River's hand pumped the IV bag as her eyes trained on the captain's calloused hand rubbing an unconscious newborn's chest. Her patient was hooked up to the monitors, that blipped slowly to indicate an obvious problem. Suddenly the blip jumped as the electrolytes charged the feeble body through the freshly placed IV line.

Mal glanced up to the monitors. "That's it." He coaxed "Come on, make a fuss."

The pale skin flushed with a touch of color as the child tightened her fists and squirmed on the table. Drawing in a deep breath, she let out a cough, then a cry.

"Cry some more." He whispered, "More deep breathin' let's see it. None of that shallow stuff, work those lungs. Scream, you got every right to."

River let go of the back and walked over to a drawer. Taking out a mask, she connected it to the oxygen source and turned it on. Going back over she put the too large mask over the baby's face and watched as the vitals rose again to the pure air. Looking up, she stared at Mal, reading his knowledge and understanding what he knew about the all too common but unspeakable practice that had left the newborn for death.

"Knew what to do." She noted out loud.

"Seen my share of winter born calves and babes birthed in war torn localities." He responded quickly, gruffly. "Regardless the species, sucklings are pretty much all the same. Want ta live, they don't give up easily."

Kaylee's boots could easily be heard thundering into the cargo bay. Skidding to a stop, she hurried into the infirmary with a milk crate of baby supplies. "She better?"

"In high dudgeon and hungry as hell but it's justifiable seeing how she's spent her first hours." Malcolm explained. "Take a bottle and some formula and fix her some milk. We'll clean her up."

As the mechanic left, still weepy and not understanding why someone would try to destroy such an innocent little life, River took the oxygen mask off of the screaming waif and headed over to retrieve more supplies as Mal grabbed the milk crate and dug through it for a cot