Firefly is the property of Joss Whedon, blah blah blah. You know the drill.

Thanks to Jebbypal and Apollo for beta reading. Feedback will of course be appreciated.

Note to those who have been following this story from the beginning: I've made significant revisions to Chapter One to correct some dodgy bits. You may want to reread it.

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Mal and Jayne responded to the unreasonable demand by ducking out while each fired a shot. Their efforts were rewarded by two cries of pain as well as another spray of automatic fire.

Zoë considered their situation, which was bleak to say the least. Mal and Jayne only had their revolvers and Zoë hadn't bothered to strap on one on her way out. Meanwhile, the opposition was equipped with automatics and probably had plentiful ammunition. They were also outnumbered, as Zoë had counted ten before diving for cover (eight, if those shots Mal and Jayne had fired had hit something vital). While the Mule offered cover, one of them might have something that could punch through it. Even if that wasn't the case, all that lead in the air meant that some were bound to pose a threat when ricocheting and hit them in that manner. They could try making a dash for Serenity but, even if they didn't get cut down, that would mean abandoning the cargo. With more moths in their pockets than coin, that was not an option to be considered.

Then it struck her. Nitro had been carrying a sub-machine gun. Well, she thought, you really don't need good aim to make them duck. Even if he didn't get a couple of lucky hits, it might be enough for Mal and Jayne to take the rest out. Hoping he had come down from the galley, she shouted, "Hey Nitro! Get your pee goo out here and give us