BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL

STORMWIND

A New ‘Verse-VIII-Plotting
Sunday, July 20, 2008

Mal works on the plan for getting out of the Slam with Dash and Blake. We learn a little more about Jeremiah and about get closer to Dash. 'The Erebos Slam is the very depths of hell and only the worst and the most unlucky end up wallowing in its pits'-Human Rights Advocate Nerin Timms


CATEGORY: FICTION    TIMES READ: 2191    RATING: 10    SERIES: FIREFLY

A New ‘Verse-VIII-Plotting Dash scratched at a cut above her eye, while the others stared at Mal. “You got sent to a Bounty Slam, just to bust me out? Tell me it’s a joke.” “It ain’t a joke, Dash. And it ain’t just you, Kaylee’s little brother here is kinda high on my list o’ priorities. And with the plan I’m workin’ on, its gonna be easier to get a bunch of us out.” “I’m for that,” said Fian quietly, “I’m looking at life imprisonment. I killed two Alliance soldiers in a riot on Osiris. Hell, I’ll be lucky if they don’t string me up.” Jeremiah laughed, “I still can’t believe my little sister’d be sailin with a man like you, Reynolds. She just don’t seem the type.” Mal clapped him on the back, “Believe it, kid. I’m havin’ trouble swallowin’ Kaylee’s brother in a Slam. What did ya do?” There was a ripple of laughter through the group, Jeremiah’s exploits obviously well known. The boy smiled impudently, running a hand through his brown hair. “Stole me an Alliance escort fighter right from under the noses of two-score Feds. Flew it half-way around the world before they caught up with me.” The laughter grew and Dash shoved the younger Frye, “Liar! When you first told that story it was a half-dozen Feds.” “Whatever! It was forty! I stake my honesty on it.” “Yeah ‘cos that’s worth a lot.” “Aww c’mon, cut me a break here, Samul!” “Boy, you ain’t seen forty feds in one place.” “Let the kid tell his stories, it isn’t hurting anyone.” “Hey what do you know Joby? When have you seen any action?” “What are you getting on-” “SHADDUP!!!!” Blake’s roaring baritone split through the group and the argument that had been about to break out was forestalled, everyone falling into various forms of silence. Jeremiah was the first to recover, grinning that impudent grin that was quickly becoming familiar, “Oh Master Taylor! You could charm the birds from the trees wid that voice o’ yores,” he fluttered his eyelashes at the impassive Blake. “Stow the Gao Se kid. You wanna see how Mal plans on gettin’ out of here or not?” Mal and Blake stared Jeremiah down between them, before Mal got on with the plan. “In three days,” Mal said, the eyes of the group all now fixed upon him, “My crew is going to cut the power from this place. Then we have to be ready. We have to turn this place into such a mess that no one’s fit to notice if a few inmates slip out over the wall. Then we hitail it to Serenity and get out of the world!” Siph arched an eyebrow at him, “And just how are we going to turn this place into ‘such a mess?” Mal grinned, “Ladies and menfolk, we are gonna have ourselves a riot for the ages.” “A riot?”” said Weaver, appearing at the cell door, “This place has needed remodeling for quite sometime now!”

****************************************** Mal had taken a few more hours going over particulars with the two leaders of the group, Blake and Dash, getting a better idea of the layout and generally working this brief outline of a plan into a more coherent one. There was still work to do and a lot of it was going to rely on luck, but it was coming together. And it would work, if everything went smooth. If. There was a word that seemed to figure in a lot of his plans. But at least seeing the problems meant you could allow for them, dodge them when they came. The worst ones were when something came out of the shadows at your back, like it had on Ariel. It was now what passed for night in the Slam. Lights still buzzed and flickered all through the guards quarters up the top, casting harsh glows through all the levels of the Slam. And still the sounds of the Slams day echoed throughout the hellish building; the screams if the mad and the tormented, the ramblings of the intense boredom and the plots of sudden murder. Mal crouched by the fire that Fian had lit, who now stood guard by the door at the other end of the extended cell. The others slept around him, mostly on the hard stone, scraps of bed sheets and mattress used as pillows. Beside him Dash opened her startling eyes and sat up. “Hey Sarge. Can’t sleep huh?” “Not sure I want to. This is a hell of a place, Dash.” “Ain’t it just. It doesn’t get much better for the long stay, neither.” “I can imagine,” They sat side-by-side in silence, staring into the flames. Then Mal spoke again. “Did you know the Alliance was going to execute you a week from now?” Dash turned to him, violet eyes wide and frightened, “What? They’re coming for me? In how long?” “Four days.” “Tamade!” “What did you do, Dash? To make them wanna kill ya, all out in the open like this?” “Don’t feel like discussin’ that right now, Sarge.” There was another period of silence, Dash’s refusal leaving a hole in the conversation. Then suddenly she turned and hugged Mal fiercely, wiry arms wrapping around him like steel cords. Mal hugged her back after a moment, not entirely sure where this was leading. “I missed you Mal, I really did,” she whispered in his ear, “I missed you as well Dash. I’m sorry that it had to be like this,” Mal drew in a flinch of surprise as Dash’s tears began to stain his cheek. He released her and lay her down on the ground once again, pulling a blanket over her. “Get some sleep, Dash,” he said gently, “There’s a whole lotta work ahead of us.”

COMMENTS

Wednesday, July 23, 2008 4:58 PM

ANGELLEMARCS


Great stuff! Loving Dash and very curios as to what she did do to make them a wee bit mad at her. keep it coming.


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