(hover over Chinese words for translation)

The Execution of one Jayne Cobb,

(Light Supper will be Served)

Janus moon was a decent enough settlement, as frontier living went. There were vast stretches of choking desert, but in the valleys of its two great rivers, life was green. Agriculture was a community affair, with all the homesteaders working common land together. Those who did not farm worked in one of the mills or factories. There was virtually no crime. It was a peaceful, civilized place and Malcolm Reynolds could not wait to quit it. He stood in the cargo bay of Serenity, anticipating the last straggling crew member.

Jayne strode up the ramp with a definite swagger in his step. As he approached, Mal and Simon could see not only the smile that threatened to halve his face but evidence of trauma of one kind or another all over his body. There was a tear in his pants exposing most of his thigh and his shirt hung in tatters from his waist like a gladiator’s subligaculum. His neck was several shades of crimson up one side and down the other, speckled with rubescent marks and lines. There was a purple bruise on one cheekbone and a dried laceration over the other eye. Simon approached him, clinical senses at the ready, and reached a hand up to touch Jayne's face. Like the strike of a viper, Jayne clamped onto Simon's wrist, squeezing painfully. His grin was as evil as any the Devil had ever drawn on a man. "Don't you even think about fixin' these."

"Jayne, play nice with the doctor," Mal's voice had its firm, situation-defusing tone. "I thought you went out looking for pleasant company."

Jayne released Simon and turned, still smiling, to Mal. "Sure enough was. She was all manner of "pleasant" to me."

"You look like you've been mauled," Simon opined.

"That too."

An unknown voice bounced into the cargo bay. "Jayne? Jayne Cobb?"

"In here."

At the bottom of the ramp appeared a petite woman, bronze skinned with drowsy, leopard's eyes, dressed in plain but clean prairie-folk clothes, sho