Disclaimer: This is a derivative work of fiction solely intended for private use and entertainment. The author does not profit or benefit materially in any way from its publishing and distribution and, as such, believes the work constitutes fair use under the Fair Use doctrine of U.S. copyright law. All copyrights in the original work are retained by the original authors/owners.

A/N: This story is the first of several meant to be a re-imagining of the movie, Serenity. Over the course of this series, most of the same issues resolved in the movie will be dealt with, but through alternate sets of circumstances. This story begins just days after the end of the final TV episode, "Objects in Space." From there, everything canonical about the Firefly/Serenity Verse does not exist in the context of this and future stories in this series, though I will make references to and use tidbits from things post-series. There are a couple of new characters to get to know, and some familiar faces will be fleshed out in new ways. Originally completed/posted over a year between September 2010 and 2011, I am now in the process of editing it and making changes to scenes and details to improve continuity within the plot, but feel free to enjoy it as it is. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review or subscribe to an alert. If you like it, be on the lookout for the next installment to begin soon!

Jordan Selkirk, Lieutenant Commander of the I.A.V. Brigham Conover, waited by one of the airlocks in the secondary docking bay. Beneath her feet, the deck shuddered faintly as the vessel on the other side made contact. She straightened her uniform while she waited for the new arrivals to finish their docking procedures. Normally the task of escorting civilians aboard would fall to some junior officer, not one of the command staff. However, these were not ordinary civilians. Their visit had something to do with the derelict ship the Conover had recovered several days ago, she knew that much. She never learned exactly who they were, though, and the captain did not offer to explain, but he made it clear that every courtesy was to be extended to them. All of their requests were to be handled promptly and precisely. Therefore, she supposed it only made sense that she should be the one to greet them given that she had been entrusted with overseeing the investigation regarding the vessel, although that assignment was another oddity in itself. She had been just as surprised as Dr. Yoshimoto, the head of the on-board forensic team, when the captain delegated the responsibility to her. This elicited some justifiable complaints from the scientist, but the captain simply said that the investigation was classified and the military wanted oversight to ensure it remained that way, which was enough for Jordan. She was as curious as Yoshimoto as to why the derelict was so important, but while curiosity was part of his job description, she was career military. She knew better than to ask questions. In the end, she preferred to think of the assignments as a privilege and a reflection of the confidence the captain had in her.

The airlock portal finally gave a hiss and drew her out of her ruminations. The door opened and two tall men in simple black suits and ties stepped over the threshold.

"Welcome aboard the Conover, gentlemen. I'm Lieutenant Commander Selkirk," Jordan introduced herself with a smile and extended a hand. Her smile rapidly faded, though, as her hand hung out there, ignored. Neither of the two men made any reciprocating gesture. They just glanced around with cool detachment, not speaking or even looking at her. They were both at least a head taller than her, and Jordan frowned when she noticed each wore a pair of blue gloves over their hands. She could only guess at why, and figured perhaps that was the reason her handshake had been rebuffed. Her frown grew deeper as she sensed that there was a definite creeping oddness about them that went beyond the gloves and lack of cordiality. The man on her right had a face that was all bony angles, with large ears and a jutting chin. His dark, dense eyebrows looked almost comically out of place when paired with his thinning hair. His deep-set eyes regarded her in a way she had only seen in vids of big cats on the prowl, matched by the near-smirk on his lips. There was not a hint of humor anywhere in his expression. He reminded her of a mortician who enjoyed his job entirely too much. The other man had a bulbous nose over a small mouth with thin lips that curled down at the edges. His high cheekbones drew his cheeks into deep depressions. A small flip of red hair curled out over his rear-sloping brow. While his partner had a sort of feline intensity about his gaze, the red-head simply stared at her with a dull coldness that betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

The men's gazes suddenly met on her simultaneously, and an unexpected chill ran up her spine all the way to the top of her scalp. Everything about them that was disconcerting felt much worse when she found herself the object of their combined attention. Jordan swallowed, trying to ignore uncharacteristic unease their stares instilled in her.

"Thank you for meeting us, Lieutenant Commander," the mortician-like one spoke first, smiling. The change of expression did not alter his predator-like gaze, and his words, although pleasant, contained nothing at all that resembled gratitude. In fact, he sounded almost contemptuous.

"You're welcome," she replied as a formality, growing more certain with each second that she did not like these men. "The captain assigned me to oversee the investigation into the derelict we recovered, so I imagine…"

"What have you found out about it?" the red-haired one interrupted her. Folding his blue hands in front of him, he shifted his stance subtly so that he was almost shoulder to shoulder with his partner. The other assumed the same posture, and both sets of eyes bored into her. What would have seemed like intense curiosity in anyone else became something far more menacing with them. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled to life and she had to resist taking an instinctive step back.

"Very little, actually," she answered after a split second where her voice seemed to vanish. "As requested, I made sure our forensic staff followed the instructions we received for processing the ship. I downloaded and encrypted the logs before anything else was processed. Everything was kept under lockdown, and only I was authorized to allow anyone access. No one did any work unless I was present. Dr. Yoshimoto, our chief forensic scientist, has prepared a full report for you if you would like to meet with him." The threatening tension of the two men nearly looming over her eased somewhat.

"Yes, lieutenant commander. We would," the balding one said, smiling again.

"Then if you'll follow me, please, I'll take you down to the lab," Jordan answered, clipping her tone slightly. She spun a little more abruptly than she meant to and started leading them down the corridors of the ship. Their footsteps fell in behind her, almost in perfect unison with each other so that it was hard to tell if only one or both of them were following. She glanced back and got another shiver of apprehension. She could not shake the creepy sensation of those eyes boring into the back of her head. She made sure to keep her pace brisk, quickly coming to the conclusion that the less she knew about these men and the sooner she got them off the ship, the better she would feel.

She wound through the corridors of the vast cruiser, all the while feeling like she was being stalked rather than serving as an escort. And if that wasn't bad enough, riding in a lift with them was almost unbearable. Military folk could be a superstitious bunch, but that was generally relegated to the rank and file. Officers like her were not supposed to succumb to that kind of nonsense. Unfortunately, though, she could not shake the notion that there was something ominous about these two men. The feeling was so overwhelming, in fact, that she practically bolted out of the elevator the instant the doors opened. She was embarrassed and angry that she had allowed them to rattle her, but at the same time it was more than a relief to not be confined with them anymore. Her steps increasing just a tick, she finally brought them to the anteroom outside of the forensics lab. Beyond the small windows in the hermetic doors, technicians robed in white scrubs, facemasks, and caps moved about. She paused at the intercom on the wall and pressed the call button.

"Yes?" someone answered after a few seconds wait.

"It's Lieutenant Commander Selkirk. Please inform Dr. Yoshimoto that the visitors are here."

"Yes ma'am," the voice acknowledged.

"Dr. Yoshimoto will be out shortly," Jordan turned to the two men. Neither was paying attention to her anymore, their gazes now intent on the functions going on beyond the doors.

"Your cooperation has been appreciated," the bony one answered offhand without even looking at her. It was a clear dismissal. Although they obviously did not require her presence and she was just as anxious to be gone from theirs, the captain had put her specifically in charge of their visit, so she could not just leave them. She resigned herself to waiting with them and let her irritation flow a bit to cover her nerves.

Assholes, she thought. She found it was more comforting to assume that they were just jerks rather than to wonder what exactly it was about them that so rattled her. After a few more minutes of standing around in awkward silence, the lab doors opened with the characteristic hiss and rush of air. Dr. Yoshimoto stepped through, tugging his surgical mask down over his chin. His head dark head was bent over the digital folio he carried.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he spoke without looking up at first. "I'm Doctor…" his words caught when he was met by two pairs of eerie, penetrating eyes.

"Dr. Yoshimoto," the tall man with red hair finished for him with almost a smile, though is lips just could not seem to form into one.

"Doctor, these men are here for your report on the derelict," Jordan stepped in, bypassing introductions since, as she just now realized, they had never even offered their names.

"Uh… um, yes," Dr. Yoshimoto uncharacteristically fumbled his words, closing the folio. Jordan noted he seemed just as uneasy with the men as she was. "Would you like to inspect the vessel yourselves?" he asked, glancing at their blue gloves. "Commander Selkirk can let us in."

"We're here for your report, Doctor," the red-haired man went on without taking note of the offer.

"Oh. Of course. Here it is." Dr. Yoshimoto extended the folio towards the men along with an optical data disk. The balding one took the folio and immediately began to scan through it. Meanwhile, his partner slipped the disk into a pocket within his suit jacket and settled an expectant gaze on the doctor. Jordan could almost see Yoshimoto writhing beneath the stare. He cleared his throat nervously. "The raw data and test results should all be on there, as well as the ship's logs," the doctor indicated to the disk. "No one on my team opened them, of course, just as we were told." The red-head continued staring and waiting in silence. Dr. Yoshimoto swallowed and went on. "We conducted the investigation as instructed. We pumped the atmosphere out of the ship and ran it through the spectrometers and bio-sensors. It contained the typical microbes and traces of human detritus. Nothing unusual. Then we swabbed down all of the interior surfaces and analyzed those as well. We found nothing unusual from those locations either. We isolated samples of DNA from the skin and hair traces and ran it through the central database. There was a match. A Mr. Jubal Early. He was the registered owner of the ship, though where he is now I can't say. There was no evidence of violence or foul play, although…"

"There was another person present," the red-head interrupted. It was a statement, not a question.

"Ah, yes, there… there was a second DNA sample recovered," the doctor confirmed, clearly just as surprised as Jordan that the man had deduced that fact without looking at the report. "There were only very minute traces of it," he continued explaining. "We're lucky we even found it. It was not from Mr. Early. I ran it through the central database as well but no matches came up." The red-head reached into his pocket and removed a small sealed tube containing what looked like blood.

"Run your sample against this," he handed the tube to the doctor. Yoshimoto examined it for a second.

"We'll wait, Doctor," the balding one said, looking up from the folio. The two men fixed their eerie stares on him again.

"Oh, um… certainly. Wait here. It will only take a few minutes." The doctor turned and swiped his ident card into the door's security panel, then punched in the security code to open the doors. Tugging his mask back over his face, he stepped into the lab. Jordan watched through the window with while he headed over to a prep station, though her mind was still stuck on wondering how in the Verse had the men guessed that there was more than one DNA sample. Just who were these two? They definitely had that air of authority, even superiority, that many high-ranking civilian officials displayed, but it was not the usual bluff of bureaucratic arrogance. Theirs was a certain cold confidence instead. They clearly were good at what they did and had no need to put on airs about it. Now, what exactly it was, she could only speculate, but all the possibilities that came to mind were somewhat disturbing. She decided it was better not to delve too deeply into that consideration. However, their strange behavior coupled with the unusual security of the investigation left her certain that there was something very sensitive and very important about this ship and its missing occupants beyond the usual "classified" rationale given.

After about ten minutes, Dr. Yoshimoto exited the lab again. His eyebrows were arched in disbelief as he read over the apparent results of the test.

"It's a match," he confirmed to the waiting men and Jordan.

"You're sure?" asked the balding one.

"The sample recovered from the ship wasn't a complete strand, but there was enough of it for the test to still be within the ninety-five percent confidence interval. They're from the same person." The men shared a look, and Jordan got the sense of some wordless communication passing between them.

"Thank you," the red-head said, his thin lips pressing into that almost-smile again. He extended his hand out, and Dr. Yoshimoto hesitated a second before grasping it.

"You're welcome.

"The vial, Doctor," the man corrected in frigid tones. Dr. Yoshimoto practically jumped and dropped the man's hand like he had been shocked.

"Oh, right." He hastily dug the tube out of his lab coat and placed it into the blue-gloved palm. The man returned it to his suit jacket.

"Your assistance has been appreciated," the balding one said, including Jordan in his empty expression of thanks. "Please make sure all of your files and the evidence you collected are destroyed," he instructed, handing the folio back to Dr. Yoshimoto. Jordan blinked a few times, bewildered by the request.

"You're not taking it?" she asked.

"We have all the information we need," the red-head explained. "Destroy it all, lieutenant commander," his tone carried an ominous implication beneath the order. A tad frightened, the doctor took the folio and nodded his assent almost automatically while Jordan wrestled with her confusion. Both men turned in unison and started to leave the anteroom.

"What about the ship?" she blurted to their backs, chasing after them.

"Dispose of it with the rest," one of the men answered, though since neither turned around, she was not sure which one spoke. "We can find our own way back." Jordan trotted to a halt and stared as they strode down the corridor, disappearing around the nearest corner.

"They want us to get rid of everything?" Dr. Yoshimoto murmured, joining her in her incredulity. "They barely even read the report. This doesn't make any sense. Who the hell are those two?" he turned a questing glance at Jordan. She couldn't have agreed more with his assessment, but at this point she was sick of the men's attitudes and was just eager to see them leaving. She shook her head, throwing aside the confusion and resuming her professional demeanor.

"Whoever they are, better get to work doing as they wished. See to it everything gets destroyed. Files, samples, everything," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," the doctor affirmed, although reluctantly. "All that work for nothing. What a waste," she heard him grumble as he disappeared back inside the lab. The cavalier treatment of her and the forensic team's hard work irritated Jordan as well, but she mostly just hoped that the men were satisfied with the investigation, which by all indications they were. She was glad for that since she had no doubt that the last thing she wanted was a poor report on her record from those two. But either way it was all obviously done with now.

"Captain," she called into her com, making her way back to the bridge.

"Go ahead, lieutenant commander."

"Our guests are leaving us now."

"For what reason?" She caught the edge suspicion in the captain's voice and simmered at the men for making her seem incompetent with their abrupt departure.

"They claimed they had everything they needed. They examined Dr. Yoshimoto's report briefly, had him run one more test, and then ordered everything pertaining to the investigation destroyed." There was a few seconds' silence in which Jordan could visualize the captain's heavily-lined brow crinkling into a frown.

"Typical," he grunted when he finally responded. "I don't have time to waste on this fen bian. If they say they got what they wanted, that's their prerogative. Return to the bridge, lieutenant commander. We've just received new orders from High Command."

"New orders, sir?" Jordan questioned, surprised. They hadn't been expecting any changes in their current directive.

"Special assignment," the captain explained. "We're to set course for Harvest immediately. There will be a command staff briefing at 1630."

"Aye sir," she replied. With this new concern pushing the strangeness of the last half hour out of her mind, she beat a hasty march back to the bridge.

Fastened side by side into their seats, the men's ship lurched as it detached from the docking bay of the Conover.

"So he found her," the balding one mentioned, his eyes on the viewport.

"Yes. And she was on board his ship," the red-head agreed. His gloved hands worked the helm as he maneuvered them away from the massive cruiser.

"But somehow she managed to escape. And the bounty hunter is missing."

"We can safely assume he is dead."

"Yes. A fortunate convenience."

"He must have had the name of the ship." The red-head reached into his jacket pocket and handed his partner the optical disk. The balding one connected it to a drive on his console and initiated some commands on his screen.

"Decrypting the log now," he confirmed. They sat in silence for a few moments while the computer worked. When it was done, the balding one began combing through the files. "There is a transponder code. Initiating a search for associated vessel." It did not take long for the results to come back. "Positive match to Firefly-class transport Serenity,registered to Malcolm Reynolds. The last trajectory from the navigation log indicates the inner Red Sun system as the most likely destination."

"Excellent. We have our course." Both men's faces crept into near smiles. The red-head engaged the main drive and their vessel leapt off into the black.

fen bian- feces, excrement, crap