Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift: Chapter 2: Roadside Assistance

…..

I don't own any part of the Firefly franchise. Nice idea, though.

Reviews are welcome.

…..

Chapter 2: Roadside Assistance

We reach my ship. I notice my companions have become a bit more vigilant about keeping their weapons on me. No doubt they expect me to double-cross them.

That only confirms my sad conclusion: they expect me to double-cross them because they planned on double-crossing me. I suppose I had hopes they would possess a better moral nature. Well, not everyone does, even among my own kind.

The self-repair units in my small craft have managed to repair certain vital parts. They haven't had time to effect major repairs, however, but perhaps that can be done "on the fly," as Mal always put it. Meaning done in transit from one point to another.

I'll guess I'll have to settle for that.

"So," says the female, whose name I understand to be Lloyd, "This is your ship?" She is looking around appraisingly. It isn't a big ship, but it serves me, being designed for one being. However, my people have always built craft to accommodate more than the stated allotment, since, after all, one ship might be called upon to carry two or more. "Yes," I reply. "this is it." It is actually only a shuttle, but there's no point in correcting her error. Our continued association won't be much longer.

"Seems pretty big for a scout craft."

"Among my people, it is the norm to over-build a bit, whenever possible. Better too much space than too little."

"Makes sense." The other two, the two males, are looking around somewhat nervously, their fingers never straying far from the triggers of the weapons they continue to hold on me. "So…tell me about this…craft. For that matter, what about your people? Where are they?"

"My homestar is not visible from your solar system, without aid. And I fear my people are, to the best of my knowledge, very far away. Would that the Rrift were, also."

"You mentioned them." She cannot contain her repugnance at the interior of my shuttle, and, it is true, from what I have learned of humans, that it hardly meets any human standard of beauty. To my eyes, it is quite colorful, with the lights and color-coded controls. But River told me it seemed garishly colored, so I surmised that my optical receptors must be sensitive to different wavelengths than humans see. She told me that, to her eyes, everything in my ship was difficult to look at, at least, at first, and the interior filled with vicious looking spikes. I admit, most of my controls do protrude out into the control room of the ship, but that is to make them more easily accessible, especially in an emergency.

From watching Mal and the others, I have learned that humans frequently build cover panels into the control consoles of their ships, specifically designed to cover emergency controls and what Wash called "panic buttons" (what a strange name to give to a control feature!). That seems a bit self-defeating, to me. In an emergency, the controls should be more accessible, not less so.

It was that emergency that swept me away from River. My ship had been programmed to evade and escape the Rrift, should they show up. But River had been outside the ship's field of influence. I tried to override the controls, but I could not do so in the short length of time I had. And so I was treated to what had to be the most anguishing moment of my entire life: the love of my life, left behind to be captured by creatures with no conscience and no mercy.

I have heard the Rrift likened to the Reavers. Jayne once asked me what the difference was. Were the Rrift our version of these "Reavers"? Was the phenomenon universal? I could understand his curiosity. I replied, "Unlike the Reavers, the Rrift employ and develop technology. They control no less than seven star systems, and are always looking to conquer another. And they are more calculating and cunning than these virtually mindless beings of which you speak. They have the…disconcerting…habit of capturing and experimenting on any living being they come across, primarily intelligent beings. Nor are they some recent offshoot of my people; we have records of Rrift contact going back many thousands of your years. Believe me, they are much more dangerous."

He'd snorted. "I bet they ain't so tough. Like to see one when I had a good gun on me. Bet he wouldn't last long."

"As long as you don't get too close," I'd told him, raising my tail. "This is a weapon, too. And remember: they have the same mental powers my people do."

"Yeah, well…" The mention of my people's ability clearly unnerved him somewhat. I could understand that; it unnerves me too. "They are very dangerous," I told him. "You cannot reason with them. If you see one, run or shoot. Do not hesitate."

"Yah. Say, how do we tell the difference between your kind and them? You said they look just like you…"

"It is actually very simple. They are monsters."

"So," says Lloyd, still looking slyly at the controls of the ship. I can see that she is having second thoughts about simply appropriating my craft. How would she control it? Nothing is laid out like a human craft, and there are no markings they can make sense of. "So tell me about these Rrift. Where are they? What can we do about them?" And I know the meaning of her words. She is trying to comprehend the controls of my craft, but that is something she will never do. Kaylee once tried, unsuccessfully, to understand it, even to the point of endeavoring to open panels and trying to follow conduits, but she never did. I know now that difficulty lay largely with her inability to see the wavelengths my eyes can, and the lack of proper instrumentation. Poor Kaylee; they practically had to pry her away from it with a crowbar. And Kaylee knew machines far better than Lloyd.

But Lloyd is also asking about what mankind can do about the Rrift. That is a valid question. But I also sense she is wondering if I am not making up a "boogey man" designed to scare her.

I wish the Rrift were only products of my imagination.

"The Rrift are present here in your solar system, but I do not know their base of operations." I move to sit at the command chair, a seat designed for one of my kind, with a slot in back for my tail….strange. Before I met River, I had never even noticed that.

"Hold up," says the big man, hefting his gun. "Don't do anything funny here." It's fairly obvious he still has hopes of killing me and taking my ship. Lloyd, I can sense, also wants to take my ship, but is trying to think of some reliable ways of coercing, or deceiving, me into piloting it. She is the more intelligent one of the three, and therefore the most dangerous.

"I will make no hostile moves," I assure him, "but I need to activate this." And I point to a slim spike protruding from the wall.

"What's that?"

"A safety feature. A containment field. I understand human ships also use containment fields for their nuclear-powered vessels, correct?"

Lloyd hesitates, and my hearts almost stop. It is imperative she believe me. Then, "Well, I…guess. That won't start your ship up, will it?" I can feel her sharp gaze upon me, trying to read my expression.

"No. It is only a safety feature."

"Hm. Well…okay." With her head, she nods to the big man, telling him silently to keep alert for any sign of treachery on my part. He hefts his gun…

…And I reach out, very slowly, and pull the spike out, twist it just so, then replace it in its slot. "There," I say. They look around; nothing seems different, and the ship has not started. They begin to relax. I stand up, flexing my knees and elbows. Now comes the hard part. "You may put your guns down now."

"Huh?" "What?" Her suspicion, and his, come back threefold. The smaller man, who has been hanging back, moans slightly in fear.

"Your weapons will no longer function. The 'safety feature' I just activated disables all weapons within my ship's field of influence. So you no longer need them."

Futilely, they press the triggers on their guns, their expressions growing more desperate as the only response is a metallic clicking. "You tricked us!"

"Only a little," I reply. "I did tell you I'd take you to my ship. And, as you see—well, perhaps you can't tell—it has been damaged and is in need of repairs. But I suppose I'll not get that help from you."

"Damn you!" says Bigger Man. "I told you so!" he shouts to the woman. "I gotta weapon you can't disable!" And he pulls out a large-bladed knife and lunges at me.

I dodge his clumsy slash, grab his arm in a move River showed me, and twist the knife out of his grip. I then slam him back against the wall, careful not to let him get impaled on the spikes that form my ship's interior control knobs. He rebounds, surprise in his eyes. I'm stronger than I look. I then slam a lower fist into the side of his head, being careful to close my hand first (my people's fighting style usually involves using our open hand, our claws, and I've no wish to risk opening up his flesh; after all, he has not the natural protection that I do), and once again slam him into the bulkhead. He slumps, semiconscious. The smaller man makes some sort of mewling sound and rushes me, holding his gun like a club. I grab his gun with my tail and kick him back the way he came. He falls against the wall, and goes down.

But the woman produces a slim, very sharp spike and hurls it at me. "No!" I shout, but I am too late. My shuttle's safety containment field intercepts the missile and directs it back the way it came, hitting her in the face. Fortunately, the point does not dig into her face, but the force of the blow stuns her. She is lucky; she could have lost an eye. "I tried to warn you about that."

It doesn't take long. They had evidently not expected any sort of serious physical resistance from me, or else had overestimated their chances of success. In the space of a few minutes , they are lying on the floor, gasping for breath. "You…you monster…" says Bigger Man.

"I'm no monster," I tell him, and the woman, who is staring at me with widened eyes, her own gun forgotten, and a purplish bruise rising on her face. "I'm a civilized lifeform. And I don't taste like chicken." This last is directed at Smaller Man, who pales when he understands that I had grasped the meaning of his comment earlier.

"What now?" asks the woman, Lloyd. "Will you kill us? Eat us?"

"I'm fairly sure you intended to kill me," I say, "and, from remarks I overheard," I direct this comment at the smaller man, who moans again, "I doubt I would have been safe from your cookpots, but, unless you force me to, I have no plans to kill you. I wasn't lying when I said I needed help. But I suppose I just found the wrong people. Or they found me, to be more precise." I turn back to the console, careful to keep them in my field of view. "But you did save my life. So I am, to some degree, in your debt." I doubt they can detect the sadness in my voice. I had so hoped to find civilized beings. I take something from a small alcove on the wall and toss it to her. "So here. This is an interstellar communicator. Faster than light, quite a bit faster than the ones you currently have. You can either sell it, or, my personal recommendation, learn how it works and sell the plans, and keep this one for yourself. Because I wasn't lying about the Rrift: they are in this star system, that you call the 'verse. And they are a serious danger, to you and yours. You might need this, to summon my people. I don't know if they'd come to your aid or not, considering that our…encounter hasn't been of a completely positive nature, but they may. Or, if you can learn how the device works, you can perhaps use it to more easily summon your own. I gather," I say, and they can't read my expression of irony, "that you may have…difficulties…with your own law enforcement authorities, but no matter how bad such relationships are, I can guarantee you they are preferable to the Rrift. For they have no mercy." They continue to look at me, certain, perhaps, that, at any moment, I will leap upon them and devour them. If so, they will be disappointed. I turn, pull out another crystal, turn it into the "on" position, and am satisfied to hear the low thrum of my ship's engines coming online. Apparently, the self-repair unit was able to at least get the space drive to functioning. I presume this area must be sufficiently rich in the materials the nanobots needed. But, I see, no power to the star drive yet, and still much damage to the sensors and many other components. Well, it cannot be helped. "I will return you to your base, now, and take my leave of you."

…..

River didn't know that there was this much pain in the universe.

Back when she'd been a "student" at the Academy, the Alliance base dedicated to churning out assassins and supersoldiers, she'd been the subject of inhuman experiments and tortures. But that was nothing compared to what she was going through now.

They had not physically harmed her. They made no incisions or cuts, and there were no probes thrust into her unwilling flesh. Or rather, there were no probes of a physical nature, none she could see. But there was pain, pain beyond pain. And something worse than mere pain.

There was a growing sense of depression, despair, an ever-increasing sense of anxiety that she had no way of blocking or ignoring. What she was feeling caused her own thoughts to go down paths she knew were false, but…

Why hadn't John already come and rescued her? Because she was in the middle of an enemy starbase? So it would have been suicide for him to come to her? Did that then mean that he placed a greater value on his own life than hers?

Why had he not grabbed her, regardless of the consequences, and hauled her into his ship? Would it have been too much bother? Did he save himself, and leave her to the mercy of these creatures?

Where were Mal and the rest? She knew, had one of them been so captured and tortured as she was, that she would not have rested until she had rescued them. Why had they not rescued her? Had Jayne finally persuaded them to leave her and her brother? For that matter, where was Simon? Why had he not broken into the alien base, and rescued her? All these thoughts and more crowded her mind, even as fresh pain replaced the old.

They'd placed some sort of plastic-seeming appliance in her mouth, preventing her from biting her own tongue, but such was the force of her pain that she was afraid she would bite down hard enough to crack her own teeth. John will not like me with no teeth. The others will be repulsed by the toothless hag. She knew these thoughts were not truly hers, but the result of her situation, her pain, her desperation….

All around her, the aliens watched, those overhead watching not just the physical act of torture itself—the physical pain of others was not what this group was interested in—but the mental anguish. It was fascinating how properly applied neural stimulation could elicit such thoughts in these primitive ape-descended creatures. They took notes.

To be continued…