Phoenix Feathers Part III, Chapter 1 Disclaimer: Joss is Boss, and all I do is toil day in and day out (with his ideas and few original thoughts) to quiet my inner Browncoat. Aren’t those supposed to go on the outside? Hmm.

*** He wore a simple grey uniform, one that could easily be mistaken for a rich man’s well-tailored suit or a janitor’s work-suit from just down the hall. He displayed no rank pips or medals, but he could, and did, go anywhere he pleased without being questioned. The man opened the door at the end of the corridor and stepped into the small office beyond. It too was very ordinary in appearance and modest in function- it also happened to be the most secure room in the galaxy. It was his base of operations, the central neuron of the almighty Alliance, and any messages that left the room were treated with the utmost import, for those directives decided the fate of billions of citizens on dozens of worlds. Here there were no deliberations, no debates, no bureaucratic pomp and ceremony- just certainty, resolve, and unending vigilance. This room was the Alliance, and the man- called the Colonel by the few that knew of him- was alone in the room. “Sir.” Well, not quite alone. The lighting changed, brightening considerably as a man- or rather, the image of a man- stepped into the center of the room from nothingness. The Colonel knew that the man couldn’t see him yet- the holo feed in the Colonel’s office was oriented towards the desk itself, and the Colonel was standing outside its range- but the image of the man knew that the Colonel in the room. This was the appointed hour for the meeting, and the Colonel always kept his appointments. Almost instantaneously, a second man materialized in the office next to the first, quietly announced his presence, then stood at attention. The Colonel’s green eyes narrowed. The newest arrival was dressed in a combat suit- a black body glove with matte black armor padding and a sleeve for his weapon resting along his spine- a position that would leave his arms free and his movement unencumbered. The Colonel could see the hilt of the sword behind the man’s head- it had recently been polished. He nodded to himself. Endless distractions and dangerous situations in the field made it easy to forget to maintenance personal equipment- to those who knew how to look, it was often the first sign of stress taking over a mind, compromising an agent’s work. The Colonel liked to communicate with his agents in full holo rather than standard, coded Cortex waves so he could monitor their mental health as well as the progress of their individual missions from his office. This sword was the Operative’s weapon of choice and showed no signs of the blood it had recently spilled in his service- and the Colonel could trust that the man who wielded it was in good shape as well. The Colonel took this all in with a glance. The combat suit was a good sign- it meant that, after months of waiting, the hunt was almost over. At last, there was work to be done- -on one end of things, at least. The Colonel frowned at the first holo. This Operative was dressed in a more conservative uniform that said nothing about any results he might have to offer on his own mission. Disappointing, but not critical. Of the two missions, both he and his subordinates knew which was most important. It involved the search for a fugitive psychic by the name of River Tam. He looked around as the door to his office opened and a woman slipped in. On the surface, she was singularly unremarkable- she was petite but not frail, her blonde hair was streaked with gray, and the blank expression that she usually wore made it easy for her to be ignored when she so wished. Her appearance belied her skills, however- analysis, coordination, and an extraordinary gift of retention for anything that she witnessed. She was the only other individual with access to the Colonel’s office because, without her, the meeting could not go on. Her name was Rachel White, and she was the Colonel’s only resource in a galaxy of troubles. The Colonel smiled at Rachel as she moved to the chair in a corner of the room, then he took a seat at his desk. “Report,” he said, without preamble. The second operative, the one assigned to River Tam, spoke first. Good news first-if there was any to be had- was the Colonel’s unspoken rule. That left more time to deal with the bad news. “We’ve found her again. The crew of Serenity contacted the code slicer known as Mr. Universe two hours ago, and we were waiting there on your orders.” As the Operative continued his report, the Colonel looked across the room at Rachel, but she did not respond to his acknowledgement- she was busy committing every aspect of the meeting to memory, and would not actively participate unless he called on her. At her suggestion, he had dispatched the Operative to Mr. Universe’s moon immediately after River Tam and Serenity disappeared into Reaver space. Apparently, they had found something out there. A dark secret- the kind that should never see the light of day. The Colonel knew what it was. And he knew that had to remain buried, for the good of all. He returned his attention to the Operative’s plan. With their contacts in the underworld removed, their hideouts burned to the ground, and their names and faces on every wanted list on every planet in the Alliance, the Captain of Serenity had taken his ship into Reaver space, where he was safe from Alliance pursuit. Now, though, he had returned- and he had but one place to go. Mr. Universe’s. Captain Malcolm Reynolds would be greeted by the massed guns of the Alliance navy- at least those ships close enough to respond in time. The Colonel smiled, appreciating the man’s history. It had been the same way in the War. Serenity Valley, Hera, 2511. The Colonel had heard many accounts of the battle- the wretched struggle, and the sudden, devastating end. Fire falling from the skies like rain on the tattered remains of the Independent forces. It was a deluge so thick that it had washed away even the wildest hope of victory from men’s hearts. Men like Malcolm Reynolds. When he saw the Alliance Navy in orbit above Universe’s moon, he’d freeze up. He’d submit. He couldn’t keep hold of River Tam forever. “Authorization granted for requisition of Burnham Quadrant forces. I’ll leave deployment specifics to you. Just remember to keep the ASREVs close in- I don’t want them scouting around in case Serenity has its eyes open on the way in. We don’t want this thing to turn into a mad dash through the Core Worlds- that tends to raise questions. Let them come to us.” “Understood. And once we have them?” “Try for recovery. If they put up any resistance, however, blow them out of space. We’re too close now for chances.” The black-suited Operative saluted and fizzled out of existence, leaving the Colonel and Rachel alone with the other man. “Report.” The Colonel kept his voice even. “Nothing new. No confirmed sightings of Phoenix- that is, Academy Subject 04- since the incident at Dyton Colony, although we believe that he is still travelling with Captain Montgomery aboard the Stallion, although it goes by a different name now. We’ve locked down last month’s Whitefall sighting to a Captain Hseih of the Osprey-class freighter Skymaster. He was transporting passengers illegally all right, but against their will, and for a high commission from offworld buyers. I handed him over to the locals. He hadn’t seen 04 before. My team has been analyzing the movements and trade of all registered Goliath-class transports in space, looking for any markers with Montgomery’s prints on them. But he’s being careful these days. ” “And your other initiative?” “The sublims haven’t turned up anything yet, apart from finding the Tam subject.” “Could 04 be immune to the behavioral triggers?” The Operative paused, looking away off-screen. “My source says he was treated, just like Tam. Apparently-” The image of the Operative blurred, then resolved again, but this time, the head and torso of an older man in a white lab coat- one that had served no real purpose in months- joined him in the holo. The Operative’s raised eyebrows were the only indication that the man’s presence was not only unwelcome, but a bit annoying. “Colonel, sir!” said the head of Andre Titus, former Chief Supervisor of the Academy. “Hello, Titus.” The Colonel could have laughed. When he had first met Andre Titus in Parliament during the initial stages of the search, the doctor had come across as a rather paranoid, whiny, and otherwise selfish man. His help in the search for the missing Academy students was necessary, but his presence in a supposedly secure meeting between the most hardline, devoted agents of the Interplanetary Alliance just seemed out of place. These days Dr. Titus wasn’t looking too good. He had to be feeling the stress- and after two of his subordinates, Doctors Mathias and Barnes, had been killed, his was the only head left that could do the rolling if the situation deteriorated any further. That didn’t stop him from scrabbling for approval at every opportunity. It couldn’t be called ‘atonement’ because at no point in his career did Titus feel as if he had committed a sin. The current crisis made it certain that he wouldn’t answer for any for a while yet. “Were you going to fill us in?” the Colonel continued. “Us? Ah. Um, yes. As I was telling your man here, the whole problem with 04 is that, while Project Chimera shares certain parameters with Project Oracle, it is very different in terms of procedure, responsiveness, and scope. And he was a prototype. We weren’t through testing him when he-” Titus coughed- “…when it happened.” “In other words, he’s a loose cannon. But so is the Tam girl, and we’ve locked her in.” Titus’s mouth made a little ‘o’. “You have? Oh, my word. That is good news! Um. Well, River was our best subject, true, but she is also slightly- well- crazy. 04 is not. I’m not sure what he is in fact, but he wasn’t ours yet when he escaped. There’s still a little of the child left in him.” “And who was this child, exactly?” The Colonel blinked. It was Rachel who had asked the question, speaking up from her seat in the corner of the room. He had almost forgotten that she was there. Titus was looking around to see who had spoken, forgetting that the holo feed was fixed on the Colonel. “Who- who was that? Sir?” Titus looked every bit as startled as the Colonel felt. “Answer the question,” the Colonel said. “We found him orphaned on Dyton Colony, but subsequent testing showed that he was from one of Heinlein’s moons, very probably one of Haven’s mining towns. No idea about his family. Genius, though- obviously- adaptable, and resourceful. Survived encounters with slavers, gangs, and federals, and even broke into our station in Dyton City and handed our examiner his test when he walked in the next morning. It scored off the charts- he was pointing out flaws in the test, and ways to make it more efficient. We’d seen that before, and left it in deliberately as another indicator, but you have to remember that he was doing this without the most basic schooling.” The Colonel nodded. He had come to expect this kind of remarkable behavior from Academy graduates. “Once he was admitted to the Academy,” Titus continued, “he was nothing too special, not at that level. Sure, he scored highly, and picked up on things right away. He had a very quick memory, as well. That’s one of the reasons we picked him for Project Chimera. To see if the treatment was comprehensive and could hold up over time.” “Indeed. And socially? How did he relate to the others?” That was Rachel again. Titus looked quizzically at the Colonel. “I don’t see how that-” “Doctor!” Titus shrugged. “Well, once our subjects arrive, they are kept together for a short while- a matter of days, really- but after they pass through the initial training course, they’re kept in isolation and under observation down in Holding. Once they’ve been assigned to a project, the only social component would be our routine sessions with them.” “Doctor, how did Subject 04 come by the name of ‘Phoenix’?” “That stupid nickname of his? What does it matter? What does any of this matter? He’s a weapon, not some kind of social worker!” “It matters.” His voice was deadly quiet. The Colonel thought he saw where his secretary was going with this, and he started to get a tight feeling in his gut that was seldom followed by anything good. “It matters a great deal. Now do you can either tell me what I want to know, or you can get the hell out of my sight.” “Well, I…I don’t think I’ve seen-” Titus stammered. “Sir-” The Operative stepped forward, politely but firmly cramming Titus off the holopad that they were both standing on. The Colonel thought he heard a heavy thump off-camera, and a grunt of pain. “I’ve reviewed the holos- his time here is pretty much all on record. It’s all right here. Ah. That’s…well, Subject 04 seldom had interactions with the other Academy students, but he only had a positive relationship with one. Care to guess who?” “River Tam.” The Colonel sighed. “I think Ms. White already knew.” He chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “Here we are at the head of the most powerful government in history, and I’m starting to seriously think about conspiracies.” The Operative frowned. “I thought we were past all that. We stopped looking for a connection when we confirmed that they had gone their separate ways.” The Colonel nodded. “The double escape we put down to coincidence. Simon Tam breaks out his sister, and this “Phoenix” takes advantage of the situation to get out himself. It’s not like they were communicating with each other. The two of them have stayed apart for so long now…why?” He looked over at Rachel White, and she smiled back at him. “You have to stop thinking about them like they’re in control. They’re kids- mentally unstable kids. They’re not in control. Of anything. They merely react to what we throw at them. Which explains how the harder we push, the more slippery those damn ships get. For example: Days after the Tams embark on Serenity, if our sources are accurate, they run into Commander Harken and the IAV Churchill while looting a derelict. Harken boards, appropriates the salvaged goods, and tears the ship apart looking for two fugitives- a brother and sister. Needless to say, he found nothing. He was hopelessly out of his league, because we kept everything classified on the wanted bulletin. Nothing about her- or his- skills, nothing linking Malcolm Reynolds to the Tams, nothing useful at all. It’s incredible how he got so close to her, though. And he did it because he wasn’t trying. Then we send Jubal Early, and you remember how that affair ended. It’s all about the threat level with these kids. Not to the crew, to them personally. Go after them, and- well, this happens. Adaptability, resourcefulness, misdirection. These are Academy graduates, after all.” “And the rest of the time?” he asked. “I have to imagine that they’d be fairly passive. After all, neither one of them is entirely sure of themselves in a field that doesn’t involve…what they’re trained for. Genius or no. No, it’s the Captains who are running the boats. Take today’s news for example. Why does Reynolds come back from…wherever he went? He knows we’re on to him, and so does the crew.” “Because the Captain’s on a mission.” The Colonel sat back and sighed. “So this whole time, we’ve been after the wrong people. Not the subjects themselves, but those that keep them. Reynolds and Montgomery.” “That’s about it.” “Browncoats!” He made it a curse. “We need a new plan, then.” The Colonel massaged his temples. He could feel a headache coming on, and it promised to stand out amongst a career full of headaches. “Here’s something,” put in the Operative. “A few days ago my associate assigned to the Tam operation went after Reynolds’ connection to his trading partners. Most of these were destroyed, which puts Reynolds in a very tight spot, with no friends to run to. My guess is that Captain Montgomery will likewise feel this loss most acutely, in financial terms. His list of employers is drastically reduced. Who will he go to- where will he go to?” The Colonel smiled. “Right. Focus on Beaumonde, Persephone, and Dyton Colony. Up the frequency of the sublims there, and haul them in the second they come sniffing for work. You know the drill. Oh, and best make sure of the other dealers that Montgomery has seen in the past. Let’s drive him to us before this ‘Phoenix’ decides to not stick around. Right now, I’m betting that he’s as snug as a bug in a rug. Wait too much longer and he could go anywhere.” “Yes, sir.” “Good work, son. You too, Rache. We’re done here.” The Colonel cut the feed and slumped back in his chair. Rachel White stood up and went to open the door. “I really hate Mondays,” he said. ***