Malcolm Reynolds sat peacefully in the mess hall drinking a mug of tea. They were en route to Trident, the third border moon they had visited in so many weeks. Wash had plotted a nice, easy course out of the way of Alliance patrols – the way Mal liked it.

Suddenly the ship began to vibrate. Mal let out a yell as he spilled hot tea onto his trousers. Mal enjoyed the longer, quieter routes, but they always had a way of turning nasty on him.

“Kaylee?!” he yelled.

There was no response. Mal let out a frustrated sigh and exited the room.

A look of concern crossed his face as he approached the engine room door. Kaylee had been out of the Captain’s sight for a while. He wondered if there really was a genius mechanic on board.

Mal carefully opened the door and stepped onto the other side.

“Cap’n, no, wait!” came a voice.

Mal’s eyes lingered to the several metres of water now creeping above his combat boots.

“What happened?!” he gasped.

Kaylee stood on a nearby ledge, sulking. She watched as cold water sprayed from a pipeline above.

“I’m sorry Cap’n. I accidentally hit the main water line while trying to-.” she began.

“It don’t matter.” Mal interrupted. “Long as you can get it fixed.”

Mal ran a hand across his face. They were supposed to be setting down on Trident within the hour, Badger had a new batch of cargo waiting for them. Based on previous experience, the little man with roots in the community didn’t like it when they were late.

Mal frowned. “You can fix it?”

Kaylee looked worriedly at Mal. Her eyes glinted with concern. She couldn’t look her Captain in the eyes. Her attention shifted to the figure looming in the corridor behind. It was Zoe.

“What’s going on? “ Zoe asked, as she stepped forward.

Mal turned to face his second mate. “Looks like we’re dead in the water - no pun intended.”

“Oh.” Zoe replied, spotting the flooded engine room floor.

“It’s Friday the thirteenth.” Kaylee noted.

“It’s superstition.” Mal replied. “Don’t mean a thing.”

Kaylee’s eyes widened. “Sure it does.”