“*Captain?*” River called as her voice was transmogrified into an electronic signal and then back into audible sound through the speaker in Mal’s cabin.

Mal sighed, kicking the toilet back into the wall and moving his hands to the sink. He rinsed his hands and face and was beckoned twice more before he had dried and moved to the intercom on the wall. “Yeah?”

“*You have a call from The Operative,*” River informed him. “*Would you like to come to the flight deck, or should I put it through there?*”

Mal rolled his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. “Yer a reader, Little Girl. Why would you need to ask?”

There was a giggle over the speaker. “*So I could see your face.*”

The Operative’s darkly-complexioned visage appeared on the screen. “*Captain Reynolds,*” he greeted. “*I’m glad you could take the time to accept my call.*”

“Not much else goin’ on around here,” Mal growled. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

The Operative gave a slight nod. “*That very fact is actually the reasoning behind my contacting you again.*” His face, always a mask of calm, still managed to settle a bit, as if he were finally content in knowing that Mal wasn’t going to hang up on him yet. “*I was curious, Captain, if you would be interested in a job.*”

Mal shrugged. In the past, he might have told the man where to stick it, just on general principle. However, he found that he’d become more apathetic, and a bit more accepting, in recent months. “We still got some coin left over from those laser weapons we dropped on The Resistance,” he admitted, “but it has been a good long while since we had a job of any kind.” He raised his eyebrows. “’Course, the reward’s gotta match the risk.”

“*I understand completely,*” The Operative provided, “*and this job does not carry with it a great risk. I am not asking you to steal anything, nor do I wish to utilize your transport facilities.*”

Mal’s eyes narrowed. *If he’s lookin’ for mercenaries...* The crew was not exactly in a decent condition for a fight. Simon and Kaylee were t