Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 13: An Old Acquaintance Makes an Appearance

Meanwhile, Mal, John, and the others, with the Rrift drone in front-covered, nonincidentally, by their weapons-made their way between the spiky forest and destroyed dwellings that characterized the portion of the planet they were on. Idly, Mal wondered if the destruction of the human habitats had been from Reaver action or Rrift. Not that it mattered, of course. "The armory is seven kilogs in that direction."

"And a kilog is….?"

"Approximately seventy of your yards."

"So why didn't you...never mind." Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. "Let's go people. Zoe, you've got the back?"

But two streets over, they encountered a problem. "Hsst!" went John, pulling Mal back. "There is someone coming!"

"Who? Oh, never mind. How did you know?"

"I smell blood. Human blood."

…..

Orbit: the Angel One was warmed up as much as Kaylee and Inara could make it. Any further activation of the engines would practically shout their position to the Rrift. "Well, that's the best we can d—*" At that point, things went crazy.

…

"Blood? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mal. I have smelled human blood before. I am very sure."

"Come out," said a distant voice. "They mean you no harm."

The group arranged themselves along a wall, keeping their eyes opened along both ways. Mal was acutely conscious of the fact that this small alleyway could easily become a trap. There were no fire ladders.

"Come out," said the voice again. It was clearly a human voice. "The Rrift only want to help you."

"Yeah, like we believe that." He turned to John. "John? Ideas?"

"Surrender is a bad idea."

"Now don't you start. You know what I mean."

"Let me see." John moved to the front, bypassing the drone. He gave it the briefest of glances, but to Mal, it seemed like a very suspicious glance. Well, perhaps he could be forgiven that; they were, after all, enemies. Mal wondered if John had ever lost anyone, any loved one, to Rrift action. It might make his recent actions a bit more explainable.

John poked his head around the corner for the briefest of seconds, then withdrew into the alley with the rest. "We have problems."

"Uh, John? I don't know if you've been paying attention, but we've had problems for longer than I like to think about. But I gather you mean worse problems."

"Yes. There are three Rrift out there. They have a hacked human. That is whose voice you are hearing."

"I figured. But only three Rrift?"

"They have a sssshhithiqs with them."

"A which now?"

"It is a grouping of preprogrammed nanobots, able to assume any shape and function from a weapon to a small shuttle. A very versatile device."

"How do we defeat it?"

"We don't. We have nothing that will stop a sssshhhithiqs."

"We should run," said the drone. "It is only logical."

"Maybe, but...Geronimo! Is there some other way to these bombs?"

"No."

Mal exhaled. "Why did I know you were gonna say that?" He straightened up. "So that means retreat isn't an option. We have to defeat it somehow. Then the drones won't pose any serious problem."

"Malcolm Reynolds, did you not just hear me? We have nothing that will stop it."

"What about those nanobots in your pouch?"

"I used them all up earlier, to get us away from the Rrift in the corridor."

"All of them?

John checked his pouch. "Perhaps not all. There could be a remnant left."

"Can you use them?"

"To do what, Malcolm Reynolds? They are only a small scraping."

"But they can make more of themselves, can't they?"

"Yes, but they can hardly take on a…" Then his gaze defocused, as he got a "thousand yard stare." "Yessss...I see...that is a possibility…"

"What?"

"Tell you in a minute. Or better still, show you. The rest of you, get ready to fire at the drones. Forget the human; without his handlers, he will be a limp puppet. Now…" He pulled out a small disk and stared at it for a moment.

"What are you trying to do?" asked the drone. "I have gathered you do not have enough nanobots to begin to disassemble a sssshhithiqs. It is suicide to try."

"Not to disassemble," replied John, "not to disassemble. To infect." And with that, he thrust the disk back into his pocket, and threw himself out into the middle of the dusty road rolling over and over.

Mal turned to the others to relay John's order, when it hit him.

The hacked "human" they had with them...he'd only had the briefest of glimpses, but, and the man had obviously been the subject of much surgery...but...he still recognized him.

It was the Operative.

But he couldn't focus too much of his attention on the former human just then, as just behind him was...something very strange. Something that exuded a palpable aura of menace. He wasn't comfortable being on the same planet with it, let alone being within eyesight of it.

It looked like a metallic cloud. Every part of it changed, even as they watched. It apparently had no stable form.

And John threw his pouch directly into the thing. He opened fire on the drones, but the metallic cloud extruded a part of itself to intercept the invisible beams.

Mal and the others also opened fire. The sssshhhithiqs easily blocked their blasts, while the drones also opened fire, primarily at John, but some targeted the humans in the alley. "Awright!" said Mal. "Let's do it!" He flung himself into the dusty road beside John.

But something odd was happening to the sssshhhithiqs. It seemed to be struggling with itself, and one side was bulging outward. "Now, Mal! Concentrate your firepower on the drones! Forget the sssshhhithiqs!" Under their combined fire the drones fell. They seemed to possess no tactical knowledge, though some did try to seek some sort of shelter behind the obviously ailing sssshhhithiqs.

A portion of the sssshhhithiqs began to darken and extrude from the area where John's pouch had landed. Outward it expanded, like a balloon being blown up, that portion sparking with red bolts that somehow did not seem to be electrical in nature. The rest of the sssshhhithiqs cloud seemed to crowd around it, as though trying to enclose it, smother it, somehow. "Now, Malcom Reynolds! You must hurry, while its attention is on itself!"

"Whaddaya mean 'you'? Where are you going?" Mal asked, as the others gathered for a run. The drone merely looked on, seemingly unaffected by the sight of its fallen comrades.

"I will be with you soon!"

"No, John! It's not worth it!" shouted River. It still amazed Mal, that River, of all people, after all she'd gone through, should now be able to converse normally. She seemed to have some idea as to what he planned.

He looked at her, at them all. He put his clawed upper right hand on her shoulder, gently. "I must, River, because of who I am. You know this. Now go. Go swiftly and far. Get the bombs." Another look, a gentle one focused on River. "I will join you as soon as I can."

They ran.

Over by one wall sat the meat puppet that had once been the Operative. He had not been harmed in the firefight, but he had no will of his own. His brain was no longer in charge of itself, let alone his body or his soul.

A figure appeared in front of him, a four-armed figure like the ones he vaguely remembered. It stood before him, then knelt down in front of him. He gazed, unblinking, slack-jawed, at it. "Whatever your crimes, human, whatever your sins, you did not deserve this.

"I know what you need, what you want. Close your eyes." And the human meat puppet complied, having no commands to the contrary, leaning his head forward, as if a part of him long since surgically removed knew what was coming.

John stood up and leveled his weapon...

To be continued…