Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift: Chapter 7: Matters of Grave Importance
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I don't own the Firefly franchise, of course. Surely you didn't think I did?
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Chapter 7: Matters of Grave Importance
"To your left!" Mal's voice carried the sting of command, and both Zoe and Simon shifted their guns to cover the oncoming Rrift automatically. John maintained his current field of fire, which turned out to be a good thing, as more Rrift emerged from the alcove to the right.
"Mal!" he shouted, "we cannot maintain this! We must fall back!"
"To what?" Mal, Zoe, and John were engaging a Rrift drone patrol at one of the largest of the noticeable Rrift structures, one that John thought likely to contain River. "You got an idea?"
"If we cannot fall back, we must fall forward."
"Hey, I'm willing if you are!" Charge into certain death? Well, it was certain death to stay here… "You got anything in that magic pouch of yours?"
"I might have." John began fumbling about in his belt pouch…
….
The Rrift world had ceased to communicate with the Rrift High Command. The Elite Rrift, an Exalted Master, approached the supervisor in charge of communications. "Well?" he asked.
"Nothing, sire. We have tried to establish contact in every way we can. Nothing. They do not respond."
"Why would they not respond?" The supervisor was supposed to know these things.
"Unknown, sire." He felt his superior's gaze, and shifted uncomfortably. "We tm'd a local warship in that area, to go see why they have not responded."
"And?"
"At 0300 owerans, we lost communication with that warship."
The Elite thought. That was most unusual, and highly irregular. It bespoke of enemy activity… "Have you any intel on Geshen activities in that area?"
"None lately, sire. The last incident was nearly a yaron ago. It was easily repulsed."
"Ssss. Or they wished us to think it was easily repulsed. I am…concerned about this matter, supervisor. I will give the orders for another Rrift ship to go to this world, perhaps tell us more. But I will have them remain in real-time contact with you the entire way. Should this ship also fall silent, I will want to know why."
….
The Rrift warship, known only by its number-letter combination, approached the world in question. Its captain, also an Elite, had his orders to remain in constant communication with the home base.
Of course, it was not lost on him that the reason for this was that, should a similar event occur to his vessel, there would be a running communication right up to that point. His ship—and crew—were considered expendable, in the pursuit of information.
Actually, though he wasn't happy about it, he saw the wisdom in this arrangement. Assuming some fate befell his ship, it was vital that High Command have what information they could glean from their last moments. All Rrift, even the Elite, were programmed by their symbiotes, their whole culture, to consider themselves expendable. If his death and the death of his crew could serve the Elite, then he would do it, regardless. "Sensors. What have you to report?"
"Nothing yet, sire," the communications officer said. He might not have been so happy about this arrangement, but his own mind and will were locked into the Rrift command structure, and he would obey without question. "We should be coming within direct sensor range of the planet in three…two…one…there it is, sire." And the blue-white globe was displayed upon their viewscreens. "Activating long range sensor sweep now."
No planet appeared on the screen. "I thought you said we passed the asteroid belt farther out."
"We…did, sire. This is a new develop-*" At that exact moment, both Rrift's eyes widened as they saw the image displayed on the long-range screen.
"Helm! Get us out of here! Now!" The Rrift captain knew he was, technically disobeying orders, but the alternative…
The Rrift warship came about full, and the helm officer punched in the codes to initiate an emergency-speed course for the outer reaches of the system, preparatory to star drive…
He wasn't quite fast enough.
"Supervisor?"
"Exalted Master…" The live feed from the Rrift warship had simply broken off, just as the ship had initiated long-range sensor sweep. "I…we have lost contact. I cannot understand why."
"Can you not?" The Exalted Master and his symbiote briefly considered punishing the supervisor for his apparent failure, but then considered. Perhaps the supervisor had not been in error. After, he himself had been there the entire time, ever since the Rrift ship had entered the system, and he had detected no error on the part of the supervisor. "What was the last thing transmitted from our ship?"
Without replying, the supervisor shifted the view to a recording of the last known feed from the warship. A starfield came up on the screen, the far stars unwinking. Like eyes, thought the Exalted Master, the eyes of some great predator. The Rrift were not without their own myths and legends. "Is that the system's asteroid field? I thought they were further within."
"They were, sire." And over the comm channel, they both could hear the ship's captain asking his own nav officer the same thing. Then, the image winked out, to be replaced by static.
"Wait," said the supervisor, and the Exalted Master bridled, slightly. This unascended one dared tell him to wait? But he exercised the control that had brought him to his station, and waited. There would be time for punishment later. "Wait, sire." And the supervisor ran the recording back a bit, to where it showed the last images from the warship.
The asteroid field they were flying through was particularly thick at this point. The smaller asteroids easily bouncing off the shields, while the helm officer easily evaded the larger ones. Then the field cleared…and there was the briefest of brief screen caps of what was on the other side…
The Exalted Master saw, and completely forgot about any punishment detail for the uppity supervisor. In typical Rrift fashion, he showed no sign of distress, surprise, or another other emotion, but merely stared momentarily. Then, to the supervisor, "Contact the Home world. Use my authentication code, send that screen capture to High Command.
"We have a problem."
…
Miranda: "Get ready!" And John pulled something out of his belt, throwing it onto the floor at the Rrifts' feet.
The black goo, whatever it was, immediately spread out, covering the floor. The oncoming drones instantly lost their footing, falling over one another, their weapons' fire going wild. "Come on!" John charged out into the very midst of the goo-covered floor, firing as he went.
"Hey, wait up!" Mal and the others ventured to the edge of the goo, but hesitated on going any further. "What's gonna keep us from-*"
"Just come on!" John's voice urged them as he shot around the corner.
Mal and Zoe shot questioning looks at each other. Then, almost in unison, they both shrugged. Staying here certainly wasn't helping.
Out into the black goo they ran. Oddly, their own feet seemed to find their normal traction, and they even were able to fire their Geshen weapons at the downed Rrift drones. Considering the wild firing of the hissing drones, it was a miracle none of them were hit.
They hit the non-goo covered area behind the drones and raced around the same corner as John had. John himself was just rounding another corner in the distance, firing as he went. For a non-combatant, thought Mal, he certainly seemed sure of himself.
John had described himself as "an ordinary Geshen civilian," leading Mal to wonder if all Geshen received some martial training. After all, they were a race at war. He was reminded of his Old Earth legends of a place called Israel, where many "civilians" were no stranger to some military training, due to being surrounded by enemies on all sides. Perhaps John's civilization was like that.
Another corner rounded. They caught up with John, who was backed up against a wall, in a small alcove, weapon pointed at the ceiling, his tail wrapped around his legs, the tip lashing back and forth in what looked like a worried manner to the humans. "Sss," he said, motioning them for silence. There was another lip to the corridor beyond on the other side of the wall; Zoe had, with the skill born of long, hard-won experience, backed into it, soundless as a shadow. "On my mark, move into the center of the corridor, and hit the floor."
"What? Why…?"
"You'll see." With that, he leaped straight up into an accessway the others hadn't seen, squirming into it, his tail disappearing last. "Go now!" And he disappeared into the ceiling. The humans stared a moment, wondering if the Geshen had abandoned them… "Go! I will rejoin you down the corridor! And don't look back!" Mal and the others slammed themselves onto the floor, just in time to see a squad of Rrift coming down the same corridor. Mal heard a mechanical hissing sound behind him, dared to glance behind, and felt his blood run cold. Back in the lips they'd hidden behind, jets of supercold liquid were spraying out, dousing their former hiding places. Never mind for now. Ask later. He joined Zoe and Simon in firing at the Rrift coming at them. These Rrift seemed different from the others; they actually seemed to know some combat tactics. The other Rrift they'd encountered seemed to depend on overwhelming them with sheer numbers, but these flattened themselves on the floor the same way the humans had, firing in return. Their shots hummed past them.
Suddenly, a panel in the ceiling behind them gave way, and John dropped down, already firing into the Rrift's backs. Like the crew of the Serenity, he lay flat on the ground, presenting a smaller target. The Rrift struggled to turn, unsure whether to meet the threat behind them, until their racial hatred of the Geshen asserted itself, and they began to squirm into positions enabling them to fire at John.
But one did not. He continued to fire at the humans, his shots humming past the humans. Simon jumped to one side, letting out a surprised and pained exclamation as the edge of a Rrift wave packet caught the end of his foot.
Mal and Zoe were already rolling to either side, and neither could bring their weapons to bear on the still-firing Rrift, who showed no signs of letting up. Get this one, John, thought Mal, even as he rolled into position, hoping he wasn't too late to spare one of the others. He noticed some peculiar movement down the corridor past the Rrift as he rolled…but the Rrift had quit firing and lay perfectly still, his gun aimed squarely at Mal, who fired anyway. Nothing happened. The Rrift did not move or return fire. Instead it just lay staring with dull malevolence straight at Mal, who could see right down the large bore of its gun. "Could'a sworn I hit him," muttered Mal, even as he rolled out of the way, already readying another salvo. He took time to notice that the other Rrift had already ceased firing, evidently victims of John's own surprise attack plus their own.
"You did," said John, rising to his feet, "the second time. But I hit him the first." He bent down and pulled a long brown spike out of the back of the Rrift's head. "With this. He was quite dead by the time you shot him. Sorry if I deprived you of the kill."
"As long as you deprived him of a kill, I'm good. What'd you do? Is that a Geshen throwing knife?"
"In a manner of speaking." He held up his tail, and they noticed several similar spikes, half concealed in the tip. Now Mal remember the odd movement he'd seen down the corridor…John flipping his tail up like a scorpion…
"You didn't tell us your tail was spring-loaded!"
"I thought you knew!"
He looked around, noting Simon still clutching his foot. Mal, Zoe, and John ran over to him. "John?"
"He evidently caught a wave packet." The Geshen bent down to examine the wound. He pulled Simon's boot off, carefully scrutinizing the toes of Simon's foot, which had turned a pale white. "He should be alright. Had the hit been over a larger area, he might have permanently lost full function in that foot, if not the whole leg. As it is, a little exercise ought to restore function. How does it feel?" he asked.
"Numb. No paresthesia, even. Just numb."
"You should be okay. Do you have a first aid kit on you? Mine aren't designed for humans."
"Uh, y-yeah. Why?"
"You might want to give yourself a steroid injection. That should promote healing."
"Good idea." And he began fumbling with his medical pouch, which he'd deliberately overstocked, in fear of what the Rrift might have done to River.
Mal straightened up, as did John. Zoe was already up and covering the corridors with her gun. "Thought you'd left us there, for a minute."
"I did. Oh, you mean deserted? No, I would not do that, Malcolm Reynolds. My people do not do that, nor desert others in combat or in need. It would be…depressing." He helped Simon to his feet, put two left arms around him to steady him, even as he maintained control of his weapon with the two right ones. "Can you walk?"
"If I can't, you guys go on ahead. Find River. Don't worry about me."
"No," said John, even as Mal was opening his mouth to say the same. "We will not leave you. That would not be civilized behavior. And in any case," and Mal could swear the alien's face quirked in a smile, "I would not dare face my mistress, having left her brother. My life would not be worth…what is the expression, Mal? 'The power to blow me away'?"
"Close enough. C'mon, Simon. Quit making like the Lone Hero here. Either we all go home…
"…or none of us go home."
Both John and Zoe nodded simultaneously.
….
Mal looked at John. "Where to, now?"
John sniffed the air, his snout rising, turning one way, then another. "I am unsure. I cannot catch her scent with the air circulators in operation."
They ran down a cleared corridor towards what appeared to be doors inset into the walls. "Here." John looked at the controls on the door. "She is probably being held either here or in a place very much like here." He examined the pad outside the door in question. "This looks to be some sort of command center. Be ready." He began to fiddle with the flat, blank plate outside the door. "It will probably be heavily defended."
"Our usual luck…by the way, what was that with the walls, anyway?"
"Typical Rrift mentality. Any potential hiding place is booby-trapped. For obvious reasons. In fact, those alcoves were most probably deliberately designed into the building as a trap for any...uninvited guests. That is why I suggested vacating them as soon as we did."
"Deus. Are they that paranoid?"
"To a Rrift, that is their normal state of mind. Here." He fumbled with the controls on a larger door. "Get ready."
The door swished back, and they fell through, guns at the ready…but there was nobody in the room. "Hm. This is most odd," said John. He looked around the room. It was larger than the ones they'd seen earlier, and obviously some sort of command center…but there was nobody in the room. John went over to a console, fiddled with the controls. "This won't be easy. There are several layers of encryption, but I believe I can get past them, if I have enough time."
"Yeah, well, great, but…where is everybody? I mean, this place oughtta be crawling with-*"
"I know, and I am mystified as well. Something must be…wrong. Something big, that would command the full attention of the Rrift Elite." He paused. Then, in a much lower voice, "Very wrong, indeed." He turned to the crew. "Those were Rrift Elite in the corridor we just left. As you saw, they were much more intelligent than their 'cannon fodder,' using tactics. But it is not good tactics to leave a control center such as this unmanned. Unless…" John's eyes grew wide. "Unless something is commanding the attention of all the Rrift. But…that would have to be something of a cosmic magnitude…"
"John," Zoe spoke up for the first time, "that's all very well and good, but maybe we should be making good use of that whatever? You said you could crack that encryption…" Mal grinned. That was Zoe: Focus Incarnate.
"Oh, yes. Yes, I can. Thank, you, Zoe, for bringing me back from my…deliberations." He sat in one of the peculiar Rrift chairs, which, since the Rrift were physically similar to him, fit him well.
Mal came over to his side. The controls were completely unfamiliar to him. "Think you can crack the codes?"
"I am reasonably sure." John paused, even as he continued to scan the, to him, alien layout of the controls. "In my youth, I, uhm, engaged in some, shall we say, less than completely sociable behavior. I was an unlawful infiltrator of private and encrypted data files.'"
Mal thought about that with another slow grin. Zoe had taken up position at the door, battle ready, and motioned for Simon to do likewise. "You're kidding. You, a hacker?" The prim and proper John Smith? Hilarious.
"Well, until I got caught, at least. But I was, uhm, rather good at it, if I do say so myself."
"Of course, you gave all that up once the authorities caught up with you."
"Er, wellllllll…"
"Riiiiiight." The legacy of a misspent youth. Haven't we all been there?
"Let me see." He pressed some control buttons, and moved his clawed hands over some panels that looked completely blank to Mal. Then he placed his claws in several slots…but not for long. Soon, several lights lit up, and he pressed down on some seemingly blank places on the platen. The lights began to flash more. "I think I can hack into their system enough to find out where prisoners are being held. But I'll need time."
Mal turned to Zoe. "Can you hold that position?"
"Roger that, sir." Simon indicated equal readiness. He was worried sick about his sister.
He'd seen how the Rrift treated their experimental subjects.
"Do what you can. We'll hold on as long as we can. But getting out of here may pose a problem. Say," the thought occurred to him, "just what was it you threw at those drones that made 'em slip all over the place?" He leaned over the console John was working on, and the Geshen had to wave him off of an important (but invisible to him) control button.
"Er, that was," John was trying to concentrate on the controls, "that was some nanobot replicators. Mostly unprogrammed, they began to make more of what they first came into contact with: the floor. Their activity made it impossible for the Rrift drones to maintain their footing."
"But how could we get through them?"
"They were programmed to avoid Geshen. Standard programming for all but medical nanobots. Now, if you would…"
"Oh. Right." John hit several more controls. "Yesss…I believe I can find it…" He paused, then pulled out a protruding black crystal, twisted it, and reinserted it. "There." Figures began to scroll across a screen, alien characters rapidly changing, moving… "There. I have located her. And, Fates be praised, she is not far from us. But," his tone of voice, alien though it was, turned clearly dark, "I see where she is scheduled for hacking."
"Hacking?" Computers? How did that figure into-*
"Brain hacking. Essentially turning her into a biological robot, in order, I imagine, to harness her fighting skills. Or something. That, of course, I cannot allow."
"Well, yeah. You say she's close by?"
"Yes. And guarded by…" he paused while computing the alien numbers into human ones, "…around fifty-seven drones. And five Elite. Give or take ten."
"Hell, those're better odds that we usually get."
To be continued…