Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 11: The Unexpected

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Don't own, okay. Onward

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Chapter 11: The Unexpected

Mal, John, and the others cautiously made their way through the black spiky edifices that served as Rrift buildings for what seemed like forever, once again encountering no Rrift drones or Elite. That both pleased and disturbed John, and he shared his concerns with Mal. "Well, look on the bright side, John. If they're so concerned about this Crystal thing—it's not here in the 'verse, is it?" John had never actually said.

"I do not know, Malcolm Reynolds. My own sensors did not detect any such thing, here in your 'verse."

"What about that thing in your head? From what you've said, this Crystal is, like, one giant organism all by itself. Could it tell you anything?"

John heaved a very human sounding sigh. "No, Malcolm Reynolds. It does not communicate with me. It is, so far as I know, more in the nature of an infection than a contact."

"Yes, so you've said…but by your own admission, nobody knows much about the thing. That being the case-*"

"Malcolm Reynolds, I mean this in no disrespectful manner, but could we discuss something else? Kindly keep in mind what is in my head will kill me."

"So you say."

John turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Mal turned to him squarely, putting the hand not holding his gun up against the Geshen's shoulder, pushing the alien back in an almost aggressive way, "are you giving up? Your people, your own medtechs, have told you there's no cure, so you believe it yourself? And now you're ready to just lie down and die?"

Faster than their eyes could follow, John's upper right claw shot out and grasped Mal by the throat, the seven-fingered hand closing with inhuman strength. "Diiieee?" he hissed.

"Stand…down," Mal gasped. Such was John's state of mind, that he wasn't even aware of Zoe's gun at his head. But Mal's breath was failing. "John…"

And just like that, something of the person they'd known as John Smith swam back into his eyes. He dropped Mal with an expression on his face that could not be translated any other way: horror. "I…Mal…I…"

"Don't," said Mal, rubbing his throat, "I practically pushed you into it. I wanted, no, I needed to see how…far things had gone."

"Now you know." John's voice, even with his alien accent, sounded dismal. He looked up at the others, for the first time since they'd arrived on this world seemingly unconcerned about the enemy surrounding them. The enemy within… "I will leave. I can distract the Rrift. Inara can fly the ship, but it will be up to you to get to it. Perhaps Kaylee can effect a rescue with the Serenity, but I would caution you-*"

"That's not what I meant," said Mal, still rubbing his throat. The Geshen had had a tight grip. "I meant, I had to see how much of you was still in there. And even though I pushed you, something still brought you back. That something is you, John."

"I…am not convinced…" John was evidently severely ashamed.

"Nor am I," said an unfamiliar voice. They all looked around.

The Rrift drone, still securely tied and being hustled along, was looking at them with what looked like complete innocence.

…

"Wait," said Mal, turning to the creature. "You can speak?"

"Yes," it said, simply. Then it fell silent again.

"Who are you?" asked Mal. He noticed that Zoe's gun had half-turned to cover the drone. Somehow, the fact that it could communicate with them made it seem more dangerous than before.

"I am designated ZX974A-*

"Wait, wait. What's your name?"

"I have none, as I am given to understand it."

"Do not listen to it, Mal!" John was shaken out of his shock, both at his own actions and the incredible fact of an enemy displaying a previously unsuspected ability. "Everything it says could be lie, designed to lead us into a trap!"

Mal looked the drone. The drone looked back, with no readable expression on its saurian face. "He is right."

"What?" This was not expected.

"He is right. Everything I say could be a lie designed to lead you into a trap."

"Okay," said Mal, spreading his hands. "I think we need a time out here. John. Is there any place around here where we can…talk?" He cast a nervous glance at the drone.

It simply looked back.

…..

They managed to find a fragment of a shattered house that had somehow escaped the Rrift "remodeling" of the planet. It wasn't anywhere near as secure as Mal would have liked, but beggars, choosers, etc. "Alright," he asked the drone, "how is it that you can…communicate with us? You're the first Rrift we've seen that even seems to want to."

The drone didn't hesitate. "I was indoctrinated with your language for the purposes of interrogating captured humans."

"You're an…interrogator?" Read: torturer, thought Mal.

"Yes. I was to serve to physically interrogate whatever prisoners as we took."

"And you're…" He looked at John, who seemed to have retreated into himself. River stood over by him; she knew what was going on in his soul. She knew he shouldn't be alone right now. "You're a…drone?"

"Yes. To physically interrogate prisoners is not the function of the Elite."

"Meaning," said John, speaking up for the first time since they'd regrouped here, "that it is beneath them to soil their hands with such."

The drone stared back at him, no expression on its face. "As you say."

"Wait," said Jayne. "You can talk. Why didn't you before? And why'd you rescue me?"

"I do not know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean I do not know!" The drone's whispery voice rose. "I do not know why I did what I did! Aah…Sssssssssssss….!" It suddenly hissed and fell over, rolling on the ground. It kept up a steady stream of hissing, with a few other sounds that they guessed must be related to Rrift speech.

"Do not go near it, Mal!" urged John, "Its symbiote is trying to regain control!"

"What can we do?" asked River, standing near John. She was the only one of the entire crew who seemed to want to, anymore. For all Mal's good words, they'd seen a side of their saurian ally that made them nervous in his presence.

"There is nothing to do. It will either regain control, or it will not. We can only wait."

The agonized hissing went on for what seemed like an interminable time. Finally, the drone stopped, and lay panting on the ground. Mal approached cautiously, as John looked worriedly on. "Are you alright?"

It panted, its long tongue hanging out of its mouth. "I am…functional."

Mal reconsidered his words. "Do you still wish to…aid us?"

"I will aid you."

"Mal…" said John, "It could be lying. It probably is."

The drone seemed to think. "That probability is high. Only I know the truth."

"So…" Mal still seemed to be considering how to put it. In spite of all his experience, having a potential ally (?) who freely admits to the possibility of treachery was not something he was really prepared for. "What do we do?" he asked the drone.

"You either accept my word as truth, and act accordingly, or you accept it to varying degrees, and act accordingly, or you do not accept it at all, and…act accordingly," it said.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," growled Jayne. "I vote we shoot it."

Simon turned to him. "It saved your life…"

"For God only knows what reason. Even it doesn't know why. Who's to say how long that will last?"

"That would be," said the drone, "the most logical solution."

"You know, you're not exactly helping anything," growled Mal. "Don't you want to live?"

"Of course. But I said I would aid you. Do your people not consider advice to be aid?"

Suddenly, River seemed to slump. "River?" Both Simon and John were instantly at her side.

"It…I…John?" Her eyes seemed to unfocus momentarily.

He took her by the arm. She'd let her weapon slump almost to the ground. "It's happening again, isn't it?" She nodded. He turned to the others. "I have to get somewhere where I can be assured of some solitude, at least for a few minutes."

"Sorry," said Mal. He knew what was happening, of course. The "therapy" the Academy had inflicted upon River was taking its toll, again. John could, if he could get the chance, restore her to function, but he would need some time to do so. "I can't think of any better place than here. Geronimo?" He turned to the drone. "You say you wanna aid us. You know any place safer than this? Safer for us, I mean," he amended, even as the drone was opening its mouth to speak.

"No. I know of no secure location within practical distance from here."

"Then this'll have to do. John? You do your thing, and we'll just have to stand guard. 'Kay?" The Geshen nodded an unhappy agreement, a custom he'd learned from his human allies. He turned his attention to River, took her face in his hands, looked into her eyes…

"What are you doing? Do not do that!" shouted the drone. It began to struggle against its bonds to the degree that Zoe and Mal leaped upon it, trying to keep it from breaking loose.

"Easy, there, Geronimo! Nothing bad's happening!" But the Rrift continued to hiss and struggle. Its strength, even bound as it was, was incredible, and it thrashed and struggled like a wild animal. It was all they could do to hold on to it. Mal worried that the noise it was making would attract other Rrift. "John! What's going on?"

John sighed, another gesture he'd learned from the humans. "It…is due to a cultural difference between our species, Mal. To us, this usage of what you call our 'weird alien powers' is simply a means of communication, and, yes, on occasion, a means of control over others, when necessary. But to the Rrift, it is something else altogether. To them, it is essentially a means of forcing others. You might call it mental rape."

They were still struggling to control the out-of-control alien. "And it's objecting to this? I thought it was trained as an interrogator!"

"That is what it said. Mal, nothing about this drone makes any sense."

The drone had finally calmed down, exhausted from struggling against its bonds and the humans simultaneously. "You…you will not do that. I will…I will kill you…"

John walked over to the enemy soldier. It was lying face down on the ground, Zoe and Simon both holding it down. He turned it over and knelt beside it. "It is not like that," he said in what he hoped was a fair imitation of the Rrift speech. Although they shared vocal apparatus, their languages were very different. "It is necessary. This alien female has been damaged by her own people. I am only trying to restore as much function to her damaged brain as I can. I am not hurting her."

"Truly?"

"Yes. Why is this of concern to you?" John was as puzzled as the rest of them.

"It is…wrong. It should not be done."

"Wrong? Why would you, an interrogator, feel such an action is wrong?"

"I…do not know."

…..

Far, far out in space, far beyond the 'verse, a large object traversed the void. To any human onlooker, had anyone been able to see it, it would have resembled a giant crystal spheroid, flattened at both ends, with a ring, apparently unsupported, circling its middle. No-one would have been able to see it, however, as it was moving at a velocity considerably in excess of that of light.

Within, the ruling intelligence conversed with itself. "{{Untranslatable}} ready for harvest?" This was followed by an inexpressible thought-word that would normally indicate a number in the worlds of men and others. "What of {{…}}?" Another designation impossible to translate in any organic tongue.

"Located."

"Assign {{Alpha Priority}} to {{…}}. Adjust course. Intercept."

To be continued…