Mal looks up as he pulls his tattered shirt back over his bandaged arm; “I always like to start with the good news.”

Zoë adds; “And ignore the bad news.”

Kaylee pretends she didn't hear Zoë and starts brightly, “With a bit of luck, I can get us flying again – We have a couple of small hull leaks, easy to fix. The biggest problem is the thruster – We’ll need to replace the burnt panel, but we should be ready to take off by tomorrow morning. Lucky the gravity is low here…”

Zoë says; “I think I sense the bad news coming – why is it lucky the gravity is low on this moon?”

It’s River’s turn. “Maybe Jayne was right – I did almost as much damage forcing the ship to land here as the Reavers did in all the fighting.”

Kaylee jumps in; “A Drive Coupler on one Compression Coil is damaged, and we can’t get symmetrical thrust – we’ll have to take off with only the thrusters – the main drive would just throw us into that mountain range on our left.”

Mal is looking for better answers; “Can’t we replace it? Or at least fix it, at least temporarily, until we get somewhere with proper equipment?”

The three disheveled women suddenly look even more disheveled, and after glancing at each other worriedly, their heads bow. Finally, Inara speaks up. “One of the hull leaks happened in Kaylee’s spares bin – most of the minor parts are gone. River has calculated that at best we have barely enough power to limp to a repair base at half speed, and even then only as long as it’s ‘down’.”

It’s Kaylee’s turn again; “We don’t know if it’ll hold together all the way to Persephone, and even if it does, our problems ain’t over. One of the other leaks was in a fuel tank, and our fuel is dreadful low. We don’t have enough fuel to land even if we get there.”

Mal looks around the room, but nobody has any helpful suggestions. “And spend the rest of our days on the drift… “Ta ma de. (Dammit)- ”Well, let’s fix what we can, and then talk over what we can do at suppertime.”

Suppertime comes, and their plates point out that they are beginning to have more than power problems.

Jayne growls; “Not this green protein Zan gao (crap) again. Protein shouldn’t be green.”

Mal snaps; “Get used to it. It was cheap the last time we bought supplies, so we bought lots, and you’ve all ignored it since. We have cupboards full of it. Most other foods are getting mighty thin.”

Zoë adds, “And at half speed, they’re gonna be even thinner by the time we get to Port. By the way, just what port you figure on hittin’, Mal?”

“I did a little talkin’ to River, and about the only one with the parts we need that we can maybe reach is Persephone. And with our fuel situation –“

Suddenly River begins spouting “gibberish”. In the midst of a long string of unintelligible syllables, she keeps repeating “M Delta F equivalent...”

Jayne growls, “Great, just when we need all the help we can get, she goes ruttin’ crazy on us again!”

After some time, Simon begins to understand; “I think that she’s created a formula to allow us to convert some of our food to fuel… I’ll need to take her aside and try to write down what she says before I can completely understand and apply it…

Kaylee looks at Simon in awe; “You can get a working formula from all that rambling Fei hua? (Nonsense?) Shiny!”

Jayne sees an opportunity; “If you’re gonna start convertin’ food, use this Gorram green protein stuff.”

Inara says, “Can it really be done? Can it help?”

Kaylee’s answer is decisive; “What other kinda choice do we have?”

Mal has decided; “It’s worth a try. See what you can work out, Simon. Meanwhile, the rest of you get some sleep. We’ll launch in the morning.”

All drift to their quarters except Mal and Inara, who get together in Inara’s shuttle for a quiet conversation…

The conversation is more than quiet to start… How do you start by saying “This may be The End?” They sit, almost silent, nestled in each other’s arms, sipping one of Inara’s special stock of wines.

Finally Mal breaks the silence; “Very fine wine, Inara. One of the perks of your business?”

“Yes, from Beaumonde. It’s my last bottle.”

And that breaks the stalemate. Both must talk. Inara begins, “What will happen to us? I feel that we have just barely gotten together, and now -”

Mal breaks in; “I haven’t closed that gate yet. We can get through this.”

“But we’ve never been this tight – we must go to Persephone, we probably won’t be able to land the ship, and even if we do, I know how tight money is right now. We have nothing for repairs.”

“I still think we can do it – but even if we don’t, I want you and me to be together – we can find another ship, maybe even be part of another crew.” That thought makes Inara crumble, and Mal reaches for the trembling woman. “I love you, Inara…”

“And I you…” The two come together in an embrace they both need, but the mood is far too stressful for their usual joyous session of lovemaking… They go to sleep, touching each other for reassurance, sleeping fitfully.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The morning finds River sane again, and everyone brighter – just being busy, fixing what can be fixed and generally getting ready to be on the move again has healing powers.

Mal and Zoë review the deficiency list, and Mal tries to be upbeat; “Well, the only thing on this list that’s stoppin’ us from going wherever we want in the Black is the Drive Coupler – the rest we can work around until we get some cash from our next goods.”

Zoë is far more realistic; “That’s great, Mal, but since we can’t afford the Coupler, this trip to Persephone is it. There ain’t gonna be no ‘next goods’.”

But Mal is determined; “I’ve still got a few friends who owe me some, and maybe Inara can persuade one of her rich customers.”

The discussion is interrupted by River’s announcement that they’re ready to take off. Mal races to the bridge, bent on piloting Serenity himself for this particularly critical takeoff. “Sorry little one, but I still know her moods best.”

But it really doesn’t matter who is piloting, the ship is barely controllable. The climb up off the moon is anything but smooth, and Jayne is not going to let Mal off the hook; “You have this much Gorram trouble with Inara’s moods, Mal? Maybe that ‘splain’s some of the quiet mornings around here…”

But finally they’re on their way, at about half their usual speed. Zoë asks; “River, do you think it would help much if we all got out and pushed?”

Mal’s upbeat line; “No Problem, we need to doodle along for a bit while we do that food-to-fuel conversion anyway.” doesn’t help the mood much.

They certainly have time – more than they need – they finish the conversion in three days, and then it’s a week of doing nothing but worry as the ship falls to Persephone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two days out, Inara decides to drum up some business, to give them a few dollars to survive a while, and with luck, maybe find a rich client who needs to move some cargo.

A few seconds on her view screen brings up a list of half a dozen wealthy men looking for Companions. But it takes longer to actually talk to anyone – the first two she tries drop off the wave as soon as they see who it is.

Suddenly, her screen lights up and announces that Atherton Wing is calling her! She reaches for “Reject”, but hesitates, and in that second a window opens, and Atherton appears, a look of triumph on his face; “So, whore, you think to come back to Persephone! Well, you won’t find any business here… The Alliance has put a stop to that!”

Inara sits, composed; “So you think you persuaded the Companion’s Guild to cancel my license?”

An evil smile comes over Atherton’s face as he says, “No, I didn’t have to… Your own boyfriend Malcolm Reynolds has done you in… The Alliance has informed everyone that anyone associating with Serenity or any member of its crew will be sanctioned. – You won’t get any business – you won’t even be able to get a glass of water!” With a laugh as evil as the look, he breaks the connection a split second before Inara does.

Inara is taken aback, but not convinced: “Ge zhen de hun dan! (A Real Bastard!) Well, I don’t think I’ll take his word for it!” But the next call she makes pretty much confirms the story.

“You think I’m going to pay your rates for a single night which is going to get me in trouble with the Alliance? No Thanks.”

One last call, to Sir Warwick Harrow, not for business, but because she’s sure she’ll get the straight story.

And she does: “My dear, your ship, your crew, and even you have been made ‘Persona non Grata’ by the Alliance. There is no point in landing here, even if you could find a dock which would take you. Food, fuel, repairs and money are all going to be virtually impossible to obtain from any source.”

Inara snaps the monitor off with a slap of her palm. “Aiya!” (“Damn!”)

Swearing won’t help. Serenity is committed to land, and Inara knows that wherever and however it lands, it has no hope of leaving.

But as they slip into orbit around Persephone, Kaylee has a little good news: “We converted just enough food so’s we still got some fuel to land. And Jayne went out and fixed the damaged thruster some. We can use it to keep a bit of control when we start down. Should make landin’ real easy!”

Jayne snorts; “And then we sell this ruttin’ ship as Fei-oo (junk) for whatever we can get.”

Mal responds angrily; “Joo fay woo suh lah!” (“Over my dead body!”)

As they sit down for the last dinner before landing at Persephone, the meal itself is a reminder of just how desperate their situation is. There’s barely any choice. Each person must choose what they dislike the least.

As the group sits down, Simon tries to add a bit of humour; “This meal looks much better than it did when I turned it down last month. I didn’t know that canned peas could age so well.”

Inara adds: “In another six months or so, this fruit would have aged into a very fine strawberry wine.”

But Jayne isn’t ready to be cheerful; “These ruttin’ beans didn’ age well. They just aged.”

Kaylee is not going to let clouds cover her sunshine; “Don’t be so tetchy, Jayne. When we get to Persephone, we’ll have lots of room for shiny new food in our bins.”

River is concentrating on her dinner; “Suo shee (petty) complaining. It’s not that bad.”

Mal has had it; “Gou hwong Tong! (Enough of this nonsense!) Are we so Gorram soft we can’t put up with a poor meal once in a while?”

Zoë mutters, “In a few days, this’ll look like a feast!”

The sheer reality of Zoë’s comment sinks in fast, and the rest of the dinner is eaten in uncomfortable silence.