To Seek A Newer World

Come, my friends,
'T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Odysseus

Chapter 1

When the Captain had announced over the coms that Farragut was about to be boarded he thought he'd been prepared for the worst. Pirates or Feds, or worse, mercs. He hadn't thought the boarders would be the bogeyman straight out of every spacer story there was. He'd heard myths of a race called Necromongers that destroyed planets. An army of zombies marching through the Black towards some unfathomable goal. But those stories had nothing on the Reavers.

They'd torn into the aft airlock and thankfully the pilot had the sense to slam the inner doors closed before the entire boat decompressed. The screaming…Fuck! He'd never heard noise like that, it sounded like a battalion of madmen. The alarms had been blaring, the passengers running for the escape pods, and the little kids wailing in fear. That had been the one thing that had gotten him moving. He couldn't stand kids getting hurt, being scared like that.

Felt like he'd cut down a dozen or more of the things (really couldn't call them men without insulting all the men he worked with) before he had half a moment to catch his breath. He'd lost track of time. There'd been a lot of blood, a lot of screaming, and the sounds of escape pods and life boats firing. Finally he couldn't hear the sound of the kids crying anymore but he could still hear that insane, manic, screaming. Footsteps like a thousand drumbeats sounding along metal deck plating foretold another swarm of madmen. And he judged that he'd done enough to slow the tide. Time to look after himself.

Thankfully he managed to find a bunk he could lock behind him. And since he had no trouble remaining silent, the Reavers gave up eventually, seeking greener pastures. He guessed it wasn't in their nature to wait someone out. If they'd even had an idea he was there. Hard to tell what they understood and what they didn't. He could hear that the rest of the crew wasn't so lucky.

Fuck, more fuel for his nightmares. Like he didn't have enough, first the foster system, then a Company ranger/sweeper, Strikeforce, Sigma Three's riots and Deep Storage, Q9 and the shrinks. Butcher Bay and Slam City… The Conga systems and Johns nearly killing those poor kids. Then that damn planet. The Kublai Khan. Running again after dropping Jack and Abu on Helion Prime… frozen rocks, mercs, Tangiers, Hubble, and another inhospitable ball of ice. More mercs… had it really been five years since he'd left Jack and Abu in New Mecca?

Toombs…and the interesting bit of news that someone in New Mecca had put a price on his head. Working as crew on the Farragut and slowly moving towards the outer systems had been the most relaxing stretch of travel he'd had, until the Reavers anyway.

He'd been stalking through the halls of the ship, tracking the scent of someone who'd been left behind. The smell of him, like nerves fried by electricity...what the fuck?

And his first sight of the crew, with a dozen of the single men and women who'd been among the pioneers along with the Captain hung in a grisly chandelier in the aft cargo bay was more than enough to disturb even his atrophied morals. The stench of blood and fear wasn't nearly as enjoyable when he hadn't caused either. Or when it came from people who'd been welcoming and treated him like a man not some beast of burden or scum. At least he hadn't found children's bodies among them. He and the crew had bought enough time for the families to get away.

No time to take them down and lay them out decently. Not with the other 'survivor' around. The sneaky little son-of-a-bitch had tried to jump him a couple of times, his scent all wrong, twisted with rage and madness, but every time he'd thrown the little shit off and the shifty bastard had retreated.

Static rattled through the comms and the lights of another ship through the bridge windows had nearly blinded him as he tried to determine whether or not he could get the Farragut moving again. "Hailing unknown ship, this is the Firefly Transport Serenity, anybody home?" The comms crackled as the message came through.

It took some adjustment of the cortex to be sure his response would come through, and thankfully the Serenity didn't quit their attempts to communicate. That would be just his luck, stuck on a boat he couldn't move until the Reavers came back. "Hey Serenity, nice to hear another voice," He responded finally. "Comm systems are a little messed up. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah you're comin' in good an' clear," The friendly voice came back. "You got any-Wǒ de mā!"

"Problem?" He really didn't know what else to ask. It wasn't as if he could do anything about it, stuck on the busted ship.

"Āi yā…" The fellow sounded as if he'd run a mile. "Just had a dead body smack right into my windshield. Gave me a start."

"Yeah, probably Clemmants, he was working near the airlock doors when they came," Riddick recalled grimly. "Least he died quick."

"Uh…okay?" The voice sounded a bit bewildered and a host of voices began coming through the comms in a jumble of worried, annoyed and surprised.

One of the other voices took the comm, slightly more commanding in tone, "This's Cap'n Reynolds, you got wounded over there?"

He looked around the empty bridge and wondered exactly why they wanted to know, "Not to speak of." He hedged. "Scratches and slices mostly."

"Your port thruster's pretty much shot, looks half torn off," Reynolds informed him. "Can you tell us what happened?"

"Reavers happened," He told him flatly. "Cap'n Willis, he got all the kids and their parents off. Pods and the lifeboat, a week and a half ago. No more room for the rest of us. Tried to fight 'em off, but it's like fighting the damn tide."

"You survived a Reaver attack," The Captain sounded more than a bit awed. Another voice, female and elegant, spoke behind the Captain's, taking the words right out of his mouth, "Survived worse than Reavers."

"She's right," He retorted darkly. "Least Reavers I knew where to slice so I could kill 'em." He could almost hear their thoughts, the reasoning that would be rolling through their minds, how to bargain with him, what to say, how hostile he might be towards them. "There's pretty good salvage here, gen-seed at least. Plus everything people had to leave behind. They won't need it, but if they got picked up by a cruiser we don't have much time before someone else comes looking." That should give them a kick in the ass and get them to make some sort of a decision.

"Well we could certainly do with some salvage," The Captain's voice was slightly warmer. "Be happy to take you aboard provided you don't try to do any harm to us."

"No plans to make mincemeat of you," He rolled his eyes. Did they really think he'd say so if he did? "But there's someone else roaming the ship, not right in the head. I've been hunting him the last week or so. Son-of-a-bitch keeps going in the airducts and I'm too big to follow him. Anybody who doesn't carry a gun better stay with someone who does until I can catch the lunatic."

"Sound notion. Any idea if it's a head wound or—" Reynold's voice was overridden by that same feminine tone.

"Was made to stare. The darkness. Kind of darkness you can't even imagine. Blacker than the space it moves through. They made him watch. He probably tried to turn away, and they wouldn't let him. You call him a survivor? He's not. A man comes up against that kind of will, the only way to deal with it, I suspect, is to become it. He's following the only course left to him. First, he'll try to make himself look like one. Cut on himself, desecrate his flesh and then, he'll start acting like one."

"She's right," He'd had to listen, the shrieking, begging, the voices of his crew and the passengers who'd stayed behind to give families a fighting chance, they hadn't had time to barricade themselves away like he had. A weaker man would have gone mad. "They left my crew and some of the passengers in a twisted fucking chandelier in the cargo hold. I'd be glad of the help to get them down. Couldn't do it and guard my back from the nutjob they left."

"Yeah," The man's voice was pained. "We'll give you a hand. Just need to find a way to dock. Reavers like to leave traps."

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised that they do," He agreed. "Likely won't have much of a choice for docking if you want salvage. Decent engineer or mechanic should be able to deal with it. From the time they boarded to the time they left wouldn't have given them much of a window for anything too subtle or complicated."

"Well we got us a genius mechanic," Reynolds sounded as if he was half smiling. "Give us a few, we'll be right over. Assume you've got breathable air, life support, that sort of thing."

"Yeah, emergency lighting, but everything else is running," He nodded. "I'll meet you down at the cargo bay airlock."

Forming opinions of people before meeting them was dangerous and stupid. So he had one hand on his gun when the airlock doors opened. The man in the long dark coat had done the same and the dark-skinned woman at his side was holding a mare's leg that looked awfully comfortable in her hands. "Reynolds?" He looked at the male of the pair.

"Captain Malcolm Reynolds," The man nodded. "This here's Zoë Washburne, she's First Mate."

He'd waited to see if either of them recognized his face, but neither seemed to. "Folks call me Rick," That was the truth, if not all of it, and he wanted to get a better feel for them before he told them, or they figured out the rest of the truth.

"Rick," Reynolds seemed a touch skeptical but nodded. "Mal, or Reynolds or Captain."

"Zoë," The dark-skinned woman nodded. She didn't seem to be someone who talked overmuch by nature rather than the circumstances.

"Well, better show you the best of the salvage first," He turned his back and began walking without waiting to see if they'd follow. The slow and then slightly quicker footsteps as he didn't bother to change his pace were easy enough for him to hear. For a moment he didn't speak until he judged that they were close enough to hear him. "Got four crates of gen-seed. Probably the most valuable thing on the ship. Get it first, then the rest."

"Don't seem too fussed about taking folks belongings," Zoë observed neutrally.

"I'm not," He shrugged as he muscled open the doors to the cargo hold. The air that filled the space was fetid with blood and death. "Try to breathe through your mouths," He advised ignoring the slightly astonished looks. He guessed it wasn't (at least to them) normal to open doors like this one so easily.

"Thought you said these folks were crew?" Reynolds was studying him, taking in the goggles resting on his forehead.

"They were," He nodded. "Anyone who could get off the boat did. Families first, not that I blame 'em really. But they left my crew to die, left me to die. About a dozen folks without kids, they stayed, some got in escape pods but most didn't. My captain, he wouldn't care. Anyone else, they're long gone and I figure what they left behind belongs to me as much as anyone." He folded his arms as he regarded the two of them, "And if we don't get moving, the Reavers'll come back, or a cruiser'll stumble over this boat and we'll have real trouble."

"Sir, he's right. We can deal with what comes next when it comes," Zoë reminded her Captain.

"Yeah," Reynolds didn't look thrilled, but he got on his comms and told the rest of his crew to get the dollies and start moving things.

From what he could tell the pilot was the fellow he'd talked to initially and he'd stayed on the ship as their lookout. The mechanic was already at work on the problem of the Reaver trap, and from the tone of her voice she was far from pleased with the situation. "Looks like they've jerry-rigged it with a pressure catch. It's the only thing that'd work with all these spare parts. We can probably bypass that easy, we get to the DC line."

The Captain was handing her tools, "You tell me right now, little Kaylee, you really think you can do this?"

The girl's voice was confident, and remarkably cheerful considering, "Sure. Yeah. I think so." He could almost hear the grin in her voice as she added, "'Sides, if I mess up, not like you'll be able to yell at me." From the look on Reynolds face it wasn't a thought he particularly enjoyed but he left her to it with an extremely elegant woman standing by to act as nurse to the mechanic's surgeon.

There was a hulking gunhand that screamed cheap merc and Riddick spent a thorough five minutes sizing him up. Muscle and some brains but not much and overly dependent on his guns judging from the amount of hardware he kept on him. The merc looked as if he almost matched Riddick in height and, purely from appearances, matched in muscle, but no merc had ever been able to keep up with him.

A slender dark-haired man with soft looking hands had approached him cautiously, "Sir, you mentioned you had some cuts? I'm a doctor, is there anything I can do to help?" He was polite, that was for certain, nerves practically boiled off him, but his hands were steady on that doctor's bag. Polite, elegant, obviously Core, what was he doing on a transport ship on the Rim?

"Nah, they'll heal up on their own, never really needed stitches outside of a firefight," He shook his head at the young man, little more than a boy. "You wanna put that away so it don't get lost I'll play escort so you can help out with the salvage. We got a little med center, might be there's some things you could use."

"That's very kind," Dark eyes crinkled in a nervous smile. "I'm Simon." He tilted his head, "I heard you say your crew had been…used as décor. Perhaps I could be of assistance there. The Shepherd also was hoping to be of help once business is done." He indicated a man with coffee colored skin and pale hair pulled back in a tail. "This is Shepherd Book."

"Just call me Rick," He nodded. "And yeah, once we get any salvage stowed away I'd like to at least lay my crew out proper. Figured on rigging the ship to blow once we're done. Give 'em a proper burial."

"We'd be glad to help," Shepherd Book's voice was warm even if his eyes were cool and assessing. This was a man who didn't take anything at face value. "I'm partnered with Jayne so we'll be by after we've done our share of the work."

Rick nodded and picked up a couple of sacks, handing one to Simon, "Let's see what we've got Doc."

It never went easy. Seemed like just when he'd adjusted to something God went and sent the floor tilting, so he had to work to regain his balance again. The lunatic the Reavers had left tried to jump them when they started to scrounge from the mess hall. The little piece of shit went for Doc Simon who at least tried to duck.

The upside was that with the lunatic occupied trying to bite Simon's face through the shield of his forearms Rick had plenty of time to grab him by the scruff of the neck, pull him back and cut his throat.

"Gotcha you son of a bitch," He growled and threw the body aside to see to the kid doctor. "You okay Doc?"

"What…" Simon managed to gather himself with greater alacrity than Rick would have given him credit for upon first meeting him. "Yes…I think I'll be fine. I'll clean out the scrapes once we're back on Serenity, thank you."

"Good idea, people got filthy mouths," Rick nodded and helped him up. "She wasn't wrong."

"She?" The doctor looked at him curiously.

"The woman who said he'd been turned, or something like that," He shrugged as he continued to load the sacks with all the canned goods he could find, taking Simon's from him and loading it up as well.

"She's… different." The boy was nervous again.

"Guess so," He shrugged again. No point in setting the kids nerves jittering with too much curiosity when he'd likely meet her soon enough. "Let's get this load to your boat and set that Companion lady to sorting, come back for more. We had food enough for fourteen families and the crew on a four-week haul and we were only six days in when the ship got hit."

The doctor nodded his agreement, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

They'd hauled everything but the kitchen sink, and he had the idea that if the mechanic could take that along with the ships parts she'd scrounged she would have, presuming she could think of a use for it.

He wasn't exactly looking forward to removing the bodies from the bay ceiling but damned if he'd leave them there either. Those men and women had been decent to him and he'd mustered enough slivers of humanity that he wanted them treated just as well in return. He'd been trying to meet Carolyn's challenge for years and while he couldn't stay on Helion Prime he could give people who'd treated him well a proper burial (or as proper as he could manage under the circumstances). He and Serenity's crew all tied scarves over their mouths and noses in an attempt to block out the scent. The doctor had produced a salve which he'd wiped under his nostrils before offering it to each of them. "Imitation Eucalyptus ointment," He explained. "Useful for autopsies. You won't smell anything but this until you add the neutralizer."

The rest of them had been grateful for it but he'd shaken his head, "No, thanks. It'll burn my sinuses out." He'd shrugged at the kid, "Appreciate it though." He was even more glad he hadn't tried it when a cool clean scent caught his attention. The contrast with the smell of the bodies he was working on was acute enough that he turned to look.

"No one escaped," That same voice, soft and clear reached his ears. "There is no escape. Only madness or death. Screaming that never stops until only the strongest don't break."

"River," The doctor's voice was shocked and worried. "You shouldn't be here."

"Followed the voices," She looked dispassionately at the bodies they were lowering. "They scream even with their tongues cut out. Cut them out last, wanted to hear the shrieking."

"She ain't wrong," Riddick nodded as he lowered the last body down to the merc and climbed down the ladder. "Wasn't easy being forced to hear, even if you tried not to listen." He turned and blinked as the girl was right there in front of him. His senses weren't easy to fool but she'd moved without a sound.

A slender hand pressed to his chest and found the Mark unerringly, "This Mark carries the Wrath of an entire race, but it's going to hurt." How she'd contrived to sound exactly like Shirah in cadence and tone was a mystery, but those dark eyes stared up at him and he had the feeling she could see straight into his atrophied soul. He'd seen enough in the 'verse to know a Seer when he met one. From the reactions of the men around him they hadn't.

"Not wrong there either," He covered her hand with his and patted it gently. No point in trying to scare her, kids and Seers had their own demons. "But we're near done here. Go on back home and let the Captain know they're coming. I've got one last thing to do and I'll be right there."

"Must ignite the funeral pyre. But he must be quick or end up in the belly of the Leviathan. Odysseus would not survive such a creature," She nodded her understanding and her hand slipped from under his as she turned and left with the same silent steps.

"She's…" Simon was almost stuttering with nerves.

"Sister?" He folded the ladder up and handed it over to the merc.

"She ain't all there," The merc grunted as he took the ladder, walking away.

Rick shrugged as he wrapped the bodies in their tarps, "Most Seers aren't, not until they adjust." That went without saying. Young as she looked she was likely just coming into the full extent of her talents. Poor kid. At least her brother seemed the type to take care of her. He looked at Simon and the shepherd, "Go on back, I'll be right along. Like the girl said, need to get the pyre started. Might want to drop a word in your Captain's ear, 'bout that 'Leviathan' she mentioned. Doesn't sound too good."

It didn't take long, especially with half her parts gone, and he snatched up his duffle of gear before heading over to the Firefly.

The cargo bay doors shut behind him, the ship detaching from the wreckage of his old boat, and he heard the pilot's voice over the comms, "We're backing off quick as we can. Mal, I've got some indicator that an Alliance cruiser is on the way." So he'd guessed right that Leviathan meant trouble.

"Not gonna be much to see in a minute," Rick waited until they were a safe distance away before releasing the switch. What was left of the Farragut shook as the explosion raced through the halls, fire eating up oxygen and every other available fuel, windows shattering and fire bursting through them before dying in the Black of space.

"Goods are mostly stowed sir, including the prime stuff," Zoë reported. That was something he'd noted, they'd used their time well. The hold wasn't quite full, everything in it looking as if it had been there for a week, netting to hold it in place and the genseed and other expensive goods completely out of sight.

"We don't have time to run," Rick looked back at them. "But we're far enough back that if you burn the engines hot for a minute it'll look like we just got here. Start broadcasting as if you're searching for life pods."

"Wash?" Mal had kept the comms open while he talked.

"One rescue operation coming right up," The entire ship shook and vibrated under their feet as he took them in a quick circuit around the breached ship. The proximity alarms began to go off, the noise an irritant to his sensitive ears.

"Captain," Doc Simon's face was white as a ghost and his voice urgent with fear.

"Yeah, you and River, and Rick, you too so we don't trip over any explanations, head on up to that empty bunk. There's a panel in the aft wall. Open it, climb in, and lock it from inside. You'll be between Serenity's walls and no one'll find you there." The Captain was good at thinking on his feet. Shepherd Book had already made the run back to the infirmary and gathered up the obviously Core medical equipment, bundling it into a red bag, grabbing the black med academy bag and returning as Mal finished speaking, putting them into a sack and handing them off to Simon.

"You think that'll work?" Simon was doubtful.

"They ain't expecting you to be here. You got belongings scattered about?" Mal looked at him impatiently.

"No of course not," The boy shook his head.

"Good. Jayne, grab his case and his sister's, slide 'em in the middle of the pile there," Zoë took over as Mal began to climb the steps, his arm under River's elbow to guide her. Rick followed them, tugging Simon along in his wake. "That'll keep anyone from thinking we've got more folks than we're showing."

It went against the grain to hide, but it was the best play under the circumstances; more than Captain Reynolds realized. The Captain opened the bunk hatch and River dropped down with a giggle. "Playing hide and seek. But only the Captain must find us. Quiet as little mice."

Rick nodded and took Simon's medical bags so the kid could climb down, turning to see that River had already found the latch and climbed inside the walls. "Plenty of room," She whispered.

He hoped so. He wasn't claustrophobic but neither did he exactly enjoy small confined spaces. Slams weren't known for their expansive cells. The space in Serenity's walls smelt of metal and machinery, old oil, and the doctor's nerves. The girl, River, didn't smell worried at all. She perched on the curve of a support beam while Simon clung to the lower portion until he was certain of his position.

The comms sounded overhead, the Alliance cruiser broadcasting on a wide beam, "Firefly class transport, this is the IAV Magellan, you are ordered to release control of your helm."

"They're not taking any chances," He commented. "They're pulling us in." There was a slightly different feel to a boat caught in a magnetic field than one moving under its own power. Conflicting sources of gravity. Made his teeth itch.

You could tell a lot about a crew and captain from the bowels of their ship. With his eyes it was easy to pick up the details, dust but no grime, old wire spliced to new but done well and carefully. This was a ship that was loved.

Doc Simon's face was a study in surprise and Rick guessed that he'd never met anyone with a shine job or what resembled a shine job anyway. River's face was curious but not shocked. Her head tilted as he watched her, and her expression changed as if she were hearing a conversation he and her brother couldn't.

"Ordered to prepare to be boarded," River murmured, and he nodded. The Feds wouldn't take Reynolds' claims at face value. But the precautions they'd taken and the hard burn their engines had just been put through should allay most suspicion.

The ship vibrated slightly around them, echoes of metal meeting metal as they docked with another boat. Serenity's airlocks began opening, a different tremor under his feet. The Feds would be on board in less than five minutes.

He listened thoughtfully, Reynolds' voice was quiet, but easy, sounded like the crew was down in the cargo bay. "Well, quite a lot of fuss. If I didn't know better, I'd think we were dangerous."

The clipped tones that responded had to be an Alliance Commander, "Is this your vessel?"

"It is, bought and paid for. I'm Captain Malcolm Reynolds." The Captain's tone didn't waver in its geniality.

"And is this everyone, Captain?"

"By way of crew it is," Mal managed to tell the truth and a lie at the same time.

"It looks to me like an illegal salvage operation." The Commander was a bit snippy.

"Don't see how it could be, we only got here a minute or two before the ship started blowing fire out its windows. Been hailing it since the proximity alarms rang, couldn't get an answer." Mal's voice shifted slightly towards irritated, as well he might be since there wasn't anything that looked even half illegal in sight.

"You're sure that didn't happen after you'd been aboard?"

"Pretty sure," Reynolds replied evenly. "We were goin' at a hard burn and darn near smacked into her weren't for the alarms. Engine's still hot."

The thump of boots indicated that Alliance soldiers had reached the upper deck, cabinets being slammed open and shut, and something that sounded like crockery crashed to the deck along with someone cursing in irritation. Another voice admonished, "Adams, you break one more thing I'll break you. This is a search, not a search and destroy."

"They're lousy Browncoat scum who attacked a pioneer ship," the retort was not well reasoned.

"How'd they do that? Fireflies don't have guns you moron and that boat had the port thruster torn off," The first sneered. "Now be careful. Case you didn't notice, that's a Companion standin' next to the little girl in overalls. Ship wasn't at least half respectable she wouldn't be here."

There was grumbling and the sounds of bunk hatches being pushed open, bunks, including the one they were hiding behind, searched thoroughly, and hatches being shut again.

The Commander was still speaking, "If we do find Alliance property here you could lose your ship, Captain. But that is a wrist slap compared to the penalty for harboring fugitives. A brother and sister. As my men search this vessel, they won't find them, will they?"

The Captain's response was very clever, "No children on this boat."

"Hmm. I didn't say "children". Siblings, adult siblings." The Commander's voice was sharp.

"I misunderstood." Mal replied, his tone still bordering easy.

"No chance they could have stowed away?" The Commander's tone dipped condescendingly, "No one would blame you for that Captain. I know how these older model Fireflies tend to have those troublesome little nooks."

Mal nodded, "They do. But we don't have any one on this boat but the folk you see here."

"Smugglers and the like tend to prefer them just for that reason," The Alliance man pronounced.

"If I may," Shepherd Book's voice was a serene interjection to the conversation. "Shepherd Derrial Book. My ident card." Presumably, he handed it over to the Commander's aide de camp for scanning. "I've sailed on this boat since Persephone and in all that time we've never had a brother and sister aboard. Young or old." He paused for some reason and the continued, "But if they're so dangerous that they're your concern, I hope you'll enlighten us as to the sort of peril? It's easy to run afoul of pirates out here if they're of that stamp."

"No," The Commander's voice as attentive, almost conciliatory. "No, they aren't pirates that we know of. But they were last seen on a Firefly similar to this one."

"Ah," Book's voice was understanding. "Of course you had to check." The tromp of boots nearly drowned out his words as the search parties began to return to the bay.

"Sir, no one else on board." Someone reported. "Engines are barely cooling down now, nearly burnt out the compression coil."

"Cap'n I keep tellin' ya we need a new catalyzer for that thing, it's gonna fail an' next time…" Kaylee's voice spoke right over the Commander's as she scolded her captain.

"Might be we could have got here faster, maybe helped some of the folks on that ship," Book sounded solemn as if he had no notion everyone aboard the Farragut was dead. "Ship like that, carrying women and children, families looking for a fresh start, it's a tragedy."

"It is," The Commander didn't even reprimand Kaylee. "That was your aim, in remaining here then?"

He must have been addressing Reynolds because that's who replied, "Would have done, if we could help. Thought we'd see lifepods, something, even after the windows blew from the fire. But there wasn't any movement at all." He paused and added, "If Book hadn't pushed me, I might not have stayed, try to avoid trouble of this sort when we can. But Shepherd's got a powerful way of making himself heard."

"I can see that he does," The Alliance man responded. "I suggest you get the registration markings on your hull refreshed. They're barely visible and they are required by law. You might also follow your mechanic's advice and replace that worn part."

The hemming and hawing and making nice that followed bored him and Riddick tuned it out until he heard the sound of Serenity's airlock closing again.

After so much time in the darkness of Serenity's innards even the dim light of the bunk as Mal pulled off the panel was a shock to his eyes. Pulling his goggles down until his sight adjusted delayed him enough that River slipped out the passage past him and into the bunk, twirling on her toes even in the meager space.

He did get out next and held out a hand for Simon to grasp. He'd half expected the kid to ignore it, the strong smooth hand that grasped his forearm was another surprise. But with the steadying grasp Simon climbed out of the hiding place. "They're gone?" Were the first words out of the Doctor's mouth, "Not just off Serenity?"

"We've parted ways," Reynolds nodded and slanted a glance at Rick, taking in the goggles and general air of readiness. "Let's go on up to the galley, Kaylee's straightening up and Jayne's cooking." His expression was carefully neutral, "Got the feeling there's more'n a few tales need be told."

Rick nodded slowly when River simply smiled at him. Whatever was in Mal's mind it didn't worry her and she seemed to be an excellent barometer regarding the moods of those around her. "He is only in as much danger as he believes he is," She remarked obliquely.

He waited for the other three to exit the bunk before he climbed up that ladder himself, considering the possible meaning to her words. Multiple theories circled his thoughts but what he always came back to was the idea that as long as he wasn't expecting betrayal, expecting violence, from the crew of this ship, that they wouldn't offer him any. The entire situation reminded him of that old story Schrodinger's Cat.

That got River beaming at him, "He has it. Everything is changeable, depending on what he expects, his perception colors their intent." Nice to know his brain hadn't gone soft running around the 'verse playing 'stupid convict'; he took another look around the galley and couldn't see one chair at the table that didn't either push him in corner or put his back to a door. River patted a chair towards the foot of the table, taking the one next to it. It put him in a position where he could see just about every door if he angled it right and he'd hear if the airlock behind him opened up.

Simon handed him a mug of tea and gave another to his sister before bringing his own to the table and taking a seat on his other side. He wasn't sure what was going on with that, but the two Core crew members seemed to think he needed an advocate or protection, he couldn't be certain which.

"Neither," River giggled softly next to him. "Support, welcome, newest of the crew welcoming newer."

"Ah," He nodded. It made a little sense. He got the impression that the Doc and the gunhand/merc didn't get along well, no surprise that, since he doubted they had anything in common. And River was a little mystery all her own, which he could see didn't please the gunhand all that much either. The rest of the crew…seemed to think River was just a lunatic and Simon a helpless greenhorn. It fit his theory that none of them had ever met a Seer before River. He had to wonder what they'd think of him in his element and how they'd fare in the Core where Simon likely felt most at home. Not well he concluded, and River giggled again.

"Even Persephone is disliked, too much crowding, society and rules," She was smirking as Mal came to the table.

He guessed that meant Mal would not do well on a Core planet. Further musing on that line of thought was disrupted by the aforementioned Captain taking his seat and the rest of the crew arranging themselves in various chairs as well. "So," The man began in what sounded like an amiable enough tone. "Might be we need a little more information about you than the name 'Rick'." He looked over at the Shepherd. "And some reasons why the Feds were so eager to heed your advice and take your word wouldn't come amiss either Shepherd."

River smirked at the white-haired man as he looked even more inscrutable. "Has secrets upon secrets. Bound him up in a tree, too delicate to do the bidding of Sycorax. I mete and dole unequal laws unto a savage race, that hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me."

Rick slanted a glance at the slender girl noting the Shepherd's slightly stiffer posture and alert eyes as River spoke. The rest of the crew, including her brother, didn't seem to hear anything noteworthy in her words, ignoring her as if she'd been babbling. "The patient must minister to himself," She murmured and not even her brother heard her.

"So," The Captain regarded him expectantly. "Might could we start with a last name?"

He'd already mentally cataloged every weapon in the room, the relative skill of each person nearest to those weapons and how easily he could evade or disarm an attack. The only unknown was the girl. And her words of warning earlier argued for her noninterference should this go sideways. Why take the trouble if she was planning to oppose him, in the event of the possible fight. "I'm not from this system." He began and kept one eye on the girl. If he was reading her reactions correctly any hint of violence from those around her would reflect on her face. "Not even from the Rim."

"You're from the Outer Systems," The first mate, Zoë was regarding him with a healthy amount of caution. More caution than the merc across the table, that was for sure. She likely had more sense. And the merc, as was typical of the breed, probably had an overinflated belief in his skills.

"Yeah, planet called Furya," He shrugged. "Doubt you've heard of it. Got attacked damn near eighty…ninety years ago, near as I can tell. Never did meet any more of my people."

"You can't be over thirty," The shorter man with the patterned shirt blinked. "How can you be from a place that got wiped out almost a century ago?"

"Outer systems gotta use cryo to get around. Old boats traveling could take years, folks in cryo don't age. Used to be anyway, new stuff puts a body to sleep, protects it, and the ship can move faster," Mal answered his pilot. "Explains the accent."

"I don't have an accent," Rick retorted. They did. All of them, twangs, drawls and even the more elegant tones of Simon and River were nothing like what he was used to. Though he guessed theirs were closest to what he'd heard growing up, allowing for the lack of profanity in present company. Their proper diction reminded him of Paris P. Ogilvie. Antiquities dealer, entrepreneur. River giggled beside him and he glanced at her with a shrug.

"Still ain't said who ya are," The merc's eyes were gleaming as he leaned forward a bit, drawing a whetstone down the blade of a long knife.

Well he could lie, but it wouldn't take long before they connected the dots. Might as well throw it out there and deal with the fallout when it came, and it would, he was sure of that. "Like I said, most folks call me Rick. Name's Riddick. Riddick, Richard B." The automatic listing of his last name first, followed by his first name and middle initial had been ingrained in him since he'd been in the Academy. Subsequent stays in slams and lockdowns hadn't exactly broken him of the habit.

The Captain sat back with a slight frown, obviously thinking about that. The mechanic and pilot, and Simon for that matter simply looked at him curiously, although the Doc had a gleam of understanding in his eyes. The merc's eyes were practically burning with avarice now while the Shepherd's spine could have been made of iron for his stiffness. The First Mate looked at him with measuring eyes and glanced at her Captain who was still thinking.

"Mal you know how much plat we could get if we turned him over?" The merc obviously knew, "Bet ya it's gorram near equal what we'd get for Loony an' the Doc." That set Simon's jaw and his spine grew steely as the Shepherd's.

"Guess that means you're wanted somewhere's," Mal rubbed his chin. "Mind saying for what?"

"Escaped convict," River chimed in with a happy smile. She looked as if she was reciting the qualifications of a concert pianist for all the worry on her face. "He is Ulysses, Odysseus," She added, as if to explain, "Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns driven time and again off course, once he had plundered the hallowed heights of Troy. Many cities of men he saw and learned their minds, many pains he suffered, heartsick on the open sea, fighting to save his life and bring his comrades home. But he could not save them from disaster, hard as he strove— the recklessness of their own ways destroyed them all, the blind fools, they devoured the cattle of the Sun and the Sungod blotted out the day of their return. Launch out on his story, Muse, daughter of Zeus, start from where you will—sing for our time too."

He shook his head, "There's no one sings great songs about me." The girl did have an interesting turn of phrase, for all that.

"'T is not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until I die," She retorted as if that settled the question. "But if you only knew, down deep, what pains are fated to fill your cup before you reach that shore."

Riddick shrugged at her, "Got no Penelope or Telemachus waiting for me. Nor a kingdom being devoured while I'm gone."

"Wanders, driven off course over and over, searching," She shrugged back at him. "Much have I traveled in the realms of gold And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne."

"That's all well and good," Mal clearly hadn't understood a word. "Escaped convict. Convicted of what exactly?"

"Murder," The merc smirked at him as if pleased to have announced it first. "He's wanted for killin' more'n a dozen folk. And for escaping the prisons they put him in for it."

"Funny how they forgot the convicted part. Or the little quirk of everyone deserves a trial," Riddick sneered at the merc. "Or that most of the people I've killed were mercs trying to take me back, dead or alive."

"The Count of Monte Cristo," River murmured. "Or Sirius Black?"

"Is there much difference?" He looked at her, "Both of them escaped. Both innocent and thrown in jail without a trial."

"One died saving his son and the other lived," River shrugged back at him.

The merc was doing his best to sway Mal towards his way of thinking. "Score this big drops in your lap an' ya don't take advantage of it someone will."

Mal studied Riddick as if learning the snarly puppy he'd rescued was going to morph into a man-eating wolf without warning and he was trying to figure out how to get a muzzle on it. "Jayne, your mouth is talking again. You might wanna look to that."

"We done took him off a boat had a lotta dead on it, an' only got his word Reavers done it," Jayne persisted.

"It was Reavers hit that ship, no mistaking that," Mal shook his head at that. "Don't go laying that at his feet."

"So far he's done us no harm," Simon spoke up finally. "It hardly seems right to hide him from the Alliance and then turn him over later."

"Yeah, bet that gets you restin' easier, havin' another fugie wanted as you are on the boat. Him bein' in prisons, best watch your back Doc," The merc sneered and Simon looked momentarily confused and then stiffly angry.

"Has no interest in the weak," River patted her brother. "Or in exploiting them. Not as the man with the girl's name implies. Respects life, so long as it respects him."

"Just don' drop the soap 'round him Doc, or leave him 'lone with yer sister," The merc sneered.

The growl that vibrated through Riddick's chest and throat startled everyone but the little girl sitting next to him, "Killer yeah, I am. And I make no apologies for it. But I'm no rapist bastard and if you say I am again I'll slice you open from gullet to groin and choke you with your own fuckin' intestines."

The merc had the small amount of brains it took to look nervous but not enough to shut up, "See Mal, this's the kinda stuff he's known for. You gotta turn him in."

"The human body can be drained of blood in eight point six seconds given adequate vacuuming systems," River announced and smiled sweetly at the merc.

"Mal, make 'er stop that creepifyin' stuff," Jayne looked more alarmed by River's words than Riddick's. That certainly said something about his brains, or instincts.

"Insanity is frightening," River whispered. "Nothing predictable, no warning." What the hell? Did these people not realize she was reacting to people's thoughts? How had they not caught on? Seer, Reader, Psychic… No one had noticed?

"Jayne!" Mal smacked his hand on the tabletop loudly. "Chéng le ." He looked at Riddick, "Maybe you could give us more of an explanation about your past than 'murderer' or 'escaped convict'?"

"This sector had a war a few years back didn't it," Riddick glanced at River and got a nod of confirmation. "Let's just say that being on the losing side of a war…even if the side you're supposed to be on has won, doesn't make civilians, or officers, happy. They tend to want to…get unpleasant reminders out of the way. In whatever way they can manage at the time."

"Sigma Three," Simon blinked at him. "That's what you mean." Riddick nodded slowly and Simon explained for the benefit of the rest of the crew what Sigma Three was and how Riddick had spoken out against the Company, tried to help the workers who were more like slaves that the Company provided as a labor force to whoever could pay enough. How the whole thing had started because of guards who were more predators than guardians. "The riots were crushed, though quite a few of the Company's 'security force' died, some of them it was rumored, fighting their own comrades."

Riddick shrugged, "They put me in a nice little frame. Got thrown into Deep Storage without a trial. Killed three people getting out, so they labeled me a murderer. And everyone I've killed since, they just added to my tab. Surprised you know anything about Sigma Three, being so Core."

"I was…well, River and I saw the news waves about the riots…and River began to point out the discrepancies between the visuals and what the waves said. With some research we, well River mostly, found out what was actually happening. It's not hard to put the pieces together. And the Parliament was eager to point out any troubles in the outer systems…to make Core living so much more appealing." He glanced at his sister and half smiled, "Your name came up in conjunction with Sigma Three. I read that before the Wailing Wars you attended the military school on Sigma Three's moon, the Strikeforce Academy," Simon was looking at him thoughtfully.

"Yeah I was big for my age, how I ended up a Company ranger to begin with, learnt to fly. Managed to impress the bosses enough that they sent me to school," He shook his head. "Funny how everyone they sent after me forgot I'd studied at their best school on tactics; and warfare. Fancy names for killing really. Strikeforce'd weed out anyone too weak to handle the training, and that was just the first few months." He had not cared for his time there, not one little bit, but in the four years he'd endured it, he'd learned a lot.

"And the Wailing Wars?" The Doctor's expression was sympathetic. "Sigma Three again wasn't it?"

"Joined an E-TAC unit," Riddick rubbed the back of his neck. "Problem was a bunch of mercs joined up with them. Official records seem to say I joined the mercs before we went to the E-Tac unit. Guess they like the way that sounded better."

"Heard you killed your whole unit," Jayne was sneering. "They mention that in the news-wave Doc?"

"It was mentioned as a popular theory," Simon shrugged. "I didn't give it much credence. The Wailing Wars were a near massacre. Someone had weaponized one of the species native to Sigma Three. The species wasn't particular about who it killed. Enemy, friend, noncombatant."

"Everything was meat for the spitfires," Riddick agreed. "You could say that my…training and abilities were likely the only thing that kept me alive. Their eyes were heat sensitive so at night people lit up like bonfires to them."

"Subterranean species, bred in captivity," River's voice muttered. "Experimental attempts to cross breed with other species resulted in greater strength and resistance to cold. Further experimentation failed to make them easier to control. Collars with beacons to call them back, bait to lure them out."

"Yeah," Riddick recalled the sound of the spitfires as they descended upon the battlefield. "That's why they called it the Wailing Wars. They screeched like banshees, used the sound to make people move, get their blood going, made them easier to see. Like an owl hoots at night to make a mouse move on the ground. Ended up having more than one war because after they won the first someone had to clean up the mess left over. Went on for over two decades. Sigma Three was like a ghost town, on the surface at least. Underneath…well the mines go merrily on."

Mal had been sitting back, listening to the discussion with a carefully blank face. He flicked a glance at Zoë who nodded and sat back in her chair, deliberately relaxed. "Well, seein' as the Doc knows your history a damn sight better'n the rest of us…" He looked at Simon, "You trust him on this boat? With our lives? Your sister's life?"

River smiled, "I am become a name; for always roaming with a hungry heart much have I seen and known." The Captain looked at her and sighed but gazed back at Doc Simon expectantly. Riddick watched the man too wondering what he should expect. Which way would he jump? How much blood would Riddick have to spill to stay free?

Author's Note: Sooo… Here it is. Fair warning, Riddick is not a native speaker of Chinese and since we've established that he's spent a lot of time in slams his language will reflect that. He will be fairly crude on occasion. Especially under certain circumstances. I started writing this in June of 2019 and put it down (so to speak) to work on a couple other fics. I had barely picked this fic up again when someone commented in a review that all I ever do was stick Riddick in the Firefly 'verse and repeat the episodes and movie. So this is my attempt to mix things up and change the outcome. It was not easy, especially when I got to the BDM.

By the way, if you leave me a negative review and I go look at your account to find you haven't written anything, why should I take you too seriously? This isn't something you've had to pay for to read after all. You're entitled to your opinion but at the same time, so am I.

When people interact with each other in meaningful ways or go through trauma together they tend to influence one another. Small changes create ripple effects. Changing the path as it were. It makes things interesting way down the line because circumstances are different.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Chinese Translations:

Wǒ de mā! (My mother! Mama mia! Similar to "Oh my God!" in usage.)

Āi yā (interjection of wonder, shock or admiration)

Chéng le (that's enough! / that will do!)

Quote Sources:

I mete and dole unequal laws unto a savage race, that hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. – Ulysses – Alfred Lord Tennyson

The patient must minister to himself – Macbeth – William Shakespeare

Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns driven time and again off course, once he had plundered the hallowed heights of Troy. Many cities of men he saw and learned their minds, many pains he suffered, heartsick on the open sea, fighting to save his life and bring his comrades home. But he could not save them from disaster, hard as he strove— the recklessness of their own ways destroyed them all, the blind fools, they devoured the cattle of the Sun and the Sungod blotted out the day of their return. Launch out on his story, Muse, daughter of Zeus, start from where you will—sing for our time too. – The Odyssey - Homer

'T is not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars, until I die – Ulysses – Alfred Lord Tennyson

But if you only knew, down deep, what pains are fated to fill your cup before you reach that shore – The Odyssey - Homer

Much have I traveled in the realms of gold And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne – On First Looking into Chapman's Homer – John Keats

I am become a name; for always roaming with a hungry heart much have I seen and known. – Ulysses – Alfred Lord Tennyson