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BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL
Someone from Mal's past needs help.
CATEGORY: FICTION TIMES READ: 3707 RATING: 9 SERIES: FIREFLY
Disclaimer: Firefly and these character are owned by the revered Joss Whedon (and possibly Universal Pictures by now?).
I don't ever expect to be able to do plots as well as Ali D, but I'm trying here. Be kind!
* * * * * *
HAWKS AND DOVES (Part 1)
“Thought you might want to see this, Sir,” Zoe said grimly, flicking a switch to bring up the latest news from the Cortex on the screen. “Came on an hour ago.”
Mal leant over her shoulder to get a better view.
“Rebel leader sentenced to life imprisonment on Hera,” he read out loud. “Alexander Trautmann, 46, was sentenced to life imprisonment by authority of the Alliance of Unified Planets for insurrection, rebellion and treason. His crimes are many including murder, arson and rape.... What the gou cao de....?” Unable to find words strong enough to express his outrage, Mal paused.
He looked at Zoe incredulously. “See what kind of fei hua the Alliance is putting out there? He di'n't never do any of those things.”
“Sure he didn't, Sir,” she replied. “Or you wouldn't speak so highly of him.”
Mal scrolled down, scanning the article and snorting angrily. Finally he came across a picture and stopped. A strong but weary face smiled gently out of the screen. It was an old picture, Mal knew, because Trautmann had lost an eye in the Battle of Xangshi, ten years ago. In this picture he still had both eyes and was exactly how Mal remembered him, from that first day they'd met.
“Incoming!” Sergeant Trautmann's yell boomed out above the rattle of gun-fire and distant explosions. “Take cover.”
All around him, soldier were hurling themselves to the ground, but Malcolm Reynolds stood frozen to the spot, simply staring at the incomprehensible mayhem around him. He wasn't afraid. He'd left fear several stops back. Now he was numb, petrified. He'd seen death before. Horrible accidents on the ranch. Had slaughtered cattle with his own hands, so blood and guts wa'n't nothing new. But he hadn't been prepared for this sort of carnage.
He registered a burst of something like both thunder and lightening above his head just before being thrown face down onto the ground. Something warm and heavy fell on top of him.
“You deaf, son?”a voice in his ear asked. He might have thought it his imagination, had he not felt the man's breath on his cheek.
“No, sir!” he responded, struggling to breathe a little under the other man's weight. “Just.... Sorry, sir.”
Trautmann rolled off him and stood up. He extended a hand to his new recruit and helped him to his feet.
“No need to be sorry, son. Battle affects everyone differently.” He smiled benevolently. “I don't imagine it's like you expected. What's your name, son? How old are you?”
“Reynolds. Malcolm Reynolds, sir. Just turned twenty, sir.”
Trautmann shook his head sadly. “You ain't plannin' on dyin' young, are you?”
Malcolm Reynolds looked confused. “No, sir.”
“That's good,” Trautmann clapped him on the shoulder. “Need men who wanna keep breathin'.” He looked around, assessing the damage the seeker had done. Private Reynolds followed his gaze.
A couple of female soldiers who'd been operating the small machine gun were obviously dead. Just girls really. Snuffed out in the blink of an eye. Beside them a man lay groaning, clutching at his chest. As he coughed dark, thick blood spilled from his mouth.
“Get the stretcher, Reynolds,” Trautmann ordered. “That man needs surgery.”
Private Reynolds looked at him blankly. “There ain't a doctor for miles, Sergeant...” he began. “It's hopeless.”
Trautmann's expression turned to one of anger. “Don't you never say that again, Private. Where there's life there's always hope. We don't abandon fallen colleagues. There's an old sayin' in the army: When you can't walk, you crawl. And when you can't crawl, you find someone to carry you. That boy's found us. He wants to keep breathin', just like you.”
Chastened, Malcolm Reynolds hurried off in search of a stretcher.
* * * * *
“Something funny, Sir?” Zoe asked, studying Mal's face.
He started, abruptly brought back from his reverie to the present. He was surprised to find himself smiling. “No. Just rememberin' a time when I was as wet behind the ears as the Doctor. He was a good man, Zoe. That's all lies...”
“Lies? On the Cortex? Surely not?!” Wash brought both hands up to his face in mock dismay.
“Nothin' unusual in that, I know,” Mal agreed. “But this time... An' jails on Hera're gorram hell-holes. Ain't right a man like Trautmann should be left to rot in one.”
Zoe felt her heart sink. She knew what was coming.
“We gotta get him out of there,” Mal said decisively.
“Anythin' you say, Sir,” Zoe replied. No point arguing.
“Don't suppose you wanna put this to the vote?” Wash asked hopefully “No, no. Obviously not. Serenity's not the ruttin' town hall.” He turned to Zoe. “A daring jail break! Just the thrilling kind of way to commit suicide I was hoping for, honey.”
“Bizui,” Mal interrupted. “Man's down. Can't leave him behind.”
COMMENTS
Friday, December 19, 2003 7:20 AM
DESANGRO
Friday, December 19, 2003 2:26 PM
AMDOBELL
Friday, December 19, 2003 4:23 PM
MOONSTARRR
Tuesday, December 23, 2003 3:25 PM
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