Mal motioned soberly towards the bridge, and Harper followed him in. His face lightened when he spotted Wash sitting at the bridge, a jaunty line of the dinosaurs he’d brought to the cabin the previous night arranged neatly along the top of the flight control console.

Wash gave a welcoming smile as he waved Harper over. “Know anything about how this stuff works?”

“Probably more than you do,” said Harper, regretting his words when he saw the slightly hurt expression on the pilot’s face. “Sorry. I forgot you weren’t Mal.” He glared back at the beleaguered captain.

Wash looked questioningly at Mal, who rolled his eyes. “Mind keeping an eye on our stowaway?” asked Mal.

Wash nodded, and Harper sank gratefully into the co-pilot’s seat and glared after the captain as he retreated from the bridge. He relaxed visibly as Wash spoke. “Let me guess, tired of being pushed around by the captain?”

“Sounds like that required a real stretch of the imagination, there,” said Harper sarcastically. “Let me guess, small stowaways aren’t the only people he drags around the ship and threatens, I’ll bet it’s the favorite part of the day. When’s your turn?”

Wash grinned. “He doesn’t keep a schedule, it’s more of a hobby he indulges in every so often. Ever heard of the good cop-bad cop routine, Harper?”

“Of course,” said Harper a little indignantly. “I consider myself rather the expert in it.”

“Mal’s letting me be the good cop,” said Wash gently, his tone serious.

Harper thought on that for a moment, finally nodding as it made sense to him. “If I dare ask – what’s the goal of this little manipulation?”

“Nothing sinister,” said Wash. “You – are an unknown element, you know. Mal’s being the bad cop. He gets to make dastardly threats, I get to play with dinosaurs. It works well with our respective talents,” added Wash with a little grin.

Harper sighed, looking away. “For the record, I like you as a good cop. It suits you.”

“Thanks,” said Wash with a smile. “Nice to know there’s something I’m good at.” Harper was silent, withdrawn. Finally Wash spoke again. “Give Mal a chance, all right? He doesn’t like what he’s doing, I’ll guarantee it. Probably mean a lot to him if you –“

“Then why is he doing it?” snapped Harper. “I’m not going to hurt your stupid ship or a bunch of nice people on it, and he’s treating me like a maximum security prisoner. ‘Wander off and you’ll be confined to a tiny little cabin forever, even if it’s not your fault,’” he mimicked bitterly.

“Harper,” said Wash firmly. “Mal has never punished anyone on this ship for something that wasn’t their fault. I’m calling you on that little exaggeration.”

“Fine,” muttered Harper. “You’re starting to lose your good cop status.” There was a tiny grin sparkling behind his eyes as he said it. “That maybe might not have exactly been what he said. But-“

“But it’s what you’re afraid of?” asked Wash. Harper hesitated for a minute, then nodded. “Imagine that’s happened to you a lot.” Harper nodded again. “It has to me too, said Wash gently. “I’ve been a prisoner; I know what it feels like. So has Mal. I’ve seen him kill people, and he’s done things I hate. But give a decent person cause to fear him isn’t one of them.”

“Mal?” asked Harper. “We talking about the same guy who took one look at me, beat me over the head with a gun and chained me up in the cargo hold? Maybe he’s the greatest captain ever, but I’m just the prisoner he’s so desperate to protect you from. That’s great for you guys, but it doesn’t work out so well for the Harper, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Wash would have found it easier to formulate a reply had he not been floating. He flailed his legs and found himself upside down, nose to nose with a plastic palm tree.

~~~~

“What the bloated carcasses of hell!” said Mal, staggering to his feet. He’d been walking down the last several steps to the cargo bay when he floated gracefully into the air. After a few seconds, the artificial gravity kicked back on and dumped him unceremoniously on the metal deck of the cargo bay.

Shiny. I got the stowaway from hell and Serenity’s takin’ the opportunity to inflict poetic justice. “What the hell was I supposed to do with the kid?” he yelled, rubbing the tender lump on the side of his head as he stormed towards the engine room with one hand firmly gripping the railing. “It’s not like I shot him!”

“Exploring new heights in self-loathing, sir?” asked Zoe.

Mal jumped and glared down at her through the metal grating. “I like myself just fine, thank you. I think I’m just shiny. And roguishly handsome.”

"You do cut a dashing figure splayed out on the deck, sir," said Zoe, shaking her head.

~~~~~

Simon sat on the bed beside River, trying to calm her anxiety. She hadn't been hurt when the ship lost gravity, but she was near tears, her body rigid as she tried to explain. "Came aboard uninvited, and we won't know until its too late. Hiding……hiding from view, hoping we won't find……"

"River?" whispered Simon, wrapping his arms around his sister. "Are you talking about Harper? Are you saying he's a danger to us?"

River shook her head and pressed it against his shoulder. "Trojans and Greek horses, we never leave them behind and they'll cripple us. They'll shoot out our legs and we can't run."

~~~~~

Mal strode into the engine room with a yell. “Kaylee?”

“Hi, cap’n,” said Kaylee, her flustered voice coming from behind a mass of machinery.

“Kaylee, why do you got my own gorram ship beating me up now? Someone could ‘a gotten hurt for real thanks to that little stunt.”

Kaylee stood up and glared at him, and Mal blinked. Black grease covered her face, her hair, her clothing. Most of her upper body was either drenched or splattered with the stuff, and smeared blood trickled down her cheek and arm. “Workin’ on it, cap’n,” she said before vanishing again.

“That ain’t an answer,” protested Mal. “What the hell’s wrong with my ship?” There was no answer, and Mal marched around the engine coil between them. Any illusions of captainly authority vanished as his feet slid out from under him and he landed solidly on his rear end in an oil slick.

Kaylee didn’t laugh, which gave a decent clue to her mental state. He slithered closer to where she was crouched, inspecting an electronic panel with a handheld meter. “We blow a gasket or some such?” he asked.

She refused to look at him. “No, I didn’t have a lid on the oil can, an’ when we lost gravity, it did what – oil does when you lose gravity.”

“Ah,” said Mal. “Not any closer to understanding what’s wrong with my ship, then.”

Kaylee shook her head, what he could see of her face tense with worry. He spotted a mostly clean rag and reached up, using it to dab the blood away from the scrape on her arm. She bit her lip and finally sat beside him in the pool of oil, relaxing as she let him tend to the minor wounds.

“None of it makes any sense,” she said. “Reactor’s been cycling all off-kilter since last night, and there’s no sort of pattern to it. Everything I check seems to be working right, and now the AG just wobbles out of the blue. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“They connected?” asked Mal. “The reactor and the AG system?”

Kaylee shook her head. “But I get a feeling like it’s the same problem.”

Mal phrased his next question carefully. “You’ve said that – workin’s – talk to you. What’s she sayin’ about now? She want milk and cookies, or is she indulging in a bout of homicidal mania?”

Kaylee met his eyes for the first time. “She’s sayin’ something’s wrong. Really – bad wrong.”

That sent a chill straight up Mal’s spine, and he reached unthinkingly for the pipe running beside him, resting his hand on it.

~~~~~

“One of those days?” asked Book, leaning forward on the railing beside Mal, gazing down at the cargo bay. Both of them were gripping the rail quite firmly, not wanting to risk a deadly fall if the AG should hiccup again.

Mal glanced over at him. “You might say that.” He shifted position. “What do you make of our newest passenger?”

The shepherd was silent for a minute. “I’d like some time with him before I draw any – hasty – conclusions,” he said.

Mal nodded. “Reckon it might do him some good. Sage counsel and all that.” Soft footsteps padded up behind him, and he turned to face River.

She was looking at him with a softly curious expression, and he wondered what was going on in that brain of hers. He was feeling a mite superstitious at the moment, and he asked on impulse, “You got something to say, little one?”

River smiled. “Floating. We were floating free, like water and clouds, and we came crashing back to earth.”

“That’s – one way of lookin’ at it,” agreed Mal with a frown. “Mind those handrails, don’t want anyone crashing too far back to earth an’ splitting their skulls open, could be messy.”

River nodded and walked away, gripping the rail firmly. When she was out of earshot, Mal glanced at Book again. "Kid came after me pretty hard for the way I got him under watch. Not entirely certain he was wrong."

"You have cause to think he's anything other than what he says?" Mal shook his head. "Not his background I've got any question on. It's his motives that're of concern to me."

The Shepherd studied Mal for a long minute. "Or your own."

Mal raised his eyebrows. "My motives are clear enough. Keep us in the air, minus bullet holes an' other fatal trivialities."

Book nodded. "Might it be the fact you haven't always succeeded is clouding your judgment a little? I'm not saying you're wrong to be cautious, but –"

Mal looked down. "We're in a dangerous line of work. Everyone on this ship knows that. But more'n once my crew have been put in the way of harm because of a wrong choice I made, an' I'm not keen on repeating those mistakes."

"Captain," reproached Book gently, "for every time you've led us into trouble you've led us out again, and kept us alive against odds I would never want to bet on. I wouldn't want to see any guilt you might feel about the past affect the choices you make for that young man."

That turn of phrase made Mal's gut twist. "The choices I make for him," said Mal, his voice tight. "He's a former slave, an' he's still got a man running his life."

Book nodded, his expression sober. "I know you don't take any of this lightly, and that's a good thing." He rested his hand momentarily on Mal's arm. "We trust your judgment, or we wouldn't be on your crew. Don't let a few miscalculations muddle your instincts." The shepherd walked away, leaving Mal alone with his thoughts.

~~~~~

“How much longer we gotta wait?” asked Gat, prowling impatiently into the cramped electronics bay.

Monroe, the harried engineer, looked as though he wanted to slap him with a circuit board. Gat figured that would be about the most violent act the little dweeb had ever engaged in, and yet again questioned Bandeau’s judgment in hiring him. “At least a week until she’s totally adrift.”

“Ahh, but worth the wait,” said Bandeau, walking up behind him. “Day or so later, they’ll be welcoming us aboard as their saviors, nary a gun in sight.”

~~~~~