The Chronicles of Firefly: Redeemer
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Chapter 2: Waterville
The remainder of the journey was uneventful, except for the interrogation. Phillips left the fighters spinning in high orbit over the gas giant they had fought above. Gus had managed to scavenge a few missiles (to sell, obviously… the Redeemer was a transport vessel) and also a new fuel injector, which Nolan had creatively fitted into the primary thrusters of the ship. Tammi had brought the captured pilot to the medical bay, and stopped the bleeding with foam-bandage. Her and Phillips waited for him to recover consciousness in his own time. When he finally came to, Tammi had left the room to pilot the ship around a tricky debris field. It was just Phillips, the pilot, and a case of scalpels and other sharp medical instruments.
"Can you tell me more than suggestions for what I should do to myself this time?" Phillips asked the pilot, strapped to the surgery chair and pumped full of muscle relaxants.
"Screw you!" He groggily spouted.
"Excellent, we've gotten absolutely nowhere… Well, I'm not going to lie to you, or sugar-coat this for you. I am going to torture you now. I am going to cut some new scars into you, and you will scream in writhing agony, not able to stop me or escape from me. The tools we used to put you back together are going to cause you to curse your own mother for giving birth to you. Do you understand?"
"Screw your mother!" The pilot shouted, a little more awake now.
"Fantastic, we've gotten from 'screw me' to 'screw my mother'. Your wit and intelligible insults is astounding. How 'bout we start the torture by cutting off your other hand? Would you enjoy that? Or do you want me to cut off another part of your… anatomy?" Phillips moved towards the case of knives.
"I'm not telling you anything. It won't matter anyway, you and me are gonna die soon anyway. As soon as my employers find out I've failed, they'll send more to get you. You don't stand a chance." The pilot struggled against the restraints. Phillips lifted a large cutting laser from the medical bag.
"Ahha, now we are heading somewhere. You feeling a mite more talkative now? So, who are your employers, and what do they want with my ship?"
"Screw you…"
"Oh dear, we've descended back into vulgar territory. Well, I have no excuse not to do this now…" Phillips lifted the cutting laser just above the pilots' other arm. The intensely bright red laser flicked back and forth along the instrument as it was dangled closer and closer to his only hand he had left. He tried to struggle, but the muscle relaxant was so powerful, it rendered the restraints almost unneeded. He tried to scream. The laser burnt an elongated slit in his suit, and started to sizzle his flesh. The wound smelled like burnt bacon. Phillips could tell from the expression on the pilots face that the scolding was more than he could handle. He took the cutter away carefully from the pilot's wrist. No blood came out of it, the laser had caused it to fuse almost immediately.
"I don't want to have to do that again…" Phillips stated as he put down the saw on a nearby table. The pilots face was scrunched in agony.
"Are you going to be social now?" Phillips asked, leaning against the surgery chair. The pilot slowly looked around at him, the pain starting to numb.
"The crates you are carrying… well… they're not quite what you think they are…"
"Is that so? So what's in them?"
"Most are fitted with small explosives just in case you try to look in them, but one is carrying a very… special package. It is important to my employers. That is all you are getting out of me…" The pilot spat at Phillips.
"Well, that is something. Care to tell me which crate it is that this 'special package' is in?" Phillips whispered, leaning a little closer.
"Go screw youself."
"Well, you've been very un-cooperative and irritating. We're going to set down on Waterville in just under 30 minutes, and we're going to dump your ass in the middle of one of the more… deserted stretches of nowhere. Enjoy this hospitality while you can…" Phillips walked out of the room, leaving the pilot to struggle with his restraints.
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"Which port shall we land at, sir?" Tammi was just breaking atmosphere when Phillips wandered into the cockpit. He had a look at all the crates, but none seemed to be especially marked or looked out of place. He didn't dare open any.
"We're not. At least, not just yet. Set down in the remotest spot of nowhere you can find so we can drop off our passenger…" Tammi set the ship on auto-decent and swivelled around on her chair.
"Sir, that's cold blooded, even for you… sir." Phillips looked with mild interest at the friction fire rushing past the cockpit window as the ship descended towards the planet.
"Well, he tried to kill me and my crew. The fact that we're leaving him alive is a kindness you don't get with many of our… kind of people." The fires were being reflected in Phillips' eyes.
"Well, what did he tell you?" Tammi asked, leaning on her knees.
"It took a while, and a third degree burn on his remaining hand, but he told me that the crates we're carrying don't actually carry laser weaponry. Each one has a 'small explosive' hidden away in case we sneak a peak, except for one which has some sort of special goods, important to his employers. I guess we're taking it away from them, and they want it back." Tammi nodded slowly.
"Thought this cargo was suspicious. So, we finish the job?" Phillips crossed his arms and pointed at the map of the planet on the nav-screen.
"We set down that meat puppet here, swoop round that small incline in the desert there a few miles away from him, and set down. Then I'll figure out how to get a look at this mysterious package…" Tammi nodded, turning back to the ship controls. Her cropped blonde hair swayed slightly. Phillips physically stopped himself from reaching out and stroking it. A relationship with any crewmember would be a bad idea… well, that just means Tammi, seeing as though Phillips wasn't sly. As far as he knew, anyway…
Redeemer touched down in a desolate piece of nowhere, with all the grace and gentleness of a hovering herd of cows. The rear hatch opened, and a single figure was forcibly ejected from the space craft. He tumbled about a metre or so away from the ramp, which slowly arched back into the Trans-U. The force of landing on his broken knees caused the pilot to shake the whole sand plain with his agonising cries. The Redeemer lifted off, and jetted far into the horizon, disappearing behind a large sand/rock dune. The pilot was left on the ground, clawing at the pain in his legs, and cursing the very name of Captain Phillips.
One by one, each crate was removed from Phillips' ship. The crew carried each neck-high crate between two of them, Gus and Nolan pairing up on one, and Phillips and Tammi on another. As the Captain and Gus passed each other, Phillips looked questioningly at him.
"I thought you looked in these crates?" He asked. Gus simply walked back into the ship.
"I don't always lie to you, Phillips. I was telling the truth when I said I didn't look in them." Gus heaved up another crate with Nolan's help at the other side of it.
"Yea, but… well, I've got say, I'm impressed at your self-restraint!" Phillips shouted back as he and Tammi staggered away with a container into the desert.
"Alright, keep your dick in your pants…" Gus murmured. Nolan pretended not to hear.
Finally, all crates were lined up neatly about 30 paces away from the ship, at 5 pace intervals. There were a dozen in all. Everyone just stood at the end of the ship's ramp, looking. Phillips pulled out his gun in a quick draw and shot the first crate on the left with expert precision. The sudden bang made everyone jump. The crate burst into a fireball, debris lazily spinning up into the air and down to the ground. Everyone just stared at Phillips. Phillips looked round back at them, his green eyes looking innocently at his crew.
"What?" he answered. Gus crossed his arms, and looked back at the crates.
"I just thought you might have a subtler way of doing this, Phillips." Gus drummed his fingers on his arm. Nolan chipped in, still a little dazed.
"Yea, sir, I mean… you could have just asked me to scan each crate!" Phillips shot the next crate. It made the crew jump again. The explosion knocked something onto the floor inside the Redeemer.
"No, Nolan. We don't know what type of mechanism they have rigged to the crates to set off the bombs. A scanner might just do the trick, and I still need you… My left thruster is broken, and I need it fixed before we take our next job." Phillips shot the next crate. It did the same as the first two. His crew didn't seem as surprised this time. Nolan ran his hand down the front of his face. Phillips shot the next crate, and the next crate, and the crate after that. The next crate he shot did not explode like all the others. Instead, a pair of neat holes punctured straight through the upper half of it, letting light slice into the darkened wooden box. Phillips holstered his gun and strode over to this odd one out. Tammi followed hesitantly. Flexing his arms, Nolan raced after them. Gus just sat down on the ships ramp, brushing dust off his black trousers.
Phillips reached the crate, and rolled up his sleeves. He looked back at Tammi and Nolan standing behind him, and Gus sitting contently at the ship. Phillips didn't look at all surprised. He wiggled his arms, and got to one side of the lid while Nolan got to the other side. Heaving upwards, they struggled to get lift the lid off, whilst Tammi pulled out a small crowbar from her black leather belt pouch attached to her right side. With all three forces combined, the lid creaked off the top of the box, and fell behind it, leaning at a slant against its parent. The dust it kicked up obscured everyone's vision, as they all craned forward to look inside. Gus came racing up to budge Tammi aside a little and look himself. She gave him a scolding look, he simply frowned back. They turned back to the container. All four stared inside the dark crate, waiting for the dust to settle. Gus suddenly piped up…
"I hope its drugs!"
The ensuring silence was uncomfortable for all. Finally, a shape seemed to be becoming visible. They all leaned forward…
