The next morning Simon woke about two minutes before Mal did, and he spent an embarrassingly large amount of those two minutes just watching his captain sleep. He didn’t think he’d ever seen the man sleep before; he had seen him drugged and/or knocked unconscious, but not peacefully asleep like this, and for some reason he found it fascinating. Around him the Hensleys and their neighbors were already up and preparing the meager feast they called breakfast, and soon Mal woke and glanced up at him with a quizzical frown.

“It’s morning,” Simon needlessly told him.

He got to his feet and began folding up his bedroll, and the captain soon joined him. John Hensley came bustling through the door leading to the little observation room, and threw them a smile. “You’re in luck, my friends,” he greeted them, “the storm’s quieting down. It’ll be safe to venture outside in an hour or so, I’d say.”

“Good,” Mal nodded, and then turned to Simon, adding in a whisper, “We’ll head back to the ship for the shuttle before continuing our search. Might as well, our presence here’s definitely not a secret anymore.”

“Yes,” Simon replied absentmindedly. His eyes were focused on the pale children already seated around the table, waiting patiently for their ration of the ‘food’. He turned back towards Mal. “Do you mind if I stay? While you go back for the shuttle? These people have shown us great hospitality. Perhaps there’s something I can do for them in return.”

Mal nodded slowly. “Mayhaps there is.” He threw a short glance towards the children. “Alright, I’ll pick you up afterwards. And have a look at my army buddy over there while you’re at it, will you?” He gestured with his head towards the blind, one-legged man still on the cot in the corner.

“Sure.”

“And,” he lowered his voice even further, “also the weed.”

“The weed?”

“Or whatever it is they’re smokin’. ‘Cause I don’t think it’s tobacco.”

Simon quietly agreed. He’d noticed the hazy eyes of the smokers the night before. “I’ll have a look,” he promised.