“They were lucky,” Simon said, closing the infirmary cupboard door. “One of them lost an eye, and given another day or two one of the others would probably have had to have his arm amputated, but hopefully they’ll be fine until their replacement doctor gets there.”

They’d taken off from Aberdeen just a short while before, Mal standing on the bridge while Hank flew, not exactly praying but hoping fervently that his Firefly was going to be able to handle the extra strain. It didn’t help that, once they were out beyond atmo, his pilot had drawn a deep breath and wiped his hand melodramatically across his forehead.

“I know I’m going to hate asking this,” he’d said, “but was it really that bad?”

“She’s not happy,” Hank admitted, both of them knowing he was referring to Serenity. “And without Kaylee to coddle her, well …”

Mal shook his head. “I knew I shouldn’t’a let her go on that hayride.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Just that we’ve got to be careful. Can’t get up to anything like full burn with the load she’s carrying in her belly, but that don’t mean we have to crawl either.”

“Are we going to make it to Persephone on time?”

“Should do. And even if we’re late, the girls can take up residence with Dillon and Breed.”

“Except I wanna check over that bodyguard they’re supposed to be picking up myself.”

Hank twisted in the chair enough so he could see his captain. “You don’t trust Freya’s judgement?”

“A’course I do,” Mal said quickly. “And don’t you go suggesting anything to the contrary. I just wanna make sure he ain't the kind of feller’s gonna take advantage of the twins when they’re on their own.”

With a quick smile Hank said, “Frey’s right. You’re just like a mother hen, pulling her chicks under her wings.”

Mal had quashed the temptation to shoot his pilot, on the grounds that it would mean having to tell Zoe later, and instead just growled and walked away, heading for the infirmary.

Now he watched as Simon tidied up.

“Wouldn’t be holding your breath about that,”