Supper was done, and everyone apart from Mal complimented Simon on the smoky flavour of the meat-substitute protein, Jayne going so far as to state that it tasted almost as good as the joints his Ma used to cook over an open fire when his dad had been hunting. The doctor blushed slightly, deflecting their praise and wondering if the Captain was going to rat him out, but Mal just sat at the head of the table, his steady gaze on the young man, Freya’s hand over his. Maybe his lips were twitching just a bit, but that might have been an optical illusion. Or guilt.

Immediately he’d finished Ethan asked for and got permission to head to his new room, where his clothes and boxes of toys already resided. He knew it was going to feel odd, not having his parents next door, but he was looking forward to it. To being a big boy.

“S’just a room,” Bethie said dismissively, standing in the open doorway in her little nightdress, her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

“ S’my room.” Before supper Ethan had watched Maoli investigate every corner, her nose close to the bulkhead, the bed, soft pink pads barely disarranging the covers. Then she’d leapt onto the heating duct above his pillow and settled down, her tail twitching over the edge. Now she looked down at them, her green eyes shining in the low light.

“Had my room for years.” She sniffed loudly. “Years and years and years and years.”

“I know.” He arranged the knitted alligator at the end of the bed, then turned and looked at her.

“Years,” she added, just so he got the message.

“I know.” He glanced around. “Mama said I could have it decorated how I wanted. I was ‘sidering dinosaurs. What do you think?”

“Uncle Mal won’t let you paint on the walls.”

“My Daddy will.” He half-closed one eye. “Or maybe pirates.”

Bethie bridled. “Pirates …” She could hardly breathe for the indignation bubbling in her little chest.

“Might do.” He grinned. “And I’m going to bed now. In my room.” With a smirk that made him look