Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own any of these wonderful characters, or even the setting and world of Firefly. They all belong to Fox/Universal and Joss Whedon.

James Norrington and related belongs to Disney, Gore and Ted and Terry.

Setting: Takes place right after Down the Aisle

Pairings: Kaylee/Simon, Mal/Inara

Can’t Stop the Music

Chapter 5: Secco

-

It had only taken River a few hours for her to organize the band members. She was able to place them into certain areas or pockets as she called them to keep their voices hidden from her. As long as she know who was who she could work on not hearing them and when she wasn’t listening to them she could fly the ship better.

Then again it was a lot easier to not listen when she was at the bridge. She sank back in the chair, her hands on the wheel as she guided Serenity through space. Her eyes were focused on what was ahead, and not on what was inside.

“How are you flying?” Zoë asked her. River was either too focused on what was ahead or had grown so accustomed to Zoë that she did not hear her.

“Steady,” River responded. She knew Zoë had something to drink for her.

“Brought you some ginger ale,” Zoë approached her. “River, why are you not looking at me?”

“Flying,” Was the only word that appeared in her head, and felt like it was the only word that was fitting.

“You have done this several times. We are not coming into a landing, nor are we trying to dodge who knows what be out there.”

“Head is like cement and like a beehive.”

“I can understand if your head feels heavy,” the older woman set the translucent green bottle down next to River. “I don’t understand what the beehive is.”

“Too many thoughts buzzing around,” River turned to look at her. Zoë’s expression was impassive as always. The only thoughts River could see was the soldier’s concern for her. River could try to read her, to find out even more, but she hadn’t the right.

“Is it about our guests?” Zoë sat down next to her. “Or is it about the checkpoint?”

“A little of both,” she ran her fingertips against the sides of her face. “The music is getting to the captain.” When she placed the ship on auto and walked past the hold she could hear the band perform. She had paused to watch for only a minute. She had seen the captain also stop and watch them. He had tilted his head to the side and frowned after a minute.

“He thinks ferrying them is a bit of a nuisance,” Zoë explained.

River shook her head. “It isn’t them. It is the music.” She stared Zoë in the eyes. “He used to play.”

“Yes he did,” Zoë leaned back in her chair. “Along with the scriptures he would often play his guitar for his troops. Those who had often requested songs, those who were his biggest fans had died. Mal had seen them shot before him.”

“The pain was too great,” River grabbed onto the beverage bottle and removed the cap. “He blamed the Lord for letting him down. He didn’t blame the music.”

Zoë sighed. “He never explained why. All I remember was that he burned his guitar along with his copy of the bible.”

“You should tell Inara.”

“Why?”

“He played in the shop. He played in front of her and she asked him to play again.”

“And he nearly bit her head off,” Zoë stood up. “When I see her I will explain it to her. You let us know when we come across the check point.”

“Yes ma’am.” River gave her a small salute before she left. “I shouldn’t peek, but not knowing hurts others.” She frowned at the thought before she took a sip of her beverage.

-

Malcolm stared at the base guitar. He knew its make and model, a silver chord Elesson. He couldn’t be certain if it was fifth or sixth series but he knew its type. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the fact he still remembered all of it or the fact the guitar had just been left behind, its neck was resting against one of the silver crate boxes in the cargo hold.

“Gorram kids leave their things behind,” Malcolm muttered. He was going to have to tell them a new little rule of his.

“Captain,” River’s voice came out over the intercom. “We are coming up upon the check point.”

Mal ran towards the nearest box and pressed the button. “I will be right there darlin’.” He spoke before he ran up the stairs.

“Captain?” One of the musicians had entered. Mal knew it was the drummer. He didn’t remember if his name was Dustin or Ray.

“Yeah,” Mal said in a hurried tone.

“Ask them about our ship,” Ray said in a weak tone. The young man had barely said a word through out the whole time he had been aboard. Mal had overheard a few of the other members mention how he was depressed over the loss of their old ship.

“I’ll find out if there is anything,” Malcolm said.

“Thank you, sir. I hate to annoy you about asking, but she was my Vunderbus.”

Malcolm did not blink at the use of German, or the odd name the kid had given to the ship. He could understand the ship was truly his and had the same amount of love for it as Mal had for Serenity. “I know how you feel, son. We will find out who did it.”

-

Malcolm slipped into the co pilot seat just as River had turned on the com screen. “This is Captain Malcolm Reynolds of the Firefly transport Serenity.” He removed his eyes from the screen and stared ahead at the checkpoint. Much smaller than Sky plexes the checkpoints only had a few places for ships of various sizes to either park or attach themselves to. There were a few holding spaces for the various small shuttles that flew around the station. All check points had fuel for ships, and most had places for people to eat and lodging, some even had a few shops.

“Captain Reynolds,” the man in the screen wore the clean-cut gray suit of an Alliance officer and from the uniform Mal could tell he was a lieutenant. “Please dock in pod 8.”

“Thank you,” Mal said before the screen turned black. “Not so bad.”

“No one has come aboard,” River said.

“Not yet,” Mal grabbed onto the controls. “I’ll steer her in.”

“Music shouldn’t hurt.” River stared at him.

“If the volume is too high then it does,” now where was she getting at?

“Music should heal. It soothes, not remove scabs and cut into scars.”

“You haven’t been cryptic in a while,” Mal read the digital print on the sides of each pod. “I figured you were due.”

“You won’t even tell Zoë.”

“There are a lot of things I haven’t told her.”

“You never told her the real reason.”

Mal tried to ignore her while he steered the ship into the pod and waited for the right shudder and click, letting him know the ship had docked successfully.

“She doesn’t know why you stopped playing.”

Mal clenched his teeth and his hands. “Stop bringing it up.”

“Talking about it can help.”

“Maybe it can and maybe it can’t.” He turned his chair toward her and pointed a finger at her. “This is my command for you to drop it. Do not speak to me about it, do not talk to the others about it, don’t you even look into my head. This is the final time I am going to speak to you about it. Now do we have an understanding?”

“Clear,” River glared at him before she turned her chair, turning her back at him.

“You want to be treated as an adult you shouldn’t have such a childish attitude.”

“How can I grow up when you haven’t?”

Any further discussion on the matter was put on a screeching hold when the Alliance lieutenant reappeared on the screen.

“We are about to run tests, Captain Reynolds.” The lieutenant said. “Let you know if we find something amiss or if you are low on fuel.”

“We have plenty to last us to Beaumonde.”

“Beaumonde?” The lieutenant seemed stunned they were even thinking of going there.

“We have passengers aboard,” Malcolm wasn’t sure why he was explaining the motive of the trip. “A local band from Salisbury heading there for some concert.”

“It must be that yearly battle of the bands in sector city seven,” the lieutenant rolled his eyes. “I have a sister who watches it every year.”

“There is a bit of a reason why we are serving as transport for them,” Mal had figured it would be a good time as any to ask about the status of the investigation. “Their old ship had been attacked by an arsonist.”

“What kind of ship is it?”

“An Argonaut 32,” River said, still with her back turned to Mal. “Ten years old. It was a sloop model.” Small and zippy were words to describe that type of ship, not good for business like Mal’s but perfect for families or groups of friends who planned on doing a lot of traveling. The ships were technically large shuttles since they were too small to be officially classified as a ship in itself.

“In the town of Kinkaid,” Mal added.

“I’ll have to check back on that,” the lieutenant said before the screen blanked out.

“He seemed kind of surprised about where we are going,” Malcolm said. “I wonder what that is about.”

“He sounded scared. He knows something.”

“I didn’t know you can read people through the screen.”

She spun around to face him. “I didn’t read, not his mind. I can tell in his voice.”

“It will be a few more minutes before they get finished. Why don’t you go back and take a break.” No sooner had he said the words had River left her seat.

-

Inara stared at the teapot as it warmed up on the heated coil, patiently waiting for the tea to brew for herself and her two guests. Amistance wandered around the shuttle, staring intently at the tapestries, curtains and rugs that clung to the sides while Cyn was content with just sitting on the cushion in the middle of the floor while she stared at everything.

“You are a companion,” Cyn stated in a calm matter. “I had no idea what the captain meant by you being an ambassador.”

“The crew uses the term because of some of the places we had visited,” Inara explained as she brought out the sugar bowl and silver bottle she used to store the powdered creamer. “Many places would see the condition Serenity is in and refuse to allow us to make port. Once they know there is a guild registered companion is aboard they allow us to land and make port.”

“Can’t believe some places are that snobby,” Cyn shook her head.

“Snobby?” Inara stared at her. The young woman had some fashion sense. She was a figure who appreciated the arts and music. “Just because some people have standards does not make them snobby.”

“Refusing to allow a person into a place of business because they are drunk or reeked is having standards,” Cyn stretched out her legs. “Towns not letting a ship make port because the ship isn’t shiny and new is being snobby.”

“Some places have a reputation,” Inara continued to explain. “And some places know about the crew of the ship.”

“It still sounds like they are stuck up. I hope I am not saying anything to offend you, even if what I am saying is the honest truth.”

“It takes a lot more to offend me,” Inara turned off the heating coil. “Mistaking the guild and companions for common whores is one of them.”

“There are a few differences,” Amistance spoke up. “I have thought about becoming a companion.”

“You have?” Inara asked.

“I heard about the glamour and the respect, but the years of study and the discipline,” Amistance shook her head. “I couldn’t do that, and there was no way I would sleep with any random person, so the idea of being a prostitute was shoved out my head.”

“I’m learning more about you every day, Ami,” Cyn scooted herself closer to the table Inara had set up.

“I’m still learning about all of you,” Amistance walked away from the one tapestry of geisha life and sat down.

“This is part of the reason why I invited all of you.” Inara poured the tea. “I want to know more about you and your band, for example, what do you call yourselves?”

Both musicians stared at each other. “We are still deciding,” Cyn said.

“You are about to enter a contest and you don’t even have a name for yourselves?”

“We are still deciding,” Amistance reached for her cup. “I still like the idea of Raver Reading Party.”

“We have added that to the maybe pile,” Cyn explained. “I am kind of leaning towards naming ourselves after a historical figure. We could call ourselves Armstrong, or Betsy Ross.”

“We pretty much still have a list,” Amistance chuckled.

“What got you interested in music?” Inara asked. That was the question that she had thought of the most.

“I used to watch bands on the cortex,” Amistance said before she took her first sip of tea. “I had often danced and sang along and pointed at he screen and said I wanted to do that. My mother had me take piano lessons at church. The lessons were great but all they taught me how to play was religious music and classical. I saved money to buy something to help me play at home and after I bought my own books, not long after I started to create my own songs.”

Inara had heard similar stories several times. “It sounds like it is best you didn’t become a companion. The universe would have been robbed of such a talent,” Amistance blushed. “What about you, Cynthia?”

“You have heard this story before,” Cynthia took a sip from her cup. “Tragic childhood with several emotional scars and music has been my escape, crawled out of poverty, had jobs cleaning houses, learned to play from one client who owned a guitar. Like I said same story different verse.”

“There has to be some different aspects,” Inara said. Cynthia was defiantly hiding something from her.

“Yes and there will be a time for that story to be heard,” Cynthia stared into the cup. “Now is not the time.”

Inara nodded and decided to not press on. She had hurt Mal the day before by asking too much. She did not want to risk getting their guests upset.

-

Mal felt his feet drop to the floor with a sudden thud and sat up. He had nearly fallen asleep waiting for the diagnostics report. He checked his holowatch. They had been at the checkpoint for nearly an hour and River had yet to return. He hoped it was just routine and they hadn’t found anything about them. Melchior had said he erased all their illegal activities the last time they were on Persephone and the last two jobs involved bringing cargo to a businessman and take on passengers, both were legal jobs.

“They are still not after her,” Mal stared at the stegosaurus on the console. “Are they?”

“Captain Reynolds,” the lieutenant’s face reappeared on the screen. “Everything checks out.”

“Good,” Mal felt a bit relieved. “Any news about my passenger’s ship?”

“We did get some leads,” the lieutenant nodded. “We are not sure if it was random or not, but it has been done before. There seems to be traces to two similar attacks that had happened in the past month.”

“I see,” Mal said. So a serial arsonist for some reason had targeted his guests. “We are allowed to go?”

“After we send you some courses to Beaumonde.”

“We have been there before.”

“It would be best to not take the direct path,” the lieutenant’s voice took on a grim tone again.

“Why? It is the faster path.”

“And it is not the safest path for you. We have heard a few reports of pirates within that area.”

“And there are alliance officials patrolling that area?” Mal wasn’t sure which he would rather take chances with, the rumored space pirates or several alliance ships on patrol.

“We have to do our part to keep folk safe. I know I should be ordering you to not take the direct path, but I can’t. Just promise me you will be careful.”

“That is the only promise that I can make,” Mal said. He continued to stare at the screen, even after it had turned off. “Better let everyone know.” He had to inform his guests of the update and both passengers and crew of the warning he had received, but first he had to steer out of that checkpoint.

-