Jim looked at him from across the table. The tablet in his massive hands looked tiny. Its screen tinted his serious face with a blue light. Streaks of white streamed across his skin as the words and pages scrolled on the screen.

"You’ve made it what you choose to make it, Paul. I can do nothing more for you now," he said.

"I know."

"You’ve made very few friends here. Of course, that’s not really what we’re trying to do here is it?"

"No, sir."

Jim put the tablet down, bringing his hands together, his thick fingers entwining like rope. "I think you, more than any of them, understood that."

"I tried, sir."

Jim smiled. "Well, those that don’t like you at least respect you."

"I did my best."

"Uh huh. What you did was kick just about every butt in your class. Between you and um…"

"Billy, sir."

"Yeah, Billy. Between you two I’m not sure there was anyone you didn’t fight." Jim smiled, grabbing the tablet again, pointing it at the screen. "These last two years, you’ve come a long way. And apparently I’m not the only one to notice. You’ll be shipping out soon to an Alliance HQ on Osiris. The big game so to speak."

Paul sat motionless, accepting the news as calmly as he could, trying to hide the mixed emotions beneath the surface. "I hope to do you proud, sir."

Jim stood up, the full height of his frame still towering over Paul’s. He offered a hand. "You have already done that ten times over, Paul. You’ve been more than just a student to me. I think you know that."

"I do, sir. I meant I hope that—I feel the same, sir. You’ve been like a father to me," he said, taking the hand. He felt a distinct comfort in the strong grip, as if it had been the first time he had truly touched anyone.

Paul spent a few more moments getting the details of his departure, feeling strangely awkward in a place he’d seen at least a hundred times since his arrival. They shook hands once more, and Paul turned to leave for what he knew was the last time. He ran his hands along the thick paint on the doorframe and stepped into the hall. The gray and blue tiles felt alien and distant already. He wanted nothing more than to climb into the next shuttle and feel the stars around him.

Still, he paused before his body was through the frame, turning back into Jim’s office. "Do you think he’ll come back? Now that I’m done. Is this what he wanted for me?"

Jim looked up from his desk, began to rise from his chair, and then let himself fall back into it. "Colonel Carver … I’m sure he’s very proud of you, Paul."

"I haven’t seen or heard from him since the day I got here. Will he even know?"

"He’ll know."

Hodges gulped down the rest of his drink, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "The only blip I got from you that whole time is when you used your ident-card on that Alliance cruiser. I got you on Persephone, and then nothing. I figure that’s when you jumped aboard that Firefly. That was a nice trick by the way."

"What trick?"

"Slipping the Alliance that card and still having them let you go. I wouldn’t even have tried that."

"You might have more contacts, but I am not without my own resources."

"Someone owed you a pretty big favor, then."

Book waived off the barmaid on her approach. "Something like that."

"Doesn’t really explain why the captain didn’t toss you overboard though. I mean, you flashed Allied credentials right in front of his face. That doesn’t seem like something he would appreciate."

"I guess it just worked for him at the time."

"You must have hated them. Hated the way they fought for no good reason. Just for themselves and no one else. Hated the way they had no plan other than to feed themselves, and die."

Book could not help but to laugh at this. "Hated them for that? No, that’s what I admire the most. Maybe it’s harder for you to see it because you’ve rejected everything except what the Alliance has fed you. You think the only way to live is the Core way. Have you learned nothing from your time out here? These people don’t fight for no reason, they fight for the most important reason: the right to be free. Something you and I should appreciate."

Hodges lost his smile. "Well now, when we finally get you talking, you seem to say quite a bit don’t you, Paulie?"

"My name is Book now. I suggest you get used to it."

"You’ll always be Paulie to me."

"And you’ll always be that ignorant fool, Billy."

"Gorramit, I am not even going to have this conversation," Hodges yelled at him. "We were sent here to do this and, by God, we are going to do so."

Paul pulled him back down to his knees. "And I’m telling you there’s been a mistake. That’s not a military target. That’s just a passenger liner headed for Johnston."

"I don’t care. If it’s a mistake, it’s not going to be my mistake."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hodges shook off the arm. "With me? I’m not the one trying to blow our mission."

"That’s not our mission. It can’t be."

"You don’t know that!"

Paul peeked around the crates and canisters, hiding his presence from anyone in the bay. The ship could hardly even be called a shuttle. It was going to struggle taking off with those B78 Harmons, especially the left one. No one had boarded it, except some families with supplies. It was probably headed for one of the border worlds. None of that made sense.

"It doesn’t feel right. Why send two of us to come down here and take out this raggedy group? Two of us."

Hodges was losing his cool. "You think I spend my days questioning orders? I’m told where to go, and what to do. I don’t need to see the big picture."

"Bull--you see it just fine. I know you. You have enough sense in you to tell that this isn’t right."

"I’ll say it again. Every bone in my body could be telling me not to do this and I am still going to do it. I do not question orders."

"You’re an idiot then. You haven’t changed a bit."

Hodges slammed his fist into the side of Paul’s face. With the weight of the pistol behind it, the impact sent him off balance and he barely caught himself before he hit the cement floor. His eyes were full of stars and he could taste blood in his mouth. He tried to pivot away, but Hodges’s foot pressed against his neck, pinning him to the floor. Paul concentrated. He ran through at least thirty-seven ways to get out of the position, but he also knew Hodges would be ready for all of them.

"You’re damn right, I haven’t changed. Why should I?" He pressed his foot harder onto Paul’s neck. "You know why there’s two of us here, smart guy? It’s because they know you have changed. I didn’t believe it until just now, though. Ten years should have made you harder not weaker."

Paul fought to get the words out. "So they sent you to be my executioner? Is that supposed to be irony?"

"Shut up. You know how many strings I had to pull to get this assignment? If it had been anyone else, you’d be dead already."

"I don’t want your pity. If you’re going to pull that trigger, I suggest you do it now, before you start doubting your own loyalty."

Hodges stared down at him, then brought the gun back to his side. Paul knocked the foot off his neck, getting to his feet.

"This war is coming whether you want to fight it or not," Hodges said, keeping the gun out of his holster. "I suggest you pick your side and be done with it."

Paul rose to his full height, putting his hand on his own gun. "This mission isn’t about any war. Those people aren’t anything but settlers. This-is-a-mistake."

Hodges smiled. "I don’t care. I am going over there and killing every last son of a bitch in there. I’ll do it because I was told to do so."

"They’re civilians!"

"I don’t care if it’s the Queen of Londinum! I’ll put a bullet right through the fat bitch’s head. And so will you."

Paul gripped the butt of his gun. "And I say I will not. This is my mission. We go back, tell him it was a mistake. I’ll take the blame."

"You walk away from this, and the only thing you’ll be taking back to HQ is your ass, right after I hand it to you."

"Then we’re going to have a problem here."

"Seems that way. I tell you what. You kick my ass here and I’ll walk away with you. I’ll back up any story you want. Just make it so it’s not the truth."

Paul stared at Hodges. He’d known this man nearly twenty years. Sometimes he felt he knew Hodges better than he knew himself. He licked the drying blood off his lips, removing his hand from his gun. He watched Hodges put his own piece back into its holster.

Hodges grimaced at him. "You really want to fight over this?"

"Appears that way. You changed your mind?"

"Christ, Paulie! You’re a soldier. You’re supposed to follow orders, without questioning them. You wanna know why we’re here? Why we’ve been told to target this ship? They’re harboring terrorists – they killed Jim, Paulie. Blew up the school." He laughed viciously at the other man’s shocked face. "You didn’t know?"

"Jim is dead?"

"Blown to bits. I’ll show you the vid-capture I have in my case, if you don’t believe me." Hodges spun and ripped the pack at his feet open, reaching for the vid-screen, and punching it on. "This is what they did, Paulie. The men responsible have been tracked back to this ship…god-damned Independent trash."

Paul ignored him and grabbed the screen. It was easy to make out the blackened ruin of the bunk houses he and Hodges had slept in as children. Charred bodies, still smoking, lay all over the place. He scanned forward until he recognized Jim’s body. It was burnt almost beyond recognition, but there were certain things that were easily recognizable – the bit of red hair, on the left side of the head, that hadn’t burned off during the explosion…the large blackened ring hanging from the dead hand.

"What…when did this happen?"

"Three days ago. They haven’t told anyone, Paulie. I only know about it because certain…people…owed me favors. The men who did this…they’re on that ship, Paulie.

This is our best chance to get them. Jim always told us we’d build a better world. Let’s start by getting rid of the people who killed him."

"Seem to me," Hodges said, "last time we had a conversation like this it didn’t go your way."

"That was a long, long time ago," Book replied.

"Well, you snapped out of it back then. You’ll do it again, if you already haven’t. I’m guessing when you made that call to me you were maybe starting to see the light."

"I’ve seen about enough light as I’ll ever want to. When I called…when I told you what I had here…I wasn’t exactly myself."

"I gathered as much. I saw the look in your eyes. But the thing is, you did call. Something was in there trying to get out. I think maybe you know it too."

Book tried to relax. He leaned back in his chair until the soft wood creaked. Not far from here Mal, and the others would be wondering where the hell he was. If they knew any better, they would have taken off already and left him and Hodges behind to argue policy until the morning. He knew they wouldn’t though. Mal wasn’t about leaving people behind.

"You seem to have me down well," he said calmly.

"Shouldn’t I, by now?"

"You didn’t tell anyone, did you? This has to be you and me. Anyone else and it’s just going to get ugly."

Hodges smiled. "Who would I tell? Anyone else would have killed the both of us by now, and taken her in himself. Two is pushing it from what I read about her abilities, but we should be able to at least get the rest of the crew and get her off. Or take the ship and get out of here."

"Yeah. That’s the way I figure it. She keeps her bay door open when she’s picking up passengers. You’ll be someone looking for a ride."

"Where to?"

"Wherever it is we’re heading. You’re not picky."

"Never was," Hodges agreed, easing back into his own chair. "Kind of ironic though, don’t you think? The name of the ship?"

"I don’t believe in irony," Book answered.

"I hear you, but something was sending you a message. What are the chances she’d be named after your last mission for the Alliance?"

Book forced himself to swallow. "Interesting, isn’t it?"

"It’s like the universe is trying to tell you that you left something unfinished. Getting you back there to make amends."

Book stood from the table. "We’d better do this. We can talk plans on the way. Not that we’ll need them. The girl is, by far, the worst threat."

Hodges slapped his knee, rising as well. "Understood. And you’re okay here? I mean it’s more than likely we’re going to have to kill more than one of them."

"I’ll be fine."

Hodges smiled. "Whatever it was at Serenity Valley …well, I knew you’d be back, someday. You always were the best of us."

"No," Book said, "I was the worst."

The shuttle rocked and protested as they flew over the hilltops at a speed and height that made most of its occupants mouth silent prayers. The wind rushed in from a pair of open doors in the bay, filling their ears with a deafening roar that made speech nearly impossible. It did not prevent the man seated across from Paul from attempting to communicate with him.

"Sorry about the ride!" Sergeant Hurst screamed at him with what must have been a relic from his boot camp days, "but we have to hug the ground or that flak will shred us to pieces."

Paul nodded, turning his attention to the blur outside the door.

"Colonel Cole, sir?" Hurt’s loud voice continued. "They said you were on Trenton?"

"Yes," Paul yelled as loud as he could without looking at Hurst.

"Bad as it sounds?"

Paul looked to the man and saw the fear hidden deep in his narrow eyes. He noticed more than a few of the other soldiers and officers were waiting to hear the reply. He knew this was where he was going to sell his story. Fifteen years spent fighting against the enemies of the Alliance, another two infiltrating the Independent’s command structure, and the success of his mission was probably all going to come down to this: lying to a bunch of scared kids in the back of a ratty, old shuttle.

He could already hear the echoes of his argument with Billy Hodges across the years.

"Worse," he said to Hurst, and then turned to the cabin. "Alliance took it to us pretty bad on Trenton. Bad as I seen anywhere."

"I heard we made ‘em think about it. Maybe softened them up for the Valley," Hurst piped in.

"Don’t believe it," Book scowled. "They kicked our ass and didn’t break a sweat. But that’s okay."

"Sir?"

Paul pulled himself up by the safety trap next to him, planting his feet against the base of his chair. "Serenity Valley is not Trenton. We’re going to fight these bastards until every last one of them is either dead, or running away. It’s here or nowhere. It’s now or die trying.

"So, if any of you," he regarded Hurst, "are worried about Trenton or Hangzu or Beau, you might as well throw down your arms now. Hell yes, we got bent over three ways from sideways in a lot of places, but not here. Here is where the Alliance sees what it means to fight on the Border. Here is where we put up the big fence and knock them back to Sihnon."

The room stayed silent. He hadn’t anticipated cheers or grins or anything. These were a defeated people and they knew it. If Serenity Valley was going to be anything to them, it was going to be their graves, and he was one of the horsemen.

War was starting to make him sick. He just wanted it over. He wanted all the damn Independents to disappear and just accept the Alliance. He’d had his own doubts along the way, but he knew they’d all gone out into the black to find a better place, a better society; living like cattle in the dust wasn’t the way to do it.

The faces in the room turned from him until only Hurst continued to stare back. Paul walked over, lowering his head until it was inches from the Sergeant’s face.

"I expect you to lead these men today, Hurst. If Trenton was a problem for you…"

"Sir, no sir!"

"Good. When we get there I want you to secure your gear and your men and then take me to HQ. Until then, I want you to shut up and let me enjoy the view while I can."

Hurst nodded, giving a snappy salute.

Paul returned his own gaze into the blur outside the shuttle.

* * * * *

It had been ridiculously easy to infiltrate Independent command. They hadn’t questioned his papers or his rank when he had been transferred to Trenton – they had just been happy to get a new officer to replace at least one of the many who had died. He had trained his men, taken them on missions and made himself invaluable to the commanders. He had been careful to keep his troops as intact as he could and, when a risky mission had fallen into his lap, he had managed to miraculously get the majority of his men out alive. All it had taken was a little coordination with the Alliance. He had looked like a hero – and heroes were in short supply. It wasn’t much longer after that he was transferred again – legitimately this time – to Serenity Valley.

Headquarters was a hole in the ground, shielded by twin layers of what Paul could now tell was some elaborate stealth web. As soon as he entered the building his radio and links stopped working. The lights in the place were all driven by some elaborate, but primitive, gas system. The grey tubes clung to the walls like vines.

They had entered the place by following a series of winding tunnels starting about three and half miles back. He had recorded coordinates by performing calculations in his head the entire length of the journey. It was something he’d been taught in school many years ago. Even through the many checkpoints and turns he was sure he had his location pinned down to within a few yards. A few yards was as close as he’d ever need to be.

The air in the underground headquarters was stale and thick with the scent of too many people and not enough ventilation. Here and there he’d see round vents drilled into the walls from which brought a small breeze and the far off cries of war. He realized they had created a blackout effect by not bringing in any electrical equipment, relying solely on mechanical devices. He was sure there was some communication device somewhere, but it explained why the Alliance could never find the Independent’s headquarters.

Hurst, who had calmed somewhat after landing, had remained nearly silent on the trip but now, passing into the security of the building, seemed to relax.

"You’ll have noticed none of your chip or crystal driven stuff is working right now," Hurst said without turning.

"I noticed. I expected as much."

"If any of it’s pre-eighty-nine there’s a good chance you can just throw it away."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

They went through another series of security gates. The wear on the walls and the doors suggested an age that he found hard to believe. It was as though they had been digging here since the beginning of the war. As though this place had been created from the very beginning to be their last stand.

What did they hope to achieve by all of this wasted effort? Paul found himself despising them more than ever. What could have been accomplished by now if all this time and effort had been put into making better worlds? Better places to live instead of fighting over patches of ground just barely able to sustain life? It did not make sense.

He figured it would never make sense.

They finally entered into a hollow dome. A single metal rod about 1.5 feet thick ran from the floor into the ceiling and, Paul imagined, well on up until it came out topside, either hidden or disguised in such a way the Alliance would likely never find it.

"This is just the receiver of course," a tall, thin man said approaching him. "If we transmitted from here, we’d be shelled instantly."

Paul took note of the rank and saluted properly. "Colonel Hammond Cole reporting as ordered, sir."

"Of course," he said, not returning the salute. "I’m General Han. The rest you’ll get to know shortly. I am sure you are wondering why we called you up the way we did. Trenton was a hell pit. Any man would deserve a rest after something like that."

"Sir, if may," Book offered, "I don’t see much point in resting now."

This made only the remotest corners of the general’s mouth turn upward. "No. There won’t be much rest for us now. We’re running low on experienced officers and your record suggests you’d be perfect for what we need you to do here."

General Han finally returned Paul’s salute, and took a large scroll of paper from another man nearby, rolling it out on a wooden table in front of them. He motioned for Paul to come to him, which Paul promptly did.

"We’ve lost this war, Colonel. Lost it a long time ago. The end is coming for sure. I don’t expect to be here to see it. Neither should you."

Paul stared at the map. He noticed a least a thousand tiny red dots along a perimeter, encircling a topographical print out of the Valley.

"But," the general continued, "We’re going to make them pay a hell of a price for taking us out. I’ve lined the entire valley with explosives. We’re going to lure the Alliance ground troops into the valley and then we’re going to bury them all under 10,000 tons of debris."

He looked proudly down at the map. Han was the secondary target here. A master strategist. A cold and calculating killer of Alliance troops. "The whole system will remember the battle of Serenity Valley."

"And your own men?" He felt the disgust rise in his throat at the thought of the Independents and Alliance soldiers that would die if this ploy worked. "Is this why you brought me here? To lead a bunch of your own guys into that valley as decoys?"

The general put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "What you did at Trenton…how you managed to save all those men from being killed. You led them from a slaughter through Alliance lines and got them off the scene. We’re going to need some of that now. I wouldn’t have called you up if I didn’t think you weren’t the man for the job, Cole."

"I think you’re insane. How could you think I was the kind of man that would risk everything to save one group of men only to lead another on a suicide mission?"

"Now, son, you need to calm down-"

"Don’t you fucking son me."

He could feel the tension rise in the room. He could feel his own emotions boiling to the surface and he wasn’t sure why. He could hear Hodges laughing at him from across the years. He heard Jim’s voice in his mind. Calm and confident. Hard to believe he was now a burned chunk of bone in a shallow grave.

He should hate these people – he did hate these people. Not the soldiers, not the everyday grunts that did what they were told because they thought they were fighting for a cause – but he hated the leaders; the generals and commanders who must have known, from the outset of the war, that they could never win. They must have known, yet they’d gone to war anyway and millions had been killed because of them.

This was all such a waste.

"This is an order, Captain Cole. You will take your men and lead them into the Valley and there you will engage the enemy and lead them to their demise."

"No."

The general took a deep breath, "I am not asking you to die. I am asking you to take those men in and do everything—everything we know you can do to get them out again. Cole, what you have to ask yourself here is this: What do you believe in?"

"This war is over, General. I’m not going to let it end with the senseless slaughter of thousands of men. Alliance or Independent."

"You’ll do it, Captain, and you’ll do it right now. You’ll do it, or by God’s own will, you will not leave this room alive."

He looked from the general to the map, before sliding his gaze around the room, noting the other men in it and their positions. The general was wearing a sidearm, nothing fancy, standard issue. Maybe thirty or thirty-five shots. He thought about Hodges and Jim. About the school. About the thousands of men on either side of this battle who were going to die for no reason other than to give a name to a remote patch of nothing on a nowhere world.

This was going to be it for him. One more run and then he was done. He would send the signal, he would complete his mission. He would end this war by saving thousands at the expense of hundreds. It was not a choice men should ever have to make. It was something gods did on the backs of paper books.

He made one more cursory glance to the people in the room, took a deep breath…

…and killed them all.

Continue to part three