“ Cherokee , this is Serenity. How can we be of assistance?”

The screen sprang to life and a man’s face appeared, the worry lines disappearing as they watched. “Mal?”

“The very same.”

“Damn, but I'm glad it’s you!” Noah Thacker half turned his head, yelling over his shoulder, “Jez, get your ass up here!”

Mal grinned. “As subtle as ever.”

“Well, you know what it’s like,” Noah said, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “Jez’s been acting like a bear with a sore head ever since we lost power, and she’s … being Jez.”

“Meaning she won’t ask for help.”

“’Xactly. Wouldn’t even let me beam a distress call until two days ago, when Ida threatened to up and quit if she didn’t.”

“No, she didn’t,” came another voice, a woman this time.

“She did too,” Noah said to the person off screen. “Then who would have cooked?”

“I'm not that bad.”

“I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer.” Noah rolled away from the com, his wheelchair making a slight squealing noise on the deck.

A woman came into view, tucking her shoulder-length black hair behind her ears, her high cheekbones and long, straight nose giving her something of a look of disdain.

“Mal.”

“Jez.”

They stared at each other, wondering who was going to break first.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Freya muttered, stepping onto the bridge and pushing her husband out of the way. “Jez, it’s good to see you.”

“You too.” The woman on the screen suddenly grinned, and it was like she was a whole different person. “It’s been a long time.”

“Nearly a year.”

“I thought it was longer.” ‘Jez’ Thacker, born Jezebel Youngblood, pulled out the stool kept permanently under the console and sat down. “It’s always too long.”

“Always.” Freya smiled. “How are things?”

“Oh, you know. Same old same old.”

“That good, huh?”

“Well, it would be, if Marcel could keep from breaking my engine every five minutes.”

“Oh, I'm going to tell him you said that,” Noah commented from the background.

“Go ahead,” she threw