Freya was cleaning her guns on the dining table. She had stripped one down and oiled its parts, and was now fitting it expertly back together. Sliding the final component home she cocked the weapon and pointed it, smoothly pulling the trigger so that it clicked.

“You expect us to eat around that?” Mal said from the doorway.

Freya looked up. “No, I'm going to clean it up.”

“Well, see that you do.” Mal stepped down into the dining area and went over to the kitchen.

“You okay?” Freya asked. “You seem a mite … tetchy this morning. After last night, too.”

“I ain’t tetchy.”

“Okay, preoccupied then. Ever since you got that message yesterday.”

“It’s just a job.” Mal filled a cup with coffee and looked at her, her back to him, over the counter, her tattoo just visible above the top of her shirt. “That’s all.”

“Am I missing something?” Freya turned in her seat.

Mal went to take a sip, then put the cup down so hard some of the hot liquid spilled onto his hand, but he ignored it. “This job …” he began. “The pick-up tomorrow … it’s on Shadow.”

Realisation dawned in Freya’s eyes. “Oh. You could have said no.”

“It’s just a planet.”

“It’s your home planet. Where you were born. Grew up. Joined the independents from.”

“I seem to recall that happening, yes.”

“Have you been back since the war?”

Mal shook his head. “Nope. Didn’t seem to be any point. Nothing left there for me.” He picked up his cup again, noticed the coffee on the back of his hand and licked it off. He joined her at the table, sitting opposite.

“You still could have said no.”

“We’ll be there for maybe a couple of hours – no more. I can stand it for that.”

“You shoulda said something before. People understand.”

“It’s in the past, Frey. It’s not me any more.”

“I know that feeling,” she agreed fervently. “But it’s making you –“

“Tetchy?”

“Uncomfortable. Do you want me and Zoe to handle it?”

“Afraid I’ll break down the minute I touch soil? Somehow I find that difficult to imag