It was late, and most of the rest of the crew had adjourned to their various bunks and beds, although the lights hadn’t been turned to night mode as yet. It was quiet enough, though, for Mal to hear all the little creaks and groans his ship made occasionally as she moved smoothly through the black, with the occasional murmur of voices and laughter filtering up, probably talking about their visit to Lazarus.

He had his gun cleaning kit laid out on the dining room table, the only place – as he’d had cause to note on more than one occasion – big enough. He didn’t have as many as Jayne, of course, but there were enough that it took a while to get them just right. He didn’t want to have them misfiring on him just when he needed them most, particularly not with Theo‘s words still buzzing round his mind, words of revolution and rebellion …

Sliding the magazine from his favourite handgun, the one that hung at his hip more often than not, he took it apart easily, the action second nature to him. Picking up the small brush, he began to clean the barrel of any tiny carbon particles that might be adhering to the metal.

He never used to do this quite so late at night, but with all the kids on board he’d found it harder to find time to do the simple things, like keeping his weapons in order, without little hands grabbing at stuff they shouldn’t. Easier to be able to concentrate when he knew they were all in bed.

“What are you doing?”

Mal’s heart jumped and he let out a yell, grabbing at the barrel before it could leap from his fingers and clatter to the floor. Maybe he’d been concentrating just a little too hard.

“Ethan, what are you doing up?” he asked, taking a calming breath.

The little boy looked at him with his head on one side. “Jesse’s wakeful,” he explained, holding his knitted alligator to his dinosaur pyjama-clad chest. “Mama’s tending to her.”

“So that means you can wander the ship this time of night?” Mal tried to look severe. “You should be asleep.”

“I was.” He twisted the hea