A/N:This week has been busy, and I hate that my job is demanding that I give it 43 hours of my time to it. Cuts into my writing time, as I'm sure you have noticed. And the Doctor isn't forgiving either. Oh, no. He invades my dreams. So I suppose I should put fingers to keyboard here and give you all another chapter.
But first I want to thank my reviewers: My Reflection, OtherMeWriter, and xmenloganfan (who reviewed in the forum :waves to xmenloganfan:).
Question: Is Riddick having Visions? Oh, well… yes I would call it that. There's a reason. He had Visions in Chronicles of Riddick and Escape from Butcher Bay, so he is disposed to them.

Summary: The Doctor, reeling from the effects of the TimeWar as the last surviving TimeLord, stumbled into a situation he could not ignore when the TARDIS landed him inside a ship that was clearly in trouble. After the rescue, he's left with eight survivors that he must somehow get to safety. But the situation is not as cut and dry as he might like. His people may be gone, but the stamp he's made on the universe is still there, and he finds himself caught in a web spun of the choices he's made in the past…

It's 2517. Something in history has prompted humanity to explode out from their home world. Could the events of 2164 be responsible? Was Earth a myth or was it real? In fleeing Earth-that-Was, humanity scattered to the stars across the galactic arm. Initial survey teams targeted likely planets and systems for habitation and not all of them ended up on the same side of the sector. Blue Sun exists on one side, separated by a patch of 'wild space' filled with exotic binary and triple star systems, from the rest of civilized space.

Few ships brave the route. But luck had it that one ship did. Risking a ghost run, the only contact that the two sides have, the Hunter-Gratzner crashed midway through the journey. Original Port of Departure: Eavesdown Docks, Persephone. Mixed Sino-Anglo culture. Original Port of Call: Tangiers-5. Darkside. Mixed Islamic-Anglo culture. Crew complement: Four. Passengers: Forty. Living 'Cargo': Two. Survivors: Eight plus One

So what happens to Dr. Simon Tam, his brilliant but damaged sister, a convicted murder by the name of Richard B. Riddick, and the other survivors from the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner at planet M-344/G-2 now that they are on their way home? They end up slightly out of their own Time, on a ship filled with living sculptures… And just how is this related to the TimeWar?

A Doctor Who / Firefly / Riddick crossover.

Features Doctor 9, Pre-"Rose"; Simon and River Tam, Pre-"Serenity" Firefly episode 1 and the survivors from Pitch Black: Carolyn Fry, William J. Johns, Imam Abu al'Walid, 'Jack B. Badd', Ali Abdullah, and Richard B. Riddick…

Doctor Who and the Ties that Bind.

Part Nine

Forward

Imam woke to the soft rustling of the others waking. He was stiff and sore, but more rested than he thought he would be. He slowly kneeled and rubbed his dark eyes to work the sleep out of them. He was thankful to have lived another day, and was not going to complain about sleeping on the floor, unlike the redhead badge, who was stiffly clambering to his feet, rather off balance because he was still cuffed. "Sleeping on the floor at my age is not the best of ideas," Johns was saying as he gingerly stretched.

Carolyn rolls her eyes, "Sleeping on the floor at any age isn't the best of ideas. You ok there, Abu?"

The dark skinned man nods and accepts the double hand up, as she is cuffed too. "The owner of this ship certainly does not practice hospitality."

The Arabic boy says, "Does anyone mind if I use the facilities?" The adults all shoo Ali off to the toilet, as they continue to work out the effects of being on a stiff surface all night long.

Simon does not seem too bad off, like Ali. He's younger than the others are, and his body is more forgiving of the abuse. Dr. Tam hands out ration tablets and hydration jell, because their captors don't seem to be providing either to them, "I suppose that these cells are designed for Cryo or very short term holds. Not that the summation bodes well for us."

Fry takes what he's handing out and looks at it, "This is – different."

"But good for you, Carolyn. These will give you the calories and nutrients you need, even if you don't get the chewing sensation that you'll crave. I know it's not the best breakfast, but considering that our captors didn't even see fit to provide with a comfortable environment, I'm guessing this is to soften us up. To make us easier to handle."

"That sounds about right, for how POW's are treated," Billy tosses out, "but I'm not aware of any wars going on, so why?" He musses up his curly hair then finger combs it back into place, "These gorram chains are a pain in the ass, no wonder you break them, Rich." Riddick simply smirks at his blue-eyed-devil's direction.

Imam looks over at the Doctor who is placing a red-cheeked Jack back on his feet. "I think that perhaps there is a war going on, Mr. Johns. It just isn't one that involves humanity against itself at the current moment."

Billy lets his eyes drift the same direction, "Father, you may be right. But I hate to think of the full implications of things if you are. And I don't like that we are caught in the crossfire."

"None of us do, I expect. But to abandon the Doctor to fight this battle alone is not the noble approach. And we may not be given a choice in that matter."

They consumed their rations and used the toilet, so that Simon could put the screen away before their hostess snatched it. The Tam scion also put the blanket away. That done, they all settled into groups to wait. River, Ali, and Jack were conversing in various languages, with the elder teen teaching the boys new words. Simon flipped through a padd book he'd brought with him, studying what he could find about Kova and Rychengolls. Imam settled near him and was soon reading along side the young surgeon. Carolyn paced. Johns watched then began pacing too. The Doctor crouched in a corner; similar to what Billy had done the night before.

Riddick hovered near the door now, watching out for signs that the mercs were coming back for them. With how their insane captor acted he had no doubts that they would be fetched sooner rather than later. He wondered what, exactly, she wanted them for. His eyes settled on the other creatures in the other cells, noting that each of them must have some way of being remotely fed. They were not, just as Simon had noticed. The bronze skinned man spun away from the door, "Doctor, we need a plan."

"No." The Time Lord stood up and marched into the center of the room, "Richard, you must focus on getting the others out of here. Let me deal with Ms. Chillingsworth and her little Junner, all right?"

"Absolutely not. I will not let you go this alone. Fry or Johns can pilot. They can get the others to safety. I'm sticking with you, like it or not."

"Now wait a tick here," Carolyn cut in, "I think we should stick together, as far as possible. In fact I think we should try to get back to the TARDIS and get the fuck out of here, as a unit. I'm with Rich."

"This is not up for debate," the Doctor said.

River cleared her throat, "No, it's not. We have all decided where to cast our dice, Storm. We won't leave you."

The hairless gent stared at her, then at Simon, who nodded. Each of the others got a look in turn and each gave a nod. He dropped his head and made a motion like he was trying to squeeze himself down. Riddick stepped up behind him, "We all know that something is going on here. You more than the rest of us, of course. But we trust you. Let us do our part." The taller man tilted his head and then nodded. Bronze hands came up to brush his arms, "So, plan?"

"We find out what our hostess wants with me, and improvise from there."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Junner rose to consciousness, aware of the scratches, the bites and bruises, the various aches and pains, that marked the day after one of his mistress's truly enthusiastic evenings. The smell of moisture hangs in the air, along with the sound of running water. He can feel the heat of the heavier air puffing across his sensitive exposed skin.

He carefully realigned his limbs and worked the stiffness away before attempting to see if she had kept him restrained, only to find that he was not. But then, he's so habituated to it, the fact that she likes to touch but not be touched, that he does not ever move once the encounter begins. He sits up. There's breakfast waiting. Quite considerate of his captain, really. "Mistress?"

She steps out of the shower, draped in something thin but absorbent. She is all business today, "I approve of the promotion you presented last night, Junner. Harley will fill the post well." She picks up a cut crystal glass and sips at the thick glowing greenish fluid inside, "Eat. I need you to keep up your strength, after all." There's a flirt included with the order.

He turns his attention to the food, now that he's been given the explicit permission to eat, "I wonder if the captives would be easier to handle after a few days of no activity in the holding cells."

"Um. I will consider that. I still think that I want to speak with the Doctor, without his companions. But there's enough danger in doing so that it wouldn't be the wisest course of action." She lets the towel fall and slips on a dress. "I wonder if one of his party would safer? No. I think I'll wait until this evening at the least, Junner. The Shrill have been complaining about sharing the air with their enemy. Isn't that amusing?"

He smirks at the observation, "Yes, mistress. Do you plan on meeting any of their demands?"

She laughs, "They are guests, Junner. I've told them that I will do what I can."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

She had moved. The new location was much safer than the old one, but harder to move in and out of. As soon as her Doctor was safely out of range of the vortex energies, she jumped from the original drop off point to a floor above, just below the flight deck where a number of other crates were stacked. She would blend in here. She informed her Time Lord of the change and got back an affirmative with a feeling of approval. She then sent to him her worry about the state of his internal defenses against the Dalek parasite. He didn't quite brush her off, but he did say for her to not worry, that it was holding for now.

The TARDIS checked on the third 'fire child' and despaired at his condition. He might not be sane now. She tried appearing to him, as he was able to pick up her telepathic call. It was like stepping into a cyclone of fire, so lost was he. All that was there was blackness and flame. It was as if he had been consumed by his element. But there must be something left or he'd have died already. She searched his mind, trying to find what was left of him. She made her contact and entrance into his mind gentle, but he was apparently quite sensitive.

Who are you Aether? Came the chilling roar of his mental voice.

She paused, taking on a material form inside the fire that was one of a young woman, fairly pretty with dark hair. She wore a soft golden yellow dress, patterned after an eyelet sundress that one of the Doctor's companions used to wear. Her feet are bare, but she holds a pair of wedge heel sandals in one hand. This mental image was pattered after a mix of Sarah Jane Smith and Dorthee 'Ace' McShane. It was how the Doctor saw her when they spoke 'face to face' in certain areas of the TARDIS or inside his mind. I am Verity.

All she can see is the flames, licking away from some hidden fuel as they attempt to cast light on a horrible darkness that simply sheds anything cast upon it. Truth? Reality? There is none. A figment of my dementia, then. What do you want, Verity?

She shook her dark brown tresses. Here in the mind of an ally, or what would have been one before his capture, she has form. Can't you see me, Fire-Child? Am I not here, speaking to you?

He ignores the questions. I was a Tesh of Fury, one of the molders of our weapons. Now I stand with a plague that says "Furyan: Killer of Men" below my feet. I still feel like a Tesh. Why do these people see me as a Furyan warrior? Besides, those we killed were no longer men but brainwashed agents of Davros in human form. Are you here to make judgement upon me, Candor?

She has to think about that. Or is she here to act on behalf of the Red Guardian? She hadn't pondered that when she first arrived. Not judgement, no. My twin carries that task, not I. I seek only to bring justice where it is lacking. The Time War is all but over. Don't you believe that you deserve to be free?

He manifests before her, a huge nude man with flames for hair, his skin blackened by the intense burn of his aura. No.

She sends out to him her questioning, leaving it unspecified.

I am no longer sane. Odd that I know this in my insanity, isn't it? But I do know it. I would act without reason, attacking my rescuer, even if I could recognize him. I would rather the bliss of death than the freedom of life, Verity. But I sense that I shall not have it.

There you are wrong, Tesh of Fury. My twin will grant you your desire, as it is just. He walks with Pain's champion, besides Time, as her will. We came here to set this right. You have no crime to account for.

Will I taste honey?

Yes. She can tell that this fire-child will not mesh with the others, not at all.

The man's insanity became more pronounced as he grinned and then broke into wild laugher, We win!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The tall man with the white lab-coat and sword-n-gun sheath walked into the prison bay. The Shrill flashed at him; "Atmospheric scrubbers are online to recycle your air separately. Additional cooling units will be delivered in a few hours." The Shrill went quiet in the sense of their colors, turning to flash with more subdued tones at each other. He moved past them, a squad of mercs in tow. "Commander Harley, please set up the privacy screen."

"Yes Sir." The pale-blonde gray-eyed woman instructed the crew of twenty to begin placing pylons for the additional energy field.

The Doctor moved up to the door, with Billy and Rich to either side. Fry, River, and Imam held back Ali and Jack while Simon flipped the toilet unit back into the wall before joining them. "So then, what happens now, Mr. Junner?"

"That depends on you, Doctor." Junner eyed him over. Something was different about The Time Lord but the Kubla Kahn's second couldn't place what it was. Well, he didn't have his jacket, which had surprisingly enough, nothing in the pockets at all, much to his mistress's anger. Not that it was his problem. He didn't care one way or another about the man's pockets.

The oddly hairless fellow, slightly shorter than Junner, raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm listening."

There's a pause before the privacy field kicks in with the mercs and their commander on the outside of it. Then Junner looks over Riddick and Johns before addressing the Doctor. "Antonia Chillingsworth has no complaints against your bodyguards Doctor, in spite of the fact that you are a trespasser on her ship. I could, of course, do an identity match on them. I wonder what I would find?"

The threat hangs in the air for a moment. "No reason for that. These gentlemen are under my pay just as you are under your mistress's pay. Really, that's all you need to know."

"She has assumed as much, and thus is quite willing to let them go, as they have no value to her. But it's not going to be that simple is it? They won't just let me take you out of here, will they?" He is watching the bronze man in particular, the knife fighter. Junner suspects that if anyone has a relationship with this man similar to the one he has with his captain that it will be the broadly shouldered man.

Riddick growls at him.

That's conformation enough. He smirks. "A bit possessive, isn't he, Doctor? Does he fuck as well as he fights?" Junner is not looking at the reaction he's getting from the Time Lord, but instead is fully focused on the ex-ranger. "Think we'll get a demonstration between the two of you of his skill that proves it one way or the other?" There's another warning growl, but it's ignored. "Perhaps he prefers the blonde? Or, the dark-haired girl? Maybe a boy? You do have two of them."

The bronze man make a lunge at the tall, wiry man in the white coat, swiftly enough that Junner steps back away even though there's a force field between them. It takes the fellow in the green shades a second to realize that the Doctor has turned and placed both hands against the other man's chest and stopped him. The ex-ranger's deep voice rumbles, "I'm going to kill you." He's unable to move to the door, but his goggled eyes can't hide the feeling that this is a promise, a vow, directed at Junner for his words.

The tall white-skinned man cocks his head; "Can I fuck you first?" This on top of the rest of the implied threats causes the Doctor to spin and surge at him, looking like he knows exactly how to slip through the energy field. And, in fact, the Time Lord does. He can't push all the way through, but he can open a hole enough for his cuffed hands to breach it. The sensation of pain is nothing compared to the agony he's living with from the parasite. He mentally adjusts the energy flow around his arms to catch the edge of his aura instead of jumping through his nerves.

Junner can't move fast enough to avoid the strong cold fingers the close around his neck with a vice-like grip. He's has the random thought that perhaps he's pushed too far. He can see the black dragon that marks the man's inner right forearm and is aware that it pulses with linked energy, being made up of advanced technology that uses nano-bots and microscopic circuitry. He has about a split second to take this in before his body comes alive with shocking violent pain exploding across his awareness. He can't breathe. The Doctor pulled the taller, thin man into the field, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The energy of it wracks his body with a thousand bursts of pain.

If the alien feels any of them, it doesn't show. The expression on his chiseled face is ugly, terrifyingly so; "Anyone who so much as leers at my companions will face my wrath. And it won't be pretty. You don't want to know what I'll do if they are touched or violated in any way." The white complexioned man becomes aware that he has another reason for his inability to take in air, the pressure on his windpipe applied by two sets of extremely strong, cold fingers that could with a slight shift just snap his neck. "Am I understood?"

Junner brings his gloved hands up onto the wrists that are like corded metal cable. This being grasping him is unbelievably strong. There's no way to even lift a finger off his throat. "Am." The force field comes into contact with his body, and then he's lifted away from it "I." He's dazed but can't fight as the grip brings him back into contact with the source of pain, holds him there for a beat longer, and lifts him away again. It's like being ducked into a pail of water. "Understood?" the Doctor finishes giving the man a final shake into the security field. He looks like he might do it again and perhaps even pull him through into the cell. There's no telling what his two men will do if that happens. Junner doesn't want to find out either, and manages a nod. "Go tell your mistress that I insist on a face to face talk because you can't keep your genitalia to yourself." With that Junner himself sprawled on the floor, gulping cool air into his burning lungs.