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Shepherd Book found River sitting in the cargo bay, the disassembled parts of her rifle spread out on a cloth in front of her. She didn’t look up as he sat down next to her.
“How are you doing?” he asked with forced casualness.
“Why wouldn’t I be fine?” she asked, matching his tone as she slid a lock into the firing pin.
“You shot those men today. Probably killed them,” he said.
“I did kill them. I’m good at shooting.” Firing pin went into the bolt carrier.
“You are. And you did,” Book paused, looking for the right words. “Killing a man- it isn’t easy. It wears on the soul.”
“They were slavers,” she answered, still not looking up as she slid the bolt carrier into the receiver.
“Even so,” he said uncomfortably. “God commands us not to kill.”
Now River did look up. “No,” she shook her head. “The Bible says ‘Thou Shalt Not Murder.’ Killing slavers isn’t murder. They were a threat to everyone,” she said. "And now they aren't."
"It's not that simple," Book snapped before he could stop himself. "I know your heart is in the right place, but theologians have debated for centuries under what conditions a believer may-"
"It is that simple," River cut him off. "God told me so."
Book blinked. "God... told you so?" he asked slowly.
River nodded. "This morning, most recently. Before the mission."
She snapped the parts of the rifle together and tested the action with a loud click. “You should pray on it,” she told Shepherd Book as she stood. He watched her walk out of the cargo bay, the rifle over her shoulder like a part of her body.