A/N: Hi again! Here is your second gift of apologies and the fourth installment of Copper Stars. Sorry chapter three was so short, I will have filler chapters like that. This also has a ton of Firefly lingo in it, as will the rest of the story. Well, enough rambling. Here it is:
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One by one, the captives were all forced to their knees and ordered to do something, but the command was in the language of the Terranfors and incomprehensible to John's ears. A heavy boot kicked John in the direction of an opening near the floor. Paralyzed with fear, the Karayork couldn't move nor breathe. "Crawl!" Victor hissed, and the voice grounded John to move again. His eyes needed time to adjust to the darkness he encountered once through the opening, and what he saw nearly made him double over: More men and women of all across the galaxy, gathered, branded, and herded like livestock. He swallowed thickly, stood, and was led roughly to a corner and pushed against a wall before being forced to sit. Victor was shoved to the ground next to him. "Where are we?" John questioned his friend, who only shook his head. "I have been on one of these only once." the New Cardiffian explained. "This is called a transport ship, some sort of Terranfor bug, I think."
"Where are we going, Victor?" The captive only shrugged. "I know not. Our future, I believe. Through the sky and into the stars. From there, we move onward."
"Then at least we can face the future together, can we not?" John joked. Victor's face stayed stony and silent. "Will you not stay with me, Victor?" Victor shrugged again. "I don't know. From here on out, I won't know anything. But," he added, pointing at a set of doors. "I know that most here will end up in there at some point of this trip."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Those are the crew's living quarters."

The ship began to sway violently, and many of the captives began to scream or squeal with surprise or fear. Above, John heard laughter. Terranfor men and women holding large firing canes chuckled amusedly at those below. 'They find our anxiety humorous?' he asked himself. The swaying eventually ceased and smoothed out, but the nervousness hung in the air like a cloud. This trip would not be a short one.

A small, white-coloured dish, decorated a corner above the diversity. John identified it as a skyplate, a device that changed from white to bright purple according to the planetary time you set it to. Miners on Karayork used to have ones when they went into the shafts so that they could return home when the moon rose. This left the Karayork wondering why there was one in the cargo hold.

Some of the soldiers came down from the railings and into the sea of their captives, collecting a group of people and taking them through the doors that led to the living quarters. After a while, some of those selected returned, others did not. A short time later, John found himself among those gathered, along with Victor. The tallest soldier moved to the front of the small crowd and pressed a button on a box. Loud, thumping, sound came from the box and all the other guards smiled and moved to the "music." The Terranfor beside the box shouted something, but no one moved. A whip cracked next to John, causing him to jump. The woman who owned the weapon laughed and nodded. John jumped again and soon all were jumping along with him. 'Dancing?' he thought, jumping again. As they "danced" to the loud box, he noticed that some of the guards were looking at the captives, lust behind their eyes. But as John turned away, he noticed a short, round man with spectacles was watching John's face rather than his body.

After the sound ended, a few of those who came in were pulled aside and into a room, John and Victor included. The door was closed behind them and the only light came from the skyplate suspended above them. They all sat in tense silence, no one saying or asking anything until the light glowed purple. "What is going to happen?" John asked. Victor stayed silent, and the door opened as an answer. A heavy hand covered John's shoulder. It was the man with the glasses.

So thanks again, pretties, and until next Friday! I promise. Hope you enjoyed, tell your friends, and leave those delicious reviews. Thanks again, have a nice day. DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the Sherlock characters. That sweet privilege goes to Moffat, Gattis, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.