Five hundred years in the future, a renegade crew aboard a small spacecraft tries to survive as they travel the unknown parts of the galaxy and evade warring factions as well as authority agents out to get them.
Now, these are my favorites. You're to keep them coming till there ain't no more to be had. I shoot, I run out, you hand me the next biggest one and so on.
— Yes, I'd forgotten you're moonlighting as a criminal mastermind now. Got your next heist planned?
— No. But I'm thinking about growing a big, black moustache. I'm a traditionalist.
— So, does it happen a lot? Government commandeering your ship... — telling you where to go?
— That's what governments are for-get in a man's way.
— Captain, do you mind if I say grace?
— Only if you say it out loud.
— Wheel never stops turnin', Badger.
— That only matters to the people on the rim.
— What does that make us?
— Big damn heroes, sir.
— The girl is a witch.
— Yeah, but she's our witch.
— Do we look reasonable to you?
— Well, looks can be deceiving.
Inara Serra: — I'd have to say this is the first time we've had a preacher on board.
Derrial Book: — Well, I wasn't expecting to see a state official either. I'm missing something funny?
Kaylee: — Not so funny.
Inara Serra: — Ambassador is Mal's way of saying.
Mal: — She's a whore, Shepherd.
Kaylee: — The term is "Companion."
Mal: — I always get those mixed up.
Life's just too damn short for ifs and maybes.
