Simon sat back and stared at his notes. He’d only intended this to be an intellectual exercise, something to do in the long gaps between Mal getting shot, particularly now that Hank had been allowed to leave the infirmary and take up residence in the lower crew quarters, but it had become something else, something to set his gifted mind to in a place where he could just as easily have spent his time playing with his children and letting his intelligence stagnate. Not that playing tag and patching grazed knees wasn’t good for the soul, but sometimes he needed to ... extend himself. That extension had now borne fruit.

He had, at least on paper, done what the Alliance had failed to do.

“It’s wrong,” River said softly from the doorway.

He wasn’t surprised. He knew his sister couldn’t help herself, keeping tabs on everyone on board to make sure they weren’t about to go as crazy as she was, and she was sure to have picked up on his preoccupation. He ran his eye over the equations again. “I don’t think so. I checked my figures half a dozen times –”

“I mean what you have produced. It shouldn’t exist.”

He looked up at her. “It doesn’t. It’s just a theory.”

“You know it’s more. You know it would work.” She looked so sad that he got quickly to his feet and crossed the small room to hug her tightly.

“I just took what I knew of the Re-Pax, what Naxom does, the genetic markers we’ve managed to deduce –”

“Reverse engineering and experience. I know.” She shook her head. “It shouldn’t exist.”

“We don’t know if it would work.”

“Do you want to test it?”

He pushed her away enough so he could look into her eyes, those dark pools that now reflected her anxiety. “Of course not.”

“The ability to turn on the psychic gene ... reduce the insanity to almost nothing ... to produce an army on demand ... you would be feted throughout the Empire.”

“There isn’t an Empire.”

“There would be. Nobody would be able to stand against them. Blue Sun would rule.”

He felt the blood leave his