Serenity Lost
Part 1.1
Malcolm Reynolds lay sprawled on the ground, his senses swimming, his vision watery. There was a dull throb in his shoulder that grew stronger as he fought back to awareness. His eyes snapped open, and he propped himself up on his elbows, sitting up slightly. The action caused a loud groan to work its way up his throat as his shoulder screeched in agony, and he could feel the tearing of flesh there.
The field around him was no longer the luscious green that it had been, the ground under foot, and body, so many of them, had been turned to mud. Boulders lay strewn about the field covered in stains of blood, or chipped by bullets. Trees littered the edges of the field, victims of the Alliance's sonic cannons.
As the sun peeked one last look over the horizon before casting the land into darkness, Mal heard a roaring in his ears. It took a moment for him to realize that it was an Alliance dropship, roaring over the desolate field looking for survivors. He rolled to his knees, falling forward onto his hands, coughing up a mouthful of bile.
The dropship moved on over the field, and Mal could hear voices of troops begin to canvas the broken field and bodies. He stumbled about on hands and knees, searching, half-blind, for his rifle. His fingers grasped steel and wood, and he recognized the familiar contours of his weapon. His fingers locked around it, as a hand grabbed him under his right arm, levering him off the ground.
"Malcolm," a whispered voice said in his ear.
"Tarnation, Zoe, you damn near scared me to death." Mal hissed at the dark skinned woman who was lifting him to his feet. Her face was dirty and bruised; her eyes had a haunted look as she studied her friend and the damage about them.
"We need to get gone, Captain. Alliance troops are heading this way, we've got to fall back."
Mal's eyes snapped back to focus, and he pulled himself away from Zoe, holding his weapon close, the stock tucked up under his arm. He scanned the field, and could make out a group of Alliance soldiers heading in their general direction, he and Zoe hadn't been seen yet, their black helmets and armor lending a dark fascist appearance to them.
Zoe tugged at him as he brought his weapon up, and began firing at the approaching soldiers. In an instant the Alliance troops had spread out, dropping to the ground or behind cover, searching for and finding targets to return fire to.
Malcolm Reynolds stood in the ruined field, his rifle firing over and over, until it clicked on an empty chamber. It clicked again and again, before he realized his clip was gone. The rifle fell to the ground unneeded as bullets and sonic pulses ripped the air and ground around he and Zoe.
Before his rifle thudded into the mud he had grasped the six-shooter strapped to his thigh. Zoe had stepped up beside him, and was also firing at the Alliance soldiers. Mal fired over and over, ignoring Zoe's pleas to make a break for it.
As the hammer clapped on an empty chamber, Zoe grabbed Malcolm's arm and tugged roughly at him. He stumbled back, just in time as bullets tore the air beside him.
He swore in Mandarin as he and Zoe stumbled back across the field, just as an Alliance fighter squad soared overhead, laying heavy fire into the field. They stood at the edge of the field, hidden in the shadows of a still standing tree as they looked over the war-torn field.
"Serenity," Zoe called the field by name. The Alliance had broken the back of the Independents, the battle had lasted days, siege after siege, until the Independents had been almost completely wiped out, cut off from supplies and replacements. The Alliance, however, seemed to have an almost inexhaustible supply of men and weapons.
The two of them stood there, lost, before turning to race for one of the hidden rally points. As they did, the Alliance fighters had swooped back around towards them, and they could hear over the sound of pulses and blasts a name yelling across the field, "Reynolds!"
An explosion rocked the two of them, sending them into darkness.
Malcolm's eyes snapped open. Awake, aware.
Part 1.1
Malcolm Reynolds lay sprawled on the ground, his senses swimming, his vision watery. There was a dull throb in his shoulder that grew stronger as he fought back to awareness. His eyes snapped open, and he propped himself up on his elbows, sitting up slightly. The action caused a loud groan to work its way up his throat as his shoulder screeched in agony, and he could feel the tearing of flesh there.
The field around him was no longer the luscious green that it had been, the ground under foot, and body, so many of them, had been turned to mud. Boulders lay strewn about the field covered in stains of blood, or chipped by bullets. Trees littered the edges of the field, victims of the Alliance's sonic cannons.
As the sun peeked one last look over the horizon before casting the land into darkness, Mal heard a roaring in his ears. It took a moment for him to realize that it was an Alliance dropship, roaring over the desolate field looking for survivors. He rolled to his knees, falling forward onto his hands, coughing up a mouthful of bile.
The dropship moved on over the field, and Mal could hear voices of troops begin to canvas the broken field and bodies. He stumbled about on hands and knees, searching, half-blind, for his rifle. His fingers grasped steel and wood, and he recognized the familiar contours of his weapon. His fingers locked around it, as a hand grabbed him under his right arm, levering him off the ground.
"Malcolm," a whispered voice said in his ear.
"Tarnation, Zoe, you damn near scared me to death." Mal hissed at the dark skinned woman who was lifting him to his feet. Her face was dirty and bruised; her eyes had a haunted look as she studied her friend and the damage about them.
"We need to get gone, Captain. Alliance troops are heading this way, we've got to fall back."
Mal's eyes snapped back to focus, and he pulled himself away from Zoe, holding his weapon close, the stock tucked up under his arm. He scanned the field, and could make out a group of Alliance soldiers heading in their general direction, he and Zoe hadn't been seen yet, their black helmets and armor lending a dark fascist appearance to them.
Zoe tugged at him as he brought his weapon up, and began firing at the approaching soldiers. In an instant the Alliance troops had spread out, dropping to the ground or behind cover, searching for and finding targets to return fire to.
Malcolm Reynolds stood in the ruined field, his rifle firing over and over, until it clicked on an empty chamber. It clicked again and again, before he realized his clip was gone. The rifle fell to the ground unneeded as bullets and sonic pulses ripped the air and ground around he and Zoe.
Before his rifle thudded into the mud he had grasped the six-shooter strapped to his thigh. Zoe had stepped up beside him, and was also firing at the Alliance soldiers. Mal fired over and over, ignoring Zoe's pleas to make a break for it.
As the hammer clapped on an empty chamber, Zoe grabbed Malcolm's arm and tugged roughly at him. He stumbled back, just in time as bullets tore the air beside him.
He swore in Mandarin as he and Zoe stumbled back across the field, just as an Alliance fighter squad soared overhead, laying heavy fire into the field. They stood at the edge of the field, hidden in the shadows of a still standing tree as they looked over the war-torn field.
"Serenity," Zoe called the field by name. The Alliance had broken the back of the Independents, the battle had lasted days, siege after siege, until the Independents had been almost completely wiped out, cut off from supplies and replacements. The Alliance, however, seemed to have an almost inexhaustible supply of men and weapons.
The two of them stood there, lost, before turning to race for one of the hidden rally points. As they did, the Alliance fighters had swooped back around towards them, and they could hear over the sound of pulses and blasts a name yelling across the field, "Reynolds!"
An explosion rocked the two of them, sending them into darkness.
Malcolm's eyes snapped open. Awake, aware.