It wouldn’t be long. He’d set it up as best he could, after years of experience not getting killed – shot, stabbed or lasered permitting – and when they came his crew would be ready for them.

His crew. Even the words brought a smile to his face.

Once, a long time ago, a man had said he inspired loyalty. River said it was because he was slightly telepathic, and it made people see his honourable morality that much easier. Only she look a lot longer and used a whole bunch of words he didn’t understand, but he got her drift. Not that he agreed, of course. He wasn’t a Reader, nowhere near. He just did what was right, even if it meant doing what was wrong. And keeping his crew together had meant a lot of that blurred line lately.

Checking the bay for one last time, he saw Simon’s head poking out from behind a crate, and was about to call out, tell him he was likely to get it shot off when the young man disappeared from sight again. He was armed, of course, ready and able to defend himself, even if he didn’t like it much. At least his aim had improved immensely since the skyplex.

Mal shook his head. That medic of his had a lot to answer for, but this time it wasn’t his fault. He’d been recognised, on an out of the way moon nobody in their right minds should visit more than once before vowing never to again. He’d just been unlucky, but that kind of luck had a way of procreating, and now this other crew of ne’er-do-wells and cutthroats were on their way to sell him back to the Alliance.

As opposed to his ne’er-do-wells and cutthroats, a’course.

Even Kaylee couldn’t work miracles to get his boat into the air with a fractured fuel line, so they couldn’t run. Besides, if they did, the other crew might tell others, and that could bring a whole barrel of hurt down on him and his.

Another voice, remembering something else. “You’re not overly fond of the boy, so why risk it?” It, of course, being taking Simon and his sister on board. He’d not been able to give the Shepherd anything beyond a flippant answer, but sometimes he still wondered why. He’d been grateful, that much was true, especially when the training the doctor received in one of the best hospitals in the ‘verse had saved lives, particularly Mal’s own, but … there was always that.

When had he realised Simon was family?

Zoe, over on the other catwalk, shifted minutely, the slight noise of her leather vest on the metal seeming to fill the bay and echo back from the high metal superstructure. Jayne was outside, ready to box the bad guys in, River on top of Serenity’s long neck to pick off any stragglers or those who thought they could live to fight another day.

Mal brought his focus back to himself, the rifle in his hands, the gun at his hip, and wondered. When had he realised? Was it that day in the Maidenhead? Maybe. Kaylee had been going on and on about him, including something that still made him blush when he remembered, but it had been River he’d picked up, and Simon just tagged along behind.

Then maybe later, when he saw the boy lying on the ground in the corridor on Mr Universe’s moon, hands clutched over a belly wound. Or maybe … He shook his head ruefully. Truth was, he didn’t know. It was the girl who he’d wanted to protect, to keep out of the hands of those who would tear her brain even further apart than it already was, but Simon? No, he’d never really worried about him. Not even when he’d drugged Jayne that first time.

His lips twitched. He’d seen the after-effects, but Mal really wished he’d seen the little angels.

There wasn’t a point, he realised. No earth shattering moment when Simon changed from being a glorified passenger and a pain in the pigu to a fully-fledged member of the family. Just a series of nudges, until there he was, large as life and twice as scary, set up in the infirmary like he owned the place. It might be Mal’s boat, but – as Simon had pointed out on more than one occasion – inside that blue room he was God. Or at the very least the physical embodiment.

Which was fine. Mal could live with that. Just so long as that family stayed together.

Ready, River breathed into each and every head, and he stilled. It was time.