Summary: The episode Bushwhacked through the eyes of River. Part 3 of my retelling Firefly series.
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Ghosts
The big silver ball sails through the air and bounces against the floor and walls, tossed and dribbled between the crewmembers. There's a ring hanging from a chain in the roof, that's the goal. River's eyes dart from one movement to another. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. The game is exciting and full of joy, weaving the crew in and out of each other in a complicated pattern. River soaks it in, tries to discern the pattern but there is no clear logic for her to follow.
"They don't seem to be playing by any civilized rules that I know," Simon says somewhere to her right, just after the ape-man lifts sunbeam onto his shoulders and helps her put the ball through the ring. None that you know, but I will figure it out.
The game is interrupted by a loud noise blaring through the ship. The leaf flutters up the stairs to check on its origin, reading dials and gazing out the front view window – to see a dead body hit the glass. River feels his chock before the frightened pilot jumps with a yelp. His elbow bumps the flight controls and gives the ship a shudder that alerts the rest of the crew.
Mal is first up the stairs, with everyone else in tow. River tags along at the back, unseen, stops just outside the bridge in the corner of a wall and the doorpost. She twirls her hair between her fingers. Listens inside the bridge and beyond. There's a ship out there – she can feel it – a derelict transport spinning round and round, driven by whispers.
"Anybody home?" the captain asks and the leaf replies.
"Been hailing her, but if whoever's there is as healthy as the guy we just ran over, can't imagine anyone's going to be picking up."
The chock has settled to concern, more easily hidden behind humor. No one laughs but the dark joke lightens the mood a little. Mal looks at the other ship.
"Bring us in a little closer."
The leaf obliges, grabs his controls and steers them closer while every eye is fixed on the looming shape outside the window.
"What is it?" Simon asks and to this River knows the answer. A whisper escapes her on a breath, unheard by anyone by her.
"It's ghosts."
She can feel them, hear them. The disembodied voices that whisper inside the abandoned ship. She cannot shut them out. Cannot control the ability to hear them anymore than she can hold her fractured mind together when she remembers to try.
Her brother finds her where she stands outside the bridge, her fingers intertwined in her hair and her eyes fixed in the distance, listening to the whispers of the ghosts. His worry sparks when he sees her. It cuts through the jumbled thoughts and voices in her head, but she can't focus her eyes to his face. It worries him, but no more than usual. Gently he grabs her shoulders and she docilely lets him lead her to her room and tuck her into bed. Somewhere among the voices in her head is his voice, telling her he's going to offer his help to the people on the ship. The words register in her mind and she wants to tell him what she knows, that it is already too late, but no words come out through her lips. She resigns and closes her eyes.
Whispers, whispers, echoes of screams long dead. Vibrations multiplying into the hull of Serenity and into the scull of River. Echoes turning into screams that wake her up screaming, sobbing. She covers her ears but the voices still get through.
Simon comes running, as he always does – comforting, asking if it is nightmares again. Not this time.
"I can't sleep. There's too much screaming."
Her words confuse him but true to his caring character he tries to reassure her.
"There's no screaming," he says, thinking what she heard was all in her mind. It is but not the way you think.
"There was," she explains, but Simon still doesn't understand. Thinks she speaks gibberish when to her the words make absolute sense. The voices – the ghosts are screaming.
The ape-man appears in the doorway. He wants Simon to come along. It's time to join Mal and Zoe in the other ship, he says. He mentions spacesuits and the fear in her brother changes shade, from concern for her to the sting of dread about his own safety. He doesn't like the idea of such a thin barrier between himself and the nothingness of space. Nonetheless his medical oath drives him and he bites down the fear. Before getting suited up he tucks River back in bed, even though she just told him she cannot sleep with all the screaming.
She lies down and screws her eyes shut. Clamps her hands over her ears. It doesn't help the least. The screams still echo – in her mind, in the hull of Serenity, through the connection that binds her to the transport ship.
They draw her in. The voices and whispers of fear and pain, calling her from her bed. She has to see them, see the ghosts. Her feet follow the call, the trail, on their own accord. No one sees her leave Serenity, no one notices when she steps into the other ship. The wind through the airlock washes over her when it opens, carrying the voices to her like a wave to the beach. Her bare feet fall softly on the cold floor, feeling the panic still vibrating through the metal grates. The terror flash images into her mind of what has transpired here. She feels it all. Can't shut it out. She has to find them.
Her feet find their way to the transport's cargo hold. The contradiction and the amazon are there, looking through the items. They don't notice her at first, just as they haven't noticed what has drawn her there. Their focus is on the gain, the profit of things left behind. Her focus is on the ones who left it there. Her eyes are fixed on them. Up, up above. Still here but not here anymore. Bodies, empty shells full of echoes, and whispers, and screams.
"Nobody escaped."
Mal has finally noticed her and follows her eyes to the bundle above. He puts two and two together, and now he knows what she knows.
"Jen dao mei," he mutters. Just our luck. "I know what did this"
His focus zeroes in on the safety of his crew. The creatures that tore through the people on this boat are the biggest treat to them he has ever faced – or rather avoided to face. He does not intend to face them this time either.
"Get her out of here," he orders Zoe, indicating River. The amazon grabs her hand and starts out the door. The captain's next order goes across the com to Jayne. He tells him to drop everything and get Kaylee and Simon off the boat. But it is too late. Something is already moving inside the ship full of death. River can sense it. Sinister and dark and very much alive. Clamor and shouts sound over the com when it attacks and they rush toward the galley, running into Simon and sunbeam on the way.
Simon spots River and gets upset, starts reprimanding her that she shouldn't be there.
"I followed the voices," she defends, but he's not listening, just tells her to never leave the ship again.
The captain and the amazon hurry on their way to help Jayne. Despite being told to get off the ship neither Kaylee nor Simon does, and since they're not going River isn't either. The captain steps first into the galley. His weapon is drawn and he's scanning for danger in the shadows shifting in the flickering lights. Only Jayne appears and relief washes over the crew.
"What'd you see?" Mal asks the scared ape-man. River smirks inside. Didn't. The ape-man didn't see what hit him.
"Big," he claims anyway. Wasn't. "Strong." That it was. "I think I might have hit him."
Simon finds the blood on the floor and weapons come up primed to fire again. The trail leads to a small cubbyhole in the wall. There's breathing inside – and a hailstorm of emotion that rushes through River's open mind. Fear, pain, horror. No, no, no…
"No, no, no, mercy"
River hears his plea with her ears and her mind and every pore in her skin. The man in the cubbyhole begs for mercy as Mal removes the screen hiding him. The captain – the contradiction – speaks lies to sooth him. Not lies – modulations of the truth. It doesn't matter; the man doesn't really hear him anyway. He begs for mercy and testifies to lack of it in the same breath. His words are not for Mal, but for those who ripped everything away from him and then left him here alone with death.
The captain deals his own kind of mercy and knocks the man out before he hauls him out of his hole for all to see. He is young and not at all that big. He doesn't look weak, but not exactly big and strong.
"Oh yes, he's a real beast." Simon voices the thought dripping of sarcasm. "It's a wonder you're still alive."
"Looked bigger when I couldn't see him," the ape-man defends, without logic that still somehow makes sense.
They bring the young man to Serenity, to the infirmary where Simon can take care of him. River waits outside with the others while he tends to the sole survivor of whatever horrors have transpired on the transport. Mal is the only one in the infirmary with him, and something entirely different than the survivor's wellbeing occupies his mind; the knowledge of what really lies before him on the table. The ramblings of the man confirm it.
"Weak, they were all weak. Cattle. Cattle for the slaughter."
Mal adds it to the twos and twos already added in his mind, drawing terrifying conclusions that ice his heart as he glances at the faces of Inara and Kaylee through the infirmary's window.
"Dope him," he orders, insisting when Simon objects it's not necessary. River senses her brother's reluctance but he does as he's told.
With the patient sedated, and hopefully not dangerous, the captain locks the doors to the infirmary. Finally he fills the others in on what he's deduced.
"That ship was hit by Reavers."
The mention of the name of the boogeyman of the black floods the ship with fear, mirroring in diminished form the horror still echoing through from the derelict transport and into River's mind. Flight or fight response clicks into flight even for the rough-surfaced ape-man. He objects, denial making a fruitless attempt to ward off the implications of Mal's words. Only the captain stays calm, at least on the surface. River isn't entirely sure but she thinks she can sense the streak of his fear among the others. He knows something more, something that really worries him.
Among the jumble River hears the voice of her brother, volunteering to return to the transport ship. The captain is relived, but still worriedly focused on something, something… It's hard for her to hang on to him in the whispers and voices, and the roar of the survivor even as he sleeps.
River tosses on the bed in the flower's shuttle. Simon left her there to be safe while the dead are put to rest. No rest, no rest for the wicked – no, for those struck by wickedness. Wickedness, evil, still dances with the ghosts, in the mind of the ghost that survived but is dead, just not dead just yet. Turning him, twisting him into wickedness too.
She is drawn to the mind of the man in the infirmary. The windings of his psyche remind her of her own. A muddled mess, distorted by things seen and what has been done to it. Pockets of sanity among the fractures, trying to make sense of things that don't make sense. Things that should not be. His mind is darker than hers though; the horror of what he's seen has left him warped and wounded. Wounds inside that rip through sanity until there's nothing left. Ripping to the surface and forcing his hands to make them visible. To turn himself into what he has already become. His anguish, filled with the screams that echo in the silence of insanity, wakes River up with a scream. Somewhere she hears the voice – thoughts? – of Mal.
"Thought we might have had a situation, but it looks to be taken care of." He is calm now, through and through, thinks they're safe. No, no, no, no…
An alarm blares. Proximity alert. The ape-man's fear flares like a lighthouse at the thought of the Reavers coming back to collect another prey. Cut us up and gnaw on our insides. Skin us alive and wear us for clothes. No, no, no, no… not the thing you need to worry about.
The huge ship that triggered the alarm looms outside, shadowing Serenity as she pulls away from the derelict transport, intercepting them before they can get away. River feels the mass of it, of the people inside. She recognizes the patterns of their thoughts. Follow orders. No questions. Unity, unify. They'll tell you what to think.
Her brother bursts through the shuttle door, practically sweating fear of what is out there. His thoughts scream anxiety, panic, even though his voice is controlled.
"It's the Alliance," he says to the flower. "The captain wants you downstairs, Inara."
She leaves reluctantly, casting hesitant and worried glances at them. When it comes right down to it, though, she trusts the captain. She may not know everything about him but somewhere in the core of her she knows him, knows he would never let the Alliance hurt the wayward girl that chance has brought onto his ship. River knows it too, knows there is a plan even before her brother tells her what the captain told him to do. Mal seems a contradiction; a mix of righteous and criminal, good and bad and in many ways unpredictable. Even though River sees him through she cannot figure him out. Even the label she has given him – contradiction – seems inadequate. She finds herself more and more referring to him simply as the captain. That is what he is in his core where she knows him, the captain – The captain – who takes care of his crew and his ship before himself.
Simon leads her to the airlock and helps her don a spacesuit. His fear swirls in multicolored hues around her and through her – familiar, amplified worry for her safety, concern for the others, and dread in the face of stepping into the black outside the thick skin of the ship. Nothing but thin Mylar and glass to separate you from nothingness. River isn't scared, only of the prospect of the Alliance finding her and sending her back to…there. The Academy. Her mind dives into the memory of the living nightmare and she barely notices when Simon helps her up the ladder to the hatch.
The black space opening up above her is like a fresh breeze, washing the foggy tendrils of painful recollection from her mind. Her thoughts become clearer and her mind leaps out from her to feel the vastness of the 'verse. Somewhere below – or above, or beside…are there any correct spatial prepositions in an environment void of a planet's gravitational pull? Somewhere – inside – there is movement. The warped mind of the survivor is leaving Serenity. The Alliance takes him to their cruiser, hands him to their core-schooled doctors. They're probably good, but not better than her Simon. If he can't help him, how could they?! Serenity's crew is brought to the cruiser as well, to answer a myriad of questions while the Alliance turns their home inside out. Looking, looking for the stolen one.
River turns her head away from the ship and stares out into the black, to the millions of stars twinkling back to her. She always dreamed of seeing the 'verse, of flying out to explore every single one of those stars, but her parents would never have let her go. They wanted her close to home, on Osiris, where she would be safe. The Academy changed all of that. Now there is nowhere but the black where she could be even remotely safe. It is home she can't go now.
Her brother doesn't want to look at the stars. He nearly vibrates of anxiety at the thought of the vastness above him, but his attention that never entirely leaves River notes the raptured look on her face. The smile on her lips fills him with joy, and he reflexively follows her eyes. Big mistake. The sight of big empty space makes his stomach turn, makes him dizzy with vertigo, and he whips his head back to face the hull of the ship. River never looks away from the black, keeps reveling in the mesmerizing sight.
In time the soldiers get done with their search and leave Serenity be with the mess they've made. Simon says it's time to go back inside. River reluctantly rips her eyes from the stars and follows him to the airlock, down the ladder into the ship. When he helps her take her helmet off she shakes her hair out, gleaming with the images of stars still in her mind.
"Let's go again," she asks, just like she used to when she was little and they went to the fairground to ride the carousels. Walking on Serenity's hull is the greatest ride she has ever had, and she wants to do it again. She wants Simon to say what he always said back on Osiris, wants him to smile and say 'sure, mei mei' and take her for another ride. Instead he looks worried. He does call her 'mei mei', as he always does, always did, but he says they should go hide in the flower's shuttle. Lay low. How do you even lie in any other way? Simon's worry infects River. Pulls her from her childhood memories and sets her mind to alert, and she senses something – someone. Simon turns to walk into the ship. No, don't go in there.
"Coming back," River whimpers and to her relief he turns back to her, but he misinterprets – always misinterpreting. It's so frustrating.
"Yes, of course he is," Simon assures her. "They all are."
Not the crew. Not them. No…wasn't referring to them. No, no, no, no….
Simon cannot see her thoughts, only her fear. He grabs her hand and gets her as far as the entrance to the kitchen. She stops abruptly. The presence she felt is closer now – already back. A beast in the chaos, hiding, lying low. Simon is ahead of her, just a step – almost a step too far. She can feel the beast's anticipation.
"Wait, no! Don't, don't."
She reaches out for him. Her voice is what stops him. He grabs her hand again, tries to coax her over the threshold.
"It's okay," he says, but he doesn't see the beast. Lying in wait, hidden, waiting for the prey. Cattle for the slaughter.
"Wait, wait…"
She tugs her brother's hand to change his direction. The other way, away from the beast. She can't explain. Can't make the words come out, to make him understand what scares her. Can't tell him the beast is waiting for them. For a moment she and her brother are engaged in a tug-a-war of wills.
"They've gone," Simon assures, referring to the Alliance soldiers. Drawing the wrong conclusions again. "Come on." He lets go of her hand to put his helmet down, another step into the kitchen. River can feel the beast moving, flexing his claws, preparing to pounce.
"Don't..." she tries.
Simon retakes her hand, tells her not to be afraid, but he doesn't understand. If the cattle goes into the den of the beast… She can't get the words out. Can't get him to understand. He turns again to pull her into the kitchen with him, but in the last moment a sound halts him.
"Someone's coming," he whispers, and finally their wills are aligned.
They retreat, hiding just beyond the doorway. They don't have time to go any further. River tries to focus her mind, to willfully search and see who is coming. She has a feeling it is possible, that her ability to see and hear beyond herself should be possible to control. They did this on purpose – the doctors at the Academy. Drugs and pain – by design, calculated. There has to be a way to control it. What use is a psychic if she's insane? She hones in on a familiar presence in the turmoil of silent rage in the kitchen – the captain is here. There are others there too, four – five – that she doesn't recognize even though she recognizes the pattern of their minds. Soldiers of Alliance allegiance.
The captain makes his way through the clutter in the kitchen. River feels his heart speed up when he spots Simon's helmet and connects the dots – twos and twos. She hears it change rhythm again as he steps through the doorway and sees them. One of the soldiers is right behind him – Commander Harken – so close to finding them the captain's heart skips a beat. Then, just as they are about to be discovered, the beast strikes.
River feels his rage, the desperation fueling his actions. She senses the man he once was deep inside, buried by the pain and anguish that has turned him into an unyielding storm of anger. Fear erupts in the kitchen, intermingling with rage and pain to a swirling whirlpool that tears through River's head. The tiny tenuous grip she had on her ability is snatched away by the force of the emotions overpowering her.
One single firm point remains in the storm. Mal is full of both fear and anger, but there's a calm in him all the same. Hardened by the war he acts without thinking, looping his handcuffs around the beast's throat and squeezing hard. A quick twist snaps the neck, and the mindless rage dies down, allowing River to breathe again. Left in the kitchen are echoes of the soldiers' fear, the stunned numbness of the commander – and the captain tinted sad by the thought of the ghost finally dead. They stare at each other, the Alliance commander and the Browncoat captain, both knowing that an unlikely one of them has just saved the life of the other. River looks through them, between them, hearing the unspoken words. Thank you. It was the right thing to do. I should have listened to you. Yeah, you really should have.
Without the words ever spoken the captain is released from his bonds, and the commander takes his men and what's left of his pride. Goes to fetch the rest of Serenity's crew and return them to her. River feels the relief seep from the captain into his ship, flowing in waves as each member of the crew steps back into her safe embrace. It reaches its high as Serenity disconnects from the Alliance cruiser and glides away from its shadow.
Meanwhile the cruiser fires its guns. The rockets shoot through the vacuum and hit the derelict ship, tearing it to pieces and spreading its ghosts into the blessed dark of space. River draws a sigh of relief as their voices are hushed by the black and fades from her mind. Finally free.
The End