As the barbell reached the top of its arc of motion, Jayne caught it with one hand and set it in its holder. The Shepherd sat up from where he had been lying on his back on the weight bench, working to keep his aging muscles in suitable strength and tone, and reached for the towel lying not far away. His breathing was heavy with exertion.

“You gonna make it, old man?” Jayne asked, jokingly, as he added more weight to the bar for his own exercise.

“Oh, I imagine I’ll live at least another day. Perhaps even until our next landfall,” Shepherd Book replied, smiling, as he stood and mopped at his face with the towel.

“Cap’n better have somethin’ lined up on Persephone. Been near three gorram weeks since we left Malachi and we ain’t had nothin’ ‘cept that two-bit grain transport job. I didn’t sign on with this crew to see the verse. If we ain’t got no ruttin’ work, I ain’t getting’ no ruttin’ pay.” The frustration leaked into Jayne’s voice as he lay down on the weight bench and lined his shoulders up under the bar.

“I’m sure the Captain has some kind of plan—he usually does. He’s most likely being more cautious now because of the sort of attention we’ve attracted lately,” the Shepherd replied soothingly.

“Well, caution don’t keep me in whiskey ‘n ammo, Preacher. I’m increasin’ly missin’ the days when this boat weren’t a gorram floatin’ fugee camp.”

“Jayne! You don’t mean that! He don’t mean that, Stephanie,” Kaylee’s voice carried down from the catwalk overhead. The girl walked slowly across the catwalk, her arm out to steady Stephanie as the older woman stepped out to lean on the railing. As the weeks on board Serenity passed, Stephanie was regaining the use of her lower extremities faster than even Simon had thought possible, to the point that she could now limp about the ship. She couldn’t go fast, or far without stopping to rest, but her bruises were fading as her body cleared the drugs that had been forced into it and she was allowed to rest and heal. Some of the damage her body h