Chapter 7, AKA 'Firefly Goes All Armageddon'. Special guest director Michael Bay, exec-produced by Jerry Bruckheimer... (only kidding!)

7

Inara was in the cargo bay, listening out for news on the ‘com, but she was not being idle. She had brought with her a little golden figurine and an incense stick and was down on her knees beside the mule, conducting a short ritual of protection.

Merciful Buddha, she prayed silently, watch over my friends and keep them safe from harm. Grant them the strength and patience for their tasks, and the courage to complete them. Light their way home.

It occurred to her, as she doused the smouldering stick and rose to her feet, that she was now completely alone aboard Serenity . She couldn’t ever recall it happening before, especially not out in the black. It was a curious and unsettling sensation.

In the past, of course, there had been occasions when the crew had decanted to some derelict or other in search of salvage, but still Wash could be found up in the cockpit, growling and cackling as he conducted epic toy crusades on his console. River, too, would usually remain behind in the passenger dorms, or sometimes she would come to Inara’s shuttle seeking company – or at least some refuge from her latest psychological torment – and doze for a while on her luxurious bed.

So much had changed since then. The toys remained but stood motionless now, in mute tribute to their fallen leader. Inara missed Wash dreadfully; one more reason, she supposed, why she had been spending so much time in her shuttle recently. The atmosphere on board Serenity had changed, clouded over. Nobody seemed to smile much anymore.

River was becoming an important member of the crew. Miranda had been good for her, or so it appeared; she was a far more dynamic proposition now than the traumatised young girl that had emerged naked and hysterical from a cryo box. She was fast approaching talismanic status: a talented pilot, a promising mechanic, and she could certa