Generations

by Tim Lebbon

  There was plenty, but within seconds he had flipped switches and turned dials, and Serenity settled once again into his control.

  He acknowledged what he had to do. In the silence, he had to find River. He could not just leave her loose on the ship, and even though he wasn’t sure he could ever stop her doing whatever she wanted, it would be dangerous to just sit and wait.

  “Where…” Simon asked, groaning behind him.

  “Well, hello,” Wash said. “Just a minute.” He switched on comms. “Mal, everyone, it’s me again, how are things going with you this good day?”

  “Wash, what’s going on?” Mal asked.

  “She’s gone from the bridge. Simon’s got a knock to the head. I’ll go looking soon, but meanwhile…” He scanned the scopes, figuring distances and speeds. “I’d say we have an hour until the Alliance ship reaches us.”

  “Can you identify it yet?”

  “Definitely a destroyer. Probably sent to destroy.”

  “So where did she dock the ship?” Kaylee asked.

  “That’s the odd bit,” Wash said. “It’s pretty much where I was planning to take it, so you can get back on board quicker. Down in the blast hole in the Sun Tzu’s side.”

  “Safe?” Mal asked.

  “Hmm.”

  “Wash?”

  Wash sighed. “I couldn’t have docked her better myself.”

  “Find River,” Mal said. “Check the airlock and EVA hatches first.”

  “You think she’s left Serenity?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Wash looked back at Simon nursing the bump on his head and resting back against the bulkhead. He guessed she probably had. Why else would she dock the ship so close to the Sun Tzu?

  “Yes, I think so,” he said. “Which means she’s now your problem, not mine.”

  “Don’t sound so pleased,” Jayne said.

  “She’s got my gun,” Wash said, but Simon held up the weapon in his left hand. “Erm. She hasn’t got my gun.”

  “Make your mind up, Wash,” Mal said.

  “Does she have a knife?” Jayne asked, and Wash couldn’t make out whether he was joking.

  “Drones?” Mal asked.

  Wash looked on the scopes, scanned the ship, and tried to place where the rest of the crew were. He saw movement, but there was growing interference, and the readouts were hazy at best.

  “Something’s wrong with the scanners,” he said. “You’re on your own.”

  “Of course there is,” Jayne said. “Of course we are.”

  “Keep comms open,” Mal said. “We’ll find her and come to you.”

  “You won’t find her,” Simon said, voice loaded with pain. “Not unless you find what she came here for.”

  “And what’s that?” Mal said.

  “Someone sleeping. She intends to wake him. She told me I’m her brother, but he’s her blood.”

  Silence over the comm.

  “Mal?” Wash asked.

  “Yeah,” Mal said. “I think I know where she’s going. Fact is, her sleeper might already be awake. Next time I win a mysterious map and someone tries to kill me to get it back, tell me to throw the gorramn thing away and forget about it. This is getting complicated.”

  * * *

  “We know there’s something special about River,” Mal said to Zoë. “And from the way the Alliance has gone to great efforts to hide him away here, there’s something special about him too.”

  “You think they’re alike?”

  “I think River’s brought us here for a reason. And she could read that damn map.”

  “If we find River and leave now, Mal, we’d have come all this way for nothing.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Jayne.”

  “And if he said that, he’d be making a fair point. We need a score, and we’ve yet to scratch the surface of this ship.”

  “I think we have,” Mal said. “Scratched the surface and gone in too deep.”

  Zoë tilted her head and he thought she was going to say something else. She pressed a finger to her lips. She’d always been more sensitive than him, her senses sharper. That had saved his life on more than one occasion. As her eyes went wide, he lifted his gun and stepped into a doorway, and Zoë did the same across the corridor.

  He heard the sound then, a gentle slap slap that was unlike anything he’d heard from the drones. He signaled to Zoë, but she was already lowering her gun and stepping out into the corridor. Mal did the same.

  River was running toward them. Ghostlike, clothes flowing around her, eyes wide and her smile wider, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen her looking so happy, so carefree. So well.

  “River,” Zoë said, but the girl was not slowing down. We need to grab her, Mal thought, but he was unsettled, and he already knew that something far from normal was happening here. Something River was happening. He holstered his gun so that both hands were free, but River kept going, seeing them but seemingly smiling at something way, way beyond them. To his right Zoë was crouched with her arms out, ready to sweep River up and help her back to Serenity.

  River had other ideas. She slipped to the edge of the corridor and fell sideways, running along the wall and then performing a full twist in the air above their heads, landing on her feet behind them, and sprinting away along the corridor. By the time Mal had processed what had happened and turned around she was out of sight around a corner, her bare footsteps soft echoes that faded to nothing.

  “Tell me you saw that,” he asked. “She just… that just happened?”

  “She’s certainly flexible, sir.”

  “Come on.” Mal started after her. Zoë only paused for a moment before following, and Mal loved her for that. He knew what had flashed across her mind—If she wants to be here so much, let her!—but she knew what his response would be. River was part of their crew now, and they never left a crew member behind.

  Their pursuit of River back through the heart of the Sun Tzu was mostly silent, but for a brief, metallic screech. They came across the source a couple of minutes after they heard it. The drone was across the floor, a shattered mess in puddles of hydraulic fluid, sheared bolts, and torn casing. There were no signs of its weapons having been discharged. River must have taken it out before it even knew she was there.

  “We know where she’s going,” Zoë said.

  “Sure we do,” Mal said. “She’s probably there already.”

  “And any defense mechanisms in the room? Booby traps? And that closed door?”

  Mal shrugged. He had no answers, only more questions.

  The ship loomed around them, heavy and old and mostly dead. Even though he’d not seen the vast hold full of suspension pods and shriveled corpses, he felt the dead close by, as if the echoes of their final breaths held weight and substance.

  He didn’t like this ship one bit.

  But parts of the Sun Tzu were now alive. Lights glowed throughout the corridors, halls, and rooms they passed through, at a low level but still bright enough to see. The Alliance had brought the man here and instilled the vessel with some semblance of life, though it was a likeness Mal was unfamiliar with, and which troubled him deeply.

  The man in the pod had not looked dead, yet his life had been a cold, remote thing.

  “We’re getting close,” Zoë said, and Mal recognized the area they were passing through. They rounded a junction, and at the end of the long corridor they saw River. She was standing motionless before the hidden doorway into the strange new room, arms held away from her sides, head tilted as if listening. She must have heard as they moved closer, but she was not listening for them.

  “River,” Mal said. “What’s happening?”

  “He’s very close,” she said. “He heard my song. He… I don’t know why he didn’t answer, but he heard, singing in the dark, one voice becoming two. He sang with me, even though it wasn’t an answer.” She turned and looked at them, and the smile he’d seen had fallen away. “Why won’t he answer me?”

&
nbsp; “If you’re talking about the guy in there, it’s because he’s in suspension,” Zoë said.

  “Asleep?”

  “Very asleep.”

  “Oh, no,” the girl said, and the smile came again. “I don’t think he’s ever been truly sleeping.” She took one step forward and put her hands flat against the metal. Mal could see the door outline, and something about it was different from before. It was lighter, more obvious, as if a bright light was shining through from inside.

  “We’re just here to get salvage and get out,” Mal said. “Whoever he is, he’s Alliance business.”

  “Me too,” River said, tapping a finger against her temple without turning around. “I’m all twisted and turned, and maybe he’ll straighten me out. Maybe I’ll straighten him.”

  “Who is he?” Zoë asked.

  “His name was Silas, once,” River said. “But names are very private things. They’re windows onto the soul, doorways inside, and maybe he changed his name long ago. But he will want to tell me.”

  She ran her hands around the door, concentrating, her head dipped and hair hanging either side of her face. Mal watched, nervous and alert for the sound of any more drones approaching. He trusted Wash to tell him if he saw any more on his scopes, but for now he wanted to keep quiet. Afraid, he was also fascinated. Something about River—and about the man they’d seen asleep in the room beyond the door—was bringing life to this long-dead ship.

  With a gentle click the door opened and slid into the wall, as it had before. A waft of mist flowed out around River, lessening her for a moment, making her seem almost translucent, as if she were not quite a part of this world. Mal sometimes thought that was the case. She was a seer for sure, and she had a deep wisdom implanted in her that she was only occasionally able to tap. Never at ease with who she was and what had been done to her, she flew with them on Serenity, but most of the time appeared to be traveling on her own.

  The mist had mostly faded, and as River went to take a step into the room, Mal grabbed her arm.

  “It’s dangerous!” he said.

  “Not when you’re with me,” River said, and she pulled away from him and walked into the room.

  Mal and Zoë closed in behind her and stared inside.

  On the dais in the middle of the room, the suspension pod’s lid was fractured and cast aside. The man inside was sitting up, staring straight ahead with his arms by his sides. His breath condensed in the air around him, very slow and measured. His face bore no expression, though his eyes were open. His hands were not visible. Tubes and wires were still connected to his head, throat, and chest, and Mal wondered how long someone so deeply asleep might take to wake.

  “Beautiful,” River said as she walked toward him, and before Mal or Zoë could react she was across the room and standing at the base of the pedestal. She stared up at the man.

  He did not appear to notice their presence. Slowly, he lifted his hands and started drawing wires and tubes from his body, barely flinching as they emerged from veins in his arms and slits in his sides. He unclicked several interfaces from ports in his head, where angry red flesh had grown around the attachments. Spurts of a clear, viscous fluid accompanied each disconnection. When the final wire was pulled from his throat he stood upright in his pod, swaying slightly, kicking aside networks of cables and clear tubes, and stretched his arms toward the ceiling. Like a dead man finding life again, he groaned, twisted, going up on tiptoes, and with each twist and turn Mal heard his bones clicking and popping. Light glimmered from the knotted muscles on his bare arms and legs. He looked like a wild animal, preening, readying itself to pounce. Then he stood motionless, staring forward and still apparently unaware of them standing there watching him. Unaware, or uncaring.

  So strong after so long, Mal thought, but then the man’s calm, measured poise faltered. His hands began to shake, and then the shiver traveled up his arms to his shoulders, torso, and head. He went to crouch and slipped, falling onto his side on the pod’s open lid, sliding to the raised dais, and dropping to the floor. He hit with a hard thud, landing on his shoulder and hip. He remained curled into a fetal position, hands clasped before his face, eyes wide and staring.

  River went to him and knelt by his side. Mal rested his hand on his gun.

  “I sang to you,” she said. “Did you hear?”

  The man did not answer. He was looking into some distance none of them could see, perhaps still immersed in whatever dreams had haunted him during his deep, deep sleep. What were the Alliance doing with a man like this in this out-of-the-way place? Why had they gone to such great lengths to transport and keep him here?

  What might happen now that he was awake?

  Mal’s hand remained on his gun, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. He saw that Zoë was equally prepared. If this man was anything like River, his reactions upon waking from suspension might be unpredictable at best.

  The sides of his head were shaved, and Mal could make out a series of regular holes stretching from behind his ears and down toward his shoulder blades. There were similar wounds in his throat and at his temples.

  “That from the suspension pod?” Zoë asked.

  “I’d say not,” Mal said.

  “They look red-raw.”

  “This is something else. Suspension pod, for sure, but more than that. He was being contained.”

  “He isn’t anymore.”

  The man didn’t react to their voices, not even River’s. She spoke soft words that Mal couldn’t quite hear, and the man only shivered as if cold, his stare never breaking. Whatever he was looking at, Mal hoped he never clapped eyes on it himself.

  “Wash?” Mal asked. “Status on that destroyer.”

  “Closing, but cautiously. Whatever you’re doing, I’d suggest stopping and getting back to Serenity. We’re docked quite nicely, and I’ve powered down all but vital circuits so that we’re running silent, so their sensors shouldn’t pick us up. But they’ll see us as soon as they’re close enough.”

  “Stand by.” He looked at Zoë, frowning.

  “We don’t have long,” she said. “River?”

  River did not turn or reply.

  “River, we have to leave. He can come—”

  “Whoa, now!” Mal said.

  Zoë raised her hands, silently asking him what else they could do.

  “We’re already carrying two fugitives from the Alliance,” he said.

  “So what’s one more?” Zoë asked.

  “One more we know absolutely nothing about,” he said. “I’m not about to take a stranger onto my ship.” Especially not more than a stranger, he thought. No way. No how.

  “Si…” the man said. He had trouble speaking. His throat convulsed, as if he was trying to force something out, and his head nodded against the floor. “Si… Silas. I am Silas.” His eyes were still wide and afraid, but Mal saw something—a brief glimpse to the left and right, a rapid flutter as if taking in his surroundings and assessing them all—that gave him pause.

  “You really are,” River said. “I’d hoped, I wondered if you were real. My name is River. I sang you awake. Did you hear me? I sang my song, and I think it was your song too.”

  Silas fixed her with his gaze and slowly sat up, resting back against the pedestal. He glanced at Mal and Zoë over River’s shoulder, then stared at her again. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, rolling.

  “River?” he asked.

  “That’s me. That’s my name… Silas.” She smiled and nodded, as if tasting the name afresh. “Silas.” She reached out and ran her fingers down one side of his neck, fingertips running over the raised, swollen wounds where wires or tubes had been inserted. “I know this.” She touched her own neck where the pale shadows of old scars marred her skin. “You’re just like me. I heard about you, back at the Academy. You were a story. A myth. A legend. The first one they made like us. The one where everything went wrong.”

  “Everything went right,” Silas said. “I’m awake. Awake and alive
.”

  “Yes, both of us,” River said.

  “Or maybe I’m still dreaming.” Silas went to stand, pushing himself up against the pedestal. “I’ve been here, asleep, for so many years. Or decades. Or longer. Maybe I’m still here.”

  From somewhere deep and distant Mal felt a thud that traveled up through his feet. Another, and another, and then from nearby a gentle stutter of machinery starting up. Zoë looked panicked, and Mal worried for a moment that the room’s defenses were initiating themselves once again. But this was something different.

  “Kaylee?” Mal said. “You been playing with something you shouldn’t have?”

  “Not me,” she said.

  “Any idea what we’re feeling?”

  “Could be local life support,” she said. “Could be the ship’s engines firing up. It’s so vast it’s difficult to tell without going there.”

  “We’re not going there,” Mal said. “We’re leaving. Us and one more passenger.”

  “One more?” Jayne asked.

  “Oh, you’ll like this one, Jayne,” Zoë said.

  “So alive,” Silas said again, and as he turned in a slow circle lights burst into life around the room, high up on the curved ceiling and low down closer to the floor. He started shaking again, and his smile transitioned into fear once more. He held out his arms and River hugged him close.

  “He’s doing that!” Zoë said. “All those wires and pipes are gone, but he’s still linked to the ship somehow.”

  Mal couldn’t disagree. As Silas turned, so the tech around the room turned on, as if urged alive by his glance. Somethin’ to do with his waking, Mal thought. Maybe even somethin’ defensive.

  “He looks terrified,” Zoë said.

  “I think he’s bluffing,” Mal said, and when Zoë glanced at him, confused, he shrugged. “I play cards. I know the tells.”

  “He’s just confused,” River said.

  “How did you find me?” Silas asked, and before Mal could urge otherwise, River replied.