like him kicked through the mess of dumped bags, heavy boots, trinkets of home and grabbed whatever bunk space could be found. Lay down bone-weary but wired tight, lay down and steamed with the cramped and mighty adventure of it all. Later there was restlessness, high hopes, and boredom adding to the stew. Later still there was fear.

Yep... Mal knew that funk well enough and possible or not - despite the orderly nothing of the surroundings, the lack of a single personalised trace - it fills his nostrils now .

Maybe everyone here died too.

Dead folks got the drop on us before - never again. Mal can see it writ clear on Jayne's face. Cobb is twitchy, but there ain’t even shadows to start at - not in this bright and eerie-ass place. Reminds Jayne of hospitals - or them sky jails the Alliance seems so sweet on.‘Cept he don’t even remember a hospital that felt this... Never knew clean c