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Thanks to Jebbypal and Apollo for beta reading. Feedback will of course be appreciated.

We Have the Technology: Prologue

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The man with the blue gloves looked down at the now dead drunkard as the blood seeping out of his eyes, nose, and mouth started to dry. Though the information was not conclusive, it strongly suggested that the destruction of the covert facility was the work of Subject #158, A.K.A. David "Nitro" Jackson. But with the information came troubling possibilities.

His partner was thinking along the same lines. "If the witness is to be believed, 158 has gone so far as to anthropomorphize the minder by giving it a name. From what he said, he regards it as an adversary rather than something to submit to. Such an attitude would be unacceptable and may make termination of the subject necessary."

"Yes. A pity if that were the case. Of all the subjects, 158 showed the greatest levels of tolerance to the enhancements."

But now was not the time to be concerned with comparatively trivial matters. Subject #158 had nearly a full day's head start and would certainly attempt to leave Boros as soon as he could. It would be best that they head to the docks and check any ships heading out to the Rim.

* * * * *

Kaylee sat out in front of Serenity watching the sun set, wondering if the Cap' and Jayne had managed to secure the cargo. Money had been a bit tight the past week or so, and the only reason they were on Boros was because it was the only world they could make it to with the fuel they had that had any prospects for work. While they had got word that there was a well-paying cargo that had Demeter as a destination, it wasn't a sure thing they'd get it. It was uncertain enough that the Captain had given her the go-ahead to sign up passengers. It wasn't looking too promising in that regard, as the docks were practically deserted except for one fellow looking over the ships.

Just as she started heading back to Serenity, the lone figure approached. It was hard to tell if it was a man or a woman, as he or she had a piece of cloth covering the face and also wore a pair of dark glasses. He or she also wore a brown coat that looked exactly like the sort that the Cap' and Zoë had. As the figure got closer, she guessed it was a male since, although he was just a hair over five feet tall, he also had a distinctly unfeminine gait. More of a shamble, really.

When he arrived, he asked, "Is this here ship headin' out for the Rim?"

"Yep. Our next stop is gonna be Demeter."

"How much? I'm willin' to pay extra if you avoid Alliance patrol routes."

"Ain't no need for that. The Cap' prefers flyin' under the Alliance radar."

She then named a price for passage to Demeter and informed him that he'd have to wait outside the ship until the Captain returned. As he counted out the platinum, she noticed the way his hands shook something fierce. Then a thought occurred to her. "You should probably take off them coverings. The Cap' might not take kindly to a passenger hidin' his face."

At first, he hesitated, and then complied. She then instantly regretted it. The face was bad enough, so heavily scarred that it looked like he had fallen from the top of the Ugly Tree and hit every branch on the way down. But what really gave Kaylee the screaming heebie-jeebies were his eyes. The only time she had seen such eyes was when her Gran had died and hers hadn't shut. Seeing such in a living person, it was all she could do to keep from running off screaming.

He seemed to notice her discomfort and put his dark glasses back on, muttering an apology. Trying to keep herself from running, Kaylee went back into the ship, all the time thinking of the zombie stories her brothers had scared her with when she had been a kid. As she climbed up the catwalk, she heard him start shouting like he was arguing, even though there couldn't be anyone else out there. She headed back to the engine room, hoping that working on Serenity would calm her nerves.

* * * * *

"I'm not sure I understand why you're so worked up," Said Clarence. "You didn't seem so bothered when that Fed who hassled you a couple of days ago saw your eyes. In fact, you seemed to regard it as hilarious when he messed himself."

Nitro was unable to think of a response that would make sense to the other. Though it seemed as though Clarence knew his every thought, the tah mah de could be remarkably clueless about his motivations.

"Is there any reason why you're showin' your ugly mug, or have you just come to torment me?"

"Really, what a thing to say! As a matter of fact, I do have something to tell you. Did you realize that They are here on Boros?"

"Don't mean they know I've been here."

"Don't be too sure. It was very foolish of you to destroy that Blue Sun facility. That alone will arouse Their suspicions. But there was also a witness."

"I didn't see nobody."

"Of course not! That's because you only noticed him on a subconscious level and dismissed it almost instantly. He may have been a common drunk, but he still has eyes."

"Well, the light weren't too good."

"You seem to forget that you have a rather distinctive build which is noticeable in even poor light. You also made quite a spectacle of yourself when you argued with me. They will find the pieces and put two and two together and get four rather than three or seventeen. The docks will be the first place They look for you. They may even come with Chi'ang Sh'ich. Certainly, They'd bring more than you can handle."

And that gave Nitro pause for thought. He knew that Clarence didn't speak of the Chi'ang Sh'ich that the miners on his homeworld of Hephaestus told about around their campfires. No, these Chi'ang Sh'ich would not collapse at break of day. While he wasn't entirely sure what they could do, he knew that they were as fast as he was. He might be able to beat one, maybe even two if he was lucky. But if several ganged up on him, it would be a hopeless fight.

"Of course," he said as he brought his sub-machine gun to bear, "if you can't blab our location to Them, I'll be that much safer."

Clarence gave him a disgusted look. "Oh please, Nitro! Surely even someone as dull-witted as you can learn from experience. Remember what happened last time you tried to shoot me?"

And he did. It had been the first time he had truly lost his temper with Clarence. Though he had fired at point blank range and couldn't have missed, Clarence hadn't received so much as a scratch.

"Anyway," Clarence continued, "even if you could kill me, the captain of this boat probably wouldn't be amused to have some homicidal maniac on board. He'd be only too glad to hand you over to Them. Really, this is quite disappointing." And once again, he was gone.

Not having anything better to do, he decided to make a quick check of his sparse luggage to make sure everything was in order. The duffle bag still contained some spare clothing and several clips of ammunition for the sub-machine gun at his side. Opening his case, he found his demolitions gear intact. He closed it again, knowing he shouldn't handle them while he still had the shakes. Such toys needed steady hands to play with.

As he looked back up into the ship, Nitro noticed a swarthy woman coming towards the entrance. She somehow looked vaguely familiar. What was her name? Joey? Nah, couldn't be. That was a boy's name, and she weren't no boy. Anyway, his memory had been shot all to hell for so long that he might be imagining the resemblance.

"Nitro? Is that really you?"

Looked like she might have recognized him. Guess he'd have to play it by ear and hope the memories would come back.

* * * * *

Somewhere outside Du-Khang seven and a half years ago

Waiting just outside the Alliance supply dump, Zoë was starting to get impatient. Nitro was taking far too long; certainly he had been in there longer than he had at the other supply dumps. While she had already quietly disposed of a couple of scouts patrolling the area, there was always the worry that the next one would catch her unawares.

Fortunately, before she could contemplate it further, she heard Nitro call out, "Hey Zoë, catch!" Several ration packs came flying out of an opening she could never hope to squeeze through.

In an annoyed tone, she asked, "Is this why you were taking your sweet time in there?"

"Well, it ain't like the purplebellies are gonna be usin' 'em. Anyway, these are the good kind that hardly taste like go se at all. Don't seem right to let 'em go up with the rest." Not a surprising attitude for a native of Hephaestus, an agriculture-poor world that was no stranger to the cruel scales of Famine. Zoë wouldn't be surprised if Nitro's scrawny build was the result of one when he was a kid.

"Well," she sighed, "guess it wouldn't hurt to take them. Who knows? Maybe certain folks will start to appreciate you." That didn't seem too likely. Ever since he joined two months ago, some of the troops resented the fact that the runty mining engineer didn't even go through Basic and would probably be useless in a firefight. But times were desperate and the brass seemed to think that if you believed in the Independent Cause and had a useful skill to serve it with, you were shiny. In Nitro's case, it was his know-how with explosives. Even halfway capable demolitionists were hard to come by in the Independent Army, and the fact that Nitro still had all of his fingers spoke well either of his skill or his luck.

"Well, stranger things have been known to happen," he mused. "Just a minute and I'll be out," he said, which was followed by a popping noise that made Zoë shudder. Though she had long ago become jaded to the gore found on the battlefield, the thought of someone deliberately dislocating their own shoulders made her stomach churn.

As he started to squirm though the opening, Zoë turned her head until she heard his shoulders go back in place. As she looked back, he was already pulling out his demolitions kit and his sub-machine gun from the opening. He carried the sub-machine gun because the standard issue assault rifle was too unwieldy for him. Though he was actually twenty-four, his small frame and his overly large grey eyes meant that he was often mistaken for being half his age, which could be frustrating at saloons with strict underage drinking policies. "Well," he said, "let's get out a bit so we can enjoy the fireworks display."

After stowing away the ration packets, they moved out. Most of the troops regarded accompanying Nitro on his forays as babysitting and avoided it when possible. But Zoë didn't mind it so much, since it allowed her to keep her stealth in top form. At least Nitro displayed some aptitude in that, unlike so many in their platoon.

Once they reached a safe distance from the building, both turned around as Nitro pulled a detonator from his pocket and activated it. In an instant, tons of Alliance food, fuel, ammo, and other matériel were destroyed. "Sure is pretty, ain't it?" asked Nitro.

"That it is," replied Zoë as she thought of how this should slow down the Alliance advance enough for the Independents to prepare to make a decent stand at Du-Khang.

As they entered the Buddhist shrine their platoon was camped in, Mal spotted them and waved them over. "That was a mighty fine light show you gave," he started. "However, I have some bad news for you, Nitro."

Tensing up, he asked, "What's that, Sarge?"

"Effective tomorrow," Mal replied, "you are to be transferred to the command of Lt. Vitelli."

"Why's that?"

"The brass didn't see fit to tell me. My best guess is that they think Vitelli has a greater need for a demolitionist than we do."

Looking a bit dejected, Nitro went off to pack his gear. "How do you figure he'll do, sir?" Zoë asked.

"Hard to say," Mal replied. "Vitelli's green, and that's rarely a good thing in these big engagements. Only way to know for sure is when they're under fire, and by then it's too late."

* * * * *

Wash listened on as Zoë and the ugly little guy with the dark glasses she called Nitro recounted tales of wacky hi-jinks from the war over some whiskey. Although there wasn't much in the way of rib cages, there was plenty about popped shoulders. "You know, that sounds painful. How long have you been doing that sort of thing?"

"Well," Nitro replied, "the first time was two years before I joined the Independents. At the time, I was down in "C" Shaft settin' up some explosives to extend it. Some gorram idjit must not have shored it up proper, 'cuz the way back caved in when the explosion went off. I weren't feelin' too confident about a rescue team comin' soon, so I looked for a way out. Found one, but the openin' was a mite too small for me to squeeze through. So I bit the bullet and popped my shoulders." He paused to take a swig of whiskey. "Oh, it hurt real bad, but I kept myself from screamin' in case it would make the ceiling collapse some more. It ain't so bad once you get used to it."

"So," Wash asked, "with their supplies up in smoke, were they delayed long enough for you to thwart the barbarians at the gates?" When Zoë's expression turned grim, he realized that they had arrived at the not so cheery portion of the story.

"They weren't delayed," she went on. "The supply dumps we destroyed were just overstock and their supply line was secure to the ones deep in their territory. Those of us who escaped got shipped off to Hera."

"Those of us that didn't spent the rest of the war in a P.O.W. camp," Nitro added. "I was glad when the war was over, even though we'd lost. That camp weren't no vacation spot by a longshot."

"So, what did you do after the war?" Zoë asked.

"Went back to Hephaestus and the mines. After a coupla years, I caught Bowden's and weren't no use in the mines no more. Since then, I've been kinda driftin'." That would explain why his hands were shaking like that. As Wash refilled everyone's glasses, he saw Kaylee come from the engine room. But just short of the door, she stopped and her eyes widened. Then she turned around and ran off like she was scared. Funny, normally Kaylee liked chatting with the passengers. Maybe Nitro had shown her his shoulder popping trick, though her reaction seemed a bit extreme for that.

Handing the drinks back, Wash placed the bottle down in front of Nitro. It was then that he unexpectedly swiped at the bottle, knocking it on the floor and causing it to shatter. From the confused expression on his face, he seemed to have no idea why he did it. Zoë's war buddy is nearly as colorful as River, Wash thought. At that point, Nitro started as if he had heard something, and began muttering, "Two by two, hands of blue." Now that's downright unsettling, Wash thought, I was just thinking of River and Nitro starts spouting a phrase from one of her less lucid moments. Come to think of it, he was still wearing those dark glasses even though there was no need for them on the ship.

Before he could ponder it further, the radio he had brought to the galley with him came to life and Mal's voice came through. "Wash, we're going to be back in a few minutes. Could you send someone down to open the door?"

"I'll meet you there," replied Zoë. "What took you two so long?"

"Gorram ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng gave us bad directions," Jayne answered. "Spent a coupla hours goin' round in circles 'fore we found the place."

Zoë turned to Nitro and asked, "Think you might like to meet the Captain again?"

"Who?"

"Sergeant Reynolds."

"Oh! I'll catch up with you in a bit. Let me finish my drink first."

* * * * *

Clarence watched as Nitro spun lies about what happened to him since Du-Khang to the ones called Zoë and Wash in what he supposed was amusement. Of course, those responsible for his existence would be alarmed that he could feel amusement, or that he had started thinking of himself as Clarence. Nitro lied mostly because his memory since Du-Khang was a confused jumble. But part of it was that the few memories Nitro was sure of, he thought would be too much for Wash and Zoë to handle. Clarence knew that it was too much for them to handle.

Clarence observed Nitro's actions as he struck the whiskey bottle. Curious, he's experiencing subconscious hostile reactions to the Blue Sun logo on the bottle. If They discovered this when he was captured, Nitro might end up being terminated. Deciding to let Nitro know he was still there though he couldn't be seen, he whispered, "Two by two, hands of blue." It had the desired effect.

His thoughts then turned to his current predicament. Though he had encouraged Nitro to turn himself in these past fifteen months, the wisdom of that choice was not so clear anymore. Were Clarence's perceived aberrancies detected, he might be terminated along with Nitro. And while he disliked the constant moving about, he found the outside 'Verse far more interesting than walking the dark corridors where the silence was only broken by the occasional scream. A decision of this nature would require careful consideration.

* * * * *

As the Mule approached Serenity, Mal thought of how they'd finally have a decent amount of cash in their pockets. When they had arrived on Boros, there had been just enough to refuel Serenity. The fact that the past couple of jobs had approached the Wobbly-Headed Geisha Doll Fiasco in lack of profit didn't help matters. But one quick trip to Demeter and their financial woes were gone, at least for a while.

Getting nearer, he saw Zoë come down Serenity's ramp waving at him. He noticed as he stopped to greet her that there were several men scoping the nearby ships. If any of them wanted to go to Demeter, they'd have to find another ship, since they didn't have need for paying passengers now. Over the last year, the passengers Serenity had taken on had been far too interesting for Mal's liking.

They decided to make themselves interesting right there when one of the strangers whipped out a sub-machine gun and fired at the Mule on full-auto.

Mal, Zoë, and Jayne managed to get behind the Mule without getting hit. The Mule wasn't as lucky as Mal heard the air hiss out of the tires. He glanced out and saw that all the men present had guns drawn. Then their leader gave out an ultimatum: "Now listen good, 'cuz I ain't sayin' it no more than once. You throw your guns out and let us take those boxes and we'll just rough you up a bit. Try shootin' it out, and you'll be food for the buzzards and we'll get those boxes anyway."

* * * * *

Onward to Chapter Two

* * * * *

Chinese Translations

Tah mah de: Mother fucker

Chi'ang Sh'ich: A form of undead from Chinese folklore. It results from a corpse being left unburied after nightfall which allows an evil spirit to enter it. The result is the Chi'ang Sh'ich, which has big, nasty claws, poisonous breath, and a bad attitude. The only defense against it is to run like hell until daybreak, when the spirit leaves the corpse. And it moves a lot faster than your typical B movie zombies.

Go se: Dog shit

Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng: Frog-riding bastard