this is a beautiful disaster

Squeals of laughter echoed in the cargo bay.  Mal was watching over the scene almost reverentially from his position atop the catwalk.  He found himself smiling in spite of himself.  He really shouldn’t condone this kind of thing but the crew needed some kind of rest and relaxation.  And it’s not like it was hurting anything.  

Wash ambled in, having put Serenity on autopilot.  

“What’s all this, Mal?” he asked, eyeing the rest of the crew in the cargo bay.  

They seemed to have made some sort of runway and  had moistened it with something.  As he watched, Kaylee disappeared under the catwalks and her quick footsteps could be heard as she ran and flung herself headfirst down the makeshift runway.  She slid down it, squealing in delight as she crashed into the landing pad they’d constructed of tarpaulins at the end.  

“What’d they make that little slide thing out of?”  

“Didn’t think to ask,”  Mal responded, “But they’ve oiled it up with engine grease.”  

“Well that explains the shine…wait…you can’t use engine grease for that!” Wash was taken aback,  “Can you?”  

“Well it seems that you can,” quipped the Captain.  

“Alright,”  the pilot appeared to be having a momentary crisis of conscience.  

He ran across the catwalks and down the stairs, hollering, “I’m next!”  

He threw off his ridiculously coloured shirt and took a run for it.  He landed on his belly and slid willy nilly down the greased up ramp, the seams in the makeshift ramp tearing at his belly flesh.  He crashed into the tarpaulin at the end and clambered back up.  

Belly red from the ribs in the ramp, face flushed, he got back in line to have another go.