DR: First, let me say a huge 'Sorry' to everyone. I know I'm 60 hours late in my update. My home internet access competely shut down around 6 last Sunday (the 1st) and wasn't fixed until today. And uploading chapters is not the sort of thing I can do at work...

Apollo: But you're back now. That's the important thing.

DR: Thanks Apollo. Now, this first scene sees the return of another Firefly character. One show only, but he was different... Quick warning: still unbeta'd.

Chapter 16: Disturbing Findings

Commander Harken stared out of the bridge window, looking over the wrecks before his ship, his insides churning. On the one hand, the sight of wrecked Alliance ships made him burn to hunt down and destroy those responsible. But tempering that was the knowledge that all this damage had been done by one ship,which had suffered almost no damage in return. That thought scared him.

He sighed in frustration. Fighting Reavers was so much easier. Ever since his own, first hand encounter with a person who, having watched the Reavers butcher his fellow crew, had started to become one himself, Harken had been pursuing them with a vengeance. He'd requested a number of support ships to assist in the hunting and elimination of the Reaver threat, though he'd only gotten two 'Lancer' frigates. Still, one of the Captains he had known during the Academy, so it wasn't all bad.

His small but effective force had destroyed a number of raiding parties over the last year and a half, though the knowledge of the last year of how they came to be weighed heavily on his mind. High Command had denounced the broadcast, but he could not rid the sorrowful, repentant look on that nameless woman's face... just before she was torn apart by the Reavers she'd inadvertently created.

They had just left dock after resupplying when a call went out for any ship in range to assist. Diverting, they had come across the drifting hulks. Most of the crews were still alive, but their ships were powerless. Now all the still active ships were full of rescued crewmen, and there were still more to come. The surviving Lancer had still had power, so it was heading for Persephone for repairs.

"Commander? I have the logs you wanted."

He turned to regard Captain Fairchild, his close friend from the Academy. Tall and athletic, she had the looks to have been a Companion. However there was also a fiercely tactical brain under her dark blond hair, and she'd been one of the bright stars in classes. Harken had to admit, even to just himself, that he had had a crush on her back then. Seeing her again now, when they had both matured, had only rekindled those feelings.

Due to her superb ship handling she had managed to slide her narrow ship between two of the hulks, much closer than the cruisers dared go. It had greatly reduced the time needed to rescue the trapped crews.

He took the disks she held out to him. "How bad was it?" He asked.

She shivered. "Whatever they used on that Storm sliced right through the armour like it was tin foil. They then burned out the heart of her power relay station, crippling her without causing a reactor breach." She shivered again. "I dread to think of what they could do if they were out to kill our ships."

Harken nodded, having reached the same conclusion. These 'Colonials' had fired to disable, not destroy. Weapons and engines were taken out with incredible precision, but crew compartments were left unharmed. Only when they had no choice had they fully destroyed a ship.

He snorted internally. He had never supported the Judgement class, and the whole idea of the Operatives had been one that never sat well with him. For Harken, there always had to be accountability. The Operatives, at all levels, were loose cannons, killing on a whim. Unrestrained, uncontrolled...

"Sir, the Ertanax is hailing us." His comms officer broke into his train of thought. Sharing a look of concern with Captain Fairchild, Harken strode to the screens reserved for inter-fleet communications.

"Commander, we're just received a communiqué. It has Cabinet Level authorisation. I'm forwarding the contents to you now."

The screen blanked, before lines of text formed.

[YOU ARE IN DANGER. ABANDON ALL SHIPS AND FLEE AREA. ALL SHIPS THAT HAVE HAD CONTACT WITH COLONIALS WILL BE DESTROYED. HURRY.]

They stared at the words for a long moment, then the officer yelled out.

"Sir, we've getting a message from Frigate 731. They're under attack!"

The screen resolved into the face of the captain that commanded the damaged frigate... the one that had left for Persephone. Behind him smoke filled the bridge, and there was static that pulsed in time with shaking.

"...unknown craft! Not Colonial! Tearing us apart! Looks like a Judgemen..." The screen broke into static, but not before a flash of blood red light.

"Battle stations!" Harken yelled as he stood up. Captain Fairchild paused at the hatchway, looking back at him. He nodded sombrely at her, acknowledging what she was thinking; their chances of survival were slim, at best.

"Commander, we're sending all rescued and non-essential crews to you." The commander of the Ertanax spoke in a resigned tone. "If that ship was sent by the Cabinet, then they won't know you came. Get the crews away; we'll buy you time to escape." Already through the window Harken could see shuttles, gunships and transports leaving the other two cruisers.

"No. We stand together." Harken countered.

The other commander sighed. "If you leave now, you have a chance to escape. If you stay, you doom yourself and your crew. Even if we survive this battle, more will come. Better that they think they got everyone, then present them with more targets."

Reluctantly, Harken nodded in assent.

"Helm, plot a course. Full emergency power."

The next couple of minutes were anxious for his crew, as they powered their ship away from the fight that they knew was about to happen. Around the large cruiser were dozens of smaller craft, all fill with the crews that had been rescued. There was no time to get the others. Their only chance now was to be far enough away that whatever ship it was that was going to attack would not notice them. A tenuous data link kept then in touch with the other cruisers.

"Still no sign of hostile... Nothing on radar... maybe it's not as fast as we... gos se! Something just obliterated the frigate hulk... moving forwards, still nothing on radar! Damn, can't see it! Gorram it, it just ripped another hulk open... wait, see that? All batteries, fire for effect! Saturation pattern! There! Run-tse duh fwotzoo, what is it? It looks like a Judgement, but it's... altered. It's just taken out the Principle with a beam weapon! Split her open with ease! ... Plasma weapons, fire! ... Damn it, it's turning towards us now...All weapons fire at will... Taking hits all over, hull breached... Avenge us!..."

The transmission faded into static.

X-X-X-X-X-X

The crew moved respectively aside as he strode down the passages, before moving with their own tasks. There was little formality within the Colonial Fleet, but paying respect to one's superiors was one of the main points.

Although, they might have moved aside due to his dark expression.

Achilles was quite simply hacked off with the Alliance. Their disregard for life in general rubbed his Colonial upbringing the wrong way, and their arrogance echoed the Cylons. And it was clear that they didn't play by any sort of rules.

He had just finished inspecting the damage done to his ship by the Alliance boarding party. They cut their way through two separate hatches and torn off the cover to the ventilation. Then, when they had been defeated, the last trooper had detonated his explosives within the ductwork itself. Fortunately the damage was minor, but it could not be fully put right until they returned to the Colonial station. They'd have to partly disassemble Alpha Flight Pod to reach the damaged areas.

What really annoyed him though was the Alliance's disregard for decency and honour, values drummed into all Colonials from infancy, and only reinforced during warrior training. In the past year Achilles had read many of the ancient Earth records that Sire Masters had preserved. He'd seen in many of the Knightly Orders and in the ancient Japanese Samurai most of the ideals that Colonial Warriors aspired to.

He'd also read about the horrors that those same groups had done for their causes. The Samurai were honourable to each other or an equal foe in battle, but to anyone below them or a defeated foe they were merciless and cruel. And the Knightly Orders had their dark sides as well.

On reflection, it wasn't so surprising that the Alliance were so twisted and two faced. Earth's history was filled with cruelty and horror.

Right now he was on his way to the Life Centre. Dr Wulfran had called him from Alpha Bay: he and Dr Tam had completed their autopsy of one of the Alliance Troopers.

He stopped off in the recovery wards on the way, to speak with the wounded men. They had been lucky during the attack, only seven dead: five of the crewmen in the bay who had been watching the prisoners, plus two of the Marines. The other marines were mostly here, recovering from the battering they had taken during the fighting. Mostly broken bones and the like, their armour having done its job and absorbed the bulk of the blows. The Sergeant who had been run through was the worst off, but Achilles was assured that the man would be up and about in a few days.

From each and every one of them, Achilles sensed that they were more than eager to get back into action with the Alliance, and teach them the error of their ways with extreme prejudice.

Steeling himself, Achilles turned and headed deeper into the Life Centre, towards an area that was rarely used.

He shivered as he stepped into the ships morgue. It was a small space, as Colonial tradition was for those who died on their ships – when they bodies could be recovered – to be cast adrift in their caskets into space. Some did ask that they be returned to their planet of birth for burial, but most were content that they would drift amongst the stars.

As such, the morgue was rarely required to hold many bodies, but now it was filled almost to over flowing. Achilles was reluctant to cast their own dead adrift in this system, at least until the Alliance had fallen. And then there were the Alliance assault troops.

Steeling himself, he stepped over to where the doctors stood, next to one of the two examination tables. Both were in use, a shroud covered body on each. With his knowledge of the local technology, even if it was a year out of date, Simon Tam had assisted with the examinations. He'd also helped in the care of the wounded after the surprise assault.

"So... what have you two found?" He asked slowly.

The doctors looked at each other. "Well, their human, for the most part." Doctor Wulfran began, while besides him Simon folded down the sheet to expose the troopers face.

It was pale and emancipated, with sunken features and no hair. Against the pale skin surgical scars stood out like livid red lines. Simon laid the sheet back down just below the trooper's collarbone, for which Achilles was grateful. The end of the cut they'd made in the chest just poked out from under the edge, and Achilles had no desire to see anybodies internal organs.

"This man has been extensively altered, using both surgery and drugs." Using a red stained gloved hand, he traced the healed scars on the man's deathly pale neck. "They surgically inserted overlapping steel bands just under the skin in the neck, covering this weak spot." Achilles frowned then looked closer. Sure enough, he could see signs of a rigid, overlapping pattern under the skin.

"The plates are held in place by some kind of tissue that isn't like anything we've seen before." Wulfran continued. "Whatever it is, it protects the metal from the man's body, and vice-versa. We found more of the material throughout his body, but it was mostly concentrated on the augmentations."

Simon tapped the man's bald head. "They removed most of his cranium, replacing it with metal. This man can take a bullet to the head and not die." He grimaced. "They also operated on his brain, altering the structure, removing some sections, the ones that are the focuses for feelings like compassion, mercy and the like." Achilles understood Simons distaste for this. His own sister had been subjected to similar treatment.

"There is also some computer systems installed into the space created." Wulfran picked up. "Including a tap on his optic nerve that leads to what we think is a recorder." He used his fingers to spread a seam on the man's skin, revealing a narrow slot and a small button. Reaching in with his other hand, he tapped the button, and small square card slid out of the slot. "We think these were built in so they could review the action, seeing whatever the trooper saw." He said plucking the card out.

Simon, now recovered, moved down and lifted one of the man's arms. Plug sockets adored the outer forearm. "These are directly linked to his nervous system. He could control whatever was inserted with his mind. His fingernails..." Simon pulled one finger free of the others "...have been induced to grow extremely long and thickly, making them good improvised claws.

"If you look here..." Simon rotated the arm so that the inside was facing up. He tapped at the inside of the elbow joint, were many puncture marks, some old looking, others recent, were clustered. "...regular injections, of who knows what."

Wulfran spoke up again. "All the major limb bones have been replaced with metal replacements, and all the nerves are not relays of neurons, but single neurons running from the brain to the point of action. We think this is why they could move so fast. Their reactions are at least twice as fast as normal."

"How?" Achilles asked carefully.

"Given the difficulty in replacing those nerves, we reckon this is the result of genetic alteration, rather than surgery. A combination of genetics and drugs also increased the muscles density, giving them their impressive strength."

Simon now took over. "The chest and abdomen have had extensive alteration. The heart and lungs have been replaced surgically with superior vat grown organs. I recognised the base structure, only these are way more advanced than the ones I studied two years ago. In contrast, the digestive system has been greatly simplified. This man could not survive on regular food, only on a cocktail of fluids and nutrients. The reproductive organs have been moved inside the body." He shrugged. "I guess they figured that the testosterone was worth keeping those parts."

"We had some trouble getting in..." Wulfran put in. "...since the ribs have grown together into a solid sheet. Also a flexible weave of ballistic resistant fibres was implanted into the stomach lining. Similar plates were also added to the thighs."

"So in summary, we have armoured plated, surgically altered, genetically engineered super soldiers." Achilles asked rhetorically.

Doctor Wulfran look gloomy. "I'm afraid it gets worse." At Achilles look, he gestured to the square panels on the wall behind him, the covers to the freezers. "We have twenty-three 'bodies' here, not including the live one we having in the secured medical bay, and fifteen nearly identical individuals."

Achilles took a half second to make sure that he had heard the doctor correctly. At his look, Wulfran explained.

"They're nearly identical twins, only grown separately. If I had to make a guess, I'd reckon their using a number of different sources of DNA, unfertilised eggs harvested from young women, and then cross breeding the results."

"How did you infer all that?" Simon asked, curious.

Wulfran looked pained. "Because I found your sisters DNA in one of the troopers."

Leena: WHAT!?!

Sheba: Those frakkers!

Hermione: (is shocked speechless)

DR: Now things get personal... I'll update in a couple of days, as this coming weekend I'm going to be away...