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A ghost town; nothing but the stench of fires and searing skin. No one accounted responsible, and no one taking the blame; news of the massacre spread quickly, as did the rumors. From one ear to the next, someone began to threaten. Stay away; stay far away.

Months later, on a pit stop, Mal, accompanied by Jayne and Zoe, exited Serenity, guns ready to blaze. Gideon, the once peaceful moon, was the poster for abandonment. The moon famous for producing the richest oil was the preferred rest stop for a ship in need. They get in, get out, as if on a timer; no one ever stayed long enough to find out what happens.

Mal continued moving forward as Jayne and Zoe took to the right and left.

“Clear,” Zoe shouted, putting her gun away.

Jayne kicked a clunk of metal. Nothing but a close-to-dead rat. “Clear, here.”

Subtle movement grabbing his attention, Mal took to the mountain of metal scraps. Months of uncollected garbage, the unnecessary things other ships leave behind, there was something under it. Pushing the scraps and pieces of metal away, Mal saw a hand.

Once he removed all the scraps he found a badgered young woman in a hole in the ground. She wore a tattered, worn-out and dirty jumper; her face had snippets of dry blood, and her exposed skin looked just as beaten as the jumper she wore. Her eyes looked at Mal longing before closing, giving in to whatever pain she felt.

Mal put the gun back in its strap. He jumped into the hole, checking her for a heartbeat. Fortunately she had one, unfortunately it was very faint. He wiped away some of the dirt off her brow with his hand. Under the dirt was someone far too innocent. Even when he saw the symbol of the Alliance on the jumper, Mal moved to help her. Picking her up and taking her out of the hole.

Zoe and Jayne watched Mal carry the young woman into Serenity.

“This is my ship, I’m the Captain, I’ll do whatever I want,” he said before either of them began their twenty-one questions.

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