“You should have woken us,” Hank complained, turning enough in the pilot’s seat so he could look at the man standing behind him. “I could’ve done with a laugh.”

“Nothing to laugh at,” Mal chided. “Finding out there’s a madman looking for Simon ain’t exactly my idea of fun.” He’d updated the rest of the crew about Quintana’s desire to get hold of Simon at breakfast that morning.

“But we already knew someone was after him, sir,” Zoe said, perched on the edge of the console. “From what Theo said.”

“Oh, I agree. And we ain't no worse off than before by knowing who it is now.” Mal shook his head. “I just wish I’d had the chance to leave him and Kaylee someplace safe.”

“You know they’d never leave,” Hank pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’d’ve felt better for the argument.”

“You want an argument? I can oblige.” Hank ran a hand through his untidy brown hair.

Mal glared at his pilot. “I'm sure you can. Not so sure you can breathe vacuum without a suit, but …”

“Honey, is he threatening me?”

Zoe nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh. Fine. Just so I know.”

She looked back to Mal. “He is right, though. Simon wouldn’t have gone, nor Kaylee. But this does make me feel somewhat uncomfortable about the cargo we’re carrying.”

Mal nodded. “I know what you mean. Been feeling that way myself.” He took a deep breath, exhaling it heavily. “You know, Zoe, I feel like I’m being manipulated, having my strings pulled.”

“Sir?”

“They’re just leading me round, making me do what they want, and I’m just following their script.” He shook his head. “Alliance, New Browncoats … I don’t like it. I’d have more control if I had a ring through my nose – least then I could pull back on it.”

Hank stirred in his seat as if he really wanted to make some snarky comment, but luckily he refrained. Zoe’s boot on his foot might have had something to do with it.

“What do you suppose we’re actually carrying?” she asked.

“Don’t know, and neither did Patience. She said she never looked.”

“And you trust her?”

“