Jethro swallowed, trying to bite back the bile rising in his throat. Nausea was flaring in his stomach, and he was doing his best not to throw up inside the suit. Freya was standing on the skin of Serenity ahead of him, attached to him by a cable, but he still felt like he was going to fall off any second. Particularly as the Firefly was executing a lazy roll to bring them above the derelict freighter.

“You ready?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted. “But let’s go before I change my mind.”

She smiled and pushed off, keeping her eyes on the ship in front. “Hank, we’re leaving. Don’t go anywhere,” she said quietly.

“I’ll try not to.” The pilot’s voice was tight, concerned, as the cable went taut and Jethro felt himself lift from the hull plating, flying through nothing towards the solid metal of the freighter. He swallowed again.

Freya twisted somehow, getting her boots down first, then grabbed him before he could make hard contact. “Show me where,” she said.

“Over … over there,” he stammered, trying to get his feet to the hull.

She nodded and walked off, the slight magnetic seal enabling her to move smoothly. A small circle, raised just a little off the plating, caught her eye. “This it?”

“Yes.”

“Open it.”

He nodded and went down onto his knees, feeling the cold seeping in even through the insulated skin of the suit. Reaching out he touched a small panel which sprang open, revealing a lever. With a grunt he put his weight behind it and pulled. His feet left the hull and he would have spun away from the freighter if Freya hadn’t got hold of him.

“Be careful,” she said. “This isn’t like a walk in the park.”

“No,” he agreed. “Nothing like.”

“Bet you wish you were still back at the Abbey tending your garden now, don’t you?” she said, leaning down to finish the job. The airlock door slid open.

“I didn’t work in the garden,” he said inconsequentially.

“Really?” Freya shone her flashlight inside. “Where did you work?”

“The kitchens. And … and the library.”