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Captain Mal Reynolds paced across the cargo bay, measuring its length with his strides, while his second-in-command Zoe Alleyne watched him with a certain amount of amusement on her face.

"It's not even time yet, sir," she pointed out.

"I know. I just want to get to flyin'. Feels like it's taking forever to line us up a pilot." The mechanic had been hard at work—with a fair amount of prodding, to be sure, but he'd got the ship ready to fly. Now all they needed was someone who could get them places.

"This guy's supposed to be good."

"I know he is. I just wish he'd get here already!"

"Anyone I know?"

They both turned to see a little guy with a funny mustache, wearing an even funnier shirt, standing in the open cargo bay door. Mal didn't even have to look at Zoe to see the curl in her lip. He was having some trouble with this guy himself. This was the pilot who had come so highly recommended?

"Hoban Washburne. I'm here for the pilot's job?"

Mal and Zoe shared a look. Zoe mouthed "Hoban?" at him, and Mal frowned at her. To this Washburne character, he said, "We've been waitin' for you. You want to come take a look now?" He was a mite snippy, he had to admit, but this whole thing had him on edge. He just wanted to take wing, to feel the land disappear out from under him.

"Let's get to it!" Washburne followed them up the stairs, chattering cheerfully. "I've read about these old Firefly class ships, but I've never had a chance to really open one up and see what she could do. I hear they're movers—like gliding across a frozen pond, only, you know, faster. This one's seen better days, but she's shaping up real nice. You two been together long?"

Mal and Zoe looked at each other and then over their shoulders at Washburne, not bothering to answer that one. He was hardly the first to take the logical leap and assume they were a couple, but Mal trusted Zoe too much to see her that way. She was just … Zoe. Smart, strong, tough as nails, better than half a division at your back.

Washburne seemed to accept their lack of response, continuing his running commentary. "I don't mind telling you, good jobs have been few and far between recently. I mean, there are jobs, just not good ones. Anyone can fly a freighter, you know, but it's not fun. You can't get in and really dig your heels in and see what a freighter can do—and if you try, they can you," he added, in the tone of someone who knew from personal experience.

"Here we are," Mal said, pointing to the cockpit and hoping that might stem the flow of talk. If this Washburne character talked like this all the time … well, maybe they'd just have to lock him into the cockpit by himself, see if he found himself to be a good listener. Although Mal bet he probably did.

As Washburne bounded up the steps to start looking over the system, Zoe pulled Mal aside. "You're not serious, sir."

"Let's see if he understands what he's lookin' at, Zoe." Mal liked that the man clearly appreciated Serenity for what she could do, something no one else had so far. Even the mechanic looked doubtful every time Mal asked him how things were coming.

They stood in the doorway and watched as Washburne looked over the equipment, tapping buttons and checking wires and even sliding underneath to see how things looked there. And in answer to Mal's unspoken question, he did indeed talk to himself the whole time.

Finally he climbed out from under the panel. "Yeah! This is all very doable." He looked at both of them. "Few modifications, get some real maneuverability out of this boat." He sank into the pilot's seat, looking pretty comfortable in it. "You'd be surprised."

"So you'll take the job, then?" Mal had seen enough to know this was the best he was going to get. Likely better than he had hoped for.

Washburne turned his chair around—but his eyes settled on Zoe instead of Mal as he considered the question. "Might do, might do. Think I'm starting to get a feel here."

"Good," Mal said, ignoring the look Zoe shot him. "Well, take your time, make yourself to home …" Zoe rolled her eyes and stalked out of the cockpit. Mal gestured over his shoulder. "Just … uh, fiddle around the dials there. We'll be nearby."

Washburne waved at them as they left, already lost in surveying the wiring again.

"Great, ain't he?" Mal said to Zoe on the way down the stairs. It was nice to see his ship getting the appreciation she deserved.

"I don't like him."

"What?"

"Just something about him bothers me."

"What? What about him bothers you?" Sure, the guy talked a lot, but they could get used to that. And yes, he had looked at Zoe with interest, but men had done that before, and she shut them down right quick. Mal had never seen her have a problem letting someone know she wasn't interested in return. She hadn't been happy with Washburne, that was easy to see, but to put up a fuss … where would they get another pilot, if they passed on this one? No one else was crazy enough to take a chance on an old Firefly.

"I'm not sure. It's just … somethin'." Zoe turned and looked back to where they had left Washburne, frowning.

"Well … your 'somethin'' comes up against a list of recommendations as long as my leg! Tanaka raves about this guy. Renshaw's been tryin' to get him on his crew for a month. And we need us a pilot."

"I understand, sir." She made a face. "He bothers me."

"Look, we finally got ourselves a genius mechanic, it's about time we hired someone to fly this damn thing!"

Before Zoe could answer, another voice said, "Genius?" and they turned to see Bester, the aforesaid genius mechanic, standing there.

"No one's ever called me that before," Bester continued, sauntering through the kitchen.

"Shiny," Mal said to his retreating back. He and Zoe looked at each other again.

She shrugged, not budging from her original point. "Just bothers me."

"Well, we're gonna take him on. If you can't get past whatever this somethin' is that bothers you, we can reconsider down the road. But we've gotta get this bird in the air, get some work lined up, or we'll be eatin' dust."

"Good point, sir." Zoe nodded crisply and walked off, and Mal sighed in relief. He hoped whatever the problem was, Zoe got over it fast, or it would be a mighty awkward feeling ship.