She knew what it was, though she had seen it once before, on Boreas. Her subconscious had tapped into the memory of sitting in the wide commons area next to the lobby, while her parents checked into the resort. She clung to her brother's hand while she watched wide-eyed at the magical sight no other planet could afford.
"What is wrong with the rain?" She asked him. "It has erased the planet!" She pointed to the vast expanse outside. There should have been mountains, there should have been valleys; at the very least she half-expected to see some kind of vegetation, as there was on every other planet she had seen.
He looked at her, his eyes full of knowledge. "It is not rain, Mei-mei; it is snow. See?" He pointed to it drifting down. "The moisture in the clouds freezes in crystalline form, and precipitates from it, but when it lands on the cold ground, rather than dissipating, it retains its shape and piles up, covering everything in layer upon layer of ice crystals."
The little girl gawked at the notion. "And they never go away?"
"They do, after a while; friction builds and melts the crystals, and they're replaced by others. But it's pretty to look at, don't you think?"
"Pretty..." even at that age, her analytical mind was too strong, having an easier time computing the rate of accumulation and distribution of the crystals outside to find any pleasure in something for merely being "pretty."
"Make it stop!" She had cried, feeling the terror building inside her. "We will be buried completely within six cycles!"
She had spent the entire holiday absolutely refusing to look at the outside world after that. How differently she felt now! How badly she wanted to go back, to change the way she thought. Imagining the scene again, this time, she stood next to her brother and tilted her head up to watch the snow skitter over the roof. It whirled and swirled till it hit the clear domed ceiling, where it eventually slid off the slick sides.
"Mei-mei, look at the snow," he said. "Mei-mei, do you feel the snow?"
Suddenly she wasn't just watching it fall. Her eyes no longer looked to the front, she couldn't turn away from that high, snowy roof—and just like that, there was no roof. The snowflakes swirled overhead and just kept falling, down, down to land on her face. She felt the touch, the sting, the wet, the gone. Touch over and over.
"Feel the snow, Mei-mei," her brother's voice said. "It's time to wake up now. Wake up, Mei-mei!"
River opened her eyes. She lay in her bunk, but it was so cold! She reached up to feel her face, and found cool beads of moisture there. More icy grains peppered her face. She covered her head with her hand and sought out its source: Simon, grinning like a child, stood at the door of their berth, sending founts of sparking whiteness out of a beaker in his hand.
"Merry Christmas, Mei-Mei!" He said, laughing as he watched her dance in the flurry.
"You made snow!" River cried, catching a few crystals on her palm and watching them vanish.
Simon shook the last of it out of his beaker and gave a little shrug. "I had to do something to make it feel more festive," he said.
The twinkle in his sister's eyes told him he had succeeded.
"Excuse me!" Mal's voice squawked out of the intercom. "This is your captain speaking. All hands to the cargo hold. Repeat, we have a situation! All hands to the cargo hold!"
River stiffened. Simon squinted in confusion. "Situation?" He repeated. "What situation?"
River was already running down the corridor.
Simon jogged after her. Ahead of them, Jayne came out of his berth, guns blazing.
"Cap'n needs help!" He barked at the siblings, as if they hadn't heard the strange message.
"Any idea what's happened?" Simon asked as they made their way down to the hold.
"Not a clue," Jayne grunted, "but whatever it is, I'll blast it wide—"
"SURPRISE!"
Simon stopped short on the catwalk as he heard the chorus of voices from below. Zoe, Leif, Mal, Inara, and Kaylee stood below, grinning up at the bewildered trio, while a fully-decorated Christmas tree twinkled and glittered behind them.
Simon had no mental preparation for the wave of relief that swept over him. He burst out laughing.
"Merry Christmas!" Kaylee called.
River gawked at the finery below.
"Where did it come from?" She gasped. "There have been no extra stops—we could not have stored..."
Mal beckoned to her. "Just get down here and let's open presents. Jayne, you can put the gun down now!"
Jayne shouldered his weapon, but after a moment's hesitation, set it down entirely and joined the crew in the hold.
"First things first!" Malcolm announced, handing a package to Kaylee. "Let's get you properly attired, ma'am!"
Kaylee smirked in confusion, but her expression grew into a full-sized grin when she pulled out the old coveralls she used to wear.
Simon nudged Jayne. "This one's from Kaylee and I," he said, handing the former mercenary a wrapped box.
Jayne reached in and pulled out what looked like a hi-tech gauntlet. He slipped it on, noting the way it fit snugly around his fingers and the contours of his palm.
"What's it do?" He pointed a single finger, sticking his thumb up like a hammer. The gauntlet game a small mechanical whine.
Mal ducked out of his way. "Whoa! Watch where you point that thing!" He cried.
"It's the latest in ballistics technology," Simon explained. "Straightening your finger arms the weapon."
"Weapon?" Jayne's eyes lit up. He pointed at the armored wall of the hold, the side he usually used for target practice when working with guns. The gauntlet discharged with enough force to produce a loud report in that metallic space—but Jayne barely even felt it.
River scampered over to the wall. "There's no bullet!" She remarked.
Kaylee handed Jayne a case full of projectiles. "We took the liberty of loading blanks so you could practice without wasting ammunition," she said.
Jayne was admiring the shape and the craftsmanship. "Well, gee," he grunted. "I don't know what to say..."
"Just as long as we can be friends again," Simon held out his hand.
Jayne almost shook it with his right hand, the one wearing the gauntlet. Instead, he laughed and shook with his left, awkwardly, but the enthusiasm was there. "Absolutely, I've got your back!"
"Me next!" Leif cried, running up to Kaylee with a basket full of strawberries.
Kaylee grinned and sampled one. "Mmmm," she moaned, "delicious!" She winked at the boy. "How did you know these were my favorite?"
Leif blushed up to the roots of his red hair. "Mama told me," he said, scrambling back into Zoe's lap.
Kaylee pulled another package out from under the tree and crouched in front of him. "Well, I have something for you, too, Leif."
He felt its weight and gasped. Tearing the paper off, he held it out. "An old book?" He cried in confusion.
Everyone's attention moved to that weathered, leather-bound tome.
"It's a Bible," Kaylee explained. "It once belonged to a friend of mine—somebody who really cared about children." She looked up at Zoe. "He would probably want Leif to hear you read from it."
Zoe nodded soberly. "Just till we get your girl back," she assured Kaylee, grasping her hand.
Suddenly, River materialized at Kaylee's elbow with a package of her own. "I bought it," she said, staring straight into Kaylee's eyes. "On Perseus. Zoe said you might like it."
Confused, Kaylee opened the package, gasping as she pulled out the toddler dress similar to the one in the shop window on Hermes. Abruptly, she clutched the dress to herself and burst into tears. She gestured to the Bible on Zoe's lap. "Heavenry," she sobbed.
"What?" Zoe asked.
"I named my daughter after Book—his real name, I mean," Kaylee sighed as the tears subsided somewhat. "Henry Evans... Heavenry; Heavenry Alexis—T-t-Tam!"
Zoe and River both wrapped their arms around her.
"We'll get her back," Zoe murmured. "You will see Heavenry again."
Kaylee nodded, but she could not stop crying. Simon walked over to help his wife out so she could grieve in private. Zoe hesitated till they reached the doorway, then strode over.
"Simon, wait!"
He stopped and glanced back at her. Zoe dug a small pouch out of her pocket. "Here, I wanted to give this to you," she said.
Simon opened the pouch and peeked inside. The vial of abortifacient solution twinkled up at him.
Zoe nodded back to where Jayne was horsing around with her son. "Guess I never used it, and I don't need it now." She pressed her lips and sighed. "Thanks for helping me see the truth."
Simon nodded graciously. "I admit, I may have overreacted, mostly because the last person close to me to consider having an abortion... was my mother."
Zoe blinked. "River," she guessed.
Simon nodded. "The doctors all told her termination was her best option, better than having a child who would never be normal. They kept calling her 'the fetus' and talking about how difficult life would be, how much easier it would be to just terminate early and move on to 'reconception.'" His lip curled as he laced the word with scorn.
"And your mother refused," Zoe finished, smiling warmly.
"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Simon answered.
Zoe nodded and Simon returned to bringing Kaylee to their berth.
Back in the hold, River sat under the tree, trying to figure out how she should change the arrangement of the ornaments to make more mathematical sense. Zoe came to sit next to her, and handed her a small box.
"These used to belong to Hoban," she said quietly. "He would fiddle with them on long flights. I think he would appreciate you having them, rather than me keeping them in this box."
River opened the box to reveal a whole set of metal hoop-and-bar puzzles and wooden-block puzzles, all unsolved.
Zoe smiled and let out a small chuckle. "He never could actually solve them. He'd always say they're just for playing with."
River picked up one of the puzzles, examining it closely. Working the torque and the dimensions and the angles, she could see exactly how it came apart, and how it all fit together again—but she dropped it back in the box.
"Thank you," she said to Zoe. The legacy of unsolved puzzles would continue in his memory.
Mal cleared his throat as Simon returned to the room.
"All right everyone," he announced. "Zoe and I have talked it over, and we've decided that there should be a change of plans."
Jayne crossed his arms. "Plans?" He grunted.
Mal nodded, "Concerning the globe. It's taken us almost a year to find all the checkpoints, and we've been following the map this whole time." The captain smiled. "But now, thanks to the revelations on Perseus, we have an advantage on the last location," he pointed to the final glowing "X", "that we didn't have before."
Simon blinked. "This time, you know it's leading us to Hera."
Mal nodded. "That's right, and I know at least a dozen different ways to get to Hera, as well. Therefore," he glanced at Zoe, who had her arm around Leif, sitting beside her, "I have proposed that we turn the tables on these Alliance goons and make our own mission: rescue Heavenry from wherever they're holding her!"
Simon frowned. "What about the Serenity dispersal? If the globe never gets to Hera, what's to stop them from setting it off here on the ship?" He subconsciously fiddled with his cuffs to steady his trembling fingers. "They could be holding her anywhere. How will we find her in time before the Alliance figures out we are on to them?"
"Simon." Inara laid a steady hand on his shoulder and waited till he turned to look at her. She held his gaze for a long moment before stating, "We will find her. Listen to me: we will find your daughter. As long as there is still a chance they might still believe you'll do what they want, they will not touch her."
"But—"
"She's right," Mal cut in, coming to stand beside him. "But it's gonna take all of us. We are not going to give in while one of our own is in danger—yes," he responded to Simon's look of surprise. "You're still one of us... If you're willing to do what it takes."
Simon nodded emphatically. "Our days of secrets and lies and hiding are over," he said. "Whatever it takes, we'll do it."
Zoe stood. "We all will," she declared.
Jayne stepped into the group and raised his hand. "Count me in," he said.
Mal grinned. "Wonderful!" He said jovially. "Can't say as any objections would have changed anything, cause we're doing this anyway, but it's nice that we can all agree. Now," he turned to Inara. "First things first, I think we have an inside man in the Alliance upper crust that we can use to make sure nothing happens in the Core that we don't know about?"
She smiled. "I'll give him a call; I believe he can be convinced that he owes us."
"And Jayne," Mal continued. "Call up Zito; tell him we have another favor to ask."
"Got it," the burly man grunted.
"Meanwhile," Mal turned to Simon. "You and I can have a talk about what 'whatever it takes' is going to take."
"I'll man the cockpit with River," Zoe volunteered. "Coming with me, Leif?"
The boy sighed, twiddling with his hands. "Nah..." he muttered. "Wanna stay with the tree."
Zoe nodded. "That's fine. Come up when you want to."
Jayne paused on his way past the hold, after everyone had left. Leif still sat there, holding Shepherd's Bible in his lap. The former ruffian ambled through the doorway.
"What's eatin' ya, kid?" He asked.
Leif inhaled sharply and gulped. "I'm scared, Uncle Jayne," he said. "What if something goes wrong?"
Jayne regarded him quietly. At seven years old, he already felt the weight that all the adults around him had learned to ignore. Jayne tried to lighten it up.
"There ain't nothin' wrong with the Captain's plan, kid. We've done this plenty of times—"
"River says that every plan has a flaw that could ruin it completely," Leif replied, "Even the best ones." His eyes wandered to the dress Kaylee had left behind. "What if they hurt her?"
Jayne hesitated only a moment longer. "Here," he dug in his pack. "I notice you didn't get much for Christmas." He gave Leif a bundle of dirty yellow and orange yarn.
Leif unfolded it. "What's this?" He asked, sniffing it.
Jayne grinned. "I'll show ya." He took it out of the boy's hands and plunked it on his head, where it sagged slightly, having been made for a bigger head than a seven-year-old boy's. "Now this hat," he pointed to Leif's head, "is a very important hat. This hat was made for me by a bunch of wise women on one of the fringe planets. See, I was like you once: I was scared, I didn't trust anybody on this ship, I thought I had to make my own plans in case it failed—but this hat? It made me brave, it helped me believe in other people—like your pa did."
Leif looked up, a glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. "Was my dad very brave, Uncle Jayne?"
Jayne felt like he had been suddenly seized by a whip-vine tree, and it was squeezing his neck and blurring his vision. He coughed and rubbed his hand over his brow. He couldn't look at those big, trusting blue eyes just now.
"He was the bravest of us all, kid."
The look of sheer pride in the boy's face as he hopped down to join his mother assured Jayne that maybe his gift, shabby and impromptu as it was, had been the most important one given that day.