"That's how they move, that's how they think…"
"So are we going to sit in silence all the way to town sir?" Myers asked as Book drove the Hopper Class dust buggy down the dusty back road that ran south of Libertine. Book didn't reply. His eyes were instead, transfixed on the road in a deep trance while his mind turned the passing events over and over like a washing machine on a prolonged spin cycle. It was late afternoon, the sky was an orange-tinged blue with wispy clouds scattered into wet streaks across the sinking amber. The white trails crisscrossed like ship wakes.
"Sir!" Myers shouted. Book jolted awake, giving the steering column a sharp jerk as the buggy hit large bump in the road at nearly 60 miles per hour. The air cushion holding the buggy aloft whined, its rotators groaning as it struggled to adjust to the sudden change in terrain. Fighting to hold the column steady, Book feathered the pressure on the accelerator while thumbing down the hovers, violently swerving the buggy back into control.
"Sorry," Book muttered, as Myers let loose a sigh of relief, his hands releasing their tight grip on the body frame.
"Something on your mind sir," Myers asked. Book winced visibly at the caustic formality that trailed on the end of Myer's "sir."
"It's nothing," Book said quickly, slowing down as he turned the corner of a copse of trees that just covered the city of Arcaelis. As they rounded the bend, Arcaelis peeked through the leafy canopy, its towering skyscrapers pricking the sky in modesty. Compliments of assorted sun-streaked aircraft wove through the cityscape like patchwork quilts, their glittering bodies and plumes of exhaust transforming the sinking horizon into a sea of glitter.
With a quick kick in acceleration, Book pulled the buggy into a reserved military parking lot just outside of the city's edge since City ordinance didn't allow armed vehicles within its borders. Just next to the parking lot was a duty-free bar Book had often wanted to visit, but as he wasn't overly fond of alcohol, he had never actually made a point to. There was a sign outside that read "Jack's Dune" in sputtering patterns, the gaudy lights played tricks on Book's eyes.
"Myers," Book began.
"Book."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sir?
"Off the record."
"When have we ever been on the record?"
"I'm serious Myers."
"Sure sir," Myers' eyes darted around somewhat uncomfortably. Book winced again. He could feel it now. The visibly small distance that had grown between him and his comrade. He could feel it in the staccato tones that accented each of Myers'. There was a guard that had been built overnight that hadn't been there before, and while the formality was just a byproduct, it grated like sandpaper.
"Do you remember why we signed up? Do you remember why we enlisted?" Book asked, still firmly seated in the buggy's driver seat with no inclination or conscious effort to move, despite the limited time of leave the sniper team had been given.
"We serve in protecting the members of the Alliance, strength through unity, unity through peace, all this for the sake of a better world, for all, better worlds," Myers grimaced, "recruitment posters Book. Is that what you mean?"
"I forgot how you were about those," Book smiled apologetically.
"Permission to speak freely sir," Myers said curtly.
"You don't need to ask that, not ever."
"Look. I don't know what the operative said to you, and honestly, I don't very much care because that's none of my business. What I do know, is the kind of stuff they do Book? That's not us. I respect you, and it's your gorram choice, but that ain't us. That's not what we joined up for," Myers snapped, the words he had been holding back since yesterday pouring out uninhibited, "if you want to believe that kind of thing, I don't know you anymore."
"I just," Book said. He wanted to say it, the word that danced against his teeth like little devils, their clicking struggling to escape his lips. But he didn't, he bit on his tongue and stopped them cold. Those weren't words for anyone to hear, not even himself.
"Sir," Myers slouched his shoulders, his face contorted in such a wide mixture of emotions Book didn't know how to react.
"Let's just leave it, the Turmons are waiting," Book said. Ten years, Book thought. So much said, so much left to say, so much that would never be said.
"Wouldn't want to keep them waiting do we," Myers said, relaxing a fraction of a centimeter. But Book could see what Myers wanted to say. Through the layers of doubt, concern, tension, and fear, Book could see the small fortress Myers had built around himself. Ten years they had served together and neither man could decide if it was too long, or not long enough.
"What do you think," the COM crackled with the low-pitched roar of the Operative Prime, the reputably most fearsome man in the known verse. He was surrounded with so much mystery that some considered him a rumor, or a ghost, or even so far as a higher entity, untouchable in its entirety. Ben knew different. A man was only a man, and nothing more.
"That depends. He's a believer, but there's still an almost optimistic side that lingers. I worry it might keep him from functioning as we intended," Ben sat behind his desk, his legs crossed right over left with his right ankle resting on his upper thigh. He was angled 23 degrees from the desk and his hand was firmly gripping his sword beneath the polished red oak surface. The Operative General commanded considerable respect, but he was if anything, unpredictable and dangerously transparent.
"He can be broken of these, optimisms."
"How can you be sure? You haven't spoken to him. He hesitates Prime, we can't tolerate that."
"No man is unbreakable, which is why I chose you. He can be broken."
"Yes."
"You want to ask me a question."
"Do I overstep myself?"
"That depends on your question."
"Why him?"
"Is this necessary," Prime leaned forward and folded his hands together on his desk in front of him. Despite his motion however, he was nearly unreadable save the slight pique in interested illustrated by the slight tenseness of the center of his brow, and a small tug on his lips. Ben shuddered mentally, intimidated yet afraid to show it.
"You charged me to train him."
"Even so."
"You're avoiding the question."
"Never promised to answer."
"I've been through his file," Ben said, doing his best to control the racing thoughts within his mind. Prime seemed more interested than his usual nonchalant professionalism. There were those who thought Prime's uncanny abilities were anything but uncanny.
"Shouldn't that answer your questions?"
"It's not enough Prime. It's not nearly enough."
"It will have to do till we deem it prudent to inform you."
"You could do away with some imprudence."
"Let us not forget the details. We must 'never' forget the details."
Ben's face remained expressionless, his inner self struggling to read his foe. Their eyes circled each other wearily, like tigers trapped in a ring, each sizing up the other in a dangerous dance with space for only one victor.
"Where does this leave us."
"Unresolved."
"I expect answers if you expect me to break them."
"Now you overstep yourself."
"Perhaps you would rather me blind."
"I would rather you listen to my instructions."
"So you rather me be a drone."
"Perhaps," the Prime left it there, "report what he has decided."
The COM went dead, leaving Ben in his holo-room. The forest had darkened now. The once pristine sky clouded over with the dark of collecting clouds. In the gathering darkness, the heavy pressure of forbidding rain pressed down to the fake earth.
Ben gripped his sword tighter, his fingers sliding over the etching on its pommel. He knew very well his office was monitored, but despite this knowledge he grit his teeth and his face expressed a momentary vulnerability. It was anger for only a split second, but emotional nonetheless. Careful, Ben thought to himself, I will not be in front of you forever.
Author Note: Most of this is all tentative. I actually have NO plan as to where this is supposed to go, and have no intention of making so as I believe the writing process is a spontaneous outburst and if approached otherwise would end in contrived forced pieces. Truth be told, I have been struggling to fall into the world that Joss Whedon has created as I believe the Firefly universe is incredibly rich and filled with so much thematic diversity that to any writer who wants to do character studies, I would say look no further than Firefly. To those who might find my interpretation of any characters within the realm of Firefly non-cannon, or in violation of Joss Whedon's vision, I sincerely apologize, and all comments (whether they be positive or negative) are welcomed as I hope to grow as a writer. I wish everyone a good day, and may the muse always be with you.