From the air, New Dunsmuir's ship-yards are a bustling hive of activity. Teams of engineers are working at cross-purposes, sparks flying, and ship-parts going every which way and never where they're supposed to be. Serenity flies over the hurly-burly in a lazy arc, searching for the specified landing site. Kaylee stands, facing the cargo-bay door as Wash pilots Serenity into dry-dock with barely a bump. Her radiant smile is replaced with as surly a scowl a girl as full of sunshine as she is can muster. Mal winces his way over to her, walking still more painful than it should be, and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Kaylee, put the wrench down. You look like you're going to beat the brains out of the first mechanic through that door. They ain't going to do anything to my boat we ain't comfortable with.” “I know Cap'n,” she replies, turning anxious eyes to him, “But... I just don't like the thought of strangers messin' with her.” Jayne and Zoe are clonking their way down the stairs and Mal's response is lost as the doors open, revealing a team of three men in filthy orange overalls. The tallest of them steps forwards, arms raised. They deal with suspicious crews on a daily basis and are expecting the frisking for weapons. Zoe steps forward, patting him down carefully, whilst Jayne does the same to the man's companions. She nods to Mal. “They're okay,” Jayne growls, eyeing them from under his brows. The chief engineer smiles. “We're just here to do our job, folks, same as you. You want to escort us to the engine room?” “Jayne, Kaylee,” Mal responds, “Show 'em the way.” The Chief smiles at Kaylee as they leave the cargo bay. “Firefly class, Aught Three. She's a great boat.” Kaylee doesn't respond, though her frown is disappearing, her inevitable cheeriness beginning to break through the bad-mood. One of the other men lets out a long whistle when once they reach the engine. “That's some fine wiring you got there,” he says, something like admiration in his voice. Jayne rolls his eyes as Kaylee finally cracks. “Thanks,” she grins. “Not much for us to do here, I'm thinking,” says the Chief, his oil-black fingers skipping over various parts of the engine, “Couple of things could do with replacing but everything looks in fine order.” He pauses, now wearing a grin that matches Kaylee's, “...For a ship this old.” Jayne heaves a long sigh.

*

“I thought you were with Kaylee,” the Shepard says, as soon as Jayne crosses the threshold into the kitchen. The preacher is sitting at the table, a closed Bible in front of him. Jayne pours himself some fearsome coffee before responding, two hours of inane engineering babble and cack-handed flirting not having done much for his temper. “Zoe took over for a while,” he explains after taking a sip. The coffee is like a saw across his tongue, bitter as bile and grainy too. Just how he likes it. “The crew doesn't seem very happy about this job, do they?” the preacher continues. Jayne shrugs, not feeling particularly loquacious. “Money's good. That's all that matters to me.” Book gives Jayne an annoying smile, suggesting he's not convinced by the stock answer. “How long are we in dry-dock?” “Cap'n says couple of days. Plannin' on usin' some of the facilities we've been promised soon as he let's us off ship,” Jayne volunteers. “Oh? What's on offer?” Book asks innocently. “We've got hub access. Rooms an' that, like a fancy hotel. Prob'ly a pool, decent gym. Food that's worth eating.” “Sounds like a good deal for hauling some cargo to the rim,” Book says slowly. Jayne shrugs again. “Yeah, well. It ain't a pretty flight plan they set us. Too gorram close to Reaver territory for my liking.” Book sits back, digesting this disturbing piece of news. “The Captain wouldn't take the job if he thought it would be anything this crew couldn't handle.” Jayne drains the rest of his coffee with a grimace. “Cap'n don't have no choice. This was the only job. We take it or we're on the drift.” He stands up and sniffs. “I'll be in my bunk.” Book sits still for a moment, alone at the table, before reaching for his Bible.

*

“You understand, we have to stay in here as much as is possible,” Simon says, his face anxious. “Yes,” River replies, hugging her knees as she sits on her bed. “It won't be for long. Just until they've finished the engineering work and we pick up the cargo,” he continues. There's a knock at the door. “Come in,” River says before Simon has a chance to respond. “Shouldn't you ask who I am first?” Mal says as he pulls open the door. River merely smiles in reply, knowing Mal's thoughts on the matter and enjoying Simon's rare moment of tongue-tied silence. “Have they finished already?” he asks the Captain after a moment. Mal nods. “Yep, all done. Not seen Kaylee this happy in a long while with all the parts they've installed. You're, uh, free to leave the ship if you want.” Simon glances at his sister, who until now has not been having one of her better days. “I should probably stay,” he replies, and although the wistful note is absent from his voice there's a sadness in his eyes even Mal can see. River looks at her bare toes, face suddenly downcast. For her, her brother cannot hide his longing to have his feet on solid ground. Nor to not miss out on time with an even-more-cheerful-than-usual Kaylee. “Go,” she says softly, putting her hand out to touch his arm. “It's safe.” She sighs at his indecision, seeing her words have merely increased his quandary. His mouth opens and shuts a few times as he tries to find the right words. He doesn't want to upset her if this is a more lucid moment, by making her feel she's a weight of responsibility around his neck. “I-uh-” “The Captain's not going anywhere,” she says with certainty, “I'll be good.” “Go on,” Mal says gruffly, “She's right, I'll be 'round.” He hands Simon a small identi-chip on a wrist band. “Guest-pass,” he explains, “You'll need it to get into the facilities.” The doctor's fist closes around it, decision at last made. “I'll bring you some books,” he says as he stands. She wishes she could wave away his guilt. “I won't be long, I promise.” “Bye, Simon,” she says with feeling, the ghost of an old smile on her face that makes his heart contract painfully. “You stayin' in here?” Mal asks her once the young doctor has gone. She nods and for a moment Mal can see her as just an ordinary girl. “They're coming,” she says, “I have to be ready for them. Bright and white. They smile, then they bite.” Perhaps not, he thinks.