From the air, New Dunsmuir's ship-yards are a bustling hive of activity. Teams of engineers are working at cross-purposes, sparks flying, and ship-parts going every which way and never where they're supposed to be. Serenity flies over the hurly-burly in a lazy arc, searching for the specified landing site.

Kaylee stands, facing the cargo-bay door as Wash pilots Serenity into dry-dock with barely a bump. Her radiant smile is replaced with as surly a scowl a girl as full of sunshine as she is can muster. Mal winces his way over to her, walking still more painful than it should be, and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Kaylee, put the wrench down. You look like you're going to beat the brains out of the first mechanic through that door. They ain't going to do anything to my boat we ain't comfortable with.”

“I know Cap'n,” she replies, turning anxious eyes to him, “But... I just don't like the thought of strangers messin' with her.”

Jayne and Zoe are clonking their way down the stairs and Mal's response is lost as the doors open, revealing a team of three men in filthy orange overalls. The tallest of them steps forwards, arms raised. They deal with suspicious crews on a daily basis and are expecting the frisking for weapons. Zoe steps forward, patting him down carefully, whilst Jayne does the same to the man's companions. She nods to Mal.

“They're okay,” Jayne growls, eyeing them from under his brows.

The chief engineer smiles. “We're just here to do our job, folks, same as you. You want to escort us to the engine room?”

“Jayne, Kaylee,” Mal responds, “Show 'em the way.”

The Chief smiles at Kaylee as they leave the cargo bay. “Firefly class, Aught Three. She's a great boat.”

Kaylee doesn't respond, though her frown is disappearing, her inevitable cheeriness beginning to break through the bad-mood.

One of the other men lets out a long whistle when once they reach the engine. “That's some fine wiring you got there,” he says, something like admiration in his voice.

Jayne rolls his eyes a