Written for the Serenity RPG. Imagine the eerie and distant sound of a banjo slowly plunking out the tune of "My Darling Clementine" Oh my darlin’ The commercial ore hauler, originally known as "Abbydale” has had a long, colorful, and dark history. During the beginning part of the war she was converted into hospital ship by the ISN, and was re-christened "Clementia Adytum" or "Heart of Mercy". Her crew called her Clementine. She served the role of a giant, mobile, sickbay. At any given time, she could be carrying between 75 and 100 Browncoat wounded. Near the end of the war, as fighting became more intense and supplies became scarcer, the Clementia was sent on an emergency run to Shadow. The ship was loaded until it was overflowing with nearly four hundred wounded. She was able to escape the planet with her precious cargo only hours before the planet was bombed into oblivion by the Alliance. Oh my darlin' The captain of the Clementia, Robert Lyons, wanted to steer clear of any Alliance ships, so instead of heading back toward his home base of Athens, he set course toward the rim. He and his navigator set a long, elliptical course that they hoped would steer them clear of any conflicts. Their hopes were shattered when they ran into an Alliance patrol ship, with orders to destroy or disable any and all Independents ships. The patrol ship opened fire without warning. Alliance missiles tore through hull of the ship; destroying three of her cargo holds and damaging most of the systems on the ship--including the fusion drive. Some 260 soldiers and crew were killed in the initial attack, including Captain Lyons. Oh my darlin’ Clementine No one can be sure why the patrol did not finish her off. Perhaps they realized she was a hospital ship. Perhaps they were called away to a different battle. The truth and the facts were buried by the Alliance long ago. The only thing the survivors knew for certain was that they were on the drift, with little power and less resources. The crew was left with fatally wounded ship, 140 wounded soldiers, about 3 weeks of food and medical supplies, and a week's worth of fresh water. But the worst was yet to come. With nearly half of the ship damaged and exposed to space, the surviving 157 passengers and crew had to get by as best they could. They rationed and repaired, but recycling and filtration systems were in bad shape and were slowly breaking down, the damaged reactor core was leaking radioactive particles, and the navigation and comm-systems were completely fried. The crew was able to set up a makeshift emergency beacon, hoping beyond all hope that someone would find them. Unfortunately both sides had a bigger distraction. The two factions had focused their full attention on Sturges, and the plight of the Clementia went unnoticed. You are lost and gone forever… The "Heart of Mercy" received none. They drifted in open space for about a week when their water filtration units went offline. With no source of fresh water, dysentery, typhus, and cholera ran rampant. Within another two weeks the survivor's numbers dwindled to only seventeen. The strongest of them was a man by the name of Terrance McCormick. With an aptitude for medicine and a photographic memory, Terrance had become a college professor before the war, trying his best to make sure people on the rim had a chance at an education. When the war broke out he became a medic for the Independents. He tried his best to rally the remaining men into repairing the life-sustaining functions of the ship, but lack of food and water had taken its toll. Those that had not died of disease or starvation were now showing signs of radiation poisoning. Within another three days Terrance was alone. As his life began to fade he began painting the names of all the dead on the walls of cargo hold 2. He floated through space in his giant, festering tomb; knowing he would never be saved. Dreadful sorry, Clementine...