This is an introduction to my OC crew, and their ship, the Lady's Revenge. Lots of help from the Serenity crew. Set in my Coded in Brown 'Verse, set about 3 months after the BDM.


The Junebug class heavy-bulk transport ship took on a dorsal attitude, exposing her rounded, armored back to absorb the heat from re-entry. The transport ship, about 100 meters long and 30 high when landed, with a rounded body section and curved upper hull compressed down somewhat when in flight, to provide for greater aerodynamic lift. In fact, it actually maneuvered rather well in atmo; being shaped somewhat like a giant beetle, it had enough aerodynamic lift to maintain speed without using as much engine power.

The awkward-looking but surprisingly agile ship floated down to the berth at the small spaceport on Mycroft; the small Rim moon had fairly thick forests, and only two or three towns of any consequence; the spaceport was adjacent to the larger town, called Holmes. It held most of the businesses and warehousing on the moon, and handled most of the trade.


Jim Raven hovered the ship in, landing at the slip closest to the town. Setting down with barely a whisper, he cut down the power and turned off most of the flight systems, leaving power running; he hoped his meeting wouldn't take long.

"Keep her warm, Tom." he said, to the tall black man in the co-pilot seat.

"Always do, Jim." he said, smile on his face. His well-groomed goatee was graying prematurely, although his curly black hair showed no signs yet. Laugh lines wrinkled his face, but the long, thin scar down his face from a crash a decade ago would probably never fade.


Jim Raven was fairly short and compactly built, just under the height average and just over the weight average for a man his age. His long brown coat whispered around him as he strode down to the main departure ramp; he ought to have stopped wearing it long ago, as it seemed to bring him nothing but trouble, and seemed to be perpetually in need of repair due to that trouble, but it was a measure of security for him. It was a touchstone of times past. There were silver wings pinned to the lapel, another symbol of time gone.

Born on Aesyr, he had gone to flight school as the War for Independence heated up; he had joined the Independents, and was immediately assigned to the Angels because of his flight training and natural skill. He had never been shot down, only handing over his ship after the armistice that ended the war; he sometimes wished that he hadn't obeyed his orders, instead going down in a blaze of glory like so many of his fellow Angels in the skies over Serenity Valley. He had escaped a longer term with the prisoner camps following the war, because of the amicable way in which he surrendered. He was released soon after, and found himself adrift in a sea of apathy towards the cause which he had fought for.

After drifting about the system, at his wit's end, he finally found work with an Independent-owned shipping line as a co-pilot. Not long after taking that posting, he had met with one of the other pilots on the shipping line; a tall, acerbic black man with a trimmed goatee named Tom Marvela. The two had flown Angels together, and once reunited, were soon fast friends. They requested assignment together, as they worked together well and had a great deal of respect for each other.

Working their way across the system, they had flown their way out of a few scrapes together, and even managed to outfly Reaver ships a time or two; they picked up a reputation as being an unbeatable team, and began to garner attention even on formerly unfriendly boats.

In 2514, once Raven had put together enough money (having lived like an ascetic hermit for 3 years), he and Marvela went in as partners on buying an old surplus Junebug class transport that was in serious need of repair. Not wanting to work for another anymore, they planned to work for themselves.

They hired Al Remshaw, a jittery and nervous former combat engineer in the Independents, only after seeing the man settle down and fix an important part of the Lady's Revenge practically without any effort. Remshaw (despite his normal jitter and anxiety) proved to be a steady hand in a crisis, when his hands got on something mechanical, and in following days, proved to be a skilled locksmith and entry specialist for security systems (he was somewhat vague as to the acquisition of these skills.)

Jonah Stephens, a tall, narrow, blonde blade of a man, had been born on Harvest. He had come highly recommended to Raven from some former war buddies, but they had been hesitant about explaining just why he was being recommended. They gave him a trial, and he proceeded to outshoot everyone on the boat with virtually every weapon aboard, even the others' personal weapons. He also expressed familiarity with short blades, and could take on all three of the others at the same time in hand-to-hand. Terse and introspective, speaking only when necessary, the man wasn't antisocial; when sitting in the Black with nothing to do, he was happy enough to play cards or shoes, go out drinking (although he drank very sparingly), and even on their meager vacations to go out fishing or riding horses. His coldly companionable presence became a reliable comfort on the boat.

His cold exterior had seemed to begin to thaw when he'd been injured on a job, and Raven had been forced to find a doctor, being that his injuries were well beyond what any of them could handle. The firefight had happened before they landed on Beaumonde, and by some stroke of fortune, a woman named Margaret Mendez was looking for passage off-planet. She had trained as a trauma surgeon on the industrial planet, and was leaving home to escape something; she claimed it wasn't the law, but wasn't forthcoming about it.

After only a few hours, she had repaired the damage the bullets had caused, which had vexed the crew for 3 days and nearly killed the tall man; Jonah was well on his way to mending, and Raven had hired the woman on the spot.

Jonah often found himself on her exam table; their way of life wasn't particularly safe. Noone was surprised, therefore, when they began to notice something brewing between the muscled mercenary and the petite doctor. The two were intensely private, and never seemed to publicly display affection, but it was clear they were an item.

The Findleys were the last addition to the crew; Raven had been approached at the docks on Pelorum by the only-sixteen year old Cora Findley and her fourteen year old brother, Jason.

"Please, sir. Do you have anything for us to do? We've been looking for work, and can't find any on account of our ages."

"Sorry, ain't lookin' to take on crew. Whyntcha talk to your parents? You and your brother are way too young to be on your own, alone."

"They're dead. I can't go to the orphanage; they'd separate us. I have to stay with Jason. Please...I'll do anything you want." she said desperately, the coquettish image she tried to portray ruined somewhat by the over-slender appearance and the look of shame in her brother's eyes.

"Sorry, darlin', ain't in the habit of takin' advantage of girls too young to drink or drive." Raven could see Jason sigh in relief at his sister not having to whore herself.

The brushoff finally convinced the two to leave; after they stepped a few feet away, Raven found himself saying "Wait. Might be we can find something you are capable of doin'." The relief in both of them as they turned was tempered a bit by nervousness again; had he changed his mind about her?

"Ain't talkin' about ya bein' a doxy, neither. But your brother looks old enough to do man's work, and I'm sure we can find somethin' you're good at, little miss."

The two had eaten ravenously at dinner, and Marvela shot Raven a look. He knew that look.

"So what are you two good at?"

"Well, sir, I'm a fair hand with a gun." the 16 year old Cora said, to Marvela's surprise and Jo Stephens' scorn. "And Jason is good at just about anything."

Jason grinned, finally full after weeks of going on little but scraps. "Yes sir, give me somethin' to do and I can do it."

Raven nodded; the boy had proved that well enough earlier, helping load their cargo without a complaint. He had also cooked the meal; not particularly well, but better than the rest of them were capable of.

Jo checked out Cora after dinner on weapons, and found out that she was surprisingly well-versed in them; she handled them correctly and safely, and he found that she could even strip one and clean it quickly and efficiently. Jason proved a quick study, and could do the same as his sister with little practice.

Raven had been on the bridge that night, when he was interrupted by a small voice. "Captain, can I come in?"

"Sure, little one. What brings you up here?"

"Couldn't really sleep." she said, sitting on the co-pilot seat and curling her legs up indian-style. "Never been out in the Black before, and it's a sight to see."

"It is at that." he said. They sat in companionable silence, and noticed when he looked over again that she was running her hand gently over the controls. She wasn't moving them or turning anything on; the co-pilot station was turned off right then anyways. He had a touch of inspiration; quickly turning on the co-pilot station and setting it to trainer mode, he turned to her. "I've put a few flight profiles on the console; see if you can do anything with 'em."

Raven proceeded to drop his jaw on the ground and nearly lose his eyeballs out of their sockets when she performed flawlessly on the test profiles; he put 3 more extremely difficult ones in, and she aced them as well. He knew natural talent when he saw it, and Cora became their wheel-man when on jobs, taking care of emergency takeoffs, and supplementing the bridge watch when in the Black.

Jason's talent had taken longer to notice, as he wasn't off ship much; when they took him along on a heist though, he proved surprisingly capable at a forced entry, even more capable at distracting and bluffing past guards, and quite skilled at haggling merchants and shipping agents into better prices for shipping their goods. The boy was a natural con-man and a skilled faceman; often getting sent out for such work, and for pricing meets.


Jo Stephens met Raven at the embarkation ramp, and with a brief nod to Jason, who stood by the ramp control, the pair walked off the boat. The ramp closed most of the way behind them, staying open only enough for oxy exchange.

Raven looked up at the tall merc, and snorted. Jo looked at him and frowned; Raven made a motion to his right cheek like he was brushing something off. Jo suddenly got the hint and began scrubbing at the lipstick on his cheek as hard as he could, setting off Raven into a belly laugh.

"Honestly, Jo. I don't particularly care if you and the good doctor are gettin' it on. Hell, you wanna share a bunk, just let me know."

Stephens shot him a glacial look, and Raven just rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the crowds. This part of the docks was usually well-traveled; lots of people and equipment moving back and forth. The Black Oak Tavern was just ahead, and they entered.

The tavern was the usual smoky, dark affair; the perfect meeting place for unsavory types like themselves. They got a table near the back, and ordered their drinks; the busty barmaid brought the drinks, then left to another table. The pair sat in companionable silence, Jo watching intently for any sign of trouble, and Raven people-watching. A tap on his foot alerted him to someone approaching.

The medium-height, slightly tubby man wore a long coat, ostensibly to hide his bulk. He seemed to move well, though; without a hint of waddle or limp. "Captain Raven?"

"You must be Connors. Have a seat; barmaid should be back soon."

"Thanks."

After the drink was ordered and brought, business began. Stephens continued his watchful silence, occasionally glancing at the face of the tubby little man opposite Raven. In rough whispers, the man explained the job to Raven.

"There's a cargo at our warehouses on Bryson's Rock. I can't explain much about it, being that I don't know myself, but it's definitely a restricted cargo. Any problems with that?"

"None. We handle the impossible all the time."

"Okay. This particular cargo has some intense attention, I gotta warn you; not Alliance, but we think somebody else. They're very interested in our cargoes, and we aren't of a mind to give it over to 'em. We're willing to pay you more than the normal going rate of the transport for that reason."

"Shouldn't be a problem, long as your own people don't develop loose lips and leak that we're the ones taking it about. Where does it need to go?"

"Santo. There's a processor there that can deliver the cargo where it'll actually be used."

"Okay. We'll be at Bryson's in about a day, once we leave here; barring difficulties, should get to Santo 3 days after that."

"Acceptable. The cargo isn't exactly perishable, just...sensitive. Be careful with it, Captain."

"Will do."

"Here's half. Other half on delivery."

"Thanks. Appreciate it."

"Once the job is done, let me know; we might be able to do business in the future."

Raven nodded once, and the man got up, sidling his way outside. On his way out, he passed a tall brown-haired man wearing a long brown coat and a little slip of a girl, wearing mismatched, seemingly borrowed clothes. The girl cocked her head, watching the man as he left, as though she was hearing something floating on the air. The taller man snapped her attention back, and she answered; from the man's face, the answer wasn't altogether satisfactory, but he seemed to be resigned that it would be the answer he got.

The pair walked back to the tables in the rear, and took one near to the blonde merc and black-haired pilot. Raven looked over after a few minutes, and noticed that the brown-haired girl was looking right at him, seeming to stare right through his head. The brown-coated man with her looked up, noticed her staring, and looked over; he looked confused for a moment, then when she spoke a name, he seemed to perk up. He got up, and the brown-haired girl followed.

"Jim Raven?" he said. Raven jerked in surprise, somewhat startled that anyone would address him such here. He saw Jo's hand reach for his gun, and shook his head quickly; he didn't need a fight to break out here. The man looked familiar, anyways.

A name suddenly popped into his head. "Mal? Mal Reynolds?"

"How the hell you doin', Jim?"

"Doin' fine, just fine. This's my security specialist, Jo Stephens." Stephens nodded once; he rarely did more than that.

"Howdy, Jo. This's my pilot and occasional bodyguard, River."

"Howdo, miss." Raven stood, and politely shook her hand. She seemed like she didn't quite fit in here; she looked too delicate and fragile for such a rough and tumble world such as Mycroft.

"Blackbird's wings never clipped. Flew like an Angel." she murmured, drawing a glance from Mal.

Raven nodded absently, wondering for a moment just how she knew he had flown Angels during the war. River looked over at the blonde merc, and whispered "Cold as ice, thawing from the warmth of a doctor's hands."

Mal shot her a glare. "River." She seemed to shift, slightly, on her feet, then turned to Raven. "Very nice to meet you, Captain. And you, Mr. Stephens." she said politely.


Mal and Raven were chatting about their histories in the war; both were mutual friends of Monty's, and had similar stories. Raven noticed that Mal's face paled slightly when the subject of the Miranda 'wave came up, and he had deftly changed the subject. Strange; the 'Wave had been the talk of pretty much every spacer and bar patron in 5 systems since its broadcast.

The girl sat nearby, watching the other patrons, her lips moving in concert with conversations she couldn't actually be hearing, Jo noticed. She certainly wasn't normal. He was shocked when she suddenly collapsed to the ground and shuddered; did she have epilepsy? He got up, and Mal was right beside him, kneeling over her. She whispered a word: "Reavers!"

Mal moved into action, stepping out into the bar after turning to Jo; "Can you pick her up? We've gotta go." He turned to the bar patrons then; "Everybody! There's Reavers incoming, get to a safe place immediately!"

Raven was pulled along for the ride as Mal reached into a pocket and pulled a comm unit out; "Wash, we've got Reavers incoming!"

"Wu de tien ah!" he heard the comm crackle. Mal turned to Raven; "Jim, where's your ship?"

"Right next to the bar, at the first slip." Mal nodded, then said into the comm, "Wash, take off and get the hell outta here. We're hitching a ride."

"Ai ya! You sure?"

"Gorram sure! Get the hell outta here, and tell Simon to calm the hell down when you do."

"Roger." the voice over the comm seemed calmer; Raven got the feeling that Mal's pilot was like Remshaw; overly excitable, but get him in his element and he calms down.

"Come on, Jim. Let's go to your ship!" Mal shouted over the hubbub of the evacuating diners. The alarms were going off now; usually they went off too late for people to get to safety, so fast did the Reavers fly.

They raced to Lady's Revenge, and Jim called for Jason to open the ramp. They had just got on when Raven hit the button to close it himself, and hit a button on the comm. "Cora, get us flyin! Get us on a course for Bryson's Rock once you get us outta atmo. Fly sharp, got Reavers in the air!"

"On it!" the girl's voice called back, and Mal developed a grin on his face. Another young woman as a pilot; Raven was his kinda guy.

Mal took River from Jo Stephens, and looked at her; she looked out of it, and her eyes were unfocused. "Jim, do you have a spare bunk we can put her in? She needs some time to recover."

"Sure. Jo, can you show them to the infirmary? Let Maggie know we got somebody needs help."

Mal nearly shouted. "No! I just need a bunk for her."

Raven looked oddly at him; surely he wanted the girl to get help? "Alright. Jo, find her a spare bunk." Stephens nodded, looking at Mal and River strangely himself.


Once River was on the bunk, the men went up to the galley; Jo vanished off towards the infirmary, Raven noted with a grin.

"Drink?"

"I think I need one after that." Mal grinned, half-heartedly.

The two men had drinks in front of them before Raven dared a question. "She's not quite right, is she?"

"How do you mean?" Mal asked carefully.

"She knew that I flew Angels, when nobody said so; I think she even told you my name before you talked to me. She also knew that Jo's been gettin' it on with our medic."

Mal sat silently, seemingly taking a measure of the man in front of him. "Alright. You got someplace private to talk?" he said, flashing a glance at the young man in front of the galley stove, cooking something that smelled like it had once been related to food.

"My bunk." Raven said, frowning.


Simon was nearly in a state of panic, Kaylee noticed; she had tried everything she could to get him to snap out of it, but was running out of ideas.

"How could he take her on board some stranger's boat?" he yelled, at nobody in particular, although Zoe seemed to be most centered in his vision.

"Doc, he had to get somewhere safe. The Cap'n wouldn't let anything happen to her. You know that."

"But-"

"Doc, I ain't got any more answers than you do. We gotta wait for the Cap'n to say first."

Wash called down from the bridge. "Capn's on the wave!"

Simon rushed up, Zoe in tow.

Mal looked up at them out of the screen. "It's alright, she saw 'em comin'. We got away safely, on a boat of an old war buddy of Monty's, Jim Raven." Zoe nodded silently; she had heard the old sasquatch talk about the pilot more than once.

"River, is she alright?"

"She's fine, Simon. She's in a private bunk, getting centered again. I'll wave when we know more; figure as to rendezvous in orbit around Bryson's Rock, in about a day."

"Understood, Sir." Zoe said, before Simon could blurt something else out. She cleared the 'Wave transmission.

"We'll have to wait until we get to Bryson's. Kaylee, get the Doc outta here." she ordered.