A/N: This chapter contains partial scenes and tiny bits of dialogue from the pilot episode of Firefly, "Serenity, Pt. 1." I am in no way attempting to take credit for those scenes or snippets, and have done my very best to ensure that no one will ever confuse me with Joss Whedon. I don't even own the SGA characters, so I lose all around.

ooOoo

He was standing in dust amidst a lot of commotion. All around him, people bustled, hauling luggage and other freight, and there were spaceships lined up, parked, with guys in front of them hawking rides to passersby. The air was filled with dust, with sound, with the smell of humanity. Actually, there was a lot of that last one.

Apparently, he had already booked passage on this battered-looking ship. He wouldn't have been caught dead on it a few months ago, but he was desperate right now, although he was trying hard not to look it, and this little ship was exactly what he needed.

A man wearing a faded floral-patterned shirt was loading boxes onto a dolly, including his special box, the box containing everything he'd risked his entire future to protect.

"Please be careful with that," he told the man.

He heard his name spoken by the young female mechanic who'd sold him his passage. "Mal, this is Simon." To him, she said, "This is our captain."

The taller man with the shaggy hair and rough-hewn manner stared him down. Simon stared back impassively. He knew he couldn't afford to antagonize the man, but his deep fear of discovery was making him suspicious of everyone who might betray him to the Alliance.

"Captain Reynolds," he said stiffly.

"Welcome aboard," answered Reynolds perfunctorily before turning back to the mechanic… Kaylee, that was her name. "This all we got?"

Simon breathed an invisible sigh of relief as the brief but glaring spotlight of the captain's attention left him. Now he boarded the ship, glancing worriedly after the box. Everything depended on being able to keep tabs on it, to ensure it wasn't battered or exposed to too much heat, or too little. So much was at stake, not just for him, but for…

He frowned. Something about this wasn't right. He just wasn't sure what it was. He was feeling… constrained, manipulated, almost as though some unseen puppeteer was controlling his actions, telling him what to say.

Simon shook himself and tried to concentrate on remaining inconspicuous.

But later, that feeling of wrongness returned even stronger when the captain was addressing the passengers, telling them the rules, the mealtimes, that they couldn't have access to the cargo bay without an escort. Simon bristled at that. "Some of my personal effects are in the cargo bay."

Reynolds said blandly, "I figure you all got luggage you'll need to get into. Soon as we're done here we'll be happy to fetch 'em with you. Now I have to tell you—"

"What kind of answer is that?" Simon demanded. "You honestly think that I'm going to let some flunky stand by and watch me rifle through my underwear and personal care products? I bought a ticket for a passenger ship, not a prison ship!" A euphoric sense of liberty coursed through him as he shook off the constraints that had been dictating his words. "And really, why should I need an escort in here? I'm not interested in anyone's luggage but mine, and as for any cargo you're carrying, well, believe me, it—"

"I'm powerful sorry that my rules are not to your liking," interrupted the captain with a glare, "but they are what they are, and there's no changin' them." He returned to addressing all the passengers. "Now I have to tell you all one other thing and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, we've been ordered by the Alliance to drop some medical supplies on Whitefall. It's the fourth moon on Athens, a bit out of our way, but we should have you on Boros no more than a day off schedule. Is that gonna be all right for everyone?"

The tall clergyman among them – what was his name? Page? No, Book – just said, "Jake by me."

Simon, on the other hand, couldn't just let this one go. "Well, of course it's not all right! What do you think, you can just change the schedule without even asking your paying passengers just because you didn't have the backbone to tell the Alliance that you'd drop the supplies after you took us to Boros?"

The Shepherd looked sternly disapproving. "Young man, the people on that moon are counting on those medical supplies. Surely your schedule can tolerate a day's delay in order for people to get something they just might be desperate for."

He snorted and turned back to Reynolds. "These medical supplies – what are they, exactly?"

"I honestly didn't ask." The captain's voice was as cold as space.

"Right, so they could be anything. You may well be delaying our arrival on Boros so that the good people of Whitehorse—"

"Whitehall," corrected Book.

"Whatever," Simon said impatiently, waving a hand. "For all we know, we could be giving up a whole day of travel time to see to it that they get their desperately-needed shipment of condoms and Vaseline!"

The captain's second-in-command – he'd heard her called Zoe – apparently had decided it was time to intervene. "The border moons are always short on vital supplies. What we're delivering is most likely something essential – plasma, insulin, that sort of thing."

"Well, that's simple enough to ascertain. Let's open up the boxes and see what's inside. If it truly is units of blood or the cure for cancer, then we delay. If it's band-aids and cotton swabs, then we—"

He felt a lightning bolt striking his forehead and gasped. He opened his eyes to find himself looking into Niam's rage-filled face.

"Stop that! You're ruining the story!"

"Rodney! Are you all right?" Elizabeth's tinny voice demanded from the speakers. Honestly, for a renowned diplomat, she could certainly be repetitive in her spoken communications. If this was how she talked during negotiations, he suspected that opposing sides reached agreements just to escape her tediously redundant remarks.

He glared at Niam. "Don't yell at me! You can't just stick some random person into a story and expect it to all come out the same. Especially when you give me a character so completely different from how I really am! What were you thinking, anyway? That you could just declare me to be Simon and I'd go in walking and talking exactly like him? It's a story that was written for those specific characters. You can't just fold me up and stuff me into a character that I have nothing in common with!"

Niam seemed confused. "Is that not exactly what the actors in the program originally did? Suppressed their own personalities for the sake of pretending to be those characters?"

Into the short silence that followed, Sheppard said, "Well, he's got a point there."

Glaring into the camera lens, Rodney growled, "You know, when I'm actually looking for input from you, I'll whistle 'Send in the Clowns,' okay?" To Niam: "Yes, yes, yes, of course that's what actors do, but in case you really haven't noticed yet, I am not an actor! I'm a brilliant astrophysicist who has no interest in pretending to be a young fugitive medical doctor in a futuristic space western!"

"I do not require your interest, Dr. McKay! And in case you haven't noticed, this is supposed to be torturing you. That would tend to suggest that you should not enjoy it!"

"Oh, it's annoying, all right, I'll give you that, but torture?" Rodney snorted. "Lost in Space would be torture. Buck Rodgers would be torture. Back to the Future would be torture!"

"Hey!" he heard Sheppard cry.

"Niam," Elizabeth was saying, "let's talk about alternatives here. I'm asking you as one sentient being to another not to put Rodney through that again. In my country, we have a set of conventions that govern the treatment of prisoners, and we—"

"Dr. Weir, if you wish to spare Dr. McKay additional torture, I suggest that you devote yourself to carrying out my demands."

"Right, Elizabeth!" Rodney blurted imprudently, his hands twisting in the Lego-rope, itching to be waved around. "Just get Whedon on the phone and explain the situation to him. I'm sure he'll be happy to help us out. And while you're at it, tell him I have a few suggestions for Wonder Woman that will totally kill at the box office."

"Hey, yeah, so do I!"

"Yes, Colonel, but mine sound like an adult came up with them."

"I happen to think that making it an invisible helicopter would be a great update!"

"Oh, let me give you an 'update'—"

"Auugggh, enough of this!" bellowed Niam, burying his hand in Rodney's forehead once more.

"We're not finished with this yet, McKay!" Sheppard's taunt was just barely audible over the resumption of the open-brain massage.