A/N: Thanks to my reviewer, My Reflection. Um…Zeke, well… No Doctor to save 'um? Won't be the only one? Do you really want to know? Better read the chapter…

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. But his reasons for staying once he's made planetfall might not be so benign.

500 years in the future, something has prompted humanity to explode out from their home world. Some of those leaving Earth behind view the world as nearly a myth. Others know better. In fleeing Earth-that-Was humanity scattered to the stars across the galactic arm. Lets just imagine then that Blue Sun exists on the opposite side of this galactic arm from the rest of civilized space, and that one ship is taking a ghost run through the long route. 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? Why does the Doctor's TARDIS insist on shielding a certain cryo-box? 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 Eleven

Hunger

There had been tools in the hanger for almost any job one could imagine. Delighted with the find, Abu and Hassan had gathered up several boxes of tools and parts before heading back to the moisture recovery unit. They were still there, trying to get the water to start flowing again.

Fry and Johns were over at the runway. First they searched the hanger, then they looked over the skiff. The seals on the door were still good, and the process of easing them open had taken time. The marshal had located the codes inside the hanger's lock box but Carolyn ended up using a manual override. Once she got a look inside she could tell why. The little craft was a one-use-only deal. The cheap kind of company provided boats meant for company run risky jobs. That left more questions than she wanted to deal with.

This type of craft should have had a seal on the fuel source that was only removed right before use. But for some reason the ship's safety had been removed, and then it had not been used. Fry feared that the fuel had leaked out into the air over the intervening years and that the cheap construction of the craft would make it impossible to retrofit even if they had access to all the parts they would need. Although – the systems of the Hunter-Gratzner that were intact would go a long way to correcting that.

It just might take her years to make the switchover, was all. She glanced out and noticed that the yellow and red stars that should be rising soon were nowhere in sight, while the blue star was heading steadily for sunset. "Hey, Johns… Shouldn't there be another sunrise, like really soon?"

The redhead was pacing outside the ramp, his footsteps providing an even crunch, crunch tempo. His voice came from the right side of the skiff, "There's gonna be an hour or so of twilight I figure, with the blue sun down before the yellow one rises. Then the red one should come up about a quarter past that. Why?"

"No real reason, I just thought that since all three were up at last sunset they'd be up again this one."

He scoffs, "Do the math, Carolyn. 360 degrees makes a circle. 180 for the sky, right? On average, when there's a flat horizon. Suns at last sunset were 155-160 degrees apart, I'd guess. So that means 200 degrees or so to make that circle… Thus the twilight."

"Oh. I guess you are right there." Carolyn catches his eye as he passes again, "No juice, looks like it's been laid up for years." She stands and brushes her hands off. The yellow dust is everywhere. "But we might be able to adapt the electrical -- "

Johns freezes, head cocked like he's hearing something in the distance, "Shut up." Fry snaps her mouth shut and waits. He scopes out the wind, then frowns, "Sorry. Thought I heard something."

That is ominous, "Like what?"

"Like my pistola," he sets off back towards the crash site, not waiting for anyone else. Fry curses and shouts for Imam and the others to either stay here or follow, but to keep together in any case and breaks into a jog to catch up with the marshal's longer pace.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

There was the possibility that he'd lost his mind in the crash. Oh yes there was. He was currently looking at an impossible thing, a bottle of water, being offered up for his weapon. It was, in slam terms, a more than fair deal. He could make another blade easily. The ex-ranger found himself flipping the shiv in his hand so that the non-sharpened side of it was extended toward the other creature, which he refused to think of as a man, and was somewhat surprised to feel the cool fingers against his own as the exchange took place.

By all the stars in space, he was thirsty. And somehow or another the container was cool. Riddick carefully popped the lid on the bottle and raised it up to his nose. Over the faint piquant luscious aroma that clung to the surface he could tell it was just plain water inside. He took a small sip. Fresh, sweet, and cool liquid rolled into his mouth. The water seemed to ease his raw throat far beyond what water should do. It was like a slice of heaven.

"Better there?" that alien voice questioned. The musical quality was still present, and along with the intoxicating scent, Richard B. Riddick was quite sure he was addicted. Odd that. He nodded, still tasting the honey and cloves on his tongue from the water. It would have to be enough, because he wasn't going to allow himself to hunger for that scent and now, taste. No, he wasn't. "Fantastic," the voice continued. "River? Simon? I do believe it's safe enough, now."

The movement from the other side of the taller form drew the ex-ranger's goggled gaze that direction. Damn. There had been two others right there and he had never even seen them. But then, he was guessing that the alien might have shielded them somehow. Unless the bloke was actually one of those Liquidators from Blue Sun. He'd seen the work those folks left behind and heard rumors that they used a little metal cylinder device in their elimination work. But he'd never met one before, and besides they were to have worked in pairs, weren't they?

He shoved aside the notion. Couldn't be one of them. He doubted he'd be alive still if that were the case. He concentrated on the other two with the alien then. Human. Normal. Smaller than average, both in height and weight. Perhaps immature, teenaged maybe. Or Asian stock. One was clearly a girl, the other a boy. The boy looked a year or two older. And from what Riddick could tell they might have been twins aside from the clear fact that the girl was younger. They had the same bone structure, the same shape and build, the same hair and skin texture, or as close as two people of opposite genders could get at least. He wondered how much their parents had paid for the perfection of their children, and how many orphans that fee might have freed from the company's clutches.

Damn rich weirdoes. But he couldn't blame the kids could he? The boy had to be 'Simon'. That would make the girl 'River'. But who was the bloke that he'd given his shiv to? "Looks like you have a severe case of sunburn," the boy was saying. Riddick gave him an odd expression, prompting the lad to continue, "On your shoulders. I've got some spray that will treat it and keep it from reburning."

Riddick shrugged, "Sure." He was not one to pass up medical attention when offered. And clearly the boy, Simon, was a medical professional of the highest caliber upon a second look. For his age, that was surprising. Maybe these kids were not so normal after all. "I don't have a way to pay you."

Simon blinked, "Pay isn't the objective here. We've crashed on an alien planet. I'd think survival trumps money, don't you?" He removed the spray in question from his bag and showed it to the man before approaching him under the Doctor's watchful eye. If not for the indication he received from the Doctor to proceed with the application of the spray himself, Simon might have offered to let the other man handle his own shoulders. That would look bad, unprofessional, and mostly weak, so Simon swallowed his terror and went to work on healing the man's severe sunburn. After a moment he looked at the Doctor, "Would you please unlock these metal coils so I can treat his wrists?"

The Time Lord grinned, "Oi, I do believe the man has a name."

"Besides the point, at the moment, Doctor. The cuffs?" Simon retorted.

"It's Riddick, thanks," the bronze skinned man stated, holding up his arms and wondering how the 'Doctor' was going to get the cuffs off. The girl stood back; slightly behind the leather clad fellow, with one hand caught on the edge of his pocket, watching silently the entire exchange. The little metal tube with the lit tip reappeared in the fellow's hand. Richard had to force himself to not flinch from the thing and the Doctor fiddled with it and depressed something under his finger. First one lock then the other click open and the metal bindings fall away to the ground. That was pretty cool. Didn't even need a hacksaw.

"Those were way too tight. Are your hands tingling?" Simon inquired

"Slightly, but no worse than other times. You get used to it." He found the boy applying cream and bandages to the raw skin of his wrists with a great deal of gentleness. He looked from the elegant fingers professionally finishing up with their tending to the alien's eyes. And he knew if he hurt these two this 'Doctor' bloke would kill him, slowly and more painfully than he would ever dare imagine. He gave the man a nod of understanding.

"So did you by any chance spot a gentleman wearing a white undershirt and dark pants, suffering extensive burns, passing this way?"

"Your patient?" Riddick watches Simon nod, "Yeah, passed 'em couple of hours past noon. He seemed to be doing all right, and very intent on getting to the main bulk of the crash. Don't know how the other survivors are gonna deal with 'em though."

Just then the girl let off a howl to wake the dead and took off in a run down the crash scar. 'Nope, not normal,' Riddick finds himself thinking as he sprints alongside the Doctor and Simon in a bid to keep up with the rather fleet footed River.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Paris was currently resting inside the hull, with a mister and a fan turned on his face. He felt so ill. Shazza had managed to wipe away most of the gore but her top is still stained with it. She'd mentioned changing into a new shirt, but for some reason unknown had yet to do so. It might have been because there was blood on the cargo bay floor still that she just didn't want to deal with yet. He couldn't blame her.

Jack had insisted upon cleaning up the body, trying to do some respect to the dead man. And Zeke, choked on guilt, had helped the boy wipe it down, redress it, and wrap it in Vectran. Shazza seemed too stunned to move from where she crouched near enough Paris to catch some of the cooled air. The art dealer had some idea of how she felt. It was awful.

Silently Zeke and the boy carried the body of the stranger outside into the fading sunlight. It was late afternoon now, much cooler than it had been in quite awhile. The blue sun was sinking slowly to sunset and the yellow sun had yet to make an appearance. Zeke settled the corpse onto the sled; "I'll do this, Jack. It's my burden to bear. Please stay with Shazza, mate."

Without protest the golden haired child turned and headed back inside to the dark haired woman.

In spite the cooler air of the very late single sun afternoon, Zeke found this body heavier than the others. He's chugging on the oxygen like it can keep the agony of what he's done away. But it can't. He's killed the wrong man, an innocent man, by mistake. Johns had told him 'one shot if you spot him,' and instead of listening and firing a warning shot in the air as he'd been told he shot a survivor twice in the head.

It takes him a very long time to struggle the sled across the vast distance to the gravesite. By this time the sky is bathed in post-nightfall, pre-dawn twilight. Through his blurred vision Zeke doesn't see that the tarp has been disturbed until he goes to lay a hand on the edge and finds nothing there to grip. He moves slightly closer and catches the edge, but in his haste flips it so that he's blocked from view of the ship. He picked the body up and turns to set in into the grave with the others and finds that the bodies have been disturbed and that there's an opening at the bottom of the pit that hadn't been there when he first filled it. The body closest to the new opening is half tugged into the hole.

He thinks that perhaps he should be alarmed, but bodies don't go movin' on their own and there is possibility that this is one of those 'mind-fucks' he's been warned about. If it is then he's going to shoot that bloody con for all the damn trouble he's caused.

He looks around and doesn't spot any sign of the killer. Then he jumps down into the grave and looks at the bodies closely. Tugging the one back out of the hole and out of the way he said, "Now what the bloody hell..." Shuffling the corpses to the side, Zeke clambers down onto his hands and knees for a better look. There are faint signs of something slithering into this tunnel. He picks up the digging tool he'd left there to fill in the grave and sets to making the opening larger.

He's positive that there's a burrow of some kind just down the short passage. Could be fresh meat, and they do need food. If it were a burrow then there might be some baby-what-ever-they-are here that would be an easy kill. He shimmies into the tunnel and removes a handlight from his belt to get a better look. He shines it about the cavern.

A male scream cuts through the air like a nightmare. Shazza jolts to her feet, followed by Jack. Gunshots ring out in the dense air. "Zeke!" Paris is startled awake by the sounds of their boots ringing across the metal floor as the two sprint outside. "Zeke!" calls Shazza as she sprints across the hard-pack toward the grave and it's lopsided tarp. Jack is on her heels. Just as she reaches it the yellow star flares into view accompanied by an eerie wail.

Sliding to a stop, Shazza grabbed for the tarp in the new morning sun and flung aside to find an empty, blood splattered, scrap filled, pit. So much blood. The green-eyed woman screams. She moves to jump down into the pit and Jack catches her arm, "No, Shazza! No! Please!" The bushwhacker turns, throws her arms around the boy, and begins to sob.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Johns has taken a shortcut, heading straight into the afternoon sun, a beeline back to the crash site. The path takes him through the spired hills. He barely pays attention to the faint clicking he's hearing as twilight descends on the landscape. He's chosen a fast walk, but breaks into a jog as he gets closer and can hear additional gunshots, louder now, like someone else is in these hills with him. He picks up his pace, breaking into a full run now. He hadn't realized just how far from the crash that he'd gone until he had to run back there. 'Where is it?' keeps going through his head. There's an eerie, inhuman wail as the morning breaks. Then he hears a woman's agonized scream. It's chilling. 'Shit. That's Shazza,' he knows. Somehow he manages to speed up even more.

He nearly falls into the gravesite as he comes around a large pillar. He can barely come to a stop in time to avoid the blood-splattered pit. Catching his balance he staggers to the side and slides down the slope to the other side of the hole where the dark headed bushwhacker is crying her eyes out. Looks like there's enough blood in the pit for five bodies. What the hell was Zeke thinking, comin' way out here to bury the dead? Fuckin' stupid.

Behind him Fry slides to a stop and makes an out-of-breath gagging noise. Yep, it is gristly all right. "Riddick?" she gasps out.

Johns has seen no sign of the killer, as of yet. But he's willing to pin the blame on him if at all possible. "Maybe. Let's get back inside the defense line and figure out what is happening." He moves over to the bushwhacker get her and Jack walking. "Imam and his boys?"

"Decided to stay at the settlement. Thought water was more important than chasing gunshots, I think."

"Well, let's just hope that the only one missing is Zeke."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

River led them straight to the cargo bay with its blood-splattered floor before freezing and looking off toward the spired hills. The blue sun has set about three-fourths of an hour back but the yellow sun has yet to rise. The world is shrouded in twilight. It's not exactly dark, but it is cooling fast.

"Hunger," she whispered, far away.

The Doctor caught up with her, Riddick having dropped into a walk and Simon between them. He takes her hand then half scoops her up. River is unaware of the situation.

It was Riddick's hand on the lad's collar that pulled him out of sight of the bushwhacker and kid after the gunshots rang out. Oddly, Simon didn't put up a struggle over being tugged into a safer location.

Next to them, the Doctor's arm around her waist, River went slack before a shiver shook her and big tears began to fall. She was strangely quiet about it though. 'Odd girl.' The tears stop falling only after the morning light breaks across the sky and paints the land with a warm yellow glow.

The group of four crossing back to the main hull made Riddick tense up and drew two very curious looks from two sets of eyes that were startlingly the same, for one set belonging to an alien and all. It was Johns' presence that sparked the tension. He'd hoped when he heard the shots that the bastard had bit it. Clearly though it wasn't him with the gun.

After the other group is out of sight the Doctor looks at Riddick, "I'm going to venture that there is at least one person here who will kill you on sight, am I correct?" The con shrugs. The frown he receives makes him cringe inside.

Meanwhile Simon has pulled his medical scanner and is testing the blood scattered on the cargo bay floor, "Single individual. Male. Traces of Derma-heal and Anestaphine. – Looks like someone might have shot my patient in the head at semi-close range." He doesn't sound happy about it.

"I did warn you," Riddick rumbles.