“Down the hatch!” Simon exclaimed, grabbing Inara by the arm. He pushed her toward the nearest crew quarters, which happened to be Mal’s. Without argument, Inara slammed the hatch open with her foot and descended the ladder. It was actually more of a fall than a descent, and Simon followed with a similar, reckless haste.

Inara slammed two buttons on the wall at once with her palm, one to close the hatch above and the other to seal it. Adrenaline rushing through her veins, it took her a moment to find her voice. “What...” she panted. “What do we do now?”

Simon began tearing through drawers, bed sheets, and pretty much anything else he could find in the room through which he could tear. “Weapons,” he explained. “If those... people up there are determined enough to get to us, that lock isn’t going to hold them out for long.”

Quickly gathering herself, Inara began assisting in the search. “Why couldn’t we have picked Jayne’s room to mole up in?” she joked.

“Because Jayne’s room was on the opposite side of the hall, and to get to it, we would have had to cross their line of fire,” Simon informed her.

Inara caught his gaze for a moment. “That was rhetorical,” she told him.

Simon held her gaze. “Right.” He continued his search. “Sorry, I’m just a little... Yes!” He pulled open a trunk to reveal an assortment of pistols, repeaters, and shotguns. “He’s no Jayne, but if the captain didn’t have a decently-sizable collection of weapons somewhere in the vicinity of his sleeping quarters, I would fear for his current mental faculties.”

Inara’s brief smile was interrupted by the sound of banging on the hatch above. After three hard pounds, there was silence again.

“Gave up so quickly?” Inara wondered aloud in her wishful thinking.

“If I were you,” called a male voice from above, “I wouldn’t feel so safe in there with her.”

Simon frowned at Inara, then glanced toward the ceiling. “*Now* what game are you playing?” he called back loudly.

“The Companion, you moron!” Clarice, or whatever her name was, respond