Mal opened a protein bar and watched Freya asleep on River and Jayne's bed. Her hands were clasped protectively over the slight swell of her belly.

"She okay?" he asked softly. "What with the air … and …"

"Frey's fine," Simon said, moving the plastic sheeting to one side and stepping out. "She's not been exposed too much." He realised Mal wasn't convinced. "I've been checking her oxygen sats periodically. Honestly. She's fine."

Mal nodded. "Good to know." He glanced up. "It's … um … just 'cause she's pregnant, you know."

"It's because you love her," Simon corrected, smiling slightly.

"Yeah." He grinned a little. "That too." He took a bite from the bar and looked beyond the doctor. "How's our patient?"

"His vitals are good."

"So why isn't he awake?"

"I'm not keeping him asleep, Mal. This is a protocoma, following the operation. It was to be expected, but it's up to him when he wakes up."

"You sure he's gonna?"

"I'm about as sure as I can be. Everything went well, so it's just a matter of time."

"Which we ain't got more'n a little of." Mal watched the big man sleep. "Truth is, I need more info. We'll be landing on Bellerophon pretty damn soon, but I don't have enough to lay my hands on that piece of goushi."

"I can't help. If I give him a stimulant it might cause more problems. It could force him into a seizure."

"Not a good thing, I'm guessing."

"You could say that."

Mal exhaled heavily. "Well, least he said it was the seedy side of Medusa, and gave me a name. Wochinski."

"There can't be too many of them around."

"Knowing my luck this is their home planet, and they're a big family."

"And the seedy side?"

"Tends to be around the docks." Mal smiled. "Don't matter where you are in the 'verse, Simon. Somehow the underbelly of society seems to congregate round the spaceports."

"Very poetic."

"Well, I try." He looked at the young doctor. "Seems like we're gonna have to spread out. Any chance your sister is gonna be any use to us?"

"I doubt it. From what Kaylee was saying a little while ago all she can think about is Jayne."

"Our own damn psychic and she can't do two things at once."

"She's used to doing a hundred," Simon pointed out. "Maybe even a thousand. But not right now."

---

"Is she okay?" Kaylee asked, pushing her hands tiredly through her hair. She looked over at the young psychic lying on the cot, her face turned towards the bulkhead.

"I'm not sure I can actually answer that about River," Inara said quietly. "Except for a given quantity."

"Then mostly okay?"

"She knows the operation went well, and Simon assured her Jayne was satisfactory."

"Don't mean much when you can't see him."

"The doctor wouldn't lie," Zoe pointed out.

"Course not!" Kaylee sounded affronted, and the other women had to smile a little.

There was a beeping from the small bridge, and Hank hurried through. Activating the visual link, he could see a planet getting bigger, and he pulled down the com.

"Mal, we're coming up on Bellerophon."

There was a pause before Mal answered. "Can you land Serenity from the shuttle?"

"Probably. Might be a bit bumpy."

"You likely to crash my ship?"

"Well, I won't have the control sensitivity I'd normally -"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes, I can land, and no, I probably won't crash her."

"Good. See that you don't or you're fired."

"Would this be before or after we get scraped off the spaceport?"

"How about instead of?"

"Then I suggest everyone holds onto something." Hank grinned. "Just in case."

---

Bellerophon, home - as Wash had once put it - to the rich and paranoid, might have been famous for its floaty islands, but those very same islands needed to be serviced, cleaned and repaired, as well as supplied with fresh food and water. That meant towns. Nowhere near the opulence of the grand estates, these still managed to give the impression that they were better than the usual run of the mill places out on the Rim. Medusa, the main town and spaceport, thought itself the best of these.

As Serenity descended towards its designated landing port, Hank could see, off in the distance over the ocean, the sunlight glinting on a hundred specks of silver, like metallic snowflakes. Below, though, was an urban sprawl reaching away towards the horizon.

Despite what he'd warned, Hank settled the Firefly to the ground with little more than a slight jolt, and immediately Kaylee had the door to the shuttle open and was running down the stairs to the cargo bay controls, holding her breath. As she hit the button to lower the ramp, the big inner doors groaned as they slid apart, and she could feel fresh air on her skin. She sighed and took in a breath, then her nose wrinkled. It was going to take a while for the clean stuff to get through the ship, but at least they weren't all going to suffocate.

River had followed her out, despite Inara's attempts to hold her back, and she was banging on the door to the other shuttle. Simon opened the door and she rushed in, pushing the plastic to one side to get to Jayne.

"How is he?" she asked, laying her hand on his forehead, skirting the dressing over the side of his scalp.

"The operation went well," her brother said, following her.

"Doc, you want Jayne back in the infirmary?" Mal asked, picking up his gunbelt and strapping it on.

"Not yet. I'd rather give it an hour or so to make sure the air's clear."

"Fair enough. You'll have to wait 'til we get back." He looked at Inara, who had followed the young woman. "Take care of her."

"Of course."

Simon nodded, putting his hand on his sister's shoulder, watching as Mal strode out of the shuttle. He turned back to River. "I didn't hurt him, mei-mei," he said softly. "I would never hurt him."

"Shot him before," she said, taking the big man's hand in hers.

"That was -"

"But not on the table, under your knife," River finished.

"I did it to save his life, River."

"I know. But there is statistical and empirical data showing a significant possibility of personality alteration due to trauma to the cerebral cortex …"

Simon went down onto his heels to look into her face. "I was careful."

She turned her dark eyes on him. "Guarantee that?"

He wished he could lie to her, but he knew there was no point. "Nothing is guaranteed. But I did my best."

"Good surgeon. Excellent surgeon. Saved us all." She went back to studying Jayne's face. "Saved him."

"I hope so," Simon breathed. If he hadn't, he didn't know what was going to happen.

---

Mal hurried down the steps, joining the rest of his crew in the cargo bay.

"Kaylee, how long do you need to replace that purifier?"

The young mechanic rubbed her nose. "At least eighteen hours, Cap'n."

"Will it be any quicker if Hank stayed? Helped?"

"Nope. It's a tight squeeze, so he'd only get in my way." She flashed a grin at the pilot. "No offence."

"None taken," Hank replied.

"Okay. That means we've got four of us to search a hell of a lot of places." He turned to Zoe. "You take the north quarter, between Hammond and Union, Hank gets Union to Durbont; Frey, you take Durbont to Marshall, and I'll take Marshall back to Hammond. You all got coms?" They nodded. "Then use 'em if you find Wochinski. Don't try and take him down on your own. Dong mah?"

"We got it, Mal," Hank said.

"Then move out. We don't have time to be wasting here."

Hank turned to Zoe. "You take care," he said, leaning in for a kiss.

"You too." She stroked her hand through his untidy brown hair, gazing for a moment into his grey eyes. Then they were off, jogging in different directions.

"You know, for a man who hates violence of any kind, Hank is sure willing to go out and look for it," Freya said.

"He wants to see Hermione back as much as we do." Mal put his arm around her. "You gonna be okay?"

She smiled. "Shiny. And ten'll get you twenty that I find him first."

Mal grinned. "You're on."

---

Mal hated bar crawls. Even when he was younger, during the war, he didn't tend to do the rounds of places like his fellow soldiers did. He tended to plant himself, making a chair warm, seeing who came in and out. In fact, that was the reason he'd met Freya in the first place. His pals had decided to move on to another place, and he'd stayed put. If he hadn't …

He looked up at the name on the holographic window. The Lusty Redhead. He shrugged. Maybe it was another husband of Saffron's. Pushing open the half doors he walked inside and took a deep breath. Beer, whisky and smoke. It didn't matter if it was a fancy rock like this, or way out on the furthest edges of the Rim - all bars smelled the same.

Strolling up to the bar he dropped a coin on it. "Sake," he ordered.

"Sure thing." The barman put a glass in front of him and poured from a green bottle. The clear liquid looked innocent enough, but it was with great caution that Mal sipped it, barely letting it wet his tongue. He'd already had more than enough beer in the other half a dozen places he'd been to, and he couldn't allow himself to get drunk.

"New around here, ain't you?" the barman asked, polishing a glass with a cloth.

"Got in today. I'm looking for a feller called Wochinski," Mal said, putting the glass down carefully.

"Yeah? What for?"

"Guy I know thought he might be looking for a job. I got me a ship out at the port, and I'm looking for a good man."

The barman shrugged, picking up another glass to polish. "He's got a job. Leastways, that's how he tells it."

Mal lifted his head, feeling the adrenalin starting to flow. "Good one?"

"Seems to always have enough money in his pocket to buy a round once in a while. Not that often, but then, that's Wochinski."

"Seems like I've come to the right place, though."

"He hangs around. When he's in town, he's here most days."

"He in town at the moment?"

The barman narrowed his eyes. "Why're you asking all these questions?"

"Like I said, I'm looking for a good man. If Wochinski ain't available, he might know of someone who is."

The barman relaxed. "Depends on what you want this here good man for."

"Oh, you know. Stuff." He smiled.

"Prob'bly not all legal."

Mal's grin got a little wider. "Now, I didn't say that."

The barman didn't notice that his customer's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Well, guess if it's like that then Wochinski's your man." He looked up. "And your luck's good too." He nodded towards the door. "He's just walked in."

Mal turned slowly, seeing two men ambling over to a table. The first was tall and lanky, probably rivalling Jayne at least in height, while the second was shorter, stockier, but looked more than capable of handling himself. The both wore guns slung low, tied down.

"Huh." Mal tossed a coin onto the bar. "Gimme a bottle," he said.

---

Halfway across town Freya stopped, her glass halfway to her lips.

"What's up?" the drunk next to her said. "Ain't it clean enough?" He put his hand on her backside, stroking down towards her …

In a moment Freya had dropped her glass, grabbed his fingers and twisted them back on themselves. The audible popping of joints made everyone wince.

The drunk gasped, then yelled in pain, holding his hand to his chest.

"They ain't broken," Freya said, looking at the barman. "Get him a doctor, though." She ran out, pulling the com from her pocket as she went.

The barkeep shook his head. "Carmine, when're you gonna get to recognise trouble when you see it?"

---

The two men slumped in their chairs, the taller pulling a toothpick from the pot on the table and sticking it between his teeth.

"Gentlemen, let me buy you a drink."

They looked up, hands tensing near their weapons, but only saw a man with a smile, holding a bottle and three glasses.

"Don't drink with strangers," the man with the toothpick said, pushing the bottle away.

"Now, come on," his companion put in. "Free drinks, I think we can make an exception."

"And my name's Harbatkin," Mal said, lifting the bottle up and flicking the top off with his thumb. "See, now we're not strangers any more."

The more friendly seeming of the two leaned forward. "I'm Gary Chen. This here's Clyde Wochinski."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." Mal pulled out a chair. "Mind if I …"

"Sure. Take the weight off your feet."

Mal poured three glasses of whisky, handing over two of them. "Cheers."

Chen raised his glass, then nudged his friend. "Come on. No need to be backward." Wochinski glared at Mal, but took the glass. Chen nodded in approval. "Cheers."

They drank, and Mal could feel the burn of alcohol down the back of his throat.

"So what brings you to our fair planet, Mr Harbatkin?" Chen asked.

"Looking for men. In fact, the bartender told me you two might be looking for work."

"What kind of work?" Wochinski asked, leaning back in his chair.

"All kinds."

"Legal?"

Mal shook his head. "You know, that's just what the barkeep asked."

"And what did you say?"

"Not sure I did. But it's a little of everything. People want goods, I supply 'em. Whatever they might be." Mal leaned forward. "And business is booming. That's why I'm looking for a couple of good men."

Wochinski reached for the bottle, pouring another round without even glancing at Mal for permission. "Got jobs."

"Oh? Who're you working for?"

The tall man tossed back his whisky. "Why?"

"Just wondered if I knew him. Maybe we could come to some arrangement. As a legitimate businessman, I can always do with widening my client base." The accent he put on the word legitimate made Chen smile.

"Much as we appreciate the offer, it's prob'ly the case that our boss wouldn't be liking strangers."

"But you know me," Mal said, waving his hand towards the bottle. "I bought you guys a drink."

"And asked questions," Wochinski said.

"Just being sociable."

Chen put his hand on his friend's arm. "Like Clyde here says, we've got jobs. Well paid, too, so we're not looking to change."

"Even if I could guarantee a bigger cut?"

Wochinski pushed his chair back from the table, the legs squealing on the floor. "We said we ain't interested."

"Fine, fine," Mal said, holding up his hands. "I can take a hint. Still, if you change your mind I'm gonna be in port for a few days yet. Or better still, you let me know where I can find you if something comes up -"

The tall man was on his feet and his gun was out of his holster. "I don't know who you are, mister, but I don't appreciate people prying into my affairs."

Chen stood up slowly. "I think it's better we leave." He gave Mal a cold smile. "Thanks for the drink, but don't take this the wrong way. We don't trust you."

"Yeah, trust is something earned," Mal agreed.

"So we're gonna go. And I'd be real careful to make sure you stay put for a while." Chen tapped Wochinski on the shoulder and they headed for the door, neither of them taking their eyes off Mal for a moment.

He was ready when it came. A slight tightening of the skin around Wochinski's mouth and Mal was pushing his chair over, his hand slapping his gun from its holster, aiming and firing even as the first bullet bit through the air where his head had been an instant before.

Wochinski fell, his head snapping back as the bullet smashed through his skull. Chen was fast, his gun seeming to appear in his hand, but Mal was faster. His bullet hit the man in the chest, and he span around to fall on his face.

There was silence in the bar as the gunfire faded, and Mal got to his feet. Swiftly checking the other patrons, making sure none of them were likely to try and take a shot at his back, he crossed the room to Chen, rolling him over. Going down on his knees he looked into the man's eyes.

"Where is she?" he said, lifting Chen by his shirt. "Where's the girl? Who do you work for?"

Chen's mouth worked, his lips moving, but all that came out was a gurgling sound as blood rushed from his throat. His head fell back.

Mal lowered him to the ground just as the half doors swung open, and three men ran into the bar.

"Hold it!" the man in the middle said. "You are bound by law and ordered to stand down! Drop your weapon!"

Mal stared into the barrels of three rifles, all pointed directly at him. He forced his hand to put his gun down onto the floor. "They shot first, officers," he said carefully.

The man in the centre, wearing a black duster, didn't even change expression. "You're bound for the murders of these two men!"

"They tried to kill me!"

"If that's the case the judge'll prob'ly let you go free. But we don't take kindly to folks shooting each other in our town." The man produced a pair of restraints from his pocket.

"Hey, now," the barman began, but he stopped as one of the other men turned, his rifle swinging to point into his chest.

"Do me a favour. Call my ship. Serenity. Tell them," Mal ground out as the restraints fastened around his wrists behind his back.

"Look –"

"Tell them!" Mal glared at the barman who nodded, heading towards the Cortex link even as the deputies pulled their prisoner out of the door. He wasn't moving fast enough, though, and one of the men slammed his rifle into Mal's side.

Freya, in the shadows across the street, heard his gasp of pain, saw him stagger, and her hand was very close to the gun at her hip.

"Don't," Zoe warned. "They'll kill him."

They watched as he was dragged out of sight.

"We need to follow," the first mate said, dragging the com from her pocket to contact Hank, and Freya nodded.