“So this is what a thousand credits a night looks like.”
Malcolm Reynolds

Serenity’s crew lights out for Pelorum — a resort world so shiny it near blinds a soul just lookin’ at it. They rent themselves a suite costin’ a thousand credits a night, a place with floors polished enough to see your future in. For the first time in a long while, they breathe easy.

One by one, they spin tales of what life looks like with pockets too full to worry. Jayne dreams loud, Zoë dreams quiet, Wash dreams strange, and Mal… well, Mal don’t say much, but the look in his eye says he’s imaginin’ a life where the ‘verse ain’t always tryin’ to kill him.

But trouble don’t care how fancy the sheets are.

Back planetside, Ephraim Sanda is gatherin’ his men, loadin’ guns, settin’ traps. He’s convinced Mal Reynolds is one of the Dust Devils — ghosts of the War who still strike at the Alliance from the shadows. He means to bring Mal in, dead or breathin’, and he means to do it soon.

Elsewhere, the man who demonstrated that tactical drone is busy torturin’ Mal’s buyer — pullin’ out teeth one by one, practicin’ for the day he gets his hands on Reynolds. Turns out that drone was built to scatter microscopic trackers when it shuts down unexpected. Those little beacons have led him straight to Pelorum.

Back at the resort, Mal and Zoë spot Sanda’s ship comin’ in hot, headin’ straight for Inara’s shuttle. Mal don’t hesitate. He runs.

He reaches the shuttle, breath ragged, ready for a fight — only to see Simon Tam step out of the doorway like he owns the place.

Mal barely has time to look confused before somethin’ hard and unseen cracks against his skull.

The world goes dark.