Whitefall hadn’t changed. Still a ball of rock tinted mostly yellow, with the occasional flash of dirty green where scrub had managed to grab hold. As they dropped into atmo, Mal couldn’t help the thought creeping across his mind that maybe his crew were right and he was going to get shot again, but he ruthlessly pushed it away.

“Mal?”

He turned, seeing Simon standing in the doorway. “What can I do you for, doc?”

“I just thought you’d like to know.” The young man moved forward, lowering his voice. “I've just taken the first batch of AntiPax out of the replicator.”

Mal glanced at Hank, but the pilot seemed intent on not letting Serenity shake herself to bits. It felt like the entry couplings needed adjusting again, or some such. “How many?” he asked, turning back, keeping his own tone quiet. “How many doses?”

“Enough for all of us, and a dozen more.”

“Good. Good.” The weight on his shoulders eased a little.

“I still can’t guarantee it’s going to work, Mal,” Simon said.

“But it’s the one for those turned Reaver, right?”

Simon sighed. “I know what you want me to say. That Freya and River can be injected and it will stop them … changing, if they’re exposed to Pax. But I can’t say it. I won’t. I simply don’t know.”

Mal put his hand onto the younger man’s shoulder. “I know, Simon. I ain’t asking you to perjure yourself.”

“Just so long as you understand.”

“Oh, I do. And what about the other one? The one they used on Hank.”

“It’s in the ViroStim as we speak. I should have a batch ready in five days.”

“Only five?” Mal was surprised. “It took twice as long for the other one.”

“Well, I don’t need to recalibrate,” Simon explained. “And this version of the antidote is simpler than the other.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Probably good. It’s a simple counter-reagent, and as such it merely mimics –“

Mal put up his hand. “I get the picture, doc.”

Simon had to smile. “I doubt it, but it doesn’t matter. Five days.”

“And I’m guessing you can’t guara