Sign Up | Log In
BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - HUMOR
A little stand-alone Crackfic. It bothers me that my brain works like this.
CATEGORY: FICTION TIMES READ: 1774 RATING: 9 SERIES: FIREFLY
~None of this is mine. It belongs to either Joss Whedon or Terry Pratchett. That’s no excuse, though...~
It was Kaylee’s inter-engine fermentation system that caused the problem. They all agreed on that. But they had had a whole week where they hadn’t been chased, shot at, married against their will, hero-worshipped, arrested, hijacked or boarded by demented bounty hunters. So she figured that it was time to bring the good stuff out, maybe see if the Doctor could manage to forget being proper for one evening. She’s ferreting around, trying to reach the jar, (puts it where only small hands can reach it, on account of Jayne) when something runs past her hand.
Now, Kaylee has heard a lot of stories about the engineers of Earth-That-Was, tales of the gremlins in the engines. But none of the stories had ever mentioned them being blue.
Wash blinked awake. There it was again. Some kinda movement, corner of his eye.
“Ha’ at ye, beastie. Wit ye lookin’ at?”
Well, the voices are new. Checks the console. Nope, Cortex isn’t on. Then gives an outraged yelp.
“One of my dinosaurs is missing!”
Inara has bathed in front of clients before. She is used to eyes upon her. But she doesn’t expect that sensation whilst she is in her shuttle on board the ship.
“Ye was tae try an’ cuddle this yan, ye’d need a week, man.”
“Aye, an’ bathin’, tis not a natural thing for a body.”
Book checks that the door is securely closed, then takes off the hairtie. He values these small moments of privacy, the chance to take a breath. The hardest part of life in the Abbey had been the communal living. Sluices his face with the lukewarm water, then straightens up to grab his towel.
There, in front of the mirror, and holding a bottle as big as he is, is a little blue man. Both yell.
“Crivens, tis a yeti!”
Smashing glass, and Book is left alone in a fog of bewilderment and aftershave.
Simon looks up from his careful measuring of River’s dosage. His sister, who a moment before had been sulkily waiting, swinging her legs, is now alert, watching the corner like a cat.
“Two by two...feet of blue?” River frowns. She pounces, quick and sure.
“Agh, ye wee callyake!”
River blinks. She’s used to seeing all sorts of things that may or may not be there. But nobody would choose to hallucinate something like this. There is something particularly real about it. The smell, perhaps.
A small blue man, red hair wilder than the Shepherd’s, dressed in a ragged scrap of cloth.
Holds him out to her brother, a little uncertainly.
“How long have you been a hallucination?” Simon bites his fingers, takes an absent-minded swig from the bottle. “Jolly good...” Stares at the bottle. “Oh dear...”
Zoe stalks quietly towards the kitchen cupboard. None of them are exactly house-proud, you might say, but there is definitely a distressing Smell. Either some of the more elderly stores have finally attained sentience, or...
“Gaah!” Spitting noise. “Isnae proper grub.”
“Deep-fry it an’ cover it wi’ curry sauce, man.”
She flings open the door. There is a moment of confusion, then a blur of movement.
The last piece of fresh food they have, a chicken, pauses in its progress towards the door.
“Er...cluck?” It tries, hopefully.
All the things she ever thought to see in the ‘Verse, herself chasing a (plucked) chicken down the corridor ain’t even on the list.
Mal watches the chicken go past, and his First Mate in pursuit.
Paranoid visions of zombie foodstuffs dance in his head.
Jayne sees the chicken go past, and tackles it in a moment of enthusiasm. Tows him several feet before he grabs the carcase, rolls clear and stands. Gets a look at what was stealing their food. Or gets a glimpse of something. Instinctively, he stamps one large boot down.
A blur of blue up the front of Jayne’s t-shirt, and there is a noise like someone hitting a steak. Jayne staggers, cross-eyed with the effort of looking at the thing astride his nose. The creature butts him again.
“Crivens, isnae many Bigjobs can tek a second heidful o’ Wee Begbie.” says a small admiring voice, just before he passes out.
The whole crew meet in a scramble. Jayne, flat out on the floor, stops all of them for a second. Then they all burst into speech.
“One of my dinosaurs is missing...”
“...in front of my eyes...”
“...smells worse than Jayne’s feet...”
“Not rightly sure what’s wrong with the Doctor. He’s staring at his fingers and giggling about cheese...”
“...watching me bathe.” Inara’s voice stills the rest. The air is full of busy thoughts. Zoe glares at Wash on principle.
“Right.” Mal stands in the cargo bay. “Show yourselves.”
There is a rustle of sound. Mal makes a small noise in his throat, closes his eyes.
“Zoe, are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Little blue men, sir.”
Jayne stirs, opens one eye.
“Big fellas. Coupla them. Jumped me.” Struggles onto his elbows, and sees the gallery. “Huh.”
“Lost.” River puts out her hand, where one of the blue things is standing.
“Aye, the wee hag has the kennin’ of it.”
“Do they come with subtitles?” Wash asks plaintively.
“Yon bletherin‘ spavie. We took a wrong turn.” Looks embarrassed, as far as Mal can tell under the dirt and tattoos. “We waz lookin’ for oor big wee hag, an’ we got confuzzled.”
“Wears blue, too.” River tweaks the hem of her dress. “Land Under Wave. I am the Wave above the Land.”
“Doesn’t explain how they...you got here.”
“They move through dreams.” River sighs. “My head is full of screaming. Needed a drink to get over it.”
Kaylee squeaks indignantly.
“They were stealing my moonshine.” She’s still cradling the jar protectively.
“C’n smell a drink from worlds away.” The little man says proudly.
“We ha’ a braw time gettin’ outta pubs.” Another voice says.
Jayne shakes his head sadly.
“Have a problem with that myself, a deal of times.”
“Did hear tales from Earth-That-Was. Little blue men. Only I think they was...cleaner. Wore white hats and sang...” Everyone looks at Mal. He trails off, mumbles, “Was just a story I heard...”
“Pisht. We’re nae so good at the singin’. We’re good at stealin’, though...”
“An’ fightin’. All bonny fighters, ain‘t we, lads?”
“Aye.” Comes the chorus.
Book, who has recovered a little of his composure, looks up from the encyclopaedia he has been searching.
“Captain, I think we have...Feegles.”
“Well, the Doc ain’t in no condition...oh, them.”
Book squints at the encyclopaedia.
“The Nac Mac Feegle, also called Pictsies, Wee Free Men, the Little Men and ‘Person or Persons Unknown, Believed to be Armed’...” (Jayne grins appreciatively,) “are the most dangerous of the fairy races...”
“They’re...” Kaylee can’t bring herself to say ‘fairies’. Nothin’ with a face like that ever had anythin’ to do with flowers, unless it was pissing on ‘em.
“They say they were thrown out of Fairyland for objecting to its spiteful and tyrannical ruler...”(Mal’s turn to nod appreciatively,) “but others say it was for being drunk.”
“So...they are a bunch of homicidal maniacs who like fighting, drinking and stealing things?” Wash grins. “Honey, isn’t that odd? We’ve got one of those, too.”
Mal twitches, and a nerve under his eye jumps slightly. Been through a war. Thinks what’s been on his boat. Cows. Jayne. Little boxes of crazy time. Now he’s got fairies. Turns to Kaylee with an air of decision.
“I need a very big drink.”
“Ha! Now ye’re talking oor language!”
A hundred small swords raised roofwards, joined by a pistol.
“Nae King, nae Quin, nae Laird, nae ‘Liance, we willna’ be fooled again!”
The ship is quiet. There are bodies strewn throughout the dining area. One of them utters a faint moan, turns itself over.
“Have I died?”
“You ain’t dead.” Jayne growls.
“I’m seeing you. A person could be dead and see things like you.” Wash squints, moans some more. “Are you sure I’m not dead? I feel dead.”
“You keep talkin’, husband, you might end up dead.” Zoe half-sits up. “I am not drinking again.”
“As your Captain, I am ordering you to turn the volume on that shirt down.” Mal tries to flap a hand, but can’t quite manage it. Shades his eyes.
Simon, looking distinctly green, staggers into the kitchen and paws purposefully at the coffee pot.
“Did I sing? Tell me I didn’t sing.” Slightly wild eyes. “Herds of Limburger...”
“Wha’ happened to the li’l blue...thingies?” Kaylee slurs.
“You saw them too?”
River, looking more like a little rag doll than ever, a sprawl of limbs and hair, hiccups faintly.
“Gone away. Found a new dream.” Gives a loopy smile. “They don’t like kings. Sent ‘em to find one.”
Badger turns round sharply. It’s late, and he wouldn’t normally still be in his office, not when there was a poker game at Trackrabbit Slim’s. But something had definitely moved...He frowns. The apple that he had placed on the end of the desk was no longer there...
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 4:19 AM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 4:50 AM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 5:02 AM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 5:23 AM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 6:14 AM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 6:28 AM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 8:41 AM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 9:55 AM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 2:40 PM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 5:10 PM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 7:46 PM
Wednesday, March 21, 2007 7:47 PM
Friday, March 23, 2007 3:17 AM
Saturday, March 24, 2007 6:54 AM
Saturday, March 24, 2007 7:17 AM
Saturday, March 24, 2007 2:05 PM
Monday, April 2, 2007 4:49 AM
Monday, April 21, 2008 4:52 PM
Thursday, June 26, 2008 4:50 AM
Tuesday, August 19, 2008 10:01 AM
Saturday, April 2, 2011 2:43 AM
You must log in to post comments.
OTHER FANFICS BY AUTHOR
All FIREFLY graphics and photos on this page are copyright 2002-2012 Mutant Enemy, Inc., Universal Pictures, and 20th Century Fox.
All other graphics and texts are copyright of the contributors to this website.
This website IS NOT affiliated with the Official Firefly Site, Mutant Enemy, Inc., or 20th Century Fox.