His grey silk suit was stained with sudden icy sweat, and he was trying to back up even further as Mal advanced.

“Still not afraid?” Mal asked, deceptively quiet.

“Guards!” Niska’s artificial voice was loud, abrupt, ringing around the torture room, but no-one came.

“They’re busy,” River said, watching out of the door. There was another dull thud of a grenade, and the floor shivered. “Very busy.” She smiled, feeling the satisfaction from Jayne as he blew a couple more holes in the yacht.

Freya was busy too, searching the nooks and crannies, and she pounced on her own clothes, noting her gun underneath. Quickly she tugged her pants on and pushed her feet into her boots. The shirt was more problematical, catching on the mess of her wrists, but she ignored the aching and left it open. With a suppressed groan she picked up the weaponry and tried to stop the ‘verse from spinning around inside her head.

Alex took a step towards her. “Frey?”

“I'm fine,” she assured him. She looked at her husband, still staring at Niska. “Mal, we need to go.”

“Not done here, xin gan .”

“Mal …”

“He was gonna kill you, Frey. No if’s or maybe’s, but an undeniable fact.”

“I know.” It surprised her still that, even though he was standing there bleeding from so many points, had been so close to death as to be able to shake its hand, it was the danger to her that drove him. “I know, zhang fu .”

He glanced at her. “Can’t let him get away with that.”

As his attention seemed to be split, Niska tried to dart past Mal, but the captain reached out, grabbing hold of his jacket and throwing him against the bulkhead.

“Tryin’ to leave so soon?” he asked, leaning into the old man. “And just when we were gettin’ reacquainted.”

“Please…” The artificial voice held little emotion, but it was there in his eyes, darting from one to the other. “I … I was just …” Pleading. Begging.

Mercy.

“Just what? Obeying orders?”

“I … cannot help what I am.”

“A murdering psychopath with fri