A/N: An' here we go again. Mal's stuck, will he get himself and his ship out of it?
What info has the Doctor found about those responsible for what happened to River?
And exactly how does this connect to everything else? You'll have to just read the chapter and see. Jelly Babies? Bananas? Mutant Plot Bunnies? :-D

Thanks to kahuffstix, OtherMeWriter, and Mirth513 for the reviews. And thanks to CelestialMoonDragon, Innogen, and kahuffstix for the story alert/Favorite story listings.

Doctor Who and the Great Eclipse and Doctor Who and the Ties that Bind are the first two parts to this tale. If you’ve not read the other two stories then this one might not make sense to you. Go read them first, Ok?

Summary: The Doctor, the last surviving Time Lord, stumbled into a situation he could not ignore when his TARDIS landed him inside a ship that was clearly in trouble. But everything 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… And there’s more than his personal existence at stake. Who set him up to survive and why do the Elementals now control the Time Web?

He must confront the ghosts of his past and gather what remains of his family if he is to have a future.

The ship Serenity becomes his home when he's forced into the long path. But even now forces move against him, working through a critical point of history. Humanity exists in 6 political groups, divided between the Allies of Gallifrey and the Allies of Skaro. Four of these Colonies fought in battles of the Time War (dubbed the Wailing Wars by those who remember). Could the Dalek invasion of Earth in 2164 be responsible for this divide within the human colonies? What impact does his leaving his granddaughter Susan behind on Earth at what proves to be a turning point in history have? The single Colony not involved in the War holds secrets vital to the Doctor’s and the Universe’s survival. He discovers that Susan’s descendants retain a surprising level of Gallifreyan genes, even after eleven generations… And what about his actions that created the Tesh and Sevateem?

A Doctor Who / Firefly / Riddick crossover.
Features Doctor 9, companion Rose Tyler; The cast of Firefly; ‘Jack B. Badd’ and Richard B. Riddick…

Part TwentySeven

Sacrificial

“Is that why you attacked that transport?”

Mal Reynolds is a lot of things. A thief, a scavenger, an ex-rebel who still hates his government, a man with more honour than most lowlife scum have use for... This pisses him off, though, “What?!” One thing he is not is a killer of innocents. Not ever. Even in his darkest days on Hera he tried to keep the soldiers around him alive, no matter whose colours they were flying. Since both sides abandoned their men in the trenches during the following weeks anyhow, he made it his mission to pull as many of the former enemies through as possible. For him the war was over, long over and he had no reason to treat a purplebelly any different than he might some stupid piece of trash trying to rip him off. So this – bastard – accusing him right now was about three seconds from getting his nose smashed in, or would be, if he was actually free to do it. Having his hands cuffed behind his back rather made it difficult to carry through the impulse.

Harken does not see the situation however, so deeply has he bought into his perceptions already, “You're still fighting the same battle, Sergeant. Only those weren't soldiers you murdered. Those were civilians, families. Citizens loyal to the Alliance, trying to make a new life for themselves and you just can't stand that, can you?”

The longish rant back at him actually serves to allow Mal to get some control on his anger, and the fact that the Commander is so very wrong on all counts, from calling him Sergeant to saying he's behind those deaths acts like a bucket of water over the rage of his anger. He needs to outwit this man, and his passion won't impress. Reynolds shakes his head and takes a deep breath that he somehow manages to not laugh hysterically through, “So we attacked that ship, then brought the only living survivor to our infirmary. That's what we did?” Maybe he can make the fellow see how the puzzle pieces don't make the picture he thinks he's seen. Maybe.

“I'd ask him. Only I'm not sure he'll be able to speak with his tongue split down the middle.” Harken says. “Your Doctor identified Praxis spectrum gas as the cause of his dementia. Where are you storing it?”

Mal furrows his brow, “Wuh de tyen, ah. You think – we – poisoned them? Are you insane? Even going back to the height of the war, Commander, the Browncoats didn't have access to anything like chemical weapons – ever. Explain to me how you figure we could have done this?”

Harken doesn't figure he needs to, “I haven't seen that kind of torture since... well, since the war. What did you do, go through each of the settlers, one at a time, to see how long they lasted?”

“Oh I should have known. Close minded too zai zi. Did you even understand what you were seeing here, or do you always select your evidence so exclusively? Can you explain the radiation in the airlock? And do you really think we'd poison the hamster too?”

The commander ignores all of this, “You and your crew are bound by law. Formal charges will be transmitted to Central Authority.”

Desperate now and almost feeling that the situation was just about to boil over into a very dangerous one, his newly restored intuition screaming at him, Mal stands and leans over the table into Harken's space. The armed guard steps up to drag him away, “Commander, I'm not what you need to be concerned with right now. Things go the way they are, there's going to be blood. That madness will spread and you'll never stop it. For all the stars in heaven, listen to me.” Something manages to get through Harken's walled up perceptions just enough for him to meet Mal's eyes. The fear there is real, and the expression is so honest that the Alliance officer knows at that moment that the man in trying to save them from something they don't understand. It's enough for him to order the guards back.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

He woke in a strange place. It smelled wrong. He reached out with his mind and sought out those that might become like him, responding to his need. The violence of his reaction to the cattle in the room is enough to make them struggle. He needs more sharp heat to make them fall passive. He scans the covered faces and realizes that someone has warned them, made them take precautions. If he cannot convert them he must kill them. His limbs almost react without his telling them too, fighting against the hold that the Cattle attempt to keep on him. Rend, smash, rip the flesh, feast on blood and raw heat even as the heart beats...

“Get a line in!” one of the masked individuals orders another, in an attempt to quiet him with drugs. But their thoughts give away where the attempt will come from. He's ready for it. Ready to become their nightmares. Ready to open their fears right up and swallow them whole. He is the Darkness. It is time to hunt.

The blade he's used to refashion himself remains tucked into his arm where he placed it. His fingers know exactly how to depress the tool to make it come free from his skin and slide into his hand already slick with the blood he'll need to change them, to calm them.

He moves quickly before the needle can penetrate his skin, slashing out and catching the medic with a deadly sharpness that his mask won't protect him from. The screams are music to his ears. He must have more... Fortunately for him, there's an entire ship to kill... An entire ship to paint red with blood of cattle. A feast of death.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Mal managed to get Harken to listen. He's pulled out all the stops, explaining everything he knows about the enemy here, from every time he's encountered them, from the way the transport's engine was damaged, to the radiation readings and where that radiation came from and why it was there, to the state of the bodies, the graphic signs of them being consumed and skinned, facing it straight on, listing every horror that Harken has in his file and a few besides that he don't. He admits to having been on a ship attacked by these things and having managed somehow to slip away undetected in a gorram space suit inside an escape pod with the life support turned off. Others weren't so lucky. Just he and Zoe had survived it and Zoe'd been injured in the fight and was in a cryo box until he'd been picked up by another Browncoat ship. He prayed that the fellow took what he was saying seriously.

“Reavers?” Harken questions, just a bit of his amazement and disbelief filtering into his voice.

Well, maybe not. Reynolds sighs, deflating even as his honed danger sense is pinging at him, “That is what I said.”

The Commander gives up being civil and rolls his eyes. In spite himself he's got to admit for a grudging respect for this small-time captain, if even half of what he's seen is true, “You can't imagine how many times men in my position hear that excuse. 'Reavers did it.'”

Actually considering how bold the cannibalistic monsters were becoming, Mal could. Bad thing was, Reavers don't leave survivors, just death. He swallowed. Until now. He'd brought a changeling into his ship and now it was likely the process had finished and there was a full fledged Reaver on this one. It only took one to spread the madness through a population, “It's the truth.”

“You saw them, did you?”

“Wouldn't be sitting here talking to you if I had,” the captain of Serenity told him. “Not this time. Long gone before we got there. About a week, our Doc figured.”

“Um... No, of course.” Harken frowns, dipping into the realm of patronizing, “None of these claims ever have eyewitnesses and yet we're supposed to take folks word for it?”

Mal decides he must do it, he must say it in plain English so that the man understands the danger here, “But I'll tell you who did. That poor bastard you took off my ship. He looked right into the face of it. Was made to stare.”

“'It'?”

Mal wills himself to have patience, although he's amazed he's been as calm as he has, “The darkness. Kind of darkness you can't even imagine. Blacker than the space it moves through. Surely Jon told you --” his voice breaks. “They made him watch. He probably tried to turn away, and they wouldn't let him. You call him a survivor? He's not.”

Harken interrupts, “Very poetic.”

“Will you please try to understand what is going on here? Dr. Smythe called it Praxis gas. I call it darkness, madness. Even if you don't believe in Reavers, Commander, this is real. It's on your ship. It threatens your crew. Can't you see? A man comes up against that kind of will, the only way to deal with it, I suspect, is to become it. Or to die. This one, he's following the only course left to him. First, he'll try to make himself look like one. Cut on himself, desecrate his flesh and then, he'll start acting like one. If my Doc is correct this threatens everyone and everything you know. If that 'kid' gets loose anyone he comes into contact with runs the risk of becoming just as consumed by madness.”

Harken's already decided to turn a blind eye to what Mal is saying, instead choosing to call in more guards, “Let's have two M.P.s up here to escort Sergeant Reynolds to the brig.” His crew is, as ever, efficient, allowing him just enough time to tell the fellow what will happen next, “Your ship and its contents will be auctioned, the proceeds of the sale will be applied to the cost of your defense.” Mal groans. He's lost his home again even if he manages to prove his innocence. He won't bother saying anymore. The two M.P.s move to take him out of the room and a third soldier comes into the room, moves over to the Commander and in a panicked whisper tells him what is happening. Reynolds already knows even before Harken barks to the M.P.s, “Get him out of here!” before turning his attention to the crisis, “Go to full lock-down. I want guards on the nursery.”

Mal sees his chance and grabs on with both hands, “It won't matter! You won't find him.” Harken stares at him. Chilled to the bone with sudden realization the captain of Serenity can pinpoint the exact moment the kid lost it. His ship is imprinted on the Reaver's blackened heart. He stands a bit taller, “But I know where he'll go. Let me help you.” Harken is not sure why he agrees, but once more he finds himself swayed by the rebel's honestly and genuine fear. Something about this terrifies the man, and yet he's unwilling to allow others to risk themselves for what he figures is his mistake. He asks Reynolds where they should start. “There'll be a trail of bodies,” he's told.

They head back to the medical area, finding that there is indeed a trail leading away. The fellow is not allowing himself to be caught, but if he can make a kill he's more than willing, apparently, to not pass it up. The clues lead them back to the docked Firefly. Harken looks at Mal, “Why would he come back here?” In front of them on the floor in pieces is a blood covered male soldier. It's very clear he's dead to the point of there being no help for him.

The captain rips his eyes off the carnage and shifts his arms uncomfortably because they are still locked behind him, “Looking for familiar ground.” Mal's eyes then drift to the airlock, “He's on the hunt.” There are four armed guards behind him and none of them look easy about this. The person responsible for the deaths has taken out men more skilled, more experienced, just as armed, and done it with little more than a surgical blade and his seemingly petite frame.

Harken doesn't notice their nervousness, “All right, let's get him to the brig.”

But Mal does, and he knows that these boys will die if they go in there to face this thing, “No, no, no... whoa, I should go with you.” It's his fault after all that this Reaver got onto this ship to begin with.

“That's out of the question,” Harken says to him.

He forces himself to be calm and reasonable, even though this is so very scary. He's faced these things before; he knows what this is and what he's going to have to do. But do these boys and this soft officer know? Likely not. Harken says he's seen war, but Mal suspects that he's never seen the horror of uncivilized, madness driven, hunger. “How many more men do you feel like losing today, Commander?” This makes Harken pause and really think about the bodies they've already passed, the medic crew he's lost, the four men behind him and how many more it could take to bring this fellow down if he is what Mal says he is. The captain drives home one other point, “Nobody knows Serenity like I do. I can help you.”

One thing the Commander is not is stupid. The fellow is willing to put his life on the line to save others, and that's not the action of a man that committed this horrible crime against those settlers. If anything it's the sign of a compassionate fellow that knows right from wrong in the most basic of ways, freed from the moral tangles of stuffy laws and rules. He'd be breaking those rules to allow him to help, Harken realizes. But he'd be a fool to reject the offer. He's not officially arrested the man yet, so – he has the option of retracing the reports if this proves Reynolds to be honourable. He nods at the man, “We let him go first.”

“Right,” Mal can only hope that the Commander will actually allow him to take care of this issue. Maybe he can get the cuffs off? He's got no weapon to begin with, and having his hands behind his back is really like offering meat to a starving dog. “You want to, uh?” he rattles the chains a bit. Harken raises an eyebrow and then decides that maybe Mal should have his hands in front of him, at least. He quickly unlocks and then relocks them, with the one change of position. Mal's shoulders slump, “Thanks. Now I'll really have the advantage.”

He should have known that the Alliance sort of trust only went so far. He'll have to earn the rest of the way, likely by putting his own life on the line.

His instinct is still warning him of danger, and he knows it is completely real, this feeling. The Doctor told him so, and he trusts Jon, completely. Because of this he enters his ship, pauses in the cargo bay and listens. The Commander and his four armed soldiers pause behind him, all going into stealth modes without question. Even though he's in cuffs, his air of being in charge is enough to make the ingrained orders to follow to snap into place inside the psyches of the other five men. The cargo bay has been torn apart, every box that could be opened has been. Every hidden hold that could be found was exposed. The various weights, parts, non-spoiling supplies scattered all over. At least Jon's box has been left alone, and those hidden areas had been completely empty.

Mal eyes the stairs toward the shuttles and the airlocks for the craft. Both were securely locked down. He hoped that meant that Inara's belongings had been left alone. Before he heads up to the kitchen area Mal diverts to the passenger cabins and the sick bay. It too is torn apart, stuff scattered everywhere. Even the couch is overturned. The rooms beyond look like a hoard of teens had been living in them not the Smythe family. He gives the clear to the Alliance men behind him and they carefully, silently move back to the “rear door” access to the engine room. It's safer than trying to ascend the stairs, and quieter going up the ladder next to the showers anyhow.

The engine room is clean compared to the rooms below it, with only a few of Kaylee's belongings being tossed to the floor. It's hard to keep the frown off his face. Mal knows that more than likely the gallery, the rooms beyond and the cockpit will all be torn apart by the soldiers. He also knows that said soldiers didn't find anything because there was nothing to find. Stepping from the engine room he glances up at the hull access, making sure nothing is hiding there before signalling to the Commander that the empty hallway is safe. He's pretty sure the Reaver is hiding in the eating area, just as he had been on the transport. But the question remains, Where?

He reaches the door and tries to not see the scattered chairs, the tipped table, the tossed cushions from the built in sofa, the painting that Kaylee loved looking rather sad with the rip in it. He hopes that the herb garden is not ruined. He doesn't hear the burble of it. That could be because Jon turned it off. Or it could mean that it's been ripped off the wall. Mal silently moves through the space, daring to look into the kitchen at the wall where the green should be. He's shocked and more than slightly grateful to see that while the plants show signs of being mucked about with they are not all over the kitchen floor. If anything it looks like the soldier searching the space gave it a careful looking over, opened all the cabinets and moved stuff about, but did not make a huge mess. The plants might be a bit bruised, but they should survive.

Mal turns his attention to looking for where the Reaver might be hiding. He's got to be here someplace. Maybe in the vent? Mal moves silently that direction, listening with every fiber of his being. Behind him the Commander is taking in the damage done to the surroundings and realizing that he could be sued for this. He might have to come to some sort of deal with the Captain if it proves that he's innocent. Mal reaches the far door that leads to the cockpit and freezes, listening for signs of the Reaver's breathing.

The thin, insane, youth was not in the vent, however. Instead he springs from the natural hiding point that the rubbish on the floor provides and knocks a soldier next to Harken to the floor. The blood spray from the fellow's jugular is indicative of nearly instant death. It splatters through the gallery, landing on Harken's face, his pristine uniform, the various items tossed all over the floor, and on the Reaver itself. It makes a definite madness induced roar of sorts and changes it's direction. The impact knocks the Commander to the floor. The other soldiers are frozen in alarm.

It's well that they should be, Mal realizes as he catches a glimpse of the Reaver's freshly wounded face where he's cut himself and pressed staples into his skin, and maimed his human identity in favour of this horrifying show of blood and open wounds. It's clear that he intends to bite Harken to death, and even now is moving to rip the man's hands apart with his teeth as the Commander struggles to get the super-humanly-strong thing off him. Mal does not think about his actions. He leaps into the fray, getting his handcuff chains between the Reaver and Harken, using them at first to pull the thing back and allow the bloodied Commander a chance to comprehend exactly what this is.

Harken meets Mal's gaze, understanding sinking in finally as to what the captain's been telling him. The Reaver, deep into his insanity, struggles not to get away from the chains and the pain they represent, but to make a kill, to sink his teeth into Harken's flesh again. Reynolds places his palms on the sides of the kid's head, deepening the choke hold and gathering up his strength to snap the Reaver's neck. The Commander is watching his every move and can tell that even though this is life or death that Malcolm Reynolds takes no joy in the deed when the end comes with a final snap of bone. In fact it looks like the captain might just start sobbing. Harken manages to force out, “Get the cuffs off this man, now!” Both men breathe heavy for a long while even as the clicks of the locks indicate the cuffs coming off.

Its only when the chains fall away that Mal finally relaxes. He looks at the Commander, “You're going to need about a week of observation to insure that you don't suffer side effects, Commander. Granted, I don't got anyplace to be right away, but seeing as we've all been exposed...”

“We'll talk about course of treatment. Dr Smythe surely knows of something we can do to reduce the chances of infection or addiction.” Mal helps the man to his feet. “I'll send in a crew to clean up? At least the bodies and the blood.”

“After you get that bite taken care of. You're bleeding pretty bad.” Mal steps into the kitchen and comes back with a clean, fairly new, towel to wrap the commander's hand in. Harken blinks at the compassion that this mis-treated man shows him and is awed by what he sees.