* * * * *

CHECKMATE: Bad Bishop.

* * * * *

One look at the grey tinge to Mal's cheeks convinces Serenity's crew that the Doctor's not wrong. The Captain really is in serious need of some quiet. They climb the ladder out of his bunk in awkard, anxious silence. In the walkway above, they hesitate, unsure what they should do next.

Zoe assumes command. “Looks like it's your call, Jayne. Cap'n's main concern is findin' Inara an' he's relyin' on you to get the job done. Where'd we start?” If Mal weren't in such a bad way she'd be calling him all manner of stupid for fretting about the whereabouts of that murderous bitch. As things stand, her loyalty to him outweighs other considerations. And finding Inara does offer the prospect of pay-back.

Jayne forces himself to put aside his resentment at Mal's reaction to his admission that he'd thrown the Companion off the ship. At the way he'd made him feel lower than the dirt on his boots. When Jayne had only been tryin' to help.

He glares defiantly back at Zoe. He might not be as smart as her but he's the best tracker in the whole gorram 'verse. And she ruttin' well needs his know-how. He ain't gonna put up with being looked down on. “Better tell your husband to set a course for Persephone,” he tells her, ignoring the fact that Wash is standing right there next to him. “And whilst you're at it, you might ask him why the hell Inara would wanna poison him in the first place!”

* * * * *

Wash flicks the switches on the panel above his head and begins entering coordinates into the nav system. “We're a long way out,” he tells Zoe, who's standing behind him, staring out into the Black, “It's gonna take best part of two weeks to reach Persephone from here.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, not really listening. Her mind's somewhere else. Somewhere even less pleasant than in hot pursuit of her husband's would-be assassin on a ship whose Captain – not seven days ago - was hanging from the end of a rope. She feels trapped, manipulated, like a piece being moved around a ches