Freya watched the shuttle circle around and land in the camp’s main compound, and half a minute later Zoe appear in the doorway, her Mare’s Leg at the ready. It wasn’t necessary. Any of the slavers still alive had decided no money was worth facing whoever the hell it was who was killing them, and had taken to their heels, grabbing any horses they could and high-tailing it for town.

A young man, his steps hesitant and uncoordinated, stepped out from the darkness of the entrance, his rifle in his hands, but the barrel pointing towards the ground. He said something, too far away for her to hear the words, except in her mind, her eyes closing to be able to concentrate through Zoe.

“Ma’am?”

“Zoe. Not ma’am. Are there more of you?”

He half-turned towards the building he’d come from. “Uh ... yes. Twenty. Maybe thirty.” He nodded towards one of the bodies laying at the base of the wall where it had fallen, small and crumpled, looking more like a bag of old clothes than a recently living, breathing individual. “She ... that girl ... she ...” He swallowed hard and tried again. “Are you with ... them?”

“Are you serious?”

Freya could imagine Zoe’s expression, and had to smile herself.

“No. No. Sorry.”

“Shiny.” Zoe softened. “Well, I can’t get you all in the shuttle, and it’s cold out here. You’d best get back under cover while we figure out the best thing to do with you.”

“Ma’am?”

“Zoe.”

“Zoe. Ma’am. I just wanna go home.”

Zoe nodded, understanding the feeling. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Freya opened her eyes and stood up, ready to go and help, when something tickled her mind and she changed her focus.

Frey? Mal sounded a little annoyed. Mind telling me what the diyu’s going on?

It’s over. At least here. The inmates have taken over the asylum.

I take it the slaves are free?

Yes.

You’ve been spending way too long with River. Where is she, by the way?

Jayne’s having a few ... problems.