The rain had all but stopped by the pick-up time approached, the sky clearing to leave a quilt of stars beginning to appear as the sun dropped over the horizon.

“It’s going to get cold tonight, sir,” Zoe said quietly, standing in the lea of the shuttle, the last few drops of water splashing down into the mud.

“Been colder.” Mal pulled his scarf tighter around his neck.

“New Casmir,” Freya put in. “Now that was cold.”

“St Alban’s was worse,” Mal said. “Gets into a man’s bones, cold like that.” He paused a moment, then spoke quietly, his tone different. “Jayne, you in place?”

“Sure are,” they heard over their earwigs. “Got a good range of fire, too. If you come in from the west, you won’t be in the way either.”

“Got that.” He looked at his first mate and his wife and sketched a smile. “Ladies? Shall we?”

---

There was still enough light in the sky to pick their way through the trees, but that was dying fast by the time they got to the rendezvous. As they approached the clearing, Mal stumbled but righted himself quickly, kicking at a non-existent rock as if that had tripped him. No time to be showing weakness, he told himself. Simon did say it was going to take a couple of days to feel better, but right now he was counting the seconds. It didn’t help that he knew Freya had her eyes on him, boring right between his shoulder blades.

A man stepped out from the shadows, a lantern turned down to almost nothing in his hand, barely making an imprint on the evening. Two other men were at his back, and Zoe took a pace away to cover their rear if need be, her hand ready to draw her Mare’s Leg at any sign of trouble.

Two more , Mal heard, Freya’s voice caressing his mind, almost but not quite concealing her concern for him. In the trees to the left.

He tried to see, but all he could make out were dark shapes that might or might not be men. Not that he didn’t believe her – sometimes it was so handy to be married to a Reader. Not good placement ,