A/N: Welcome to Brimseye, who has just starting reading this tale. Glad you like.
And I want to acknowledge Chopingrl84 who has placed this on Story Alert, thank you so much for the honor. To my faithful reviewers I give thanks.
My Reflection, Riddick still needs to regain his humanity, as currently it's only the Doctor's influence that makes him pause in his actions.
ck16, the gun was dissembled by the Doctor using the Sonic Screwdriver. So it can be put back together, If Johns gets all of the pieces back.

On a different note: I have to attend a funeral tomorrow and thus the next chapter might be delayed a day.

Summary: The Doctor, reeling from the effects of the TimeWar as the last surviving Timelord, stumbles into a situation he cannot ignore when the TARDIS lands him inside a ship that is clearly in trouble. His people may be gone, but the stamp he's made on the universe is still there, and he finds himself caught in a web spun of the choices he's made in the past…

It's 2517. Something in the past has prompted humanity to explode out from their home world. Could the events of 2164 be responsible? Was Earth a myth or was it real? In fleeing Earth-that-Was, humanity scattered to the stars across the galactic arm. Initial survey teams targeted likely planets and systems for habitation and not all of them ended up on the same side of the sector. Blue Sun exists on one side, separated by a patch of 'wild space' filled with exotic binary and triple star systems, from the rest of civilized space. Few ships brave the route. But luck has it that one ship is. It's a ghost run, the only contact that the two sides have. Port of Departure: Eavesdown Docks, Persephone. Mixed Sino-Anglo culture. Port of Call: Tangiers-5. Darkside. Mixed Islamic-Anglo culture. Crew complement: Four. Passengers: Forty. Living 'Cargo': Two.

So what happens when a passenger by the name of Dr. Simon Tam and his cargo get on the wrong ship? And just how is this related to the TimeWar?

Doctor Who / Firefly / Riddick X-over.

Features Doctor 9, Pre-"Rose"; Simon and River Tam, Pre-"Serenity" Firefly episode 1 and the cast of Pitch Black…

Doctor Who and the Great Eclipse

Part Twenty-Five

Collusion

Fry woke to the arid odor of wire insulation burning. God No! She stumbled out of bed, into Imam who was reacting just as she was, only a bit closer to the door. Richard, Simon, and the Doctor were already out there, leaving a wide-eyed River behind who was clutching the thin bedding on a cot that was not her own with a white knuckled grip.

"Am I smelling smoke?" Paris asked.

Over top of his question there's:

"Sorry, Father," from Carolyn

"I apologize, Ms. Fry," from Abu

The docking pilot and holy man both move to the door. Behind them Paris gets to his feet as well. Imam says back to the art dealer, "Yes, it does indeed smell as if something is burning." Then he orders Hassan and Suleiman to remain with Jack, River, and Ali.

It only takes one look to discover the source of the smoke. The skiff is decorated with the clear signs that the wiring has sparked out. Standing near the table is Simon, his healer's bag held in one hand. Over by the skiff, off the end of the ramp are the Doctor, Richard, and William. The con is taking apart one of the merc's guns while Johns trembles in the face of the Doctor's fury unleashed his direction.

"Simon, what happened?" Carolyn asks.

"I think there was a converter that was not hooked up, from what I overheard."

Leave it to Johns… The blonde shakes her head. It was a mistake any of them could have made. She could have done it before she'd gotten some sleep. But if the redhead had been helping the entire time he would have known and remembered about the converter, and instead he'd spent his time visiting with Lady Morphine. But they had bigger fish to fry. She moved to the skiff.

Paris followed her. After about thirty ticks he inquired, "Is it fixable?"

"You see a local ship supply depot anywhere around here?" Carolyn says with an eye roll. "I'd need kilometers of new wire, new connectors, and perhaps replacement boards. If you know where I can get that without leaving the safety of the Hanger I'd love to hear it." The art dealer looks over at Johns with venom. "I might be able to redo the engines with the cheap wire I replaced, but we'd have no life support. And the computer might be fried. If so we'd have no nav, either."

"So – No." Olgivie summed up.

She wanted to cry. Bawl even. After all that work, they were left with zilch. "No." Weariness sapped her ability to be angered at the moment. Would nothing go right? Carolyn curled in on herself and rocked a bit as she dealt with the strong emotions of helplessness and anguish.

Imam came up to them and placed a hand on her back, "God will see us through. You must have faith that there is a higher power at work, Carolyn. Come on," He helped her to her feet and steered her to the table. He sat her down and stepped over to make her some instant coffee.

If there was a higher power he must be mighty pissed with her at the moment to be throwing this much shit her way. To be so close, less that a week away from takeoff, and to have it all go up in smoke. She dropped her head to the table. Maybe they should all just steal Johns' stash and kill themselves by OD. Maybe she should just eat a bullet. Maybe they should walk out into the rain and let the natives have at…

Behind her the Doctor manhandled the merc into the main sphere of light. "You, sit. And do not move," ordered the Time Lord as he pulled out a chair and dropped the redhead into it. Johns trembled and slumped in the seat. "Ought to just cuff you there, to keep you from causing further harm."

"Didna see a Co'verter," Billy mumbles weakly. He still can't quite remember where he is, nor who he's pissed off. He's pretty sure it's got to be a teacher from school because last time he got into trouble and wasn't beaten bloody on the spot was when he was in class. Oddly, he can't remember what subject he's taking at the moment, maybe electronics? He must've messed up something expensive for ol' Mr. Gatty to be so pissed off with him. He wonders when his dad will arrive to haul him home and if they will make it to the mule before he's given a nosebleed.

"Your English is atrocious."

"Doc. Stop insulting him. Billy's bad enough without being a boneless puddle of jelly." Riddick stepped in.

"Don't call me 'Doc'."

There's a sigh, "Right, sorry. Bob."

Somehow that manages to diffuse the Time Lord's ire instead of making it worse, "Tea?"

"I'll make it," Simon offers, seeing as Abu already had the pot of water on the hotplate.

That was a strange conversation for his school. Wait. He graduated years ago. Where the fuck was he? Johns looked up and blinked. Crash. Planet. Eclipse. Monsters. Oh dear lord, he's having flashbacks. He thought he'd stopped doing that after the war.

Carolyn looked up at the holy man as he placed a mug in front of her, "Thanks, Father." He rubbed her shoulder and settled down next to her with his own weak coffee.

Paris steps up to where Simon is preparing cups and fixes himself a mug of coffee adding some brandy to the mix. He moves the bottle over to the table in case Fry wants a drop in her coffee, too. He prefers this concoction to tea at the moment.

Its only after everyone has settled at the table that anyone dares to speak again, and it's Richard who speaks up, his hands curled around the mug of plain tea as if to absorb the heat of it, "Skiff's fucked, am I right? Looks like most of it was smoldering when I put down the foam."

"God, why?" Fry mumbles.

The Doctor clears his throat; "There's still my box. It's not what it seems. I assure you the risk would be worth it to those who survive the run."

"Exactly what is this box, anyhow?" Paris asks.

The Doctor looks at him; "It's a TARDIS. My ship. A lot more than it looks like."

He's been listening, trying to cope with his own problems but the Doctor's words piss him off. How dare the bastard have a way off this rock and play games with their lives by not saying anything sooner! Johns jumps to his feet in outrage, "Wha'? You fuckin' gotta ship?"

The Doctor glares at the redhead, "Sit. Down."

Riddick shakes his head and tugs his blue-eye-devil back into his chair. Now the marshal is throwing shards of glass with his gaze. "Johns, don't do this. Remember what Hoxie did to you? Imagine that a hundred times worse." The stare shifts off the Doctor and onto the con. Something in Rich's stance must scream the truth of the matter because the merc slumps again into his chair.

Fry brightens, "So that's why you wanted to try to reach it. Ok. At least we got something to hope for. Or, well, not much to lose, anyway. How far away is it, walking?"

"About a day and a quarter," Abu says. "Over ground, with the predators. I believe that everyone should be in on this decision. We should either all go or all stay."

The con looks at the holy man, "I'm gonna make a suggestion here. Why don't we use the underground tunnels that the natives have surely vacated? We have a way down, the Coring shaft, and the box, err, Tardis, sits in a sinkhole already."

"Those passages might be flooded," Paris says. "It's been raining for hours now."

"And there might be natural drainage. We won't know until we look," Rich counters.

Simon stands, "I'll tell the others to come out here. Will someone heat another pot of water?"

Fry stands, picks up the empty carafe, and fills it before setting it on the hot plate. "We'll need light, enough to get us through, and the kind the rain won't short."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

All twelve of them are gathered around the table, Johns in the 'hot seat' as it were with Imam and the ex-ranger flanking him. Simon sits with River just to the side, around the corner from were the redhead is. Across from the raven-haired siblings are Fry, Jack, and Ali. Next to River are Suleiman and Hassan. Paris and the Doctor take seats at the far end of the table.

"Alright. Thanks to human error, we don't have the skiff," Fry starts, "But according to the Doctor there might be another way. If even one of us doesn't want to go then we all stay, but remember the thirty settlers here before us died by huddling together in the dark."

Eleven sets of eyes look toward the Doctor. "Um… My 'box' is a ship, called a TARDIS. If we can make it to the location where the ship is then we will be able to leave. The trick is - reaching it."

The pilgrims erupt into overlapping babble that conveys outrage over there being another ship that they could have left on before Imam says, "Quiet. As I recall, the Doctor has done everything he could to make us retrieve his belongings before this point. It was Johns here that indicated the risk was too high. Clearly the situation has changed and we need to rethink our options."

"First off, what do we have for light?" The docking pilot lists of what she knows they have, "Flares, wielding torches, flashlights, the fiber optics, bulbs out of the headlights from the skiff that we might be able to salvage? Anything else?"

Paris offers, "Spirits. Anything over 45 proof burns quite well. But it won't work in the rain."

"How are we going to carry the generators for the fiber optics? My main concern is the weight," Simon puts in.

The Doctor scoffs, "Anyone have a sturdy bag or back pack."

"I do," says Jack. "You want it?"

The Time Lord smiles at the kid, "How about I make able to carry more on the inside that it looks able to on the outside, eh? So you can impress people with 'magic' later."

"Ok."

"I've got my healer's bag," Simon adds.

"I've been meaning to fix that. Hand it over, Simon, and I'll do that now."

Fry says, "Lets gather together all the light we have and see what it amounts to. Come on, Johns. Lets get your flares." The merc narrows his eyes at her but follows her off to the Hanger office to get his bag and gear because she's got a light and he needs to get his stuff anyhow.

They all scatter to raid the tool boxes for light-up tools, the toys salvaged for lighting parts, and the goods hauled back from the crash site for bulbs stripped from consoles. Imam begins looking for mirrored surfaces by which to reflect light, to make what they have seem like more. Paris searched for something to act as wicks for his makeshift lamps. River brought out the heavier clothes.

The light sources slowly pile up on the table, where the Doctor finishes his work on Simon's healer's bag and turns his attention to Jack's backpack. Johns' bags might be used also but not of Johns is carrying them. Those will wait until its known for sure that they are needed. His goal is to fit one of the fiber optic generators into the pack and then run lines from the child's back around to the rest of them.

River understands his goal already and sets up a sewing area where she can stitch the lines of glowing strands into sweaters, in an attempt to give them more protection. She starts with the leaders heading off to the skiff, once Carolyn and Johns return carrying the headlights from it.

Riddick drags one of the sanded planes of metal over and began slicing it into circles that can be tacked into cones. These will reflect any light that is set into them.

After everything is gathered they meet back at the table, Fry takes stock of the pile, "So we have ten lamps fueled by spirits. Six flairs, two cutting torches, ten hand lights, kilometers of fiber optics. Johns, you have a light on your shotgun. Paris has lighters. There are the tools that the Doctor thinks he can rig more bulbs too. Awright. So maybe we'll have enough light."

Johns swallows. Suddenly he realizes what it means now that the skiff won't work, "Well, I don't want to jump to conclusions here... but 'member that boneyard? These just might be the fuckers that killed every other living thing on this planet, okay?" he pauses and notes that everyone is looking at him, "If you are all in your right mind, I pray you all go insane, 'cuz going out there, light or no light is death."

"I agree Johns, I saw the cut-marks on the bones. Wasn't a natural die-off," Carolyn says. "But – we stick to the plan, yeah? Make it to the Coring Room, get down the shaft, and find our way to the Doctor's ship. We're off this rock."

Jack shivered but spoke sounding indignant and bewildered, "You mean --tonight? With all those things that killed Shazza and Zeke still out there? You want to give them a shot at more of our flesh?"

"Oh, sure. Why not? Sounds like a hoot," the art dealer replied. "After all, Johns only blew our single safe alternative."

The marshal glared, "Back it up. How long can this last? Few days? A week? Those suns gotta come back sometime. And if these animals really are phobic about light, we just sit tight till then."

Abu tried to make the redheaded man understand the real threat of the situation here, "I had the impression -- from the model -- that the two planets were moving as one. That there would be..." he sighs, "a lasting darkness."

"Thirteen point nine-four universal standard years, including 3 leap years," River says. "Dawn will come after five thousand and ninety-one days, two hours, and twenty-four minutes."

That takes the wind out of Fry's sails and cut's her retort to meaningless, "Nearly fourteen years?"

The dark headed girl nods and pulls out her notebook, "Based on the calculations and movements, with an allowance for negative gravity pull." She flips the book open so the others can see the equations and proofs she used to make her estimate. It makes for a persuasive argument.

The merc's eyes swing back to Jack and Ali, "Look, we gotta think about everyone now -- the kids especially. How scared are the boys gonna be out there?"

"Hey, I ain't chicken-shit scared!" Jack protests.

Carolyn places a hand on the youth's shoulder, "Don't use the boys for a smoke screen." Johns gives her a mock innocent questioning look, "You deal with your own fear, Billy."

His expression changes, becoming slyer, "Hey. Why don't you rag your hole for two seconds and let someone else come up with a plan that doesn't involve mass suicide?"

Fry meets his challenge with a raised eyebrow. Two seconds pass. "Like your last plan? No, don't answer that. Never mind." She moved around until she was more in his face instead of across from him and looked at the chrono. "Two seconds. No? How much you weigh, Johns?"

The merc looks puzzled, "What the hell's it matter?"

"How much?"

"Around seventy-nine kilos," Johns says with a shrug.

She looks at the chrono again, "Two minutes? Got anything? No – you don't. Wanna know why? Because you're seventy-nine kilos of gutless white meat, and that's why you can't come up with a better plan."

Suddenly there's a blur of movement at Johns goes for the docking pilot in the only way his brain can conceive of at that moment, with his shotgun. Several other blurs happen almost at the same time. The con steps in to block the gun, the Doctor whips out his sonic screwdriver and points it at the redhead, and Jack steps in front of Fry. Johns comes up short because his gun can't move past Riddick's chin. The merc goes from angered blue and green stares to looking at why his gun isn't moving, "Just where do you think you're going?"

Richard tilts his head against the barrel of the shotgun and gives the marshal a devilish half-grin. He then plays on the man's greed, looking him in the eye sans goggles, "Think about that reward, Johns."

"I'm willing to take a cut in pay."

One eyebrow quirks up, "Yeah? How 'bout a cut in your gut?" The blue eyes drop from the silver down to the tapping blade and the tight grip. The shiv is poised for evisceration, and Johns knows that even if he blows the ex-ranger's head clean off his guts will still end up all over the Hanger floor, because that's how good Riddick is. That alone isn't enough to make him back down, however. He narrows his eyes.

"Please...this solves nothing…" the holy man says.

The two opponents stare at each other a bit longer and then Johns remembers that the Doctor might have tripped the pins in the shotgun. It might backfire. He glares over at the Time Lord and lowers the weapon.

Riddick steps back, still ready to ghost the man if he threatens anyone again.

After a beat to make sure that the threat of violence is gone, Fry says. "Ok. We stick to the plan. The natives are afraid of our light. We don't have to be scared of them. Why don't we vote? All in favor raise their hand."

Carolyn, River, Simon, Jack, Ali, Suleiman, Richard, Hassan, and the Doctor all raise their hands. Abu looks at his pilgrims, lets out a breath, and adds his hand. "I'm going to regret this," says Paris before raising his too.

They all look at Johns. "Fuckin' insane, the lot of you. But I ain't staying here if you are taking all the light." They count that as a raised hand.

There is only one other difficulty, and Abu is the one that voices it, "And you're certain you can find the way there? Even in the dark?"

"No, I'm not. But they can," the blonde says as she points to Riddick and the Doctor.