1946New gen Firefly zine!
- Oct 15, 2005Agent With Style will be at ZCon in Chicago on Oct. 20-23, 2005.
The deadline for ZCon is *midnight EST,* October 16, 2005.
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AWS is pround to announce
a gen Firefly zine
From the labyrinthine mind and deft hand of inlovewithnight
comes a digest-sized zine of previously posted tales about the entire
Serenity crew -- find out what it's like to be a Companion on a
spaceship, millions of miles from the civilation of the Core; peer
behind the thick, impenetrable walls of Jayne Cobb and see what goes
on in his heart and mind; watch as Book comes to understand each and
every soul on board, and realizes they're not as far away from God as
he first supposed; experience Mal's white-hot rage when Kaylee brings
aboard a former Alliance officer who ordered the massacre of many of
Mal's troops, and much more. From sadness and tears to laughter and
love, these stories will hold you spellbound to the very last page.
Don't miss this zine! (Note: two stories contain mentions of a
SALVAGE MISSION by inlovewithnight
"That's him. Hey, dummy! Got someone here to see you."
The figure didn't so much as look up. It was tapping away at
something inside the machine with a constant, mechanical rhythm.
*Tap, tap, tap.* Pause. *Tap, tap, tap.*
"You hear me boy?" Perry called, striding closer and kicking at
a clump of dirt lying on the floor. It flew past the man's head, but
he still didn't move. *Tap, tap, tap.*
Mal took a step forward. "Jayne Cobb." The tapping stopped.
The figure went very still. "Do you remember who I am?"
Slowly, stiffly, the figure got to its feet. The height was
right, and the broadness of the shoulders. Definitely a big man,
like he was looking for. The wrench hung loosely from his hand. He
didn't turn around.
"Jayne," Mal said quietly, taking another step. "Jayne, it's
me. It's Mal."
"Captain." The voice was rough enough to make Mal wince in
sympathy at the grit in his own throat. Six years of that, and
apparently not talking all that time to boot. No wonder it sounded
like it needed oiling. "I didn't tell 'em. Didn't tell 'em
nothin'. Swear on m' life. M' mama's life."
"I know, Jayne." Maybe the tightness in his throat wasn't all
from the grit. "I know you didn't tell."
He turned around then, stiffly. Mal imagined he could hear the
bones creaking. It was Jayne, all right; godawful thin, big scar
across his face, hair and beard rough and matted and eyes staring
through things instead of looking at them proper. But it was Jayne.
"They tried real hard to make me," he grated, looking off at
something over Mal's shoulder and near the ceiling. "Lots of tricks
up their sleeves. But I did 'em one better." His gaze wandered to
Mal's face and focused for a moment. "Don't even remember what it is
I didn't tell 'em. Pushed it to the back of my head so I wouldn't
let it slip. Ended up pushing it clean out. But I didn't tell."
The focus faded, and his eyes settled on the floor somewhere near
"No, you didn't. Wouldn't be standing here if you had." He
took another tiny step, trying to catch Jayne's attention, get his
eyes back again. Wanting to thank the man for taking the fall and
saving their lives. For winding up here, grounded on a rock after
the Alliance chewed him up and tossed him out with the garbage, while
the rest of them stayed up in the sky with Serenity.
"Wanted you to know that," Jayne mumbled, turning back to the
machine. He lurched back to his knees, settled himself, lifted the
wrench again. *Tap, tap, tap.*
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