"Who are you, and what are you doing on my gorram ship?"
Chelsea looked up, alarmed. There were at least five guns pointed at her, held by four different people. She slowly raised her hands and looked around. She was in a dark, industrial corridor, that had definitely been a school parking lot five seconds ago.
The entire group was tall. The man who had spoken was tall and muscular, with blue eyes and messy brown hair. He wore suspenders and boots, and a hip holster. He was flanked by a tall dark skinned woman with curly hair and an unsmiling face, and an even taller, stronger man with an unforgiving face and two guns. And the boy. The tall boy with brown hair and the most striking green eyes she had ever seen.
The boy lowered his gun.
"Mal," he said, looking confused.
"Put your gun back up, we don't know what's goin' on here," the man named Mal said.
He raised his gun as ordered, but there was no heart in it.
"Mal," he repeated.
"WHAT? I ain't got no time for blabberin', Andrew."
"Mal, I know her. She's- She's my best friend."
Mal looked at Andrew, slightly lowering his weapon.
"What the dìyù are you talkin' about?"
"This is my friend that I told you about. The one I miss…" he trailed off for a second, then shook his head as if to clear it. "This is her. Chelsea. But how are you here?"
She looked at him, confused.
"Your guess is as good as mine. I was headed out to my car and suddenly I'm… here."
She suddenly understood.
"That's why there was no evidence. That's what happened to you," she said, realizing the situation more and more.
"Yep." He turned to the man in charge, Mal. "Can we, uh, stop pointing deadly weapons at her?"
Mal looked reluctant, but seemed to agree.
"Alright, guns down, we ain't gonna shoot 'er," Mal said.
Andrew rushed forward and took Chelsea in a tight hug.
"I missed you, Chel," he said simply.
"I missed you too," she said, face buried in the crook of his neck.
Mal cleared his throat.
The two broke apart, slightly flushed and embarrassed.
"I s'pose we'd better call a meetin', let the rest a' the crew know what's up."
"Crew? Are we on a ship?" Chelsea asked, her confusion growing.
She never received an answer; instead, she was led by Mal, the man and woman, and Andrew to a small, dimly lit kitchen/dining area. There was a long table lined with mismatched chairs. Mal walked over to a little com box on the wall. He pushed a button, and spoke into it.
"This is the Captain, there's a crew meetin' in the dinin' room now. Everyone down here, now."
"That include me, Mal?" asked a voice on the com.
"Yeah, you too Wash. Put Serenity on auto."
Slowly people filtered into the dining room. There was a tall blonde man who sat next to the dark woman; a stately woman in fine clothes; a woman, a girl, really, with a sweet face and an easy smile; a dark haired, good looking man; a girl with dark stringy hair, about the same age as Chelsea and Andrew.
"What's this all about, Mal?" the elegant woman asked.
"I'll tell ya once everyone's settled down," the captain answered
Everyone took a seat. That's when they started noticing Chelsea.
"Who's she?"
"Stowaway?"
"You get hitched on accident again, Mal?"
Mal inhaled deeply.
"This is- what's your name again, anyway?"
"Chelsea. Listen, I don't know-"
The burly man with the cruel face pointed his gun at her.
"Shut up and let the cap'n talk."
"Jayne," Mal reprimanded, "Gun down. She's scared, I understand that. Let 'er be."
Jayne begrudgingly replaced his gun into its holster.
"She'll stay here for now, on the ship, 'til we can figure out what to do. You got something you can do that's anything useful for on a ship?"
"Um, like what kind of "useful things?'" She asked.
"Mechanics, medicine, cooking, stuff like that. I'm sure Kaylee er Simon could use some help, an' God knows we could use a decent cook," Mal said.
Chelsea sat and thought for a moment. The crew was staring at her, and it made her nervous.
"I-I can cook, to some degree, and I know a little bit of first aid."
The handsome young man seemed to approve of this. Mal considered this for a moment.
"Alright. You'll have your own bunk, and a small cut of the profits from our jobs. You'll cook two er three square meals a day, and help Simon when he needs it. You've got free run of the boat, so long as you don' get in anyone's way, 'specially mine. This all square with you?"
Chelsea processed this for a moment. Then she nodded.
"Yeah. I just have a question. Why can't you just take us home?" she asked, gesturing to Andrew.
For the first time, the crew looked away from her. They all looked at the floor, or the wall, or the ceiling. Something was wrong, and she was more confused and scared than ever before.
Andrew took a deep breath and hesitated.
"Chels," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "We can't go home. There's no way we can get there."
"Why?"
"We're in the year 2518. Earth is gone. And by ship, we mean "spaceship." We're in space."
Chelsea just sat there, eyes wide, mouth open.