The wind was blowing cold against them as they stood beside the well, little more really than a hole some eighteen feet across drilled straight down. Originally it had been inside a small wooden hut, protecting it from leaves, dirt and other such pollutants as any small animals that might have fallen in and drowned, but the war had swept that away.

“No water,” River said, her hair flying. “The underground stream was diverted, dammed, to keep it from supplying the Independents.”

“Would that be why we spent those weeks picking dirt out of our navels?” Mal asked.

“Speak for yourself, sir,” Zoe responded, strapping into her harness.

“I usually do.”

“All ready,” Jayne said, making sure the rope hung over a smooth area of rock and wasn’t likely to wear through as they were going down it. “You want me to go first, make sure the rope’s long enough?”

Mal considered briefly. “You go first, but we don’t have time to wait, nor to pull you back if it ain’t.”

Jayne grunted a chuckle. “Shiny. I’ll yell if there’s a big drop, just so’s you’re ready for it.” He positioned himself on the very lip.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Mal said. “Least we’ll have you to land on.”

The big man made a hand gesture illegal on several planets, then tugged on the rope one last time.

“Do you really think we can do this?” Simon asked quietly.

“No idea,” Mal admitted. “But I ain’t in the mood to wait for these things to get born and come out after us.”

“I don’t think any of us are.” Simon nodded, watching Jayne drop over the edge into the darkness, the only sign he’d gone a rapidly disappearing glow from the chemical light stick hanging from his belt.

Freya turned to Mal, then reached up and raked her lips across his, bruising and wanting equally, before following Jayne.

“You know, I don’t think Hank’s claustrophobia would have been able to stand this,” Simon added, staring at the well, and giving his Captain a moment to gather himself.

“I imagine you’re right about that.”

“Is that why you told him to