INT. SIHNON COMM. PLEX - COMMISSARY

Mal stands with Montrose at a drink dispensing station. Montrose is pouring a liquid over ice. The occasional staffer walks by and quietly scuffs at Mal's appearance.

MONTROSE: Here, try this. Best tea in the ‘Plex.

Mal sips carefully, then nods his approval.

MAL: Damn tasty. Goes down easy.

Montrose smiles.

MONTROSE: (gesturing toward Mal’s case) If you’d like, I could...

MAL: I’m sorry, sir. My protocols are very strict. Only the named recipient.

MONTROSE: Of course. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to violate them.

Beat. Mal continues sipping, looking around the room.

MAL: You have a nice facility here, from what I’ve seen so far.

MONTROSE: (beaming) Thank you. I try to run a tight ship. I find that people respond better to an honest, no-nonsense leader than an iron-fisted tyrant.

MAL: I’ll remember that.

MONTROSE: See that you do... (pauses, holds a hand to his left ear) I’m needed in Control. I’ll get you an escort...

MAL: That won’t be necessary. I’ll make my delivery and be on my way. Those kind folk in the Firefly are heading my way, so...

Montrose looks displeased.

MONTROSE: If you’re certain...?

MAL: I am. I’m responsible for securing my own transport and I don’t want this little mishap getting out. It might hurt my reputation. Any delay will only imply more incompetence.

MONTROSE: As you wish. I’ll have my engineers contact them and see if they require any assistance.

MAL: I’m sure that would be appreciated. (sets his case down) Perhaps we’ll meet again. (shakes Montrose’s hand)

MONTROSE: Perhaps. Take care, son.

Montrose exits the Commissary, leaving Mal holding his cup. He stares at the door a beat. He then startles out of his reverie and sets the cup down. He picks up the case and exits.

Follow Mal down the hall, around a corner to Office 607. He still receives the occasional odd look from staffers. Mal presses the intercom call button again.

POWELL: (VO intercom) Powell.

MAL: Sir, I have a package for you.

INT. SERENITY BRIDGE

River bolts forward in her chair, her eyes darting over the screen. She snatches the mic without looking.

RIVER: Zoe, please come to the bridge right away.

River types away on the keyboard with one hand, her other turning knobs and flipping switches.

Zoe appears behind her.

ZOE: What’s up?

RIVER: The gunship just entered orbit.

Zoe grabs the mic from its hook.

ZOE: Kaylee, are we flight-ready again?

KAYLEE: (VO intercom) Ship-shape, Zo. Cap’n back already?

ZOE: No. But our getaway might be more expedient than originally planned.

KAYLEE: Glad to see nothin’s changed.

ZOE: Just be ready for a quick lift-off.

Zoe hangs up the mic, looks down a beat, then out the windshield.

ZOE: That ship could turn half this planet into one big smoking hole. We can only hope they don’t mistake us for a clay pigeon.

River works furiously on the keyboard and console. Zoe cocks an eyebrow at her efforts.

RIVER: (not looking up)I’m attempting to patch into their comms.

ZOE: Good girl. Let me know what you hear.

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