That night, the crew of Serenity sat around a large, crude wooden table in a dingy, smoky, tight dining hall. The small room had been dug out from the ground, just as Kaylee had predicted. Torches flickered from holsters set in the rough dirt walls, keeping the place unpleasantly hot and filling it with smoke. Simon looked around as his crewmates and several of the settlers dug into their meager dinner of preserved meat and fruit. He looked down at his own plate, which contained a single strip of dried turkey and three dehydrated apple slices. "Gotta ration this food, son," one settler had told him as they were handed the plates. "Don't know when we might get more."
Meanwhile, a few seats over from the young doctor, Mal sat across from Father Herb, who was preoccupied with his food for the time being. "So, father," the captain said finally. "How long do you reckon you can last out here, the way it is now?" Herb finished chewing his current mouthful and swallowed it before responding. "Well, Malcolm, the way our science types figure it, we'll be out of food in two weeks, even with the rationing. But we also figure that once old Bermuda disappears, resupply ships will start coming in again." "That's a rather…optimistic view," Mal replied. Herb looked around the room to make sure no one was paying attention to them, then leaned in to whisper to Mal, who had to strain to hear him over the din.
"To tell you the truth, Malcolm," he said softly. "I ain't so sure the alliance don't think we're dead. It's a miracle we survived this long as it is." He sighed, looking down at the table, tracing a grain in the rough wood with his fingertip. "But I can't give up. My job is to give these people hope. Your arrival saved us from starving to death, and old Bermuda's only a few days away from disappearing forever. They got hope again, Captain Reynolds," he said, voice filled with gratitude. "That's the gift you've given them, and it's far more valuable than any food or supplies."
He patted Mal on the shoulder. The captain coughed, obviously uncomfortable with this display. "Well, father, I don't normally deal in hope, but I'm glad I was a help to you and yours." Herb smiled broadly, showing a few missing teeth in his mouth, the rest dirty and yellowed. He raised his glass, which was filled with water, the only plentiful substance on Theseus. "A toast to captain Reynolds," he declared. "To Captain Reynolds!" The settlers declared. The crew lifted their drinks as well. Mal looked around with a small smile on his face. Maybe this savior stuff wasn't so bad after all.