Serenity broke atmo more than a mile from Bouthmere Hold but the thick smoke could still be seen. Sooty plumes of acrid blackness snaked their way into the air choking the sunlight that dare to shine upon the orphanage. The clouds of dark, roiling noxiousness were interspersed with flashes of brightness.

Laser fire.

“Better hang back, lil’ albatross.” Mal instructed River as she sat at Serenity’s controls.

River complied and flicked a switch or two, turning a knob here and dial there. It was becoming so that she didn’t merely fly the boat; she communicated with it. River and Serenity were almost like two girlfriends rather than pilot and ship. Mal could have sworn Wash had become part of both the vessel and the girl.

“Firefly class vessel, you will halt your approach.”

The crackling of the harsh voice over the comm brought Mal back to the situation at hand. The captain furrowed his brow and sat in the co-pilot’s chair, bringing the image of a rather impatient Alliance officer up on the vidscreen.

“What seems to be the problem?” Mal asked.

“You are entering restricted air space. Leave at once.”

Mal didn’t like taking orders from anyone, especially Purple Bellies. But something was going on at the orphanage; something bad. Even though he wanted to help, he knew he could ill afford to be captured and boarded, or at worst, shot down.

“This wasn’t restricted space last time we visited. By my recollection, it’s an orphanage, ain’t it?’ Mal inquired cheerfully.

He hoped his façade would lull the officer into telling him what was going on. No such luck.

“You have less than ten minutes to clear this airspace or face destruction.” the Fed hissed. “Your presence here is not required.”

Mal rubbed his hand over his face. If the Feds knew about the orphanage accepting smuggled goods, why wouldn’t they want a cargo ship that was flying toward it? Sure enough, Mal was merely getting food and supplies to the children that the Alliance withheld and aside from that, the orphanage had no untowar