Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift: Chapter 8: Myths and Legends
….
I don't own the Firefly franchise, I guess I should say. Surely no-one reading this thinks I do, do you?
…
Chapter 8: Myths and Legends
Jayne made his way very carefully through the ruined buildings. He'd only been here once, and then, his only worries—ha! "Only"!—had been the Reavers. But now he was on the lookout for something more dangerous.
John had told him that the Rrift tended to randomize their patrols, not adhering to any one schedule. Well, of course not. That would make things way too easy. While Jayne loved a good fight as much as the next man, getting caught with your pants down by the enemy wasn't his idea of the way to go about things.
Speaking of… He found a secluded spot, one that was easily defensible, and, after making sure there were no threats evident in the area, unzipped and relieved himself. John had told him that his kind had an exceptionally keen sense of smell…perhaps, just perhaps, this might throw any pursuers off his trail, providing he hustled to another location in time.
John's ship's sensors had detected what he'd thought to be the holding area for the remaining Reavers. At least, he'd detected a group of warm-blooded creatures in one isolated pocket, separate from the others. Geshen and Rrift alike being cold-blooded, those readings would indicate the only other mammalian presence on the map.
Of course, he reasoned with himself, even as he rounded another corner, throwing himself up against the wall, that didn't mean what was being held there were Reavers. It could just be some other form of exothermic life. Hell, could even be humans the Rrift had captured somehow, somewhere. But this was Miranda; the odds were against it.
Not for the first time, he wondered about the Geshen's (or, as the word was more properly pronounced, Ge'shen) relationship was with the Rrift. Outwardly, they were almost identical; even John himself had admitted as much. The Rrift carried those crystal symbiotes, so he'd been told, that hardwired them for sheer viciousness. But John had not been too forthcoming with details on the exact relationship between the two races, except to say they were at war. Jayne wondered how long that had been going on.
Hell. There were humans in the 'verse who weren't worthy of the name, he knew. The human known as the "Operative" being one of them. Jayne always put the man's species designation in quotes anyway. And he was only one of many.
But this seemed more than just ideological differences. It was almost like a kind of predator-predator clash sort of thing….
There. His handheld PDA showed him the holding area where those warm bodies were. He was tempted to peek; nobody had ever had any clue as to what Reaver society was really like. Did they have a hierarchy? Were some Reavers over others? Somehow, he couldn't see it. Keeping Reavers in an enclosed space more than likely only resulted in them turning on each other, having no other outlet for the rage that made them what they were.
On the other hand…nobody knew. At least, nobody who was still alive and sane.
Maybe just a peek…
The door wasn't even locked. Well, that made a certain amount of sense, he guessed; it was right here, in the heart of Rrift territory, and there really wasn't anything inside to steal, even if one had been so tempted.
Mal had left it up to him as to how to go about destroying the Reavers. As John had said, it was the most logical course of action, as long as the method he used also managed to destroy the Reaver bodies as well. It wasn't enough to just kill them; the Rrift had to be deprived of anything to experiment on.
But with a little information from John, he'd come up with something.
The Rrift were in the process of altering Miranda's air mix, to better suit them. Like the Geshen, they preferred a higher concentration of oxygen. That meant they had to have a means of producing that oxygen.
And oxygen is an accelerant.
If he could just find the generators, or whatever they used…
Two Rrift drones came around the corner. One stopped, dead still, and sniffed the air. Then it hissed, nodding its head toward Jayne's position…
Discovered. C'mon, Jayne! Jayne went down on the floor, his years of experience guiding him, opening fire on the drones in one smooth movement. The drones had also gone for their guns, and returned fire, but Jayne had the advantage of surprise. It wasn't long before the two drones were lying, lifeless, on the floor.
Jayne got up, eyes scanning for more drones. Damn things were like ants; where there were two, there were likely to be more.
But that was actually good news. The atmosphere regulators must be nearby, and would probably be well guarded. That would give him some idea as to just where it was.
Again he consulted the Geshen PDA. The map he was seeing showed him as being deep within the Rrift's main structure, the black, spiky thing that served them as a building. Once again, Jayne wondered at their standards of esthetics, but, hey, aliens. Who could say?
The holding area for the remaining Reavers ought to be close by, or at least an area closed off that would be ideal for their holding. There was, of course, no notation indicating where they were, since the Geshen computers hadn't been able to hack into the Rrift databases enough to show detailed data. But it was a good start.
As quietly as he could, he stole around the corner from whence the two Rrift had come. The corridors themselves weren't well lit. Evidently, the Rrift had better things to do than install proper lighting. Or at least, as humans understood it.
Of course, that may have been deliberate on their part. Humans, the predominate life form in this area, needed light of certain specific frequencies in order to make use of their own primary sense, whereas the Rrift could employ their sense of smell to assist them in locating enemies…at least, that was the way John had told him they'd probably think.
There; right there should be the holding facility for the captured Reavers. Now if he could just make his way to an atmosphere-regenerator, redirect it, and light them up…
He paused. Something had been bothering him ever since they'd made planetfall. The sensors had aided them in locating the probable location of the Reavers, but had not been able to capture any sec-cam feeds. Hence their uncertainty as to Rrift patrols and concentration of troops.
Jayne wondered just what was going on with the Reavers the Rrift had captured. There was no reason to think anything but that they'd been essentially dumped into a room of some sort, an enclosure, and left there until the Rrift had need of one or more of them. But what were they doing in the meantime?
Jayne could make some pretty good guesses. Knowing Reavers as well as he did, he guessed they'd probably turn on each other. That meant the Rrift had to have them in some kind of restraints, shackles, maybe. Otherwise, their precious test subjects would eat each other. He grinned. The notion of the Reavers locked up, shackled up so they had no outlet for their rage, was appealing to him. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just take a quick peek…
There; the upper story of the complex. It had a curving window angling downward set into the interior of the building. He checked; no spy cams that he could see. Then he looked.
To his amazement, the Reavers were just standing there, in the darkened room, no shackles or other visible restraints upon them. They just stood there, blank expressions on their faces, occasionally shifting posture to maintain their stance. Jayne was mightily puzzled. What had the Rrift done to these Reavers, and, hm, maybe he could his hands on it? It'd be worth any asking price on the frontier.
But before he could act, a loud klaxon began to sound. Shit! Discovered! Where to go, where to hide? He knew he couldn't take on the entire fortress itself…
Hm. There was one place they might not look. It redefined the term "desperate plan," but it was all he could come up with. He looked around, then, muttering a prayer, dashed into the room where the Reavers were being held. He stuffed his gun behind some piles of what looked like crates of some sort, tore his clothes as best he could, then joined the Reavers in standing there, in the middle of the room, slack-jawed, letting his mouth drool a bit… This has gotta be the craziest stunt I've ever heard of…
Outside, he could hear the sound of Rrift troops running to and fro, rushing past the very windows he'd just been at. Not a one of them chanced to look at the prisoners.
He was gambling on their very alienness being his concealment. He knew humans had a hard time distinguishing between Geshen and Rrift…maybe that worked both ways.
He waited, swaying to and fro, expression blank, just like the Reavers around him…
Meanwhile, John and the others had identified the best way to the holding area where River was listed as being. Simon was a visible bundle of nerves; he couldn't imagine what his sister was going to look like after all this time, at the hands of these monsters. Mal had suggested maybe seeing if there was an air duct through which they might crawl, but John had nixed that. "Such would be more heavily booby-trapped than the normal corridors, Mal, precisely for that very reason. The corridors themselves must be used by the Rrift; they would be less likely to be mined." He'd showed them a small pendant he'd taken from one of the Rrift Elite they'd fought earlier. "This should disarm any hardwired traps we may encounter. But the emphasis is on 'should.' They frequently change the codes every so often for precisely this set of circumstances."
"Deus. How paranoid can they get?"
"To them, this is normal."
"Say," Simon interjected, "You said you and the Rrift are essentially identical, appearance-wise. How about making it seem like you were transporting prisoners?"
"You're much too intact to be mistaken for Rrift prisoners."
"Damn. What are these things, anyway?"
"Monsters."
The corridors proved to be oddly empty, increasing John's fears. "I was able to off-line most of the security cams in the area we're traversing," he fretted, "but there should be more troops than this. It's got to be a trap. Everyone, be on your guard. And, one other thing." He turned to the others, there behind one of the few turns in a corridor that had a lip he felt was safe. "Should it come down to it, whatever happens, take River and get out of here. Inara has the control codes for my ship, enough to fly it away from here. Get to it and get out of here. There is a failsafe, an emergency measure. The ship will fly itself back to Geshen territory. Do this. If necessary, I will create a distraction."
Mal shook his head. "We're not leaving anyone behind. Certainly not you. But no-one."
John turned to him, hefting his gun. "I thank you. But if it comes down to that, and there is no other way…if you do not," he said, gesturing with the gun in what could only be described as a threatening way, "I will personally shoot you myself. In the leg."
Mal and the others stared.
…
The meeting of the Elite took place in another part of the ever-growing complex. To the human eye, it would have seemed like a massive, spiky tower of Babel, with what looked like a dragon's head situated on top. Every so often, it would belch a cloud of gas resembling smoke, which would immediately get dispersed by the prevailing winds at that height.
The meeting hall itself had been designed for more Rrift than were currently in it, since the plan had been for Miranda to be a beachhead in their incursion into this rich new star system. The Patriarch signaled for order. Although words, as humans understood them, were not the sole means of data exchange, they were nonetheless the primary basis for the meeting's communication. "Status?"
One of the Rrift stood up, signaling for attention. "Sire, at 00:0930, we received a communication from the homeworlds. I can best convey its full meaning by way of direct data transit. However, an abbreviated summary…" she punched a button on her terminal, "..is available to you all now."
"Let us see it." There was a pause while each Rrift examined the file thus presented.
Afterwards, there was complete silence around the table. No communication, whether by means of electronic data transfer or spoken word, as each Rrift processed what he or she had just seen.
All races, no matter how advanced, possessed legends, myths of what humans would call "bogeymen," monsters too terrible to be true, which many used to frighten others, sometimes offspring, into behaving properly, or each other, for much the same purpose. Of course, the adults of the species, as they grew older and more mature, realized that such bogeymen were merely the products of imagination, legends of creatures embellished over time into the unbelievable and therefore certainly not true.
It looked as though one such myth was no myth.
…
"She should be in here," John said, standing in front of one holding cell. He looked worriedly, up and down the corridor. He'd rather it be full of bloodthirsty drones than be empty, as it was. He pulled up the three-D LED display on the lock screen
"Can you open it?"
"Shouldn't be hard. I was able to disarm the automatic protocols that would alert the High Command of any tampering with the lock."
But screen after screen appeared, turned an orange-red in color, then disappeared, as a frustrated John tried combination after combination. Finally, in exasperation, he muttered a hissing something under his breath that needed no translation, and pulled out a short-bladed knife of some black material. This he jammed into the mechanism and was rewarded with a loud crack! and a puff of smoke from it. The door slid open, and they all gasped.
River was lying in a heap on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, naked. There was dried blood over a good portion of her body, with signs of manacles evident on her wrists, arms, and legs. Her captors had evidently not bothered to clean her after whatever they'd done to her, and, from her state, she'd been unable to clean herself. The smell of her unwashed body was strong. She'd evidently soiled herself more than once.
Both Simon and John were immediately at her side, Mal and Zoe watching the door and keeping an eye down each corridor. "Oh, River, what have they done to you?" Simon said, holding his sister's head in his lap.
John was examining her head, even as Simon held it. "I see no sign of significant intrusion. We seem to've been in time to prevent any hacking attempt."
"If this 'hacking' is worse than this…"
"It's quite a bit worse. However, the good news, if there is any to be found, is that she is still here. Had she been hacked, even unsuccessfully, she would not be here." Simon was doing his best to simultaneously rouse River and clean her up as best he could, with little visible progress either way. Her vacant expression worried him more than the filth she was encrusted with. He looked at John. "Can't you do something? You helped her before…"
"Perhaps." John switched around, orienting himself to where he was facing her. "Move back, and guard the door. I'll see if I can't at least bring her around." And he took her head in between his upper set of hands, propping her eyes open, and focused his eyes and his mind on her…
"I think I heard something," said Zoe. Mal nodded; Zoe's battle-honed senses were second to none throughout the 'verse. If she thought she heard something, you could take that to the bank.
Mal and Simon joined her at the door, Simon clearly reluctantly. He so hated seeing his sister in the state she was, and a part of him still didn't trust the alien.
John sat back, shaking his head. "She's very far away. I'll need time to reach her." He looked up at the others. "We've got to get her to the ship."
"That," said Zoe, never taking her eyes off the corridor, "may prove easier said than done." She gestured with her head.
A horde of Rrift drones had appeared around the corridor, heading straight for them.