DW/FF crossover fic: The Engineer's Gift (15/21)
Title: The Engineer’s Gift
Author: shan21non
Rating: PG-13
Beta Readers: buffyaddict13 and inkhand , who are the best!
Warnings: Swearing in Mandarin!
Pairings: Ten/Rose, Mal/Inara, a bit of Simon/Kaylee
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who or Firefly. How is that fair?
Summary: When the Doctor takes a wrong turn, he and Rose find themselves aboard Serenity. Confusion, explosions, mystery, romance, and adventure ensue!
Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three Chapter four Chapter five Chapter six Chapter seven Chapter eight
Chapter nine Chapter Ten Chapter eleven Chapter twelve Chapter thirteen Chapter fourteen
A/N: Remember, for the Chinese phrases, all you have to do is hover your mouse over the Mandarin, and a translation will pop up.
So I know that several readers have never seen Firefly, and have no idea who Atherton Wing is beyond what I've mentioned. While you don't really need any additional info, Atherton comes from such a fun episode that I thought I'd like to a Youtube Video with him in it. The video is actually pretty long, but I synced it to his appearance (although Kaylee is totally adorable in the beginning of the clip, in case you want to rewind).
Okay, that's all from me. On with the story!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
She stood and made her way out of the cockpit, Mal following behind her. When she opened the door, however, it wasn’t Warrick that they saw.
“Atherton?” Inara blurted out.
Sure enough, Atherton Wing stood before them, looking as pompous and self-satisfied as ever.
“Where’s Warrick?” Mal demanded.
Atherton smiled genially.
“He was waylaid. I thought I’d provide a welcome instead,” he said.
Mal forced a similarly phony smile onto his face and replied energetically.
“Well, that’s mighty hospitable of you, Ath. We did previously establish that I can call you Ath, didn’t we?”
Atherton’s smile faltered momentarily before he pasted it back on.
“Actually, you can call me Sir Wing now. There’s a ball in my honor this evening to celebrate my new lordship.”
He gestured to his chest, and Mal noticed for the first time the red sash draped across his body.
“They givin’ out lordships for being a whiny little rat now?” Mal asked.
“Apparently,” Inara replied
Although Mal hadn’t been asking her specifically, he felt himself relax a bit at her response. He enjoyed even more the look of disgust that the Companion was giving the newly honored aristocrat.
“Atherton, what is the meaning of this?”
Mal turned to see Warrick Harrow blustering towards them, followed by a posse of staff with luggage carts. He was relieved the see the large man was unharmed and had apparently been on his way to retrieve Inara and her belongings, as arranged.
Atherton lifted his chin and answered defiantly.
“You must know, Sir Harrow. After all, you were fined for the illegal sale of cattle to this man not six months ago. Unfortunately for Captain Reynolds, the punishment for transfer and sale of that contraband off-planet bears a much steeper penalty. Guards.”
On his last word, two men in green uniforms appeared from around the corner. Mal didn’t struggle as they pulled his arms behind his back and zip-tied them together.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me, Ath. What is this? Pent up frustration from not bein’ able to buy a Companion? You got yourself blacklisted from Guild, you know,” he taunted.
Atherton let out a laugh.
“I’m married now,” he said.
“I shudder to think what you must have done to trick a woman into marrying you,” Inara spat.
Mal grinned again, but Atherton seemed unaffected by her words.
“Miss Serra, it was lovely to see you. I trust that Sir Harrow will see you safely off planet in a few days time, but please allow me to personally invite you to my ball tonight.”
Inara started towards them, only to be held back by Warrick’s hand on her arm.
“Where are you taking him?” she called out.
“To prison, of course. His trial will take place before the day is out,” Atherton replied serenely.
“Well, that’s Core planet efficiency for ya,” Mal said.
He was doing a good job of sounding as unaffected as Atherton, but Inara’s panic was now coming through loud and clear.
“Mal-” she began.
“Don’t worry about me,” he cut her off. “I’ll be out of here before you can say ‘Sir Atherton Wing has a tiny sword.’ I’ll send you a wave from Serenity.”
He gave her a smile that she didn’t return, and allowed himself to be dragged away from the ship.
They immediately entered the bustling marketplace of the Eavestown Docks, and Mal knew this was his chance at escape. There were hundreds of distractions here, and weapons besides. He was shoved and prodded past tents full of people peddling their wares; pots and pans, homemade medicines, spare parts for broken down ships, and so on.
Eventually they entered the center of the market, which served as a sort of food court. Mal was pushed towards a kebab stand with a vertical spit upon which stacked slices of lamb cooked. The man working the stand shaved off a few ounces of meat onto a plate and handed it to a hungry customer. Mal looked more closely and saw that there was a gap at the top and bottom of the spit where the hot metal was bare. This was his chance.
“Hey, fellas,” Mal said, coming to a short stop next to a kebab stand. “If we’re gonna be takin’ a long walk together, you should know I have shin splints.”
As soon as the booth owner turned to help a customer, Mal backed up a few inches until he felt the heat from the kebab spit on his back.
“What a shame it would be if you were to suffer any discomfort,” Atherton said sarcastically.
Mal pulled his hands up as subtly as he could until he felt the hot metal of the spit on his wrist. He suppressed the urge to yelp and tilted his wrists so that the spit was instead touching the plastic ties binding them.
“I mean it,” he continued, stalling for time. “Makes me cry like a baby. You’d know what that’s like, Ath-y. It ain’t pretty. We should probably rest here a spell.”
Atherton’s grin turned nasty, rage curling around the corners of his mouth.
“Guards, perhaps you should drag him behind you through the dirt. Then he won’t need to support himself on his legs at all.”
The guards chuckled. Mal felt the plastic melting. He tested its strength and found that he still couldn’t tear it apart.
“That’s mighty hospitable of you,” he replied, pressing harder into the spit until his flesh met the metal again.
“You know, I might pay a visit to Inara while she’s in town,” Atherton continued.
Mal took the bait; anything to keep his captor occupied.
“I don’t think she’d much appreciate your visit. Nor would your wife.”
Atherton’s smile only grew.
“My wife is good at sharing. And I bet I could convince Inara that it’s in her best interests to make connections with influential people. And, well, if reason doesn’t work, I always find that a little physical persuasion can be very helpful,” he sneered.
“Gun ni ma de dan!” Mal snapped, forgetting his purpose.
“As erudite as your wit is, Captain, I grow tired of this back and forth.” He turned to the guards. “Gag him,” he ordered.
The guard closest to him reached down and pulled off a black boot. He tugged his sock free and slipped the boot back on before straightening up. He chuckled maliciously and stepped right up to Mal until they were chest-to-chest. Then he dangled the offending garment in front of Mal’s nose.
“Time to put a sock in it. Whaddya say?”
Mal felt the plastic burning along with his skin. It was now or never.
“That’s a good one. In fact, I feel like I should give you a hand.”
With a roar, he pulled his arms in opposite directions and felt the plastic band tear. He brought his right fist up under the guard’s jaw hard enough that they made a sickening crack. The guard collapsed in the dirt, out cold. Atherton’s eyes widened.
“Get him!” he shouted.
The other guard lunged for Mal, but he was already running. He dove into a crowded tent and immediately fell on all fours, crawling under tables and between legs until he reached the other side. He was up and racing through the market again, back in the direction of the shuttle. He heard shouting behind him and forced his legs to move faster. He spotted a tent full of clothing racks and dashed in that direction. He exited the other side sporting a Stetson, relieved to see no sign of Atherton or the guard.
Taking a sharp right, he saw and narrowly missed a cart of produce when something caught his eye: A cardboard sign declaring “POMEGRANATES.” He snatched one as he ran, ignoring the shouts of the proprietor and kept going.
He was close now. The lot was in view. That was when he ran headlong into a body.
“Oomph!” the person groaned.
Mal found himself lying on top of the person, and shook himself.
“Sorry, friend, I-”
He stopped speaking. His eyes grew as wide as recognition dawned on him. This was The Tall One! Even out of his fake police uniform, Mal recognized the man’s face. He was one of the men who helped blow up the crate of beetles and then hightailed it before Serenity took off.
Before he could think to do anything about this, he was being shoved aside and The Tall One was up and running. That was when Mal saw his short friend hobbling along beside him. He noted with great pleasure that The Short One was relying heavily on a cane, clearly nursing an injured leg. It turned out that Zoe was a fantastic shot, even through the haze of a smoke bomb.
The Tall One was getting away, but The Short One couldn’t keep up. Mal pulled back and hurled the pomegranate. It hit in the dead center of the man’s cane and sent him tumbling to the ground. Mal was on him in seconds, ignoring his desperate calls for help, and he reared back with a fist. His knuckles sunk into the man’s nose and came back bloody. He hit the man two more times in the face, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Mal knew now wasn’t the best time to be dragging a hostage with him, but he hauled the man up over his shoulder just the same. His steps were clumsier and slower than before, but he was so close to the shuttle that it didn’t matter.
He distantly registered Atherton Wing’s angry bellows ringing out from behind him, but he pushed ahead and didn’t stop running until he was inside the shuttle doors. Sealing them behind him, he dumped The Short One unceremoniously on the floor and started the engine. Without waiting for word from the tower, he took off, leaving Atherton in his dust.
He glanced back at the body on the floor, and was satisfied to see that the man hadn’t moved. He was well and truly out cold. His eyes shifted to the skies around him, searching for any sign of pursuit, but he found none. If he had to guess, he’d say that Atherton’s confidence had gotten the best of him again. The man no doubt expected to ambush Mal and take him in without a fuss.
Mal aimed the shuttle in the right direction and shifted into high gear. He ignored the throbbing from the ugly burns on his wrists and kept his focus on his ship. At the first sign of Serenity, he finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Wash’s voice came over the comm.
“You ready to dock, Cap’n?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” Mal replied, his voicing coming out slightly breathless.
If Wash found anything strange about that, he didn’t say so. A few seconds later, the shuttle was safely docked and Mal was once again heaving an unconscious man over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. He staggered from the shuttle and made his way to the catwalk overlooking the cargo bay.
“I know exactly what’s happening, and I’ll explain it all. But first I need River’s help,” he saw the Doctor announce.
“Well, I’m sorry, Doctor, but that might have to wait,” he called back.
Everyone turned to see him standing over them. Just as he was about to explain, Wash came rushing past him, hurrying down the metal steps without noticing that Mal was there.
“Hey, Mal’s back with the shuttle so everybody be-Whoa!” The blond’s eyes found Mal and he paused. “Mal, what have we told you about bringing home strays? We have no idea where they’ve been, what diseases they could be carrying, whether they’ve had their shots.”
“Oh, I know this one got at least one shot,” Mal replied.
He carried the man down the stairs and dropped him in front of Zoe. Simon made a sound of protest, probably unhappy that Mal was handling a soon-to-be-patient so roughly, but quickly fell silent.
“It’s the man who bombed the crate. I got him in the leg,” Zoe said, sounding pleased at the realization.
“How is this possible?” Simon breathed, still staring at the unconscious man.
“It does seem unlikely that you would bump into him again on a different planet just after the sale of the beetles was complete,” Book noted.
“No, I mean, how is this possible?” Simon repeated, sounding even more bewildered than before.
“Simon?” Mal prompted.
Simon looked up then, fixing on Mal with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“I know this man,” he said with certainty. “He is not our enemy.”
Chinese Translations:
Gun ni ma de dan = Go fuck yourself
End Notes: GASP! What does Simon meeeean?
So this was a nice little diversion into Firefly land, with a focus mostly on Mal. I really appreciate readers who have never seen Firefly sticking with this! In the next chapter, we will be back to our regularly scheduled “Doctor being brilliant and figuring everything out.”
Chapter 16 is here
Author: shan21non
Rating: PG-13
Beta Readers: buffyaddict13 and inkhand , who are the best!
Warnings: Swearing in Mandarin!
Pairings: Ten/Rose, Mal/Inara, a bit of Simon/Kaylee
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who or Firefly. How is that fair?
Summary: When the Doctor takes a wrong turn, he and Rose find themselves aboard Serenity. Confusion, explosions, mystery, romance, and adventure ensue!
Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three Chapter four Chapter five Chapter six Chapter seven Chapter eight
Chapter nine Chapter Ten Chapter eleven Chapter twelve Chapter thirteen Chapter fourteen
A/N: Remember, for the Chinese phrases, all you have to do is hover your mouse over the Mandarin, and a translation will pop up.
So I know that several readers have never seen Firefly, and have no idea who Atherton Wing is beyond what I've mentioned. While you don't really need any additional info, Atherton comes from such a fun episode that I thought I'd like to a Youtube Video with him in it. The video is actually pretty long, but I synced it to his appearance (although Kaylee is totally adorable in the beginning of the clip, in case you want to rewind).
Okay, that's all from me. On with the story!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
She stood and made her way out of the cockpit, Mal following behind her. When she opened the door, however, it wasn’t Warrick that they saw.
“Atherton?” Inara blurted out.
Sure enough, Atherton Wing stood before them, looking as pompous and self-satisfied as ever.
“Where’s Warrick?” Mal demanded.
Atherton smiled genially.
“He was waylaid. I thought I’d provide a welcome instead,” he said.
Mal forced a similarly phony smile onto his face and replied energetically.
“Well, that’s mighty hospitable of you, Ath. We did previously establish that I can call you Ath, didn’t we?”
Atherton’s smile faltered momentarily before he pasted it back on.
“Actually, you can call me Sir Wing now. There’s a ball in my honor this evening to celebrate my new lordship.”
He gestured to his chest, and Mal noticed for the first time the red sash draped across his body.
“They givin’ out lordships for being a whiny little rat now?” Mal asked.
“Apparently,” Inara replied
Although Mal hadn’t been asking her specifically, he felt himself relax a bit at her response. He enjoyed even more the look of disgust that the Companion was giving the newly honored aristocrat.
“Atherton, what is the meaning of this?”
Mal turned to see Warrick Harrow blustering towards them, followed by a posse of staff with luggage carts. He was relieved the see the large man was unharmed and had apparently been on his way to retrieve Inara and her belongings, as arranged.
Atherton lifted his chin and answered defiantly.
“You must know, Sir Harrow. After all, you were fined for the illegal sale of cattle to this man not six months ago. Unfortunately for Captain Reynolds, the punishment for transfer and sale of that contraband off-planet bears a much steeper penalty. Guards.”
On his last word, two men in green uniforms appeared from around the corner. Mal didn’t struggle as they pulled his arms behind his back and zip-tied them together.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me, Ath. What is this? Pent up frustration from not bein’ able to buy a Companion? You got yourself blacklisted from Guild, you know,” he taunted.
Atherton let out a laugh.
“I’m married now,” he said.
“I shudder to think what you must have done to trick a woman into marrying you,” Inara spat.
Mal grinned again, but Atherton seemed unaffected by her words.
“Miss Serra, it was lovely to see you. I trust that Sir Harrow will see you safely off planet in a few days time, but please allow me to personally invite you to my ball tonight.”
Inara started towards them, only to be held back by Warrick’s hand on her arm.
“Where are you taking him?” she called out.
“To prison, of course. His trial will take place before the day is out,” Atherton replied serenely.
“Well, that’s Core planet efficiency for ya,” Mal said.
He was doing a good job of sounding as unaffected as Atherton, but Inara’s panic was now coming through loud and clear.
“Mal-” she began.
“Don’t worry about me,” he cut her off. “I’ll be out of here before you can say ‘Sir Atherton Wing has a tiny sword.’ I’ll send you a wave from Serenity.”
He gave her a smile that she didn’t return, and allowed himself to be dragged away from the ship.
They immediately entered the bustling marketplace of the Eavestown Docks, and Mal knew this was his chance at escape. There were hundreds of distractions here, and weapons besides. He was shoved and prodded past tents full of people peddling their wares; pots and pans, homemade medicines, spare parts for broken down ships, and so on.
Eventually they entered the center of the market, which served as a sort of food court. Mal was pushed towards a kebab stand with a vertical spit upon which stacked slices of lamb cooked. The man working the stand shaved off a few ounces of meat onto a plate and handed it to a hungry customer. Mal looked more closely and saw that there was a gap at the top and bottom of the spit where the hot metal was bare. This was his chance.
“Hey, fellas,” Mal said, coming to a short stop next to a kebab stand. “If we’re gonna be takin’ a long walk together, you should know I have shin splints.”
As soon as the booth owner turned to help a customer, Mal backed up a few inches until he felt the heat from the kebab spit on his back.
“What a shame it would be if you were to suffer any discomfort,” Atherton said sarcastically.
Mal pulled his hands up as subtly as he could until he felt the hot metal of the spit on his wrist. He suppressed the urge to yelp and tilted his wrists so that the spit was instead touching the plastic ties binding them.
“I mean it,” he continued, stalling for time. “Makes me cry like a baby. You’d know what that’s like, Ath-y. It ain’t pretty. We should probably rest here a spell.”
Atherton’s grin turned nasty, rage curling around the corners of his mouth.
“Guards, perhaps you should drag him behind you through the dirt. Then he won’t need to support himself on his legs at all.”
The guards chuckled. Mal felt the plastic melting. He tested its strength and found that he still couldn’t tear it apart.
“That’s mighty hospitable of you,” he replied, pressing harder into the spit until his flesh met the metal again.
“You know, I might pay a visit to Inara while she’s in town,” Atherton continued.
Mal took the bait; anything to keep his captor occupied.
“I don’t think she’d much appreciate your visit. Nor would your wife.”
Atherton’s smile only grew.
“My wife is good at sharing. And I bet I could convince Inara that it’s in her best interests to make connections with influential people. And, well, if reason doesn’t work, I always find that a little physical persuasion can be very helpful,” he sneered.
“Gun ni ma de dan!” Mal snapped, forgetting his purpose.
“As erudite as your wit is, Captain, I grow tired of this back and forth.” He turned to the guards. “Gag him,” he ordered.
The guard closest to him reached down and pulled off a black boot. He tugged his sock free and slipped the boot back on before straightening up. He chuckled maliciously and stepped right up to Mal until they were chest-to-chest. Then he dangled the offending garment in front of Mal’s nose.
“Time to put a sock in it. Whaddya say?”
Mal felt the plastic burning along with his skin. It was now or never.
“That’s a good one. In fact, I feel like I should give you a hand.”
With a roar, he pulled his arms in opposite directions and felt the plastic band tear. He brought his right fist up under the guard’s jaw hard enough that they made a sickening crack. The guard collapsed in the dirt, out cold. Atherton’s eyes widened.
“Get him!” he shouted.
The other guard lunged for Mal, but he was already running. He dove into a crowded tent and immediately fell on all fours, crawling under tables and between legs until he reached the other side. He was up and racing through the market again, back in the direction of the shuttle. He heard shouting behind him and forced his legs to move faster. He spotted a tent full of clothing racks and dashed in that direction. He exited the other side sporting a Stetson, relieved to see no sign of Atherton or the guard.
Taking a sharp right, he saw and narrowly missed a cart of produce when something caught his eye: A cardboard sign declaring “POMEGRANATES.” He snatched one as he ran, ignoring the shouts of the proprietor and kept going.
He was close now. The lot was in view. That was when he ran headlong into a body.
“Oomph!” the person groaned.
Mal found himself lying on top of the person, and shook himself.
“Sorry, friend, I-”
He stopped speaking. His eyes grew as wide as recognition dawned on him. This was The Tall One! Even out of his fake police uniform, Mal recognized the man’s face. He was one of the men who helped blow up the crate of beetles and then hightailed it before Serenity took off.
Before he could think to do anything about this, he was being shoved aside and The Tall One was up and running. That was when Mal saw his short friend hobbling along beside him. He noted with great pleasure that The Short One was relying heavily on a cane, clearly nursing an injured leg. It turned out that Zoe was a fantastic shot, even through the haze of a smoke bomb.
The Tall One was getting away, but The Short One couldn’t keep up. Mal pulled back and hurled the pomegranate. It hit in the dead center of the man’s cane and sent him tumbling to the ground. Mal was on him in seconds, ignoring his desperate calls for help, and he reared back with a fist. His knuckles sunk into the man’s nose and came back bloody. He hit the man two more times in the face, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
Mal knew now wasn’t the best time to be dragging a hostage with him, but he hauled the man up over his shoulder just the same. His steps were clumsier and slower than before, but he was so close to the shuttle that it didn’t matter.
He distantly registered Atherton Wing’s angry bellows ringing out from behind him, but he pushed ahead and didn’t stop running until he was inside the shuttle doors. Sealing them behind him, he dumped The Short One unceremoniously on the floor and started the engine. Without waiting for word from the tower, he took off, leaving Atherton in his dust.
He glanced back at the body on the floor, and was satisfied to see that the man hadn’t moved. He was well and truly out cold. His eyes shifted to the skies around him, searching for any sign of pursuit, but he found none. If he had to guess, he’d say that Atherton’s confidence had gotten the best of him again. The man no doubt expected to ambush Mal and take him in without a fuss.
Mal aimed the shuttle in the right direction and shifted into high gear. He ignored the throbbing from the ugly burns on his wrists and kept his focus on his ship. At the first sign of Serenity, he finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Wash’s voice came over the comm.
“You ready to dock, Cap’n?” he asked.
“Oh yeah,” Mal replied, his voicing coming out slightly breathless.
If Wash found anything strange about that, he didn’t say so. A few seconds later, the shuttle was safely docked and Mal was once again heaving an unconscious man over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. He staggered from the shuttle and made his way to the catwalk overlooking the cargo bay.
“I know exactly what’s happening, and I’ll explain it all. But first I need River’s help,” he saw the Doctor announce.
“Well, I’m sorry, Doctor, but that might have to wait,” he called back.
Everyone turned to see him standing over them. Just as he was about to explain, Wash came rushing past him, hurrying down the metal steps without noticing that Mal was there.
“Hey, Mal’s back with the shuttle so everybody be-Whoa!” The blond’s eyes found Mal and he paused. “Mal, what have we told you about bringing home strays? We have no idea where they’ve been, what diseases they could be carrying, whether they’ve had their shots.”
“Oh, I know this one got at least one shot,” Mal replied.
He carried the man down the stairs and dropped him in front of Zoe. Simon made a sound of protest, probably unhappy that Mal was handling a soon-to-be-patient so roughly, but quickly fell silent.
“It’s the man who bombed the crate. I got him in the leg,” Zoe said, sounding pleased at the realization.
“How is this possible?” Simon breathed, still staring at the unconscious man.
“It does seem unlikely that you would bump into him again on a different planet just after the sale of the beetles was complete,” Book noted.
“No, I mean, how is this possible?” Simon repeated, sounding even more bewildered than before.
“Simon?” Mal prompted.
Simon looked up then, fixing on Mal with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“I know this man,” he said with certainty. “He is not our enemy.”
Chinese Translations:
Gun ni ma de dan = Go fuck yourself
End Notes: GASP! What does Simon meeeean?
So this was a nice little diversion into Firefly land, with a focus mostly on Mal. I really appreciate readers who have never seen Firefly sticking with this! In the next chapter, we will be back to our regularly scheduled “Doctor being brilliant and figuring everything out.”
Chapter 16 is here