Mal waited until all the congratulations had stopped ringing through the ship, and everyone went off to do whatever jobs they needed to, then faced Simon. “Not that I ain’t happy you’re expecting again, but I actually came down here for a reason.”

“Oh?” The young man seemed almost drunk with delight, but the look on Mal’s face made him try to pull himself together. “What can I do for you, captain?”

Mal dragged a white handkerchief from his pocket. “Well, for a start you can wipe that lipstick off your cheek.”

“What?” Simon turned so he could see his reflection in the glass. “Oh.” He took the linen from Mal’s outstretched hand and rubbed at the offending marks. “Kaylee,” he explained. “She got a little bit ... over-emotional.”

“I don't think she’s the only one. There’s more’n one colour there.” Mal hitched his thumbs into his pockets and shook his head in mock-disbelief. “I think one of ‘em’s even my first mate’s.”

“I’d be more worried if it was Hank’s.” Simon grinned and turned back. “Thanks.” He held out the handkerchief.

“No, you keep it. You’ve got laundry duty this week, ain't you?”

“For my sins.”

“Give it back to me after.”

“Okay.” Simon thrust it into his own pocket. “So what did you want to see me about?”

“The Reaver antidote.”

Simon’s professional persona fell into place. “I haven’t got any further. As you know, I don’t want to use any more of what we have, just in case –“

“I understand that. But I was thinking about that machine we’re planning on obtaining. The one that makes vaccines. Could you use it to make more?”

“Hmmn.” Simon leaned against the counter, letting his analytical mind ponder the problem. “Well, the antidote does seem to act like an antiviral. Not in the conventional way, but ...” He pursed his lips and stood straight, turning to one of the drawers and taking out a memory tab. Sliding it home, he continued, “I have to admit I hadn’t thought about it.” The screen lit up with a maze of coloured lines, some intersecting, o