With children on board ranging from just a few months to nearly seven, the crew took it in turns to watch them, particularly when they were planetside and the adults had things they needed to do. On the move between jobs there wasn’t quite the same need, and Freya always took up a couple of hours in the morning with lessons, before letting the kids loose to run quietly amuck.

“I hate it when you can’t hear anything,” Hank had said on more than one occasion. “I always think they’re planning something.”

“They probably are,” Zoe agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Bethie doesn’t want to take over the ship and run it her way.”

“Hell, can’t be any worse’n Mal,” Hank had joked, then suddenly found himself very busy making course corrections, which had nothing to do with his captain appearing in the bridge doorway and glaring at him.

Right now, though, Freya was in bed during what passed for daylight hours on board the Firefly. Unfortunately Mal himself couldn’t take advantage of this fact as she was getting over a nasty and unexpected bout of food poisoning.

“I told you not to eat anything,” the young doctor said, tutting in his worst bedside manner.

“It was only fruit,” Freya insisted, her face as pale as the sheets. “I’ve had it before.” She gulped noisily, just the thought of food threatening to make her throw up again.

“But not here. And don’t expect any sympathy.” Simon shook his head. “You didn’t want to get innoc’d, so I consider all of this your own fault.”

“It was clean!”

“You have no idea what they washed it in.” He sighed heavily. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you just wanted to keep me busy.”

“Found me out,” she said, barely able to give a smile before leaning over the bucket Mal held for her.

He stroked her back until she’d finished, then wiped her mouth and clammy cheeks with a damp cloth. “There you go,” he said gently.

“Thanks.” She flopped gingerly back onto the pillow.

Simon packed up his little bag. “Lots of rest, fluids, and … Frey, actually