B7/Firefly Ficlet: A Long Way
I've been DW-stalking a new B7 fan, and she said she likes Firefly. This is an AU version of Breakdown--not spoilery, not shippy.
1.
The young doctor was used to waking up out of a deep sleep to cope with an emergency, although usually the emergency involved someone else. This time, he had no clue where he was. He could see his hands are cuffed in front of him with another, thicker bracelet on one of his wrists. And, although he’d never seen one quite like it, his ER shift wasn’t nicknamed the Saturday Night Reasoned Argumentation Club, so he identified the thing pointed at him as a gun.
“I’m sorry,” said the young woman (he started to work her up for eating disorders before tagging her as a kidnapper, not a patient) holding the gun. And he heard, circling around in his head, {{Our need was too great to do this any other way.}}
2.
It would have been 600 hours to Kainessos, 350 to Overon, 200 to Epinal and probably to no avail, so by the time they finished fiddle-fucking all over the galaxy, there was no time left to do it the nice way. So it had to be Cassiona, a highly civilized place but a Federation stronghold.
The natives called it Osiris. Although Blake wasn’t superstitious, he shivered; he did know his mythology.
3.
“Dr. Renor?” said Blake, unfastening the cuffs and repossessing the teleport bracelet.
“No, he’s probably in the supply closet stuffing one of the nurses.” {{It’s not even my shift, was too tired to go home, I just closed my eyes in the On-Call Room for one le-se minute}} “Dr. Simon Tam…not at your service. In fact you can gen houzi bi diou shi . And anyway, my father is a founding member of The St. George Guild.” (He had sometimes wondered about what his father’s enthusiasm for the organization said about Gabriel Tam’s attitude toward his family.)
“What’s that?” Blake said.
“They don’t negotiate with kidnappers. Ever. But they do have some very scary bounty-hunters to find the kidnappers, afterwards. If anything happens to the victims. Or sometimes just for the hell of it.”
“We’re not kidnappers,” Cally said. “We’re rebels. And we need you here to operate on one of our comrades. He has a Limiter implanted in his brain, as a means of mind control, and it’s malfunctioning. You must operate.”
“Psychosurgery? Don’t be ridiculous. That’s propaganda.”
“You can see for yourself,” Blake said. “In fact, you must. And quickly. He hasn’t much time left.”
“Not my problem,” Simon said.
“Ah, but it is,” Blake said. He was terrified of losing two crewmembers at once. One more implacably than the other, but he suspected he’d have more luck arguing with Death than with Avon. “I’ll give you…twenty-five minutes. If, by that time you haven’t gone to the Medical Bay and operated successfully on my friend--his name is Olag Gan, by the way--then I shall destroy your hands.”
“No you won’t,” Simon said, crossing his arms now that he could.
Blake estimated that it had been about six months since he had absorbed a lifetime ration of all the smart-mouth crap he could take from dark-haired good-looking brats.
“Blake!” Cally said repressively. “This helps neither our short-term nor your longer-term problems.”
Cally knelt next to where Simon was picking himself up off the floor and put her hand on his arm. “Imagine that you have captured us, and not the reverse,” she said. “Wouldn’t you save the life of an injured prisoner of war?”
“All right,” he said. “I’m not like you. I don’t kill people! Show me where he is. But if you’re so damn keen on getting an operation, you’ll have to stay and help me.”
4.
Simon shook his head, annoyed. There was just no way to get that implant out, not with the primitive tools available to him.
“Will he not recover?” Cally asked. “His vital signs appear to be stable…”
“No, he’ll be fine,” Simon said. “I cleaned up the inflammation and fixed the mechanical default in the…what did you call it? A Limiter? I just wish I could get it out, but I can’t. I could do a quick herniorraphy on the big guy, though, kind of a bonus.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Cally said.
5.
After Gan woke up and shook Simon’s hand, Cally flew him back to Cassiona in the shuttle.
“I hope you feel a little more positive about our work, now,” Cally said.
“Someone’s got to take responsibility for terraforming the new worlds and keeping at least enough of a lid on things to civilize them,” Simon said. “What would you have, otherwise? Earth-that-Was a burned-out shell, and a lot of subsistence farmers killing themselves over tribal squabbles.”
“Repressive regimes!” Cally said. “Allowing Blue Sun and the other corporations to exploit resources for private profit that should be used for the benefit of all!”
“Kidnapping and shooting people isn’t the answer!”
{{Oh, there is never one Answer, only the Paths.}}
“How do you DO that?” he asked, angrily. “There’s no such thing as…”
{{Telepathy? A fine scientist you are…disregarding your own observations in favor of your prejudices.}}
The shuttle touched down. {{Change how you think, and you can change what you think about.}} “Well, here we are,” she said.
Simon looked at his watch. There were still ten hours until his shift, time to go home and shower and eat something and get some sleep.
Maybe there’d be a letter from River. Her last letter had sounded sort of strange, he hoped that she wouldn’t let some adolescent bullshit or some tiny problem with her Prep school stop her from getting into one of the Elite Acads. Kids always thought everybody was out to get them.
1.
The young doctor was used to waking up out of a deep sleep to cope with an emergency, although usually the emergency involved someone else. This time, he had no clue where he was. He could see his hands are cuffed in front of him with another, thicker bracelet on one of his wrists. And, although he’d never seen one quite like it, his ER shift wasn’t nicknamed the Saturday Night Reasoned Argumentation Club, so he identified the thing pointed at him as a gun.
“I’m sorry,” said the young woman (he started to work her up for eating disorders before tagging her as a kidnapper, not a patient) holding the gun. And he heard, circling around in his head, {{Our need was too great to do this any other way.}}
2.
It would have been 600 hours to Kainessos, 350 to Overon, 200 to Epinal and probably to no avail, so by the time they finished fiddle-fucking all over the galaxy, there was no time left to do it the nice way. So it had to be Cassiona, a highly civilized place but a Federation stronghold.
The natives called it Osiris. Although Blake wasn’t superstitious, he shivered; he did know his mythology.
3.
“Dr. Renor?” said Blake, unfastening the cuffs and repossessing the teleport bracelet.
“No, he’s probably in the supply closet stuffing one of the nurses.” {{It’s not even my shift, was too tired to go home, I just closed my eyes in the On-Call Room for one le-se minute}} “Dr. Simon Tam…not at your service. In fact you can gen houzi bi diou shi . And anyway, my father is a founding member of The St. George Guild.” (He had sometimes wondered about what his father’s enthusiasm for the organization said about Gabriel Tam’s attitude toward his family.)
“What’s that?” Blake said.
“They don’t negotiate with kidnappers. Ever. But they do have some very scary bounty-hunters to find the kidnappers, afterwards. If anything happens to the victims. Or sometimes just for the hell of it.”
“We’re not kidnappers,” Cally said. “We’re rebels. And we need you here to operate on one of our comrades. He has a Limiter implanted in his brain, as a means of mind control, and it’s malfunctioning. You must operate.”
“Psychosurgery? Don’t be ridiculous. That’s propaganda.”
“You can see for yourself,” Blake said. “In fact, you must. And quickly. He hasn’t much time left.”
“Not my problem,” Simon said.
“Ah, but it is,” Blake said. He was terrified of losing two crewmembers at once. One more implacably than the other, but he suspected he’d have more luck arguing with Death than with Avon. “I’ll give you…twenty-five minutes. If, by that time you haven’t gone to the Medical Bay and operated successfully on my friend--his name is Olag Gan, by the way--then I shall destroy your hands.”
“No you won’t,” Simon said, crossing his arms now that he could.
Blake estimated that it had been about six months since he had absorbed a lifetime ration of all the smart-mouth crap he could take from dark-haired good-looking brats.
“Blake!” Cally said repressively. “This helps neither our short-term nor your longer-term problems.”
Cally knelt next to where Simon was picking himself up off the floor and put her hand on his arm. “Imagine that you have captured us, and not the reverse,” she said. “Wouldn’t you save the life of an injured prisoner of war?”
“All right,” he said. “I’m not like you. I don’t kill people! Show me where he is. But if you’re so damn keen on getting an operation, you’ll have to stay and help me.”
4.
Simon shook his head, annoyed. There was just no way to get that implant out, not with the primitive tools available to him.
“Will he not recover?” Cally asked. “His vital signs appear to be stable…”
“No, he’ll be fine,” Simon said. “I cleaned up the inflammation and fixed the mechanical default in the…what did you call it? A Limiter? I just wish I could get it out, but I can’t. I could do a quick herniorraphy on the big guy, though, kind of a bonus.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Cally said.
5.
After Gan woke up and shook Simon’s hand, Cally flew him back to Cassiona in the shuttle.
“I hope you feel a little more positive about our work, now,” Cally said.
“Someone’s got to take responsibility for terraforming the new worlds and keeping at least enough of a lid on things to civilize them,” Simon said. “What would you have, otherwise? Earth-that-Was a burned-out shell, and a lot of subsistence farmers killing themselves over tribal squabbles.”
“Repressive regimes!” Cally said. “Allowing Blue Sun and the other corporations to exploit resources for private profit that should be used for the benefit of all!”
“Kidnapping and shooting people isn’t the answer!”
{{Oh, there is never one Answer, only the Paths.}}
“How do you DO that?” he asked, angrily. “There’s no such thing as…”
{{Telepathy? A fine scientist you are…disregarding your own observations in favor of your prejudices.}}
The shuttle touched down. {{Change how you think, and you can change what you think about.}} “Well, here we are,” she said.
Simon looked at his watch. There were still ten hours until his shift, time to go home and shower and eat something and get some sleep.
Maybe there’d be a letter from River. Her last letter had sounded sort of strange, he hoped that she wouldn’t let some adolescent bullshit or some tiny problem with her Prep school stop her from getting into one of the Elite Acads. Kids always thought everybody was out to get them.