Captain Doctor By KMS kmspider@aol.com http://hometown.aol.com/kmspider/myhomepage/index.html

Summary: AU—instead of losing the Battle of Serenity, the Independents won, extending the course of the war. Takes place around the same time as the series, six years after the First Battle of Serenity on Hera.

* * * * * * * Chapter 2 * * * * * * *

Alliance Facility, Location Unknown:

Off in a far corner of the complex that housed River Tam, a lone transcription clerk looked over the scribbled notes that she was to enter into the system.

Scratching her head over some of the erratic writing, she failed to notice her own clerical error, a simple spelling mistake that, for some reason, her own computer system had been re-designed to overlook.

Redesigned, mind you, by the same genius whose notes the clerk was transcribing.

River Tam had noticed that within the last three months, any messages this particular clerk transcribed had failed to correct a simple series of letters. The faint, delighted squeal in the hallway between two clerks about an engagement revealed the reason.

It had struck River's whimsy to use the addition of the clerk's new engagement ring, which caused her to double the letter 'o' whenever she made certain entries, to her own advantage.

Knowing the little clerk's ordinary typing skills, River had, meticulous piece by meticulous piece, built an incredible worm virus (unnoticed by all who had seen the pieces) that would, in two months time, attack all communications system on Londonium and render them useless for forty-eight hours.

While the Alliance would see this as an attack from rebel forces, the loss of supplies during that sensitive period would guarantee the loss of the planet Hera, and signal the end of the war.

A small salute to her brother would free them both from the heel of the Alliance for all time.

So it was that, by design, and the weight of a stone, when the little clerk typed the letters 'bob' it always came out 'boob'.

Only fitting, River thought dearly, considering that there were times when that’s exactly what her brother could be.

* * * * * * *

Hera:

It seemed an eternity later, Simon and the squad exited the trenches and came to an area that was slightly larger, a canvas roof offering only slight protection from the elements. Makeshift beds filled with moaning men and women lined every flat point available.

The black woman kept a hand on Simon’s forearm, pulling him to a man lying apart in a far corner, a huge man with an enormous beard tending him. Dropping to her knees beside him, she dragged Simon down too.

She nodded to the bearded man. “Thanks, Monty.”

Monty nodded back sadly. “No change, Zoe. The bleeding’s stopped but he won’t be able to move without surgery. Did what I could to recover supplies.”

Zoe nodded, never taking her eyes from the unconscious man as she leaned closer and spoke to him.

“Sir, I’ve brought a doctor.”

The man’s startling blue eyes opened wearily. “Zoe,” he said softly.

Simon scrubbed his hands against his soiled white pants, trying to get off as much dirt as he could before he reached for the bloody bandage over the man’s chest. Lifting a corner, he could see the wound underneath. He dropped it back down and turned to Zoe.

“I’ll need a clean place to work. Water, soap, surgical tools, and light. Lots of light.” Simon scratched at mud on his face. “I’ll want to clean up a bit, too, before I start.”

“There’s others need you more,” the wounded man said.

“Hush, Sir, and let the doctor work.” Zoe turned to Simon, signaling one of the surviving corpsman to her side. “Get a place ready for surgery and show the doc where he can clean up.”

The man nodded and led the doctor away, a man with a gun shadowing him. Simon discovered they had a makeshift operating room ready, and had managed to salvage as much as they could from the surgical unit that had been bombed out.

He was shown to a bucket of fairly clean water and scrubbed down as much as he could. They had no clean scrubs, so he took off his tunic and turned it inside out. Thankfully they had managed to retrieve surgical gloves.

Finally ready, he signaled them to bring in his patient. He was still arguing with Monty and Zoe about getting treated first, but the woman was right. The bleeding had stopped, but that wouldn’t last long if he moved about. A simple wound that would kill him if he was allowed to bleed out. He needed help, and he needed it fast. They all did. Simon was surprised the man had the strength or breath to argue.

“Hush, Mal,” Monty scolded. “Let the boy do his work.”

Simon expected to have to work without a nurse, but was surprised when Zoe cleaned up, and slipped on a pair of gloves as well.

“I’ve helped with a fair share of wounds, Doc. I’ll do what I can.”

Wash and Jayne had followed her in, both still armed, but their rifles slung over their backs. They were given the duty of holding the flashlights, along with another of the squad, a man named Tracy, who had brought up the rear on their way in.

The patient was still arguing when Simon sedated him into silence, working efficiently to repair the damage.

“He’s going to need blood,” Simon said as he neared the end of the surgery. The patient had bled too much, in his opinion, even before the surgery.

“Wash is a universal donor,” Zoe nodded to the blond man.

Wash must have had to donate before. He set down the light, and efficiently began to assemble the necessary implements, all but sticking himself with the needle.

Simon closed the wound and placed a sterile bandage over it. The patient was moved back to his former bed, Wash sitting nearby, and the transfusion was started. Simon indicated to him just how much he should give, then turned back to the surgery.

Already another patient was waiting for him. Stripping off the used gloves, he tugged on a fresh pair and began.

* * * * * * *

Commander Jubal Early didn’t like Sergeant Malcolm Reynolds. The man was too cocky and his squad too loyal by half. They’d follow the sergeant to hell and back, completely ignoring command structure the whole while. Well, most of them anyway. Some of them were getting just damn tired of the cowboy antics.

“He’s been shot,” the spy standing before him stated. “We went over to the other side and snatched ourselves a doctor and brought him back.”

Reynolds’ team had risked too much to save the dammed Sergeant. Didn’t hardly seem right that a single man could command such loyalty.

The Commander looked up at the informant before him and considered his options.

“So he’s got himself a doctor operating on him now?”

“Doc finished with him. Sarge is resting. Doctor’s working on everyone else that got hurt in the bombing.”

Early nodded in satisfaction.

He may not be able to come at Reynolds directly but there was nothing preventing him from acquiring their new prisoner, and interrogating an Alliance officer to within an inch of his life. That would be strictly within his rights as a Commander.

Early looked up and smiled and the spy before him. “And your payoff?”

“You know what I want.”

Nodding again, Early reached down, picking up the payment and slapping it down on the desk in from of him.

“Now, get out of here and don’t let them know that you’ve talked to me.”

The man grabbed his metaphorical ‘thirty pieces of silver’, rushing out of Early’s headquarters without a backward glance.

“Crow,” Early yelled, “Gather together a team and a scout. We got us a bit of hunting to do.”

Sometimes it was best not to attack an embedded position from the front.

* * * * * * *

Battlecruiser Blue Shield Orbiting Above Hera:

An elderly black man leaned back in his chair and studied the latest missives from headquarters.

He could almost see a pattern emerging, but even an old logistics officer like him just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It haunted him, this elusive pattern.

He reached behind him, pulling open an old style filing system, rummaging around until he found a set of older orders.

If he could just find the pattern, he believed he could understand where the Alliance army was being led. Despite the added data, the answer still eluded him.

He had the distinct impression that they were being set on a course that would lead to the end of the game, but he had no proof.

Colonel Book leaned back in his chair, the old leather creaking almost as loud as his old bones, and took a sip of coffee. Time would tell, and the end of the war was worth the wait.

* * * * * * *

Hera:

Simon opened his eyes when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.

“Come on, Doc. Time to get some shuteye.”

Simon blinked stupidly up at the big rebel as Jayne tugged him away from the operating table. He had stitched his last patient, then had shut his eyes for just a moment as they had taken the man away. Apparently he had fallen asleep standing up. He was so tired that he felt punch drunk.

“Come on,” Jayne said with unexpected kindness, pulling off the bloody gloves, and sheep-dogging him to a bed like he was a child, near the first man he’d operated on. Wash had long since finished with the transfusion and was propped up against the earthen walls, fast asleep, mouth open as a soft snore leaked out. One hand on Wash’s knee, the other on the wounded man, Zoe sat, keeping a watch over both of them.

Monty had disappeared.

Dawn had come and gone a long while ago, but the sky was so blackened with cloying, sooty smoke and gray clouds that the sunlight only filtered down to them in a vague, disinterested way.

Jayne settled him onto a makeshift bed and handed him a brightly colored hunk of protein cube and a canteen of water. Simon held them in either hand, staring mindlessly at them, to tired to think what he was supposed to do with them.

Jayne hunkered down in front of him, and pushed the hand holding the protein toward his mouth.

Oh. Food. He nibbled at a corner, then discovered he was ravenous, taking great bites interspersed with sips of water. It all disappeared in a few mouthfuls.

He could hear Jayne chuckling at him, and looked up to see him exchanging grins with Zoe. Embarrassed by his lack of manners, he could feel his ears turning red. That only made them grin more.

“Get some sleep, Doc,” Zoe instructed him, and Jayne gave him a little push. Too tired to object, he collapsed against the bed, and felt a blanket flutter down over him.

Almost cross-eyed with fatigue, the last thing he heard was Zoe’s voice. “Ya done good today, Doc.”

* * * * * * *

Alliance Facility, Location Unknown:

Another tactical flexi slid across the table in front of her. The number of wounded from both sides, the destruction of an Independent medical tent, the unexplained absence of an Alliance surgeon, the discovery of a hole in the perimeter fence between Alliance forces and the rebels.

Yes. Subtle chess pieces. The white king was in play. She’d have to watch his back. She’d let the black queen force his position across the board, but only so that he would come face to face with his mirror piece.

She needed to have the white king and the black king on the same side of the board.

The secret smile was back as River wrote out her recommendations.

* * * * * * * end of chapter 2 * * * * * * *