"Reavers?" repeated Jason. "As in chew your face off and rape you till you’re dead Reavers?"

"Only kind I know of sir," replied Linda as Sarah stepped backwards a few steps from the hideous corpse.

"Think there's any still around," asked Rick.

"Dunno, don’t wanna know. Linda, Sarah, get back here, we're leaving," ordered Jason with and uncharacteristic tone of authority. Sarah wasted no time in complying with this. When Linda hesitated, Jason reasserted himself. “Now!”

"What about survivors, or the bodies," asked Rick.

"We do have salvage rights, sir," added Linda.

Jason looked from one to the other.

"Reavers don’t leave survivors, as I understand.” Jason bristled slightly at having to explain himself under the current circumstances. “As to salvage, I don’t give a rat's pi gu if that freighter is loaded with solid platinum bars. Closest thing we got to a soldier on this boat right now is Linda, and she was a medic, not a gorram marine. Now unless Miss Cobb here has any new surprises regarding her past, there ain't a one among us fit for a tussle with their sort. We are leaving. Now move."

"Yes, sir,"

"But"

Jason very much did not feel like arguing the point any further. He knew both Linda and Rick probably had a valid point of view. As such, it would be very difficult to argue his instincts against their logic, and his instincts were very much telling him something was very wrong. Therefore, the next thing Jason said was very uncharacteristic and unlike his usual laid back demeanor as he turned to Rick.

"If you don't like it, you can take it up with the chain of command. The one I beat you with until you understand who owns this boat."

Rick stared open mouthed at the harsh words from his old friend. For her part, Linda simply walked back into the cargo bay of the Shire, the discussion over. She hit the button to close the cargo bay door and adjoining air lock. Jason turned and walked up the metal steps as he headed toward the cockpit. Linda, her son, and Sarah followed, leaving Rick still standing in the cargo bay of the Shire with a mouth that was not quite closed.

As soon as Jason flopped down into the pilot's seat he brought the engine on line and began the sequence to disengage the two ships. As far as he was concerned yesterday wouldn't be soon enough to be away from the ghost ship. Rick was the last one to step into the now crowded cockpit as Jason pressed the last button that would undock them from the derelict ship.

It was then that the most unexpected thing happened. A fountain of sparks erupted from the pilot's console as a sudden power surge jolted through the electrical system. At the opposite end of the ship, the engine also erupted into a ball of flame that engulfed the entire engine room in a discharge of plasma. The small ship rocked with the force of the blast. This cataclysm was soon followed by inky darkness as every light on the ship went out, and there was utter silence.

"Good Job, Jay," muttered Rick who was still irked by his friend’s highhandedness. Linda glared at him, or would have had there been enough light to see Rick's face.

"The hell was that?" asked Jason to no one in particular, not quite able to wrap his mind around what just occurred; much less the fact that his ship was now dead in the black. A few seconds passed in silence, and then mercifully, the emergency lights flickered to life, bathing them all in a weak florescent glow.

"I think that ship was booby trapped," said Linda, who was the first to regain a logical train of thought.

"Oh," said Jason, after which a long silence ensued.

"Sir," prompted Linda finally, "What do we do now?"

Jason looked around at the four other people in the room. The four people he now realized he had a responsibility to keep alive.

“Now, right,” he said thinking quickly. "Rick, you and Linda best get back to that other ship. See if they have any shuttles or spare parts. At least see if there're any other nasty surprises waiting on us."

"Now we're searching the ship? The one you were all fired ta get away from?” asked Rick with more than a little sarcasm. He was getting tired of Jason barking orders at the rest of them like they were dogs. “And why just us two? I seem to see five of us here with legs."

Linda glared at Rick again. Jason just ignored him, turning his gaze on Sarah. Seeing the signs of fear evident on the girl's face, he softened his voice.

"You said you're good with electronics. Can you see if there is anything you can do about this," Jason indicated the pilot's console. When she didn't respond, he addressed her again. "Sarah! Can you try to fix the console?"

Finally she also snapped out of her daze. "Ah, yeah, sure, where are your tools?" she asked.

Rick opened a locker and gruffly handed the girl a toolbox, as Jason was already on his way back to inspect the engine. Linda eyed both men with more than a little concern.

"Rick, Linda, move!" Jason called over his shoulder. "I want you both back here in two hours. And Matt, stay with Sarah."

-------------------------------------

Linda once again entered the hold of the ghost ship with Rick following close behind. She waited until she was certain they were out of earshot of the others, then turned on the larger man. "The hell is your problem?" she demanded icily through gritted teeth. Rick was forced back half a step by the sharpness of her tone.

"What!" exclaimed Rick. "Me? I'm not the one's had a stick up his pi gu since we docked with this derelict!"

"Do you have ANY idea of the situation we are in?"

"Ooh, I duuno, maybe driften dead in space waitin on bein Reaver lunch. All thanks to Jay, I might add," said Rick sarcastically, "who by the way is on some power trip, all the sudden."

"I thought he was your friend?" asked Linda in both anger and puzzlement.

"He is! Known him for near on twenty years, since even back before he was indentured at the Wing Estate. Hell, I've never known him to talk like that ta anyone! And you sir'n him left and right don't seem ta help none neither. This ain't the damn military, woman."

Linda slapped him. Hard. Across the face.

Rick just stared at the imposing woman who stood almost as tall as him. He was not quite able to comprehend that Linda had actually struck him.

"We are not back at your damn estate either, Rick. We are, in space, on his boat,” she paused between each of the carefully annunciated points. “We are also, as you say, very much in danger of being Reaver lunch. I don't exactly know, or care, what your relationship with him was before, but things are very different now. You wanna live long enough to leave this ship at Newhall, you best get used to it."

"Now hold on," retorted Rick.

"No! You hold on!" Linda hissed. Keeping her voice down was becoming increasingly difficult for her. "I've seen what happens, Rick, when bullets are flying, and when there are too many chiefs and no Indians. You wanna know what happens? People die! Like it or not, Jason is our chief right now; and unless he gives an order that endangers my son or myself, I intend to see it stays that way. Now move!"

Rick said nothing as he shouldered his way past Linda, taking his lead up an open stairwell leading to the upper level of the freighter. Finally, over his shoulder he added, "And what would happen then?"

"It would be," she replied flatly, "interesting."

When they finally reached the top of the steps, they emerged into a large dining and common area that was many times the size of that on the Shire. From here, they had to choose one of two directions, as there were two corridors that led out of the room, one forward, and one aft.

Large as it was, the entire freighter had only two levels it seemed. Just as the cargo hold below ran the entire length of the long cigar shaped ship between the front aft cargo bay doors; the second level ran from the bridge at the front all the way to the engine room at the back. Cabins ran along the length of this long corridor in between, bisected in the middle by the large dining hall. “So what makes you trust Jay so much,” asked Rick conversationally, as he following Linda into the corridor that would take them to the bridge.

“Why don’t you? He is your friend, I thought.”

“It’s not so much that I don’t. I was just a bit miffed earlier. He’s damn smart, hell of a lot more so than me," replied Rick. “It’s just, I guess it goes back to when he first came on under indenture. It was after his pa died and his ma took to the bottle. Thats why you won’t see him drink over much, by the way.”

“At the time, alota the other servants wanted a piece a Jay, him be’in a former noble and all, or almost noble anyway. He came from some money, which his ma had burned through or been swindled out of, not quite sure which. I had known him fer a while by then, n’ Jay’d always treated me nice; helluv a lot more so than most of the society types on Persephone would. Ever been there, to Persephone that is?”

Linda indicated she had not and Rick continued. “Kinda took him under my wing as it where. Taught him the ropes of taking care of the grounds and animals and the other work what needed to be done round the place.” Rick sighed. “I guess I’m just having trouble with the role reversal. Truth be told, I’d prolly trust Jason with my life. In some ways I already have.”

As they talked they checked each of the cabins along the way to the bridge. Almost all of them showed signs of having been occupied. This fact served only to make even more disturbing the eerie emptiness of the ship. Almost all the bodies in the cargo hold had been Reavers, and though they now found the occasional body that was not, it was still far too few as to account for the large number of people that had obviously set sail on the ship.

The talking had kept both of them much calmer than did the silence, so Rick prompted Linda again “Your turn, you never answered my question,” he asked. “Why do you trust Jason, knowing so little about him?”

Linda considered this. “Well, it is pretty clear that both of you are pretty green as spacers. No offense, but you admitted as much the other day, when you told us about your first job and the mail mix up fiasco.”

“Really,” Rick interjected, “that don’t exactly sound like a vote of confidence to me.” They were in the bridge now. Unlike smaller transports that usually only had a cockpit, the freighter’s bridge was a large room complete with a captain’s chair and seats set at dedicated terminals for several other bridge officers. Some of the bridge officers, who were, point of fact, impaled on long wooden spears, pinned into those very chairs.

Linda looked away and continued talking, thinking back to her time in the service. “The first time I saw you two it was what, only your second shady delivery job, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Bout that,” agreed Rick.

“Yet Jason stared down a man with a drawn gun, several men with drawn guns in fact.”

Linda let Rick consider this before continuing, “During the war I saw quite a few people’s leadership tested under fire. I discovered there are two very general categories you can lump folk into.”

“What’s that,” asked Rick, quickly following her out of the bridge. Both of them were eager to leave the grizzly scene.

“The first kind, are those that like to strut around in a fancy uniform and bark orders to feel important.” For some reason her description caused the image of one Lieutenant Reed to pop into Rick’s head. He almost smiled at the thought.

“But then,” continued Linda, “when bullets start flying, and the very real possibility of death is staring them in the face, they turn to useless mush. These folk tend to get both themselves and those under them killed.”

“Oh,”

“The other kind, well sometimes they like to bark orders and feel important too, but not most of them usually. These folk, however, step forward when the go se hits the fan, face their fears, and still manage to act like leaders. Some of them don’t ever even act like leaders; lessen their backs against the wall like that.” Linda paused a moment. “I think Jason is like that.”

-------------------------------------

Two hours later everyone finally reconvened in the Shire's dimly lit kitchen. Jason looked over his assembled crew and well, not so much of a passenger anymore. "Rick, Linda, what did you find?"

Rick looked up, at a loss for words. Jason noted he had been rather quite since returning. Jason felt a bit bad for yelling at… no, no time for that.

"Several weapons, sir; and ammunition; and no survivors, human or not so human," replied Linda. "It looks like the crew of the Compass Rose put up a good fight before the Reavers took them down."

"The Compass Rose?" Jason raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah," said Rick, finally finding his voice. "The freighter was named the Compass Rose. Found the captains quarters, and the ship's log. There was a safe in there as well, but I figure you didn't wanna waste time with that."

"We brought back what weapons we could," added Linda, "just in case."

"Good," Jason said to both of them, "Any shuttles?"

“All gone,” Linda answered, “looks like a few crew or passengers tried to get away. I can’t imagine they got very far though."

"Can it move," Jason asked as an afterthought, "the Freghter that is?"

"Not without likely a month in drydock."

"Fine," that was one option down. "Sarah?'

"Got the cockpit consoles fixed up mostly. Most of the fireworks were just fuses and such blowing. I found plenty of spares so we’ll have most of our 'lectronics back on line, at least when we get power back that is."

"Well," said Jason. "That is a piece of good news. The bad news though is that the engine is humped. There was plasma in the core when the surge caused it to loose magnetic containment. Damn near welded the entire housing together."

"What about air," asked Linda?

"Life support is good for a couple days on the battery backup. Sarah, is there anyway you think you could boost that distress beacon, maybe make it directional?"

"I could try."

-------------------------------------

Hours later, Sarah was working under the communication officer's console of the Compass Rose trying to amplify the distress beacon. She was also trying very hard not to think on the impaled body that was resting in the seat nearby when she heard a quit beeping. Crawling out from where she was working, she looked around the large bridge of the freighter. Looking at the various controls she found the source of the alarm. She immediately pressed the button on the com unit Jason had left with her in case of an emergency.

"Jason, I'm picking up a pulse beacon. Pretty far out but it looks like a ship, Firefly class." Sarah focused what crippled sensors she could on the contact. "And it’s running without core containment," she added.

TO BE CONTINUED

Authors Notes: Finally, excitement as promised.