Disclaimer: Joss, Fox, Universal Own em’. (Except for Allan and the kids. they're mine) I’m just playing. No money being made.

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This story takes place nine years after Serenity (BDM) and has the established couples of Simon/Kaylee, Mal/Inara, Zoë/Allan and Jayne/River. Takes place five years post “The Bash” -

A/N: New story arc. Set five years after “The Bash”

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Thanks again to Woonsocket and Chris for the Beta work

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Relics

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Chapter Two

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EES Kansas, October second, 2114:

“How bad is it?”

“Bad,” George Tashima, the ship’s first officer replied gravely, “Engines, reactors one through five and main fuel tanks, two, three and four are completely gone. Ripped right off their mounts.”

Sylvia Marsh, Captain of the Kansas sighed, “Casualties?”

“Very high. Lost over two thousand passengers when the port pasture space depressurized. All the animals in that space as well. Twenty crew from the engineering department and fifteen techs in hydroponics. Nearly five hundred injuries. Most are minor but a few are serious.”

“My god.”

“Gets worse. All the aft cryo capsules malfunctioned. Power surge fried the systems. The emergency revival system kicked in but... there wasn't any atmo in that compartment.”

“How many?”

“Seven hundred ninety.”

“Son of a bitch,” the Captain swore, “we've lost nearly three thousand people out of a total of seventy-five hundred, have no propulsion and half our food is now gone.”

“Sums up the immediate threat, Captain.”

“I'm guessing there’s an addendum coming.”

“Backup fusion reactor can run the systems...”

“But?”

“It draws its deuterium from dedicated tanks in the main hull. Normally we keep the tanks topped off from the mains.”

“I know that part.”

“The line that feeds the backup tanks... well.”

“Gone?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“How long do we have?”

“Three months.”

Sylvia Marsh shook her head. Three months. In three months, they would all be dead. Suffocating in the cold and dark. She felt like crying.

She couldn't however. She was Captain and lives depended on her every decision.

“Get me every contingency you can think of. No matter how far off the wall.”

“Aye, Captain.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The Present:

Allan gently lowered Serenity to the ground. As the old firefly tucked her engines under her wings, Allan looked back at his Captain.

“All set, Mal.”

“Nice landin'. Almost as good as River,” the Captain said with a grin.

“Everyone's a comedian,” Allan chuckled in reply. In the co-pilot’s seat, River stuck her tongue out at the older man.

“Enough with the comedy and let's get our cargo offloaded before it stinks up the ship much more,” Mal stated as he turned on his heel.

Allan and River followed him out, “I don't know what's he complaining about... they're his horses...” Allan said to his shorter companion.

“You haven't learned by now that the Captain complains about everything... even things he caused?”

“Now that you mention it...”

Entering the cargo bay, Allan saw that Kaylee was wrangling the older children with one year old Jack on her hip while Mal and Simon stood by the open cargo bay door. An agricultural inspector was examining Mal's paperwork. Zoë and Jayne stood by the horse stalls, getting the big animals ready to move.

“The paperwork appears to be in order,” the official said, “who is receiving the horses?”

“Salah Serra,” Mal replied, as Allan stepped up to his friend’s side.

“Problems?,” Allan asked.

The inspector glared at Allan. Taking in his casual clothing and dismissing the older man in his mind as an underling.

“Who is this?”

“One o' my pilots.”

The inspector grunted.

“I find it hard to believe that a prominent citizen like Mr. Serra would contract with a ship such as this to transport his horses,” the man said snobbishly.

Mal tried to keep his temper in check, “Maybehaps because they ain't his horses as of yet. I also happen to be the breeder.”

The man snorted and dug into the paperwork deeper, looking for anything out of order. The sound of an approaching vehicle caused them all to turn. A large hovertruck configured to haul animals pulled up outside the ship, followed by an expensive ground car.

“Is there a problem, Ai-ren?” Inara asked as she approached, six year old Jefferson holding her hand and three month old Emma in her arms.

“Just crossin' the T's and dottin' the I's, Darlin'.” Mal replied, glaring at the pompous official.

Inara was dressed in her 'casual' clothing. A long flowing skirt topped with a silk blouse. The inspectors eyes popped.

Mal grinned, “This is my wife, Inara Serra-Reynolds,” Mal put special emphasis on the word Serra.

“I... ah.”

All doubt to the crews legitimacy was erased when Jeff suddenly tore from his mother’s grasp and ran towards a the tall, well-dressed man approaching the ramp.

“Uncle Salah!”

“Jeff, my boy!” Salah Serra grinned as he hoisted his grand nephew into his arms, “Pretty soon and you'll be too big for me to do that.”

The boy just grinned at his uncle.

“Hello Uncle,” Inara said with a smile as Salah kissed her on the cheek.

“Inara my dear, you are lovelier every time I see you. And Emma is getting so big.”

“You have to say I'm lovely, you're family.”

“No less the truth,” Salah replied as he gave Emma a peck on the cheek. The infant smiled and burrowed her head into her mother's shoulder.

Salah turned to the Captain, “Malcolm. It's good to see you again. How are my beauties?”

“Ready for delivery,” Mal replied, “That is if the paperwork is in order?”

The inspector shoved the sheets into Simon's hands, “All... all is in order. Um... good day.”

Mal chuckled as the little bureaucrat ran for his ground car.

Zoë moved next to her husband, Sara in tow, “Hello, Salah.”

“Zoë, speaking of lovely. And Miss Sara too,” the big man grinned.

“You making a move on my girls?” Allan asked, smiling.

“Heavens no, Allan. How are you my friend?”

“I'm well, thank you,” Allan replied, shaking Salah's outstretched hand.

“Come, lets get my beauties loaded up. I've set out a light lunch at the club for you all.”

Mal and Allan shared a look. Salah's 'light lunch' was probably a buffet that would feed an army.

Salah motioned his trainers forward and the process of moving six horses from their stalls in the bay to the truck began. Two stable boys had accompanied the trainers and proceeded to muck out the stalls, reliving the crew of the task.

As soon as the horses were unloaded, Allan and Jayne lowered the hovertruck from its storage place at the top of the bay. Mal, Inara, Emma and Jeff climbed into Salah's ground car while Allan, Sara, Zoë, Kaylee, Jack, Simon and Becca climbed into the hover truck. River and Jayne volunteered to stay on the ship, supervising the stable boys cleaning the bay.

Allan had been right in his assumption that the light lunch would indeed feed an army. Salah Serra was the president of the New Shanghai Riding and Country Club. The club boasted the finest golf course, polo fields and stables on Shinon.

On half a dozen tables, foods of every description were laid out buffet style.

Allan had filled a plate with roast beef and mashed potatoes while Zoë carried a plate of lemon chicken and pasta salad. Sara was content with her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Salah had kept the children in mind when he planned the luncheon.

After a few minutes, Salah sat down at Allan and Zoë's table.

“Impressive spread,” Zoë remarked as Salah sat down.

“Ancient Arab custom. Feed your guests well.”

“I remember,” Allan commented. I was the guest of the Saudi royal family a time or two.

Salah nodded, “The Arab people have a rich and wonderful history. It is sad how much of that history was lost over the centuries. It is very hard to find a practicing Muslim these days.”

“Are you... practicing?” Allan asked.

“Heavens no!” Salah laughed, “And miss all the good booze? No, my family converted to Buddhism over a century ago.”

“Yes. I imagine the Muslim faith would not have looked... favorably on Inara's previous occupation.”

“Undoubtedly,” Salah nodded, “Speaking of occupations. I understand you are behind the new 'miracle' fabric Blue Sun is marketing these days.

Allan nodded, “My first patent in over four hundred years.”

“My security staff swears by it. Hard to imagine. Body armor that's lighter than a knitted sweater.”

“Came from necessity. When I was shot five years ago, it wasn't practical to wear body armor under my tux. Now I can.”

“Truly, a wonderful benefit... at least to a humble stockholder like myself,” Salah chuckled, “The dividends went up nicely this year.”

“I do what I can.”

“How long are you staying on Sihnon?” Salah asked.

“Four, five days,” Zoë replied as Allan had his mouth full, “Need to pick up my sister and her hubby on Londonium next week.”

“Hubby? Did Reginald finally make an honest woman out of Alisha or is he pining away somewhere after his lost love?”

“Oh he married her all right,” Zoë chuckled, “Snuck off to the judge one afternoon last month and got hitched. Told us about it after.”

“How... romantic...”

Allan chuckled, “Said they wanted something simple. Kaylee and Simon's, Jayne and River's and of course Mal and Inara's weddings were fairly big affairs. I guess they followed my and Zoë's example.”

“‘Bout time though,” Zoë commented, “Been together near on seven years.”

“Almost eight,” Allan corrected.

Zoë felt a tug on her sleeve, “Momma?”

“What is it, Baby?”

“Can I go play with Becca and Jeff?”

Zoë nodded, “Don't get your clothes dirty.”

“Yes, Momma,” Sara replied before scampering off after her 'cousins'.

“Why are Reggie and Alisha on Londonium?” Salah asked.

“Honeymoon,” Allan replied. “And Reggie is taking a new position at Blue Sun. I think they're house hunting while they have the chance.”

“They're moving to Londonium?”

“Yeah,” Zoë replied, a bit saddened, “With Reggie's new job, well, he can't do it from Boros.”

“What will he be doing?”

“Vice President in charge of Public Relations,” Allan replied.

“One could claim nepotism, you know,” Salah commented.

“Reggie got the job on his own. I didn't even know he applied until Human Resources waved me. Of course having me as a reference didn't hurt,” Allan finished with a chuckle.

“I imagine not,” Salah replied with a knowing smile. “If you will excuse me, I must see to my other guests. If you have time, Allan, I'd love to play a round of golf if you are so inclined before you leave.”

Allan glanced at Zoë who nodded, “I'll bring Simon along. He's been kicking my ass lately. Maybe on a different course, I can finally beat him.”

“Very good,” Salah said as he got to his feet, “Say, tomorrow here, nineish?”

“See you then,” Allan replied as Salah took his leave and headed for Mal and Inara's table.

“Golf, huh?” Zoë asked with a knowing grin.

I did bring my clubs...”

“Where?”

“One of the old smuggling compartments,” Allan grinned back.

“Simon's clubs in there too?”

“Might be... never know.”

“Go chase your silly white balls dear,” Zoë chuckled.

“I intend to.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Simon pushed a cold beer bottle across the table to Allan, “Peace offering.”

Allan glared at the younger man, “Is there anything you don't do well?” he said with a grumble.

“I can't cook and I can't fly.”

Allan grinned at the doctor, “Aw hell, Simon. I almost had you today.”

“Two strokes,” Salah said as he sat down with the two other men.

“That par on sixteen was what did it,” Allan said, “lost my concentration.”

“I must say Simon, you play superbly. Ever thought of going Pro?” Salah asked.

“Maybe when I retire. Seniors tour.”

Allan snorted, “Yeah, like I can see that.”

“More beer gentlemen?” Salah asked.

“If you're buying,” Allan replied.

“I'll be right back.

Salah walked into the bar and glanced around with a smile. It was busy today. That meant that the club members were spending their money. Something on the corview screen behind the bar caught his eye.

“... Alliance officials have confirmed that an unknown ship was located adrift in deep space. It is rumored that it is the long lost Exodus ship; Kansas. Officials deny this rumor and have declined to provide the mystery ship’s location or true designation. Fearing that criminal elements might try to take advantage of the situation...”

Salah nearly ran back to the patio.

“Salah, you look like you've just seen a ghost,” Allan commented.

“I may have. Allan, follow me. There's something on the news you need to see.”

A questioning look on his face, Allan followed Salah into the bar. Simon tagging along behind.

The lead story about the Exodus ship played again. Allan stood transfixed.

“My god,” he muttered.

“... Due to his personal history with the Exodus, we attempted to contact Blue Sun's President and CEO, Allan Bryant for comment. His office stated that Mr. Bryant was unavailable...”

“I'm unavailable because I'm playing golf on Sihnon,” Allan muttered.

“Could it be true?” Simon asked.

“All the reports I ever saw said that the Kansas blew up,” Allan replied, “Never can tell though. I'm standing here after a catastrophic accident in space.”

“Several, actually,” Simon commented. Allan shot him a dirty look

“Salah? Is there a secure cortex terminal I can use?”

“In my office, Allan.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“It's true, Allan,” Richard Farnsworth, Prime Minister of the Alliance replied over the wave, “A freighter found the Kansas three days ago out near Angel. We have a cruiser and two destroyers enroute to secure the area. As well as three heavy tugs to assist with the salvage.”

“What's her condition?”

“From what the captain of the Sutherland reported and from the few captures he sent, she is heavily damaged. I can send the captures along.”

“Send them to Serenity. I'm on Sihnon at the moment.”

“Very well. I hate to ask… but we could really use your help on this. No one knows that technology better than you...”

Allan nodded, “I invented most of it. Besides, wild horses couldn't keep me away.”

“What about Zoë?” Simon commented.

“Well...”

The Prime Minister chuckled, “Let me know as soon as you can. There's one complication: the freighter captain has claimed the salvage rights.”

“What's his name?”

“Robert Sutherland.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?”

Simon spoke up, “I think Mal knows him.”

Allan snapped his fingers, “That's right. Has a Firefly, hauls for Blue Sun from time to time.”

“I leave it in your hands. If you're going, that is.”

“One way or the other, Richard,” Allan replied.

“Admiral Shen is in charge of the operation. I'll make sure he gives you every courtesy.”

“Thank you Richard,” Allan said as he cut the wave.

“What are you thinking, Allan?” Salah asked.

“I'm thinking about where I can get a new spacesuit...”

TBC