“Do you know what this is, Mr Mills?” Niska asked, holding up a small vial.

“Perfume?” Hank managed to croak, his throat raw.

“Very amusing. You must continue. We must see how far you can keep being amusing, Mr Mills.” Niska nodded encouragingly. “I had high hopes of Captain Reynolds – do you think you could match him?”

Hank shuddered.

“So tell us,” Freya said, seeing the tremor going through the pilot’s body, glad to get Niska away from him.

“You have perhaps heard of Miranda.”

“Heard of it?” Hank let his head drop back against the metal frame. “Oh, just a bit.”

“Then you will understand what Reavers are. How they were created.”

Zoe looked at the vial and realisation struck like an axe into her spine. “ Run-tse duh fuo-tsoo ,” she breathed.

“Yes, yes,” Niska said, turning to her, delight on his old man‘s face. “Captain Reynolds chooses his crew carefully. You have intelligence.” He turned the vial to catch the light, the green fragments glittering like shards of emeralds. “G-32 Paxilon Hydrochlorate, to be precise.”

Freya stood straighter. “What the hell are you doing with that gos se ?”

“Mr Donaldson and his principles, they needed someone who understands about pain. Inflicting. Causing. Finding the person beneath the skin. Me.”

“That’s a plus?” Hank shook his head. “You’re crazier than I’d heard.”

Niska just smiled benevolently at him. “Have you heard of the writings of Shan Yu?” he asked. “I would like to teach you.”

Zoe stiffened. “So this Pax,” she said, trying to draw his attention back. “Why? What would the Alliance want with more of this stuff?”

“Alliance?” Niska laughed. “Not quite. At least not what you might consider Alliance.”

Donaldson stepped forward uncomfortably. “Look, I really don’t think this is the kind of thing you should be discussing.”

“Why not?” Niska asked. “They are dead people.”

His words, said so normally, chilled them all.

“Well, dead or not, it’s not the sort of thing you should go t