"Do you know what this is, Mr Mills?" Niska asked, holding up a small vial.

"Perfume?" Hank managed to croak, his throat raw.

"Very amusing. You must continue. We must see how far you can keep being amusing, Mr Mills." Niska nodded encouragingly. "I had high hopes of Captain Reynolds – do you think you could match him?"

Hank shuddered.

"So tell us," Freya said, seeing the tremor going through the pilot's body, glad to get Niska away from him.

"You have perhaps heard of Miranda."

"Heard of it?" Hank let his head drop back against the metal frame. "Oh, just a bit."

"Then you will understand what Reavers are. How they were created."

Zoe looked at the vial and realisation struck like an axe into her spine. "Run-tse duh fuo-tsoo," she breathed.

"Yes, yes," Niska said, turning to her, delight on his old man's face. "Captain Reynolds chooses his crew carefully. You have intelligence." He turned the vial to catch the light, the green fragments glittering like shards of emeralds. "G-32 Paxilon Hydrochlorate, to be precise."

Freya stood straighter. "What the hell are you doing with that gos se?"

"Mr Donaldson and his principles, they needed someone who understands about pain. Inflicting. Causing. Finding the person beneath the skin. Me."

"That's a plus?" Hank shook his head. "You're crazier than I'd heard."

Niska just smiled benevolently at him. "Have you heard of the writings of Shan Yu?" he asked. "I would like to teach you."

Zoe stiffened. "So this Pax," she said, trying to draw his attention back. "Why? What would the Alliance want with more of this stuff?"

"Alliance?" Niska laughed. "Not quite. At least not what you might consider Alliance."

Donaldson stepped forward uncomfortably. "Look, I really don't think this is the kind of thing you should be discussing."

"Why not?" Niska asked. "They are dead people."

His words, said so normally, chilled them all.

"Well, dead or not, it's not the sort of thing you should go talking about."

"You want to control them." Freya spoke quietly, slowly. "Control the Reavers."

"Is not possible," Niska tutted. "Too violent. But perhaps if we can create them, use a reduced dose, then they can be, how you say, manipulated. Think of the … applications."

"My God." Zoe shook her head, her mouth suddenly dry. "You can't do this. Do you … have you seen what Reavers do?"

Niska shrugged. "Is not my problem. I am doing a job. A piece of work. It is the creation that amuses me."

"And watching them kill," Donaldson added, barely bothering to hide his loathing for this old man.

"That too." Niska smiled. "I never tire of that."

"You're a sadist," Freya spat.

"Perhaps. Your husband would know more of that than yourself." He stepped closer again, touching one of the scars. "But perhaps not." He ran his fingertips tenderly from one to another, as if joining them in his mind …

"So you've been experimenting on people?" Zoe asked.

"For a while," Donaldson admitted, breaking his own rule. "Only we've not exactly been that successful yet. Not sure why. There doesn't seem to be a reason for one man becoming a Reaver over another. It's interesting."

Zoe and Freya exchanged a quick glance. If Simon had been right, after the attack on Corvus, they knew that Reavers were the potential psychics amongst Miranda's population, but they were sure as hell not about to enlighten these madmen.

"Ain't you afraid one of those damn things'll break?" Hank asked, seeing the look, afraid Niska might have seen, and wanting to get their attention back to him. "Infect everyone here?"

Niska, though, seemed too intrigued by Freya's scars to notice, his breath on her skin making her want to turn away, only there was nowhere to go. He picked up a blade from the table, using the point to run along her flesh.

"Antidote," Donaldson said, tapping his pocket. "We all carry them." He watched Niska trace the marks on the woman's chest, and could take no more. "Leave her alone."

Niska turned to look at him. "You are developing a conscience?"

"No. But this … this is … unnecessary." He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his top lip.

"Perhaps to me it is necessary."

"You're not being paid to mutilate women."

"No. Just to turn men into those who would."

"That's different."

"Perhaps we are more alike than you would choose to believe."

Donaldson glared at him in revulsion.

"An antidote," Zoe murmured. "Then you mean you could have saved those …" She couldn't speak for a moment, her mind replaying the sights on Miranda, all those millions of people just laying down and dying because they gave up eating, sleeping, breathing. Corpses as far as the eye could see …

Donaldson shook his head. "Ah, no. Actually not. This wasn't developed until afterwards."

"Besides," Niska added, "is only effective within a few minutes, and not on the more… aggressive subjects."

"We can't stop the Reavers," Donaldson said apologetically.

"No, but you want to control them." Freya was glaring at him. The thoughts she'd picked up after Corvus, the satisfaction that the Reavers had been prevented from wiping out the town … she shivered.

"Enough," Niska said, dropping the knife back onto the table. "Is not important. What we want, what we do … you will see soon enough."

"See?"

"I think a little experiment. I think Mr Mills will be our test subject." He nodded towards his torturer, who grinned and crossed to the metal frame. "Interesting, yes?"

"Leave him alone," Zoe threatened.

"He means something to you?"

"He's a member of my crew. Leave him alone."

"Please, do not struggle so," Niska said, tutting gently. "If this is successful, he will not be kept from you for very long. In fact, almost exactly the opposite."

The torturer had loosened Hank's restraints, and pulled the pilot towards the capsule standing waiting. He was fighting as much as he could, but what he'd been through had made him weaken, and he couldn't stop his progress.

"What … what are you doing?" Freya asked, pulling at the manacles, the skin on her wrists tearing. She could feel the slow drip of blood down her forearms.

"A reduced quantity of Pax is used," Donaldson explained. "Although lately I've been coming around to the conclusion that less is more."

"We argue," Niska said dismissively, watching his torturer push Hank inside. The door closed with a hiss. He turned back to the others. "But this is the question. Which will he be? When the door opens, will he lay down and die or tear your flesh for his feast?"

"You're insane." Zoe was struggling as much as Freya, with as little success, her eyes on Hank. He was leaning against the plastiglass, barely able to hold himself up.

Niska touched her face, patting her cheek. "We shall see. And if he is not, then I still have you."

Zoe wanted to turn her head and bite his finger off. "He won't kill us."

"Then you will be next." Niska handed the vial to his torturer, who went to the control console and dropped it into the waiting opening. There was a slight hum. "And if you too are not of the correct type, then I shall still have Mrs Reynolds to entertain me."

Donaldson coughed. "That's not our deal."

"Our deal?" Niska turned to him. "I have to have something to occupy me until you find more subjects. And Captain Reynolds took something precious from me." He held out his hand. "Shall we?"

--

"What is taking so gorram long?" Mal was pacing, unable to keep still.

"It's only been five minutes," Simon said, not feeling that much calmer himself.

Jayne understood, though. Inside that room, with that ga ni niang doing things to 'em, were the two most important women in Mal's life. His first mate and his wife. The one who'd kept him alive all through the war, and the one who made it worth living now. "She's going fast as she can," he said. "It twists a lot."

"She's telling you?" Simon asked in surprise. She'd rarely dropped her thoughts into his mind, and to find this big man mentioning it so nonchalantly, as if it happened all the time …

"Yeah," Jayne admitted. "You got a problem with that?"

As much as Simon wanted to say yes, to admit it hurt him more than he wanted that his little sister would communicate with this mercenary ape, he remembered her words.

"Does he make you happy, mei-mei?" he'd asked.

Yes.

"Why?"

Does there have to be a reason?

He'd had to tell the truth. "I suppose not."

Be happy for me, Simon.

"River … I'll try."

So Simon shook his head. "No. If she talks to you … that's fine."

Jayne nodded, for once not taking the opportunity to make fun of the young doctor. Not at a time like this. "She's there," he said quietly.

Mal jerked, staring at the big man before laying his hands on the door.

--

River watched through the grating, doing the math. Five men, including Niska. She'd never seen him in the flesh, but didn't need to. It was him. Of the others, only three were really any threat, but they were real enough.

Time to act. They'd put Hank into some sort of tube, and from the feelings and thoughts emanating from the two women chained to the wall, this was bad. Very, very bad.

Triangulate, measure, aim … everything was going through River's mind at once, as she tried to block out the fear below and outside, the anger beating at her. If they'd all just shut up she could …

She kicked the grating cover, falling from the duct and turning in one movement, firing one of her guns before she even hit the floor. One down, gasping for his last breath as his blood pumped from a throat torn out by her bullet. Niska was in reach, and she span on one foot, her other catching him on the side of the head, knocking him down. Two.

Her momentum kept her going, and she saw the man she had considered less of a threat drawing a small pistol from inside his jacket. She quickly added him to the variable, but continued in her movement, firing again from each gun, doing a forward roll to land on her feet. The third one fell backwards, his forehead showing two small holes, the back of his skull missing. He'd managed to fire, the bullet hitting the wall a scat two inches from Zoe's head. Not good.

A breeze over her shoulder indicated the fourth one had missed, but he was lining up for another shot. She began to run, her speed taking them by surprise, up the wall and flipping backwards, firing twice more as she was upside down, two different directions. The torturer looked down at the remains of his hand, his fingers smashed and missing, then slumped to the floor, blood pouring from the hole in the back of his mouth.

Donaldson, hit with the other bullet, slid to the floor, his gun falling from nerveless digits as he tried to speak.

In the sudden silence River stood still, looking around before replacing her weapons in their holsters.

"River, what the hell are you doing here?" Freya asked, almost conversationally.

"Rescue," she said simply.

"River? You're River Tam?" Donaldson managed to say, staring at her, his hand pressed against the blood bubbling from his chest.

River furrowed her brow, looking down at him. "I don't think I know you."

"I can't believe you're really …" What he was about to say died with him as his life rushed from his mouth and nostrils, staining his shirt and pooling on the floor. His eyes, fixed on her face, didn't move as she walked away.

--

"They're safe," Jayne said, a wide grin on his face. He clapped Simon on the back, thrusting him forward with the impetus.

"And River?"

"She's shiny."

"Thank God." He smiled at the mercenary.

Mal, the man who didn't believe, who only prayed for his wife, thanked every deity he could remember.

"Key's over there," Zoe said, nodding towards the small table. River sorted through the various instruments of torture, then picked it up.

"I never thought I'd be so pleased to see you," Freya said, holding out her hands.

"The others are outside," River said, releasing the manacles, then managing to catch Freya in time before she slid to the floor.

"I'm okay. Do Zoe's." She leaned against the wall for a moment, trying to get past the aching in her entire body before going to help Hank.

"Thanks," Zoe said, her hands dropping, wincing as she rubbed her wrists where they were raw. Her shoulders were killing her, but that wasn't her main concern. "Where's the control for this damn thing?" she added, joining Freya.

Suddenly River screamed. "No!"

She'd turned towards the control panel, but saw Niska on his knees in front of it. She ran towards him but it was too late. He'd reached the override control, and pressed the button. Vapour began to pour into the capsule with Hank even as River caught him across the temple with her foot.

"Get him out!" Zoe ordered, reaching for the door.

"No!" Freya put her arms around her, trying to hold her struggling body back.

"Let me go …" Zoe hit out, her fist catching Freya on the cheek.

Her ears rang, but she held on. "I let you go and the gas gets out, we're all dead."

"It might not be like that –" Zoe was still fighting.

"It will for River and me."

Zoe stopped, looked aghast at Freya. "Wo de tien a," she muttered, all the fighting going out of her. She turned to watch the father of her child inside the plastiglass coffin, her eyes fixed on his as the gas rose above the level of his head. "Can't we clear it?"

"It's an automatic system," River said softly, studying the controls. Indeed, a few moments later the pumps started and the gas was evacuated through the pipes at the top.

Freya let Zoe go, and the first mate reached out, resting her hand on the cold capsule. Something touched her arm, and she looked down. River was holding out one of her guns.

"If anyone has to …" River said softly.

Zoe nodded, taking the weapon from her, knowing she had to end the father of her child if it came to it.

There was a long pause, and no-one was breathing. It lengthened, until the tension was so tight in the air that just a sound would make it shatter into a billion pieces.

Then Hank slid to the floor of the capsule, his face vacant, his eyes staring into nothing.

"Frey!" Zoe shouted, dropping the gun.

"River, the antidote," Freya called.

Even as she thought, before the words were fully formed in her mouth, River had nodded at her and dropped to her heels next to Donaldson's body.

Zoe found the door release and the side of the capsule popped. She reached in, pulling Hank out to lie in her arms. "Hold on, baby. Just hold on," she whispered.

"Here." River held out an automatic hypo.

Without a moment's thought Zoe injected it into his neck. "Help me," she said quietly, getting her hands under Hank's arms, lifting him. River took his legs and they carried him away from the pod, setting him down on the floor.

Zoe smoothed his sweat-damp hair from his face. "Come on, Hank. I know you're strong. You can beat this." She waited, for what seemed an eternity. "Gorramit, Hank! Don't you want to see your son born?" she shouted into his face, shaking him.

"Can't you leave a feller alone to die in peace?" Hank croaked, trying to open his eyes but only succeeding with one. "Without all this noise?"

Zoe gave up her own prayer of thanks and wrapped her arms around him.

"Hey, is this heaven?" Hank asked, trying to smile.

Freya watched, then turned to Niska. He was sitting dazed against the console, his glasses askew, blood seeping from a head wound. She went down on her heels next to him.

"It's not right," she murmured. "Not right. None of this." She shook her head as she gazed at this monster of a man. "What you were doing." She came to a decision and lifted him to his feet. Her back wrenched, but only a slight groan forced its way past her lips as she manhandled him towards the capsule. "Not even for belief," she muttered. "Just for the pleasure of the pain you were causing." She thrust him inside.

"What are you doing?" Niska asked, his faculties returning.

"Time to end it." She pressed the button and the door closed.

As Niska fully realised where he was, and her intentions, his hand darted to inside his jacket.

"Looking for this?" Freya asked, holding up an automatic hypo, twin to the one Zoe had used on Hank. "I may be a little rusty, but I can still pick a pocket if I need to," she said, knowing her words couldn't be heard, but the twisted smile on her lips was loud enough.

Niska's face registered what was happening. He began to bang on the inside of the capsule, his mouth screaming silently, his glasses falling to the floor in his terror, trampling on them, his eyes naked, small … afraid.

Freya crossed to the control panel, picking one of the vials from the open box. She watched the liquid move inside, the green chips barely touching each other. Sliding the cover open, she put the vial inside the waiting receptacle. "Which one do you suppose makes this all work?" she asked, her head on one side.

River stepped close. "This one." She put out her hand but Freya grabbed her wrist.

"No. Not you."

Zoe, on the floor next to Hank, watched them look at each other, the unspoken communication between them at what was about to happen, and nodded slowly.

She didn't need the darkness, not this time. She lifted her head and looked at Niska, still pounding on the inside of the capsule. "Wo xi wang ni man man si, dan kuai dian xia diyu ," Freya murmured, dropping her hand on the button and speeding him to hell.

Gas whispered into the capsule. Niska looked down, trying to wave it away, attempting to climb the sheer walls, anything to stop himself inhaling. He held his breath until his vision began to redden, until he knew he couldn't hold out, until he had to take it deep into his lungs … it tasted of roses and death.

The others watched as the vapour filled the capsule then was sucked out.

"Do you think –" Hank began to say, then stopped as Niska threw himself at the wall of the capsule, his mouth working, saliva running down his chin and spitting onto the plastic. His eyes were mad, insane, his fingers curled into claws, ready to rend and tear.

Freya stood, expressionless, staring.

"Time to go," River said softly, putting her hand on the older woman's arm. "They're waiting for us."

Zoe got Hank to his feet, supporting him. "She's right, Frey."

"I hate to think he's like us," Freya said quietly, hardly even words.

"He wasn't," River responded. "Only a potential." She glanced at the thing in the capsule. "Not even that now."

Freya nodded slowly. "Let's go."

"Is he …" Hank began, letting Zoe help him to the door.

"Not now, dear," she said, stepping into the outer chamber. "Best to forget all about this." She headed for the door, not looking back.

River went to follow, then stopped. Freya was still staring at the capsule.

"Frey?"

She didn't answer, just held out her hand. River placed one of her guns in it.

For a long moment Freya didn't move, then in one smooth motion raised the gun and fired at the capsule. The plastiglass crazed but didn't break. She fired again, hearing River's pistol open up next to her. It wasn't strong enough to withstand that kind of firepower, and the entire side shattered. The creature that had been Niska climbed through, ignoring the sharp edges that cut into his skin, leaving blood smears and scraps of flesh.

River expected Freya to fire again, to kill him, but instead she pushed a tray of surgical instruments towards the raging beast, then slammed the door closed, locking it. She turned to see a technician cowering in the corner. With something like gentle hands, she slid the hypo from his pocket and handed it to River, who took it carefully. She nodded over her shoulder towards the door. "Best not open that," she said softly. "Not for a very long time. If ever."

The technician, terrified at what he had seen, nodded.

Picking up her and Zoe's weapons from the side, Freya glanced through the heavy window. The Reaver was tearing at the bodies of the men River had killed, but finding no satisfaction. Then he saw a scalpel on the floor. He picked it up, turning it, letting the light catch it before he drew the blade down his own cheek … His howl echoed through the air ducts.

--

"What the hell was that? And where are they?" Mal asked, turning on Jayne.

"They're coming," the big man assured him. "Just cleanin' up some crap."

"What?" Mal's brows drew together, but his next words were halted by the sound of metal sliding on metal. He turned.

As the grey panel slid open, Mal and the others had their guns ready, but there was a collective sigh of relief as Zoe helped Hank through, River and Freya following.

"Everyone okay?" Mal asked, wanting desperately to take his wife into his arms and hold her tightly.

"Shiny, Cap," Hank said, his words slurring a little.

Simon was checking him over. "I need him back on board Serenity right now." He glanced at Zoe and Freya, the blood on their wrists, the pallor to their skin. "All of you."

"Not going to get any arguments from me," Zoe said, letting Jayne help with Hank.

Freya turned to him. "You need to check Zoe first. She got hit by a stun weapon. I think the baby's fine, but …"

Hank stared at her, then at Zoe, his face ashen. "God, Zo, I didn't even think …"

"It's okay," she said. "I'm fine."

"But the baby …" He glanced down at her belly, then back into her eyes. "If anything happened to him …"

"Freya's right," Zoe assured him, trying to make him believe. "I'd know if anything was wrong. And he's fine."

"It's a boy?" Jayne asked but everyone ignored him.

Hank lifted his arm from Zoe's shoulders. "And what are you doing helping me? You should be being carried out of here yourself!"

"No-one is carrying me anywhere." Zoe had her calm face back on. "Dong mah?"

"Yeah, sure, but … honey, the baby."

"Is fine."

"Can you let the doctor be the judge of that?" Simon asked, glaring at them. "And the sooner we get back to Serenity the sooner I can prove it."

"What, that you're the doctor?"

"Hank, move before I sedate you and make Jayne carry you home."

"I'm going, I'm going." He leaned on the big man and they started to walk back to the docking area.

"You okay?" Jayne asked River, who fell into step next to him.

"I'm fine." She put her hand on his arm.

"Good." He smiled at her. "Wouldn't want anything bad to … you know … to you."

Freya hung back.

"What is it, ai ren?" Mal asked. "They likely to be coming after us?" He was still tense, his hand ready near his gun.

"No. Niska doesn't exist any more." She closed her eyes, swaying a little.

Immediately he had his arms around her, holding her up. "Frey?"

"Take me home, Mal," she whispered, leaning into him. "Just take me home."