Among Other Foolish Things
Disclaimer: I don't own "Destiny" or "Firefly"/"Serenity." They belong to, respectively, Bungie, Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox. I'm just taking them for a short spin.
"Now the time it has come to pull yourself out of the mud
And fix yourself up
Hell don't you care how you look?
Your mother god rest her she'd spin in her grave if she know what a mess you have made"
from "Boy, Decide" by Murder By Death
Chapter 1-Risen
Lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled across the plain as the small metal construct ignored the sound and the torrent of rain coming down as it flitted across the landscape. And suddenly stopped, turned around slowly, a beam of light emitting from the eye-like structure at the center of the construct. The eight points making up its shell separated from the body, rotating, and a burst of light shot out, hitting its intended target.
The little construct's points snapped back into place and watched as the human it had found sat up, gasping for breath and pushing himself up out of the mud.
And he slipped and fell as the little robot spoke.
"I'm your Ghost," she said. "I've been looking for you for a very long time."
The Ghost continued watching as the human scrambled again, this time finding his footing, gaping at his companion. He righted the backpack on his back and pulled the makeshift hood of his cloak over his head. The human wasn't panicking. Yet. A good sign.
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She didn't tell him how long they'd been walking, but night had fallen, and the stars were peeking out as the storm broke and clouds moved off. Her Guardian hadn't complained, either. He hadn't said anything yet, come to think of it. Until he plopped himself onto the ground, pushing his hood back, glaring at her with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen.
"Just where the hell are we going, and what the hell is going on?" he asked. "I'm wet, and hungry, and more than a little confused. And just what are you anyway?"
"Weren't you listening before?" the Ghost said. "I'm your Ghost. You're my Guardian. You've been dead a long time, and I found you and resurrected you. We're south of Old Chicago. And unless we find a ship, we're going to have a very long walk to the last safe city on Earth."
"Well, little light, if you haven't noticed, there's nothing for miles," he said.
"Actually, there's a crashed Fallen skiff 2.7 kilometers west of here," she said. "We can shelter there for the rest of the night and scavenge for anything useful at first light."
First light came after a cold, fitful sleep. The man slipped outside when it was full light, taking a look around. Miles of overgrown fields broken up by the occasional tree or line of trees. No sign of any human habitation he could see.
He picked up the backpack he'd been using as a pillow and flipped up the rucksack's flap. A rusted folding knife, a few now useless writing utensils, a sealed plastic bag with several journals and two ID badges. Both had a photo of a man with brown hair and blue eyes. He went and found a puddle and looked at the reflection—the man in the photos was him.
The name on the badges was Malcolm Reynolds, though one had Malcolm "Mal" Reynolds. Mal. He liked the sound of it. And he was going to crack the cover on one of the journals when the Ghost came back.
"I found you a few serviceable weapons, if you don't mind Fallen tech until I can find better," she said.
She saw the ID in his hand. "What should I call you?"
"Mal," he said. "What about you?"
"I don't have a name," she said.
"What do other Guardians call their Ghosts?" Mal asked. "I'm assuming there are other Guardians?"
"They call them Ghost or name them," she said.
"I think I'll call you Rain," he said.
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They spent a second night in the Fallen skiff, and Rain was determined they were leaving the next day. So she prodded Mal awake at dawn, watching him stuff one of the Fallen banners into his bag and rolled two of the smaller ones into a bed roll and tied them to his bag. He also had a drag pistol and a knife at his belt.
And more than a few questions in his head as he walked. But he didn't know where to start. So he started with the most basic he could consider.
"What's a Guardian?" he asked.
Rain bobbed in excitement. "Guardians are the chosen of the Traveler, raised from the dead to protect humanity and the last safe city on Earth," she said.
"I'm your Ghost and you're my Guardian and you're a Hunter," she said.
The mention of the Traveler sounded familiar, but the rest, not so much.
"What's a Hunter?" he said.
"Scouts. Rangers. Whatever you want to call them," Rain said. "We'll have to figure out which energy you have an affinity for, thought."
"Huh?"
"Your Light," she explained. "It's either solar, arc or void. So you'll start out as a Gunslinger, Blade dancer or Nightstalker."
"Again what?" Mal said, confused.
"You have gifts bestowed by the Traveler," Rain said. "You'll see."
"And what's your part in all this?" Mal asked.
"Friend, companion. Oh, and when you die, I can resurrect you," the Ghost said. "C'mon. Get walking. Each day on the road is one day closer to the City."