“Zoe! Heat her up and run, ma shong! All the way out of orbit!”

Mal’s forearm slammed Simon back against a wall as they waited for the cover of the panicked crowd surging in their direction. As soon as the runners reached them, Mal pulled Simon into the center of the stampede while continuing to bark orders into his com.

“Someone fingered the doc, we’re goin’ underground! Who the gorram else would it be? You head for the moon. Giacomo’s yard. Keep tabs on the Cortex, send a shuttle back soon as you think it’s safe!”

Simon struggled to keep his feet, jostling and being jostled in turn as the afternoon throng fled the gunfire that had erupted in the marketplace. Gunfire that had been aimed at them. At him.

“No,” Mal spared Simon a glance as they ran. “he’s fine. Do not let anyone try to contact us. You keep my ship outta trouble or there’ll be hell to pay!” Threats finished, Mal stuffed the com in his pocket. “Time to jump off the train, Doc! Go left!”

Simon split off from the dwindling pack to find himself in a small sidestreet, Mal on his heels. “Don’t stop!” Mal panted, his head twisting to take in the buildings on either side of them and the few other refugees who had taken the same turn. “Up here.”

He steered them into an alley, and Simon, winded, rested gratefully against the brick wall, some part of him noting with satisfaction that the captain was as short of breath as he.

“Thank you for the exercise, Doc.” Mal bent forward, hands on his knees. “Think I might take a pass next time, just the same.”

“What now?”

Mal looked skyward, and tilted his head as though listening. “When I said underground, wasn’t a figure of speech. Wouldn’t expect a rock this remote to have Air Search to call out, but then I wasn’t counting on a town square full a purplebellies, neither. For whatever reason, the population here has changed, and it sure ain’t in our favor.” He watched two teens run past on the street. “I figure we’re ‘bout three quarters of a mile out o