Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 10: Aliens

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I don't own the Firefly franchise. Wish I did.

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Chapter 10: Aliens

They lowered the ramp and the Rrift drone helped Jayne inside. Once inside, it collapsed in a near-fetal position. John moved immediately to cover it with his gun….

"No!" shouted Jayne. "Don't! I don't know what it is, but there's something different about this one."

"We can't take that chance, Jayne," said John, once again lifting his weapon. Mal put a hand on his arm. "No, wait, John. Jayne's right; there's something odd about this one. Maybe it's broken its programming or something…"

"They cannot break their programming, Malcolm Reynolds. You saw; the crystal symbiote-*"

"But this one did, John, for whatever reason. Don't you think we need to find out how and why?"

John hesitated a moment, then, with a glance at River, lowered his weapon. "Very well. But it must be secured. And I have nothing on board with which to do that."

"We'll come up with something."

The humans had some spare leather clothing on board; Mal directed them to tear it into strips and bind the creature, which appeared to be unconscious. "Remember, wrap the tail, too," said John. "It, too, is a weapon."

There was little room on the small shuttle in which to place the creature, but they managed to move some crates out of a closet and stuff the Rrift in there. It groaned during the process, and showed signs of awakening, but did not.

"Okay," said Mal, once they had the drone securely locked away, "John? Any wild guesses?"

"I can think of none, Malcolm Reynolds. The only thing that it could possibly make any sense is that something must have gone wrong with its symbiote. But I have never heard of that happening before. And even if something had gone wrong with its symbiote, there is no reason for it to behave it the way that it has. All its life, it has been trained, programmed to hate aliens, to obey the commands of the Elite. Even assuming that programming was no longer in effect, why should it change its lifelong behavior patterns?"

Simon spoke up. "John. Just a thought. You told us the Crystal infecting you caused you to…act differently than you normally would. Could this drone have been likewise infected?"

John thought long and hard. "It…is not impossible, Simon Tam. However, if so, that only makes it more dangerous to us.

"For what is in me is just that: an infection. It grows. Sooner or later, unless something is done, it will spread. To us all."

….

"No, John, it's too risky." River was shaking her head. Simon and the others still marveled; the River they knew had been a truly scrambled person. Now, it was like…nothing had ever happened to her.

To Simon, at least, that excused a world or two of sins from John. He still didn't understand how it was done, but John had offered to show him how to build an interface that would allow them to, at least partially, correct River's brain wave patterns, though the Geshen warned them it would only be partially successful. He would have cheerfully traded his soul for such a machine.

"My people may be able to do more, if we can but contact them. No promises, mind you; at this point, the Rrift have a better understanding of human psychobiology than we do. Still, it is something." To Simon, those were the most beautiful words he'd ever heard.

At the moment, the two of them were discussing—it could almost be called an argument—on the best way to return to the Angel. "It's too risky. The Rrift have to be on the alert since the destruction of the Reaver holding station. No matter what else is going on, they'd be sure to spot the shuttle and take action." It was strange, seeing River actually having a coherent conversation with someone. "We'd be sitting ducks. This shuttle doesn't look anything like a Rrift craft, and the drive system is totally different. You may as well paint 'shoot me' on the side."

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"I'd have to try hard to come up with a worse one! What about…" Mal left the scene, shaking his head. Strange, the curveballs life throws, sometimes. Here they were, actually talking with an alien, a nonhuman being, from a place far out beyond the 'verse. Talking about another alien race, also from way out, coming here to pillage and plunder. Talking about somehow…what? Leaving the 'verse?

Were they about to go sight-seeing?

That notion was…kinda exciting.

In his heart, Mal was a businessman, pure and simple. He knew the value of a credit, and knew you hadda have 'em to get by. But…!

Star travel! The stars!

That night, they carefully lifted off, improvised mufflers over the main drive components, with John notifying Inara and Kaylee of their imminent arrival via secure communications. Kaylee told him that, from what they could make of the drive, it seemed to be operational, at least to the degree they were able to determine. "I'll have it pre-operational, just warmed up enough so as not to emit anything. But we can move as soon as you lock down."

"Faithful Kaylee," murmured John.

"Er…faithful?"

"Yes, Mal. She must be a very responsible individual, to have been chosen for the service that she has, the service she renders to you all."

"Uh…service?" Kaylee? True, she was a good mechanic and all, but…

"Why, yes. After all, she carries-*" At that exact moment, one of the alarms went off. "Rrift patrol ship. We have been spotted."

…..

John frantically drove the shuttle downward, anything to keep the patrol ship from detecting the Angel. In this, he was aided by the sheer vastness of space itself: as long as the Angel emitted no radio waves or any other emanations, it would be hard to detect, simply because there was so much space to hide in. Its cloaking devices relied, mainly, on this.

At the same time, he sent out minicons, which broadcast on common frequencies, with the intent of distracting the Rrift patrol ship. It worked, but the Rrift were still drawn to the shuttle, which could not hide its own drive field. "Strap in," he said, "this could get rough."

That proved to be extremely true. Twisting one way, then the other, John managed to avoid the Rrift artillery. Mal, Zoe, Simon, River were flung back against the restraining straps. The shuttle didn't have any real inertial compensators; it had never been designed for such use. Well, he thought, I did come looking for adventure.

There was a large Rrift structure—it could not have been mistaken for a natural formation—rising easily hundreds of feet into the air. He dodged behind that, flying the shuttle so low Mal was afraid he'd hear metal screeching from the deck plates.

"Do no worry, Malcom Reynolds!" shouted John, as though sensing his thoughts. "At the velocity we are currently traveling, if we so much as touch the ground, we will never know it!"

To him, that's a 'don't worry' thought? "Uh, John? I know you've said death is preferable to being taken by the Rrift, but you do know there's a third option, right? Like, namely, not dying? 'Spose we could arrange for that one?"

"Do not fear, Malcolm Reynolds! I am no fighter pilot, but I have undergone numerous courses on how to fly this type of shuttle!" He paused, seeming to turn introspective for a moment. "Of course, I admit that I never actually graduated from any of them…"

"Wait, what?"

"I will," he said, "return you all, safe and sound, back to Kaylee."

Okay, I really have to talk to him about that, someday

The Rrift ship behind them opened fire with its missiles, and John twisted and turned, trying to throw them off. And he did…except for one.

The explosion racked the little craft, even as he shot around one of the black spiky monoliths that seemed to serve as Rrift architecture. The crew was shaken back and forth as he desperately fought for control, using all four hands simultaneously…

Then, silence. The shuttle creaked a bit, and John looked fearfully at the roof. The viewscreen was nonfunctioning, showing only blackness.

The shuttle had come to rest canted to its left side. Mal and the others carefully unstrapped themselves, checking their guns. There was no doubt they were once again in enemy territory. "Hey, what about the drone? Maybe it knows something we could use."

"You would be best served forgetting about that, Malcolm Reynolds. A drone would have no tactical knowledge of any use, and, if by some chance, one did, it would sooner die than part with that information to an enemy."

"The same way they don't ever take wounded humans back to their people?"

John paused for just a moment. "Yes. Exactly the same."

"C'mon, John. Gimme a sit-rep here. We gotta check on Jayne; are we in immediate danger?"

"On any Rrift-controlled world, there is always immediate danger…but I sense what you are asking. Very well." They made their way back to the area that served as a makeshift, scrambling over fallen machinery and demolished sections of bulkhead. It was clear, even to someone unfamiliar with the alien design, that the shuttle would never fly again.

Jayne was wedged in between two walls that, had they been squeezed any closer, would have crushed him. A black spike had narrowly missed his crotch. "Okay, guys." He looked down. "That was too close for comfort."

They began to pry him loose. "Now, where's that drone?" Such was the damage done to the shuttle that Mal could barely recognize the interior.

"It is over there," said John, without looking around. "Behind that bulkhead." The closet he waved a hand towards looked like it had gone through a trash compactor.

"We've gotta get it out. Simon, you and River keep at this. Zoe, John…you're with me." And he started towards the spot designated.

"You are wasting your time, Malcolm Reynolds! We must free Jayne, and find another means off this planet!"

Mal turned to him. "Are you seriously suggesting that we just leave it? It could be dying in there!"

John was trying to focus on both freeing Jayne without causing any further harm, and on his seemingly brain-damaged ally. "It is probably already dead. Our energies are better spent elsewhere."

"John…" Mal turned fully to him, "Look. It's one thing to kill someone in battle, or for some legitimate reason like that. But…just to let someone die, someone who, for whatever reason, has done you a good turn…just let them die?" He stared at the Geshen as though seeing him for the first time.

John seemed unwilling to directly answer that. "It…is simply a matter of priorities, Mal."

"No, John. This is more than a matter of priorities, and we both know it. You don't want that drone saved."

What followed was interesting. John's whole alien countenance, which they'd learned to read, simply closed up. He showed no emotion whatsoever. River looked up in concern. "Very well, Malcolm Reynolds." And without another word, he grabbed a prybar. "Let us go free it. If it lives."

Mal narrowed his eyes at the alien's retreating back. The way John had put that…he clearly thought the drone was alive.

He just didn't want it to stay that way.

…..

The Rrift High Council: "You are certain?"

"Yes, Sires, I am. There is no doubt but that there is evidence of Crystal infestation in System 13-002658-4. The fourth planet outward has been thoroughly consumed; our last transmissions from the ships sent to investigate have left no doubt.

"If the pattern proceeds as before, it will not be long until the entire system is lost to us."

"Then this makes our excursion into this new system all the more important. What have you discovered? What of its inhabitants?"

"It is a system rich in planets and resources, and the aboriginals will scarcely impede our progress at all. Indeed, can we succeed in hacking them, they will provide an excellent source of labor. I recommend full exploitation."

"We will send a convoy. Your estimate of their threat level?"

"Scarcely more than two, My Lords. And only that because they do have space travel and atomic energy."

"Then two squadrons should be sufficient. But we will hold two more in reserve; after all, if we are forced to evacuate System 13-002678, that will require a shift in focus, with accompanying uncertainty. We cannot afford to make inaccurate assessments. But I sense there is something else you've to say?"

The Supervisor hesitated. "We've had unconfirmed reports of Geshen activity within this star system."

"What?! And you're just now telling us this?"

"It is only a rumor, and it does not refer to any sort of truly significant force. The rumors speak of one lone member of that species." He spread his hands in a very human like gesture. "What it is doing here, is unknown. But we are confident that it has had no opportunity to report to the Geshen High Command."

"That matters little. As long as it lives, there will be danger to our operations. I do not have to tell you how to deal with threats to our plans. Do so, and then report back. Priority one."

….

It took them a little over an hour to pry the Rrift drone free of the smashed-in enclosure that had been its holding cell. They were almost too late: several sharp ceiling spikes looked dangerously unstable.

Mal wasn't really sure about John anymore. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Geshen just might arrange a little accident for their prisoner. But…John? Gentle John? Do a thing like that?

On the other hand, he is an alien. By definition, he is different. Perhaps he thinks differently. So far, they'd been able to see the Geshen as just a funny looking human, but his recent actions indicated a degree of alienation that extended into the inner self, rather than just the appearance.

The creature gasped as it was drawn out of the wall. It was fully conscious, and this seemed to perturb John. "Do not untie it. Practically everything about it is a weapon."

"C'mon, Zoe. Let's get Geronimo here somewhere with a little more space."

"'Geronimo', sir?" Zoe asked in an amused tone of voice.

"'S good a name as any, for right now. Simon? You and River get Jayne?" They converged by the twisted remains of the lock.

"Yeah." They both appeared, hoisting Jayne, his improvised splint still in place, between them. Jayne turned and gave the Rrift drone a long, long look. It did not return the look, nor did it seem to take serious notice of the humans around it.

Together, they managed to cobble together a sort of supported carry between them for the drone. Jayne himself was fully conscious, though in pain, and required no help, being able to hobble along.

"Come along," said John, a bit abruptly, Mal thought. "We must find a defensible place, and then find some other means off this planet."

"You don't have to tell us twice," muttered Jayne.

"Good. For I shall not."

To be continued…