based on the world of Firefly by Joss Whedon

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Shots rang out piercing the night air as Mal slammed into the sand bag Zoe was hiding behind. There was no sign of Cat, but one could bet she was out hunting taking out what she could, where she could. Zoe rained down cover fire as her Sargent jumped over ducking down and reloading the rifle in his hands.

"How many?" he yelled over the gunfire as his second looked down at him.

"Don't know. Way they're firing, I'd say a good forty maybe fifty. We already lost Jinx and Matthews."

"Gorram it." He breathed at the loss of life. "Jinx was a good kid. Suck havin' to tell his mama he's dead."

"Ain't for you to do, Sir. Leave it the ones suppose to be doin' that." She dropped to reload, bullets hitting the sand bags like hailstones on a rooftop, a dull, hollow sound.

"With all the dead, it ain't gonna get said until well into next year. At least if I send a wave, family can mourn a might sooner." His hands wrapped around the gun and he turned firing into the squad of bright lights and screaming horde.

"Where'd Cat get to?" Tracey cried out from behind him, hands shaking a bit. He wasn't a bad soldier, but when it came to fighting a big group, the young man seized up.

"She's around, Tracey. Doing what Cat does best." Zoe shared a look with the young one and then went to relieve Mal so he could again reload. It was a dance that she had done with the man for many a year. Somehow, it never seemed to get old.

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She hid in the shadows, pacing herself as not to be discovered. Darkness made things a lot easier for her, and though she knew her unit wasn't far away, the darker side of her begged to be free. It would take very little for it to devour the campsite. Each man torn from pelvis to collarbone, guts coating the ground like a sick looking Christmas tree complete with presents, steam still rising off of them as the cold met the heat they would radiate.

A noise from the unit and