A/N: Ooooh, reviews. Luv them little bits of feedback. ;-) Thanks to Robin Moto (who says she has trouble doing single chapter reviews but is managing here nicely, hehe), My Reflection, ck16, and alphaskiier.
About the Doctor's filtering: It's not so much that he can't block out the dead, but that he does so for himself to such a great degree that he doesn't realize River senses the impressions left behind until after. Remember, he knows Time, past, present, and future, so deals with death all the while. Just not the way River sees it. And note: the scene with the hatchlings takes place outside the coring room. I figured the little beasties didn't know any better… Yep, that Skiff is a bit of a problem. But then, nah… I'll let you read it.

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. He finds himself caught in a web spun of the choices he's made in the past…

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? 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 Seventeen

Candor

The vehicle, a solar sand-cat, is a mess of wire and parts seemingly thrown together with little regard to efficiency. There's a sturdy frame, roll cage, driver's seat, back bed area with benches, and a tow hitch. All this besides the solar power unit, and an engine that could haul a ton over the rough desert world with little problem, or would if the power from the solar unit was being captured and transmitted with any degree of finesse.

Not to say that the current system doesn't work, but that it doesn't work as well as it might. It's been years since the Doctor has worked with human gadgets, but he fondly remembers his little yellow car. This 'cat, while looking totally different, has a similar feel. It's just that he can't keep himself from fixing it… Which means, of course, that it's taking him longer to get it running than it would have if he'd left it alone. Humans. He loves so much about them, but they are so wasteful sometimes.

The goggled man staunchly alters what he is told to change even when it's clear that the part, wire, gizmo… is not going back in the way it came out. He's still doing that trusting thing. The Time Lord has graced him with smiles, wry chuckles at some of his expressions (which Riddick thinks are all the same but somehow the other man can tell the difference), and even a slight sing-song mumble or two that the ex-ranger is beginning to think are native language swear words. Frankly, he's enjoying himself so much that he doesn't even realize how fast time is passing until Simon comes up and removes a sleeping River from off the toolbox and carries her inside. It's peaking at noon of the twin sun day.

The Doctor picks up a rag and wipes his hands, "What about a break? Some food and refreshment, perhaps." Those hands of his wipe quite clean, like there's no rough spots to catch and hold the dirt. Riddick snags another cloth and follows suit, but his hands don't wipe as clean.

The 'refreshment' that Rich wants has more to do with ghosting Johns than eating or drinking but since he can't have that, he'll settle for watching the alien's back. "Sounds like a plan," he rumbles. They move away from the scattered parts that the vehicle is composed of and into the sun. The noon yellow-ruddy light makes the Doctor look ethereal, even without the Jacket. Riddick frowns and circles back to retrieve it. "Don't forget your coat, Doc."

The look he gets is part thanks and part annoyance as he hands the leather over. The alien slips it on without really thinking about his actions, "Don't call me Doc. You are calling Simon 'Doc' already and it will lead to confusion."

They walk about half a block in silence, as Rich thinks about that statement. He's fairly positive that the Doctor is upset about his shortening the title to 'Doc' and not because it is how he refers to the Tam boy. But how to make it up to him? There's only one thing he can think of that might make it better, "Sure. How about – Bob?" It's a joke, not a very good one, but what he's seen so far of the alien's humor is that he's easy to amuse, most times.

"Never gone by Bob, actually." There's light laughter in that musical voice. Riddick considers the flub corrected.

Keeping the tone, the bronze skinned man replies, "Nah, Doctor is better. It suits you." He gets a slight pat on the arm as they reach the cafeteria and the Doctor opens the door for him. Now that is startling. But then the gent keeps surprising the con with these little acts of kindness, and he isn't used to them. "Look, we should clear the air," Riddick says seriously.

The dining hall is empty, most of the survivors have chosen to sleep, apparently, while the twin stars are in the sky and it's fractionally cooler. Or they are just plain exhausted from their ordeal. In either case, no one is about, so it is safe to talk normally. Or so Rich hopes. He's been so very curious about this fellow, and he is sure that the odd crate he ran into during the crash belonged to the Doctor. They smelled similar, like the Doctor's scent was permeated through the wood by contact and time. And he's sure that if the gent had gotten on at the last port he would have known it. The exotic odor that comes with the man makes him very traceable, to Riddick's nose at least.

"About what, Richard?" The Doctor asks with polite curiosity as moves over to the cooking area. The impression he gives is one of a chief looking at ingredients as he shuffles through the offerings. But the Doctor had a reason for wanting to eat, and he's hoping for something that can take the edge off his longing. He sighs. There's nothing there that will ease his craving for good old-fashioned London chips, so he tries to find something that might appeal to the other man.

Riddick watches him, quietly, until the Doctor settles on a couple of packets and begins to skillfully turn the freeze-dried, not quite edible, pseudo-food, rations into something more appealing. "Things," he shrugs. "You know, like that little doohickey in your pocket, or the skiff, or that odd box -- Or maybe you, yourself? And me. I've been trusting you, you said you trusted me, but I know nothing about you."

The Doctor pauses slightly in his movements, then swirls the hydrated what-ever-it-is from the bowl he was soaking it in to the pan warming in the hotplate as he listens to the words being spoken. He hides his stiffened posture very well, but Riddick can see it, anyhow. He wants to rush over and take the questions back. But he stops himself. He needs to know. The sparsely haired fellow keeps himself moving, preparing food that quickly smells really quite good. "Loaded questions, those," he mumbles in his quaintly accented English. The ex-ranger crosses the room slowly and moves up behind the other man. He's close enough to block any attempt at running, but far enough back to not hinder the food preparation.

"I could start with what I've deducted." He watches the leather clad shoulders jerk up then fall one time, not quite casually. "Like the fact that your average body temperature is about two-thirds that of a human's, or that your blood is the wrong color," the danger of this path makes Riddick's honor buzz, but he can't help himself. "Or I could mention that you smell different than anyone else I've ever met."

The Doctor can feel the tiny, ghostly hairs on the back of his neck rise at the sheer animal power that the other fellow excludes. It's not fear that makes his hearts skip a beat, or his breath threaten to catch in his throat. The savage nature of the muscular man cannot be denied, just as Leela could never be tamed, even after she adopted his world as her own. He has to wonder if this sensation he's feeling now was what led Andred to falling in love with her. Now, why does this man keep calling up his old companion?

"It seems then that you know a fair bit about me, after all." The other man turns, setting the food off the hotplate. Riddick lifts his goggles and looks at the Doctor. The taller man's expression is fairly blank, and it's impossible to tell if he's upset or angered by the direction this is going or not. "How about a trade? I answer a question and then you answer a question."

There's no time limit here, the bronze man notes. He's only asking for equal access, after all. "It's a deal."

The Doctor sidesteps, picking up the food and two plates. Riddick blinks at the very soft, genuine smile that the other man just bathed him in. Why does it feel like he's sold his soul? "Would you like water with this?" the other man asks. Rich nods and allows himself be steered to the table.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Carolyn feels like her life is out of control. It's been that way for a very long time. She's so tired of it. Maybe its time for a change? But she loves being a pilot. Even after the crash, she can't wait to get back into space. Being planet bound feels like her wings are clipped. And this world is hot, dry and just plain exhausting. Um, that theme keeps coming up. 'Hell, I'm just tired,' she thinks, as a yawn threatens to split her face. Time to stop stripping out the wiring before she messes up something.

She steps out of the skiff and wanders back to the orrey. It's still spinning, and as long as the window is open it will do so. She watches as the painted clear ring of the gas giant brushes through the light of the bulb representing the blue star and creates a banded shadow on the back wall. It's there and gone, just a split second of dimness. Fry knits her brows and frowns.

There's something about that, troublesome in it's implications, which she's too weary to puzzle out at the moment. Another yawn forces its way out of her. She scrubs her face with her hands. Time to get a nap.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He could say that he'd been tricked… but he had learned that the doohickey the Doctor kept with him was something called a 'Sonic Screwdriver' and that the gent considered it the most valued of possessions, next to the key-pendant he wore around his neck under his shirt. The Doctor even showed him a bit of what he could do with the thing. Riddick suspected that there was more, that it was like one of those old Swiss-Army-knives with a hundred-and-one tools alongside the blade.

Now he found himself explainin' his eyes, in far more detail and with much more truth than he'd ever admitted to before. He mentioned the visions he suffered because it was impossible to relate how the change happened without that background. Visions that seemed to show horrors that no one need ever see at any age. And of course he had to explain the most persistent ones in detail, because somehow it was related, even if he didn't see the logic in that.

He talked about his fall into the Pit at Butcher Bay and shows off the still fresh scar on his arm. He mentioned the voice, telling him that he'd been blind too long and that his world was going to become more colorful. How the extrasensory vision he'd gained helped him escape from the slam, and that Johns had been there. That he'd almost killed the merc before, twice, and not been able to do it for one reason or another. And then how he'd found Cutter at Ursa Luna's Slam City where there were 'shiners' with fake nightvision, the 'eyeshine'. He'd panicked a bit and had his eyes shined because the other extrasensory vision scared him. He had needed and wanted to cover it up. It had cost him his color sight, but at least he couldn't be pegged as non-human.

The entire time the Doctor listens quietly, glancing at him when he pauses with an expectant air that the ex-ranger can't deny. Admitting fear is a huge thing to him, and Rich has to study the floor for a while until he can get his cheeks to stop flaming from the embarrassment of it.

The Doctor's quiet voice centers him, "Quite a tale there." Riddick frowns and looks at the alien, wondering if the fellow believes him. And he can tell, for once in his life, that someone does. "Troublesome, in so many ways, what you've told me. But the questions are up for now, unless you want to ask another."

Rich does, but he's not sure what depth that his soul is going to be plumbed for in retaliation. He feels comfortable around this man, no denying that. But he's never been that open with anyone since he was knee high and got his fingers nearly broken for telling a lie that wasn't. Visions and portents weren't something to share, in his experience. Now, though, maybe that could change. Maybe he'd figure out what they meant. The Doctor is sitting on the bench across from him, with his back to the next table, just as he is. "I've got so many questions, Doctor, that I don't know where to start. Part of me wants to know everything, but then I've always been that way. I've learned, though, that asking questions gets you very dead."

"You are a smart man. I've got faith that you'll work through this minefield sooner or later." The Doctor went to stand up.

"So, do you have an embarrassing childhood nickname?" Riddick tosses out. He's not expecting an answer, really.

Instead he gets a laugh, "Yes, but if I tell you what it is then you have to share yours."

"Ah, mine was Dickie. No big deal."

The smirk he gets makes Rich think that perhaps the Time Lord isn't gonna share, then the man surprises him, "Snail. Alright?" He rubs his nose with the side of his hand.

Riddick raises an eyebrow, "Snail?"

"Yes. Please don't repeat it."

There has to be a story behind that, "Why 'Snail'?"

The Doctor pauses, "Oh, well… I had a deformity that most of my people lack, and one of my cousins thought it looked like a snail shell. The name stuck until I went away to school."

"Mine is just a play on my name. Yours is much more interesting."

"And if you ever call me by it I will fuse your lips together," the Doctor threatens with a teasing smile.

That he can live with. "You don't call me Dickie, I won't call you Snail," He lets the chuckles overtake him. Soon the Doctor has joined him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Blue sunrise, and Fry does not feel like crawling back into the electrical of the Skiff, yet. Instead she's ventured into the Coring Room and is looking at the samples, trying to understand what the settlers were trying to do here. It's as the Doctor suggested, with the bulk of eight years worth of samples stored in the supply rooms on rows of special shelving. The last couple of months worth of samples are arranged in order by date along the workspaces in the coring room proper.

The notes are filled with technical babble that goes right over her head. But it is clear that they were looking for something here, not just drilling for the fun of it. She rubs her forehead and puts the yellow stained sheets of rough notes back in the pile they came out of. Someone, like the Doctor perhaps, might make more sense of this than she could.

She is at the next to the last table, looking at the excited scrawl in one notebook, when Johns, Simon, Imam, and the Doctor come into the room. "But I'm telling you, Abu, that making a reversed polarized circuit can double efficiency without increasing the load on the system," the Doctor is saying.

"And you can do this?"

"Of course I can."

Behind the Doctor stood Riddick, listening to the technical jargon. Carolyn looked at him, "So, you think the geologists are here, somewhere?"

He tilts his head at her and walked forward. With a motion he indicated the coring shaft. Fry ambles over and peers into the hole with a frown. The depths are hidden in darkness. Johns takes a percussion flare off his belt and pops it against his hip in a practiced motion. The green glowing light that settles at the bottom of the shaft illuminates a stone floor littered with human skeletons, picked clean and scattered about. There are all sizes down there, from adult to young child. Fry squeezes her eyes closed and backs away, feeling dizzy.

Riddick's voice rolls over her, "Other buildings weren't secure..." he pauses and looks over at 'Snail' and let's some of his previous humor cushion him from his own harsh words, "...so they ran here. Heaviest doors. Thought they'd be safe inside, but -- someone forget to lock the cellar." The Doctor walks up beside the con and looks over at the remains with narrowed eyes. He knew the bodies had to be here someplace, because of River, but he'd hoped that some of them had gotten away on other Skiffs. A single eight-man ship for thirty settlers seems very crass. And he can count thirty skulls down there. He and Rich share a glance and an emotion. They are both pissed off, on one level or another.

Carolyn has backed up to the last table near the door, her hand settles on a thick tag of worn card stock and she picks it up. Anything will work for a distraction from the sight burned into her mind's eye.

"Right, fine. I say we put this building off limits. Let's board this up and get the hell gone. Those things seem to stick to the dark, so if we stick to daylight, should be all --" Johns began.

The docking pilot is staring at the date on the card, and then turns to look at the sample it came off of. She looks at the chrono she's taken off Owens' body to remember him by, and does the math. Now that is odd, "Twenty-two years ago."

"Wha'?" the marshal asks.

"All these core-samples are dated. The last one is from twenty-two years ago. This month." Fry repeats, looking again at the card.

Johns scoffs, "Somethin' special about that, Carolyn?"

"There might be…" the blonde says, her mind bringing up that image of the rings highlighted in blue against a metal wall. She takes a deep breath and then darts out of the room. Oh, no… no, no, no!

Abu is right on her heels, Simon and the Doctor are behind them, and Johns pauses long enough to scowl at Riddick. The ex-ranger motions for Johns to walk out first, gaining another dark look in the process. Ahead of them, Carolyn throws the doors open to the room where the orrey is.

By the time Johns enters the room, Fry has pried open the drive box and is hand cranking the main gear, causing the orbits of the simulated system to fly by. The counter clicks eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. And the planets swing, like magic, into a line blocking off the suns from the little yellow sphere in the middle.

There's a collective gasp.

Abu clears his throat and kneels down. He pushes the gear just a bit more, causing the counter to click twenty-three, twenty-four, and then back again. The system stays locked into its line, leaving the planet they are on in total persistent night. Behind them Paris enters the room with a herd of youngsters around him, "What is going on?"

He's ignored.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Johns says with amazement.

"You're not scared of the dark, are you?" a gravely voice asks.