Part III - And There Was Pie

"Triceratops are herbivores." River leaned back in the co-pilot's chair, resting her bare feet on top the instrument panel. Her long hair spilled over the back of the chair halfway to the deck, swaying from side to side.

"Ah." Wash picked up the triceratops, with whom he had been menacing the raptor. Wash was beginning to suspect that he was identifying a mite too strongly with the triceratops, whom he called "Joel" inside his head when left completely to his own devices.

"It would have eaten plants," she informed him matter-of-factly. "Not other dinosaurs."

Wash mulled this for a moment. "What if he was a mutant triceratops?"

"Wrong teeth."

"Mutations can't affect teeth?"

"The chances of a genetic mutation affecting the entire–" River began, and then stopped and tipped her head back, smiling upside down as her brother trooped up the short flight of metal stairs leading to the flight deck. "Simon!"

"You're back early," Wash noted with surprise. The boy still looked a bit pale and shaky. He was willing to write it off as hangover, except for the eyes. There was something in his eyes–a look Wash recognised, having seen in too many people's eyes of late. Something like defeat.

"I found everything I needed," Simon said with a shrug. "Did you have a good day, River?"

"Wash let me fly the ship."

Simon turned to Wash, confused.

"Actually, um, I just let her sit in my chair. We never left port."

"An aught-three Firefly can execute a one-eighty turn in point-zero-seven seconds."

"How... interesting."

"She ain't wrong. Don't know how she knows it–since, as I repeat, we didn't budge from this spot all day. But she ain't wrong."

"The grav thrust required is achieved by cutting the hydraulics, and rotating the engines while simultaneously rerouting all power through the starboard acceleration thrusters. Did you bring me anything?"

He handed her a paper-wrapped package. "I brought you mor