“How much air we...” Zoe paused. “How much *CO2* buildup we got left?”

“With the size of this level...” Gabriel began to tally the math in his head. “I reek at math.”

“Three thousand, two hundred and seventy two divided by five hundred and twelve,” River managed, having calmed just a bit and taking over where Gabriel had gotten stuck, “equals six point three nine zero six two five.”

“Thank you, River,” Gabriel ingratiated. “So we got six to six and a half hours.”

Simon winced. “The hemotransfer should only take thirty to forty five minutes, but your body still has to process and become accustomed to the shock before you’ll even regain consciousness.” He shook his head. “We might all be dead before you even get a chance to wake up.”

“It’s a risk we’ll hafta take.”

“Gettin’ the blood in the first place is a big enough risk, in itself,” Zoe reminded. “There’s about three thousand if’s in this scenario, which brings us to the not-likely-to-survive scenario.”

Gabriel smirked, the expression seeming far more empty than any he’d given before. “Aw, don’t worry ‘bout it, Cap. Have I ever let you down yet?”

“It’s perfectly fine if you wanna just stay here with us,” Kaylee included, her voice cracking from her throat tightening as she fought to not cry. “I know how I feel, an’ I bet the rest of us will agree with me. *Nobody* actually expects you an’ Simon an’ River to pull this one off.”

Zoe gritted her teeth as a low moan threatened to escape her throat. *This is a nightmare,* she thought to herself. *Gotta be. Gotta be a nightmare...*

Gabriel shrugged. “I know. Still, are ya that ready to just *accept* the end when ya don’t gotta? I gotta-”

“No gloves,” Jayne interrupted, strolling into the room with a yellow bundle in his muscular arms.

“It’s a medical ship,” Simon replied, sounding exasperated. “They *have* to have gloves.”

“I found better.” Jayne unfurled his bundle, which turned out to be a rubber biohazard suit.

“A bio-suit!” Simon exclaimed, glancing over the length of the shiny, yellow