The sun was heading towards its low zenith by the time Mal left the ship the next morning, but very few people would have been able to point to it. Heavy grey clouds had replaced the thin blue skies of the last couple of days, and he could smell snow on the breeze. Maybe Kaylee was right and they were going to have a dusting.

He’d not had a good night himself, but then neither had any of the rest of the crew. They were all concerned about Hank, even more so when Simon admitted there should have been sign of the pilot waking up by now. Zoe even asked if he was keeping her husband sedated on purpose, but the young doctor assured her that the only medication he was giving Hank was painkillers and muscle relaxants so he didn’t strain anything when he did stir. Simon went on to say that it wasn’t unheard of for someone to be in a coma of their own accord, it being the brain’s way of dealing with hurt, and allowing the body time to heal, but ... There was always that but .

Supper had been quiet, and the table emptier than usual. Zoe had taken a plate of food down to the common area, Ben not leaving her side, just so she could watch Hank’s still form through the doorway to the infirmary. Simon stayed inside the cool room, munching absently on sandwiches Kaylee had made for him, and making notes in one of his journals.

Kaylee herself wasn’t much better. She pushed her food around her plate, chewing on the inside of her lip instead until she was afraid she could taste the tin of blood. Bethie, her normally ebullient appetite suppressed, kept her eyes on her mother for most of the time, for once not asking for seconds.

It was Ethan Mal felt the most concern for, and not just because the boy was his son. Freya had explained what seemed like a long time ago that Ethan was empathic, able to feel what other people felt, and all this worry wasn’t doing him any good. The little boy’s face was grey, and his mother’s wasn’t much better, so it didn’t take much cajoling to make everyone take an early ni