Abner Cartwright was an odd dichotomy of a man. Aged only twenty-two, he was fresh-faced and innocent looking, yet he liked nothing more than discussing the best methods of silent killing with his Corporal, one Zoe Alleyne. Admittedly, he also talked about the Bible with his Sergeant, in depth conversations that kept them occupied for hours.

“You’re one strange guy,” Mal Reynolds said, checking his rifle for the tenth time.

“Why?” Abner asked. “An eye for an eye. It’s in the good book.” He glanced over the top of the foxhole they were sitting in. “I think we can move.”

“Not yet,” Zoe said, her hands gripping her own weapon.

“Why do you –“

He was interrupted by a blast that rocked the ground, tossing earth high into the air to rain down on them.

Mal shook the dirt from his hair as he laughed. “See, Abner, that’s why I let Zoe make all the important decisions.”

Zoe looked at her Sergeant, her implacable face not even cracking with a smile. “We can head back now, sir,” she said.

“Shiny.” Mal checked for himself over the top of the earth ridge, then hopped up and started back towards their own dugout, knowing the others were at his heels.

Abner began to whistle, just under his breath, but in the silence both Mal and Zoe could hear the tune quite clearly.

“One day,” Mal promised, whispering himself, “I am going to get so tired of that damn song I’ll be shooting you myself.”

Abner grinned in the dark. “Nah, you love me really.”

“Or at the very least I’m gonna have you court-martialled.”

A chuckle followed him across the mud.

…

Except wars don’t take account of how people feel or believe.

“It’s Abner, sir,” Zoe said. “He didn’t make it.”

Mal, poring over maps of the area, sat back, shocked beyond all recognition. “But … how?”

“Seeker. Out on patrol.”

Patrol. Mal swallowed. The patrol he’d sent him on. “Was it –“

“Quick. Yes sir. The man he was with told me he saved his life, pushed him to the ground.”

No more whistling. No more discussions