Mead was a border moon with little going for it apart from a healthy – or possibly unhealthy – interest in gambling. Everything was bet on, from the outcome of a horse race at the large stadium, purpose built outside town, or how slow the traffic would clear after the latest accident at the main crossroads. The main town was like a tarnished jewel sitting in the middle of nothing, staining the evening with its crassness. Bright lights glittered, advertising various wares, shows and prostitutes, so much that it even made Jayne’s fingers itch.

“It looks … fun,” Kaylee said, her face unsure.

“It ain't,” the big man said. “Last time I was here I got fleeced.”

“That wouldn’t be hard,” Simon commented, looking out of the bridge window as Hank brought them in to land. “From what I've read Mead attracts some of the lowest forms of life.”

“You suggesting that’s what I am?”

“If I were I wouldn’t just suggest it.”

Jayne just glared at him.

“Well, we’re not here to have fun, people,” Mal said, coming up behind them. “We’re here to say goodbye to an old friend.”

“Why was your pal here?” Hank asked.

“Betting. Reilly just loved it. All through the war he’d lay odds where he’d get hit next. Usually winning, too, which was the scarier part.”

“Our lieutenant put him on report once for sticking his backside up above the trench we were in, just to see if he could make another 100,” Zoe added from the co-pilot’s chair.

“Two flies walking across a dead man was the one I think I hit him for,” Mal said thoughtfully.

“Laid him out,” Zoe agreed.

“Broke my hand doing it.”

“But he respected you from that moment, sir.”

The pair of them shared a look as Serenity settled into her dock without a discernible bump, and for a moment everyone else felt excluded.

“Time to get moving,” Mal said. “The main event ain’t until tomorrow, so me, Frey and Zoe’ll be back some point to –“

“You?” Hank looked surprised. “I thought we were all going.”

“You didn’t know him.”

“Neither did Freya.