Zoë sat across the table from Mal, reading over the hefty stack of applications that her Captain seemed just as content to ignore in favor of the sparse stack that had made it through his initial glance and grab method. She hated the idea of renting out a shuttle, but her empty stomach and a month of tight rations had warmed her to the idea considerably. Serenity desperately needed the income, and she would do whatever was possible to push Mal to find a tenant more quickly. She sighed, discarding the application in her hand, adding it to her own rejection pile. After the tenth one, they all seemed the same to her – newly wed couples with a pipe dream and a one-in-a-million chance that they’d be able to make Serenity’s shuttle pay off a hundred fold. Most of them couldn’t afford a security deposit, let alone the first and last months rent that Mal needed in order to get the shuttle in working order again. Except for the Companion. How had this managed to get rejected so quickly?

“What about this one, sir?” she asked, sliding it across the dining table to Mal. He touched it just briefly and slid it back, his face unreadable as stone.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I like this prospector,” Mal answered, holding out the application he’d been considering. “Man and his wife. Got a good head for what he’s doin’.”

“But they can’t pay upfront.”

“Once they finish their first job –”

“We’ll all have died from hunger, sir,” Zoë finished sternly. Mal’s stomach growled as if to punctuate the statement.

“I ain’t havin’ a whore on my boat,” Mal countered, his tone closing the conversation with finality. But Zoë wasn’t going to let this one go.

“She’s the only one who can afford us.”

“What about this couple,” Mal said, handing over another application, similar to the prospector. He was grasping at straws. “They can pay the security deposit and first month. That’s something.”

Zoë skimmed it quickly and rolled her eyes. “Sir, they have a baby on the way. They’ll eat us out of house and home faster than a boat-load of Reave