In this story, I am trying to get as close as possible to the spirit of the programme, aiming for similar length, dialogue, plot structure and characterisation. Also tried to get a nice part for each of the characters. Usual disclaimers apply.

Chapter 1: The Dangers of A Legal Job

"Rats!" said Zoe as she crouched down by the kitchen units. Kaylee looked up from the chopping board.

"What is it?"

"Rats." Zoe pointed to the floor.

"Yes, but what – oh."

In the corner between the cupboards and the wall lay about half a dozen black, slug-shaped pellets, each perhaps a centimetre long.

"Cap'n ain't gonna be pleased with that."

"Sure won't."

"Could get right into the electrics and chew through the cables."

Zoe cursed.

"What's going on?" said Wash, ambling in.

"We've got rats," replied Zoe. "Must've come on board with the cargo."

"Ooooh, fresh protein!" Wash inspected the floor where Zoe was pointing. "Wait a minute, that's not a rat, that's just a little pile of, um…"

"Rat droppings."

"Yeah, rat droppings. Okay." He scratched his head. "Never had that before."

"Never transported such a pile of old junk before," said Zoe.

"Hey, it's antique furniture!" said Kaylee. "I bet it's mighty shiny. Wouldn't mind having a look at it. All those memories…"

"I couldn't care less," replied Zoe. "Guy should've just got someone to sell it off for him, transfer the credits. Crazy idea to haul it from one planet to another."

"But it's sentimental value!" Kaylee began to dish up the dinner. "He was maybe really fond of his old granny, and cherishes the… the… the history of her things and all."

"Did you see the check list?" said Wash. "One of the items is a colostomy bag."

"Well, at least it's a legal job."

"Trade in memories, much obliged, piece together the past, obscure the future."

"Oh, hi, River!"

"Muriodea" said the girl. She picked up a plate in each hand and danced over to the table. "Rattus norvegicus, the most common species of rat. Rats display social intelligence and altruistic behaviours."

"Well, that's nice," said Kaylee.

"They are zoonotic vectors and spread diseases such as leptospirosis and Lassa Fever. And the Bubonic Plague."

"Oh."

"Well," said Zoe, "if nothing else we've found ourselves a stimulating topic for dinner conversation."

River made no reply and completed her table-setting ballet. Shortly afterwards they were joined by the remaining members of their little dysfunctional family.

"You think it came in with the cargo?" said Simon. "Maybe it's just the one then."

"Maybe, maybe not." Mal drove his fork into his protein burger. "But we can't have rats on this boat, not even one. Wash and I'll check the cargo after dinner, see if we can get an idea as to how many there are. Then we can decide how we'll deal with it.

"I would be grateful if you could deal with this sooner rather than later," said Inara. Her voice sounded uncharacteristically strained. They all looked at her. Her immaculate skin looked pale, the glossy lips quivered.

"I can't abide rats," she continued. "They give me the creeps."

"Doesn't you Companion training protect you from such squeamishness?"

"There's such a thing as phobias, Mal."

There was a rustle and then a scurrying movement across the floor by the lounge area. And then a gunshot.

"There," said Jayne, returning his gun to his holster. "Dealt with."

"Jayne," said Mal in his flattest voice, "that's the last time you bring a loaded gun to the dinner table."

"She said to deal with it fast. I dealt with it fast! You should be grateful that I am protecting your lady of the night."

Without a word, Inara left the table and returned to her shuttle, crimson silk billowing behind. Shepherd Book picked up the dead rat by its tail.

"What shall we do with this? It is a source of fresh protein."

"Not you as well," muttered Zoe.

"I ain't eatin' that!" protested Kaylee.

"And you shouldn't." Simon put his hand over hers. "We have no idea what pathogens this rat carries. The safest thing would be to incinerate it."

"I leave the disposal of the body in your capable hands, doctor," said Mal as he rose from the table. "Wash, let's go."

In the cargo bay, the two men began taking the plastic wrappers off the bulky items. Shabby armchairs, bedside tables and battered boxes emerged. Everything smelled musty. Mal inspected a chest of drawers. The top two were completely empty, the third contained a few scraps of paper and a single sock, the fourth –

"Urgh," he said and closed it again. The sight of a fat rat suckling half a dozen young didn't seem exactly endearing to him. He ground his teeth. If there was one nest, there could be others. He raked through a heap of clothes at the bottom of a wardrobe. A sleek, dark body bustled out and disappeared between the crates.

"Mal?" Wash's voice sounded alarmed. "Mal, you'd better come and look at this."

"Yeah, I found a nest as well."

"It's not a nest."

Wash crouched beside a green chintz sofa, the seat cushions lay tossed beside him on the floor. He had ripped aside the fabric underneath. Mal came closer and looked.

"Hundan! That's why he was so keen on getting his old granny's stuff."

A scream rose from Inara's shuttle.