"What're you doing here?" snarled one of the settlers, his teeth yellowed and rotting, his brown hair and beard scraggly and dirty. Mal put on his most charming smile. "We ain't here to cause trouble, friend. Our ship got into a spot of trouble, and we had to land here to make repairs." The settler narrowed his eyes. "Ain't no one come 'round here 'less they got a death wish," he said, gesturing up at the blue-cloud-filled sky. "Bermuda Ring kills any ship what comes through." "It did ours, too," Mal replied evenly. "We didn't so much land as…crash land." He took a step forward, and the settler shoved the gun at his chest. "You stay there," the scraggly man demanded, eyes shifting nervously. Mal stopped where he was. "We don't want no trouble. Just want to trade for parts, is all." "You ain't got nothing we want!" the scraggly man snarled. A younger man stepped from the crowd. "You got food?" he asked eagerly, with a hint of desperation in his voice. The scraggly man turned his head to berate the boy. Mal made his move, grabbing the gun by the barrel and jerking it from the man's grasp. The man cried out, and the other armed settlers aimed at him. Zoe and Jayne raised their weapons as well. One wrong move, and they would start shooting.
The scraggly man glared as Mal opened the chamber of the old rifle to check how much ammo it had. The ship captain raised his eyebrows and gave off a short laugh of disbelief. "You're a mighty good bluffer, my friend," he said to the scraggly man. Seeing his crewmates looking puzzled, Mall added, "Gun's empty. Willing to bet all of 'em are." The settlers became notably more uneasy, looking from the captives to each other, licking their lips nervously. "Like I said, we just want to trade, is all," Malcolm said, getting back on track now that he had control of the situation. "We got plenty of food, medicine, and the like. We can spare some for you folks here." "It won't matter," came a voice from behind the mob. The settlers parted to allow a short man to walk up to the Serenity crewmembers. The man was almost completely bald, with nothing but a bit of gray hair at his temples and around the back of his neck. He wore the outfit of a priest or shepherd. The man held out his hand. "I'm Father Herb. I suppose you could call me the patriarch of these people." He gestured at the mob around them. Mal kept his silence, and the priest continued. "Even if we give you the parts, you can't leave the planet. The Bermuda Ring destroys all electronics, coming or going. All you can do is wait for it to dissipate. Our terraforming expert, before he froze to death, told us it shouldn't be more than a few days from now." Mal hesitated, then nodded his understanding. The priest smiled. "In the meantime, why don't you and your crew come and stay with us for a while? As you so astutely discovered, we have no ammunition anymore, no means of harming you. And we do need some food, if it can be spared." Mal hesitated again, looking at Jayne and Zoe. "Come on, Mal," Jayne said impatiently. "Serenity's gonna be awful cold out there by now. Least these people might have somewhere warm to sleep." Zoe nodded, and Mal turned back to the priest. "That sounds like an agreeable arrangement to me. Much obliged, priest man. Name's Malcolm Reynolds." He held out his hand, and he and the priest shook.
The settlers began moving food supplies immediately from Serenity. The crew stood by, watching. "They sure is dirty," Kaylee said. "They sure are," Simon said. "How can you get dirty on a planet covered in ice?" Kayle smiled at him. "Well, they had to make themselves a home somewhere, didn't they? Dirt's as good a place as any. Underground, keeps out the cold, hides them from wild animals, if there are any." Simon shrugged. "I suppose." Then a thought occurred to him. "What about the prefabricated homes? The alliance always supplies new settlers with them. They should keep out heat and cold." Kayle tilted her head quizzically. "I ain't never heard of no prefab homes." "Just another bit of Alliance propaganda, I reckon," said Mal, walking past them to grab a crate of dried fruit. "Trying to make it seem like they're doing more for the settlers than they really are." Simon opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again. Even after he had learned about River, he still found it hard to accept that the Alliance wasn't the good, just government that he'd been raised to think it was. "Out here, Doc," Mal continued, walking past them again, "Alliance ain't gonna help you none. You're on your own."