Topic: I Was Wrong

Ishido

Date: 2009-06-06 14:45 EST
What do people see when they look at me? I've often wondered. Do they see me as I once was, a proud soldier of the Alliance, ready to fight and die for a cause I knew nothing about? Or do they see me as I am, confused and guilt-ridden, knowing now that my life has been a lie? Or is it all hidden behind this facade, this ice cold image of mine that I learned from those who would would have me return to them, be what I once was?

I never questioned anything when I was with them. I followed orders, I killed and captured for them, I fought and watched my fellows die, and I never thought twice. And then the Tam girl was taken away from the Academy, and we were ordered to bring in this fugitive teenager by whatever means necessary.

That was when the doubts crept in. What could a 16 year old girl possibly have that the Alliance wanted so badly? I remember it so clearly. She was just a kid, probably homesick for her family, and her brother took her out of there. Of course, the Alliance don't like it when someone makes them look like fools, and this kid's brother had certainly done that. I didn't like the idea that if I ever came across her, I had the authority to do whatever was necessary to bring her in. It felt ... wrong.

Barely two years after that, and I was assigned to the Operative searching for the Tams. I couldn't believe the scale of the operation, the weapons we were equipped with to bring in one little girl. The battle above that pirate's moon, where we were fighting for our lives against the Reavers Malcolm Reynolds led straight to us will haunt me until the day I die. And I still cannot believe that I escaped in a pod, landed, and allowed myself to be drawn back into the military unit, to surround the 'little girl' who had taken out a score of Reavers by herself.

The order to stand down was one of the turning points in my life. It wasn't until later that I learned why we had been ordered not to take her in. That recording, the holo-recording that the crew of Serenity had fought so hard to show to the 'verse ... I carry it with me, always. Listen to it ... see if you understand my guilt.

These are just a few of the images we've recorded. And you can see, it wasn't what we thought. There's been no war here and no terraforming event. The environment is stable. It's the Pax. The G-23 Paxilon Hydrochlorate that we added to the air processors. It was supposed to calm the population, weed out aggression. Well, it works. The people here stopped fighting. And then they stopped everything else. They stopped going to work, they stopped breeding, talking, eating. There's 30 million people here, and they all just let themselves die.

30 million people ... the Alliance, my Alliance, the cause I had given my life to, they killed them. Trying to make them better, make them conform to what they thought was a better way to be.

How do you live with that? How can I live with myself, knowing that I've hunted and killed for people who only want conformity, who want total control? I have to get away from here. I can't live with this blood on my hands, not without trying to make at least some of what I've done right.

He won't understand. How can I tell him, the perfect soldier, the Alliance's poster boy, that I just don't believe in it anymore? I can't. I can't ask him to make that choice ... between me, and the system he's served all his life. I think I know who would come out the victor.

So I won't make him choose. I'll leave, however I can, as soon as I can. Because, for the first time in my life, it's the right thing to do. Despite all those years of service, no matter the joy I found in them, no matter the sacrifices I made and those around me made, I know the truth now.

I was wrong.

Rett Campbell

Date: 2009-06-06 20:02 EST
These are just a few of the images we've recorded. And you can see, it wasn't what we thought. There's been no war here and no terraforming event. The environment is stable. It's the Pax. The G-23 Paxilon Hydrochlorate that we added to the air processors. It was supposed to calm the population, weed out aggression. Well, it works. The people here stopped fighting. And then they stopped everything else. They stopped going to work, they stopped breeding, talking, eating. There's 30 million people here, and they all just let themselves die.


Rett had felt the overwhelming apathy happening before he even saw the holographic report. The accidental and unintentional genocide had him deep in thought and prayer for hours. Traitorous questions rattled through his mind. A mind he kept well guarded, shielded from others. Nobody knew of his talents until he became part of the Alliance.

The fact that he'd refused to undergo the experiments and was nearly killed for such a refusal was known by only a handful of men. And most of them were already dead and gone. His secret was his own, buried deep within his military file. And after years of service, it was no longer written about. Nobody really cared to take the time to look that far deeply back, either.

"Close your eyes, Wren. Feel the presence of my mind in yours." He spoke softly, his rugged and scarred hands resting on top of her head. His mud colored eyes closed as he focused on a single thought. "Lift your arm." His lips had not spoken it, it was a suggestion from his mind to her own. And slowly, her right arm rose. "Good, Wren, very good." He whispered and removed his hands from her head and stepped back. Walking around to crouch before her, he took her hands. "Nobody must know, Wren. I teach you these things to protect yourself from others like myself, others who would do you harm if they knew." His eyes, usually so cold and distant now soft and loving as he watched her face. "I do not know what I'd do if something were to happen to you."

He had trained her well, taught her things that he taught no other cadet. Somehow she had slipped into his previously steel encased heart and won him over. Many nights they made love, hearts pounding in fear at the prospect of being caught. It just didn't happen.

The hologram flickered off and Rett immediately attempted to reach Wren. Even with her being aboard one of the ships, their connection was strong, unbreakable. The shift, the barrier he had taught her to use, was felt as she guarded herself against him. His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. What was she doing?

Rett sought out her most recent orders in the computer terminal he had in his room. She was searching for a Reader. It explained a lot. The barrier, the broken connection. She was protecting herself, just as he had taught her.

Or was she.

Weeks later, a knock came to his door. Three commanders had entered as Rett stood at attention in nothing but his boxers. The scars from battles engaged in covered his body. The order was given and he took it without question. Only when the officers left his quarters did he sink into a chair, holding his head in his hands.

"Why, my little bird, why?"

Ishido

Date: 2009-06-06 20:28 EST
It was a stroke of luck, getting those orders. To follow Serenity, after the Operative who had turned had ordered her patched up and made fit to fly again. To keep an eye on River Tam. Apparently even after the fiasco that had been the government trying to do damage-control with the release of the Miranda information, the Alliance wanted tabs kept on the young Reader, to know if she was suitable for continued work.

Thanks to Rett ... Sergeant Campbell ... I could hide my intentions from them. He taught me enough that even if they had had Readers watching me, they wouldn't have known what I planned to do. Not even he could have Read what I intended.

I did as I was told, followed Serenity out to the Rim again, promptly ditched my standard issue equipment, and stole a small one-person shuttle capable of long-distance flight. They hadn't issued me with a tracking chip, reasoning that if the crew of Serenity could fight their way through a world of trouble from the Alliance, they could easily pick up a government signal on the military channels.

From there, I forgot Serenity, forgot the Alliance, just kept moving. Every now and then, I felt him trying to reach me, but he'd taught me just a little too well for that. I knew they would send someone after me eventually, that I would be given up as a defector, a turncoat, tried in absentia and convicted to death. It was not a nice thought, in the slightest.

Clothes were traded for non descript shirt and pants, Alliance weapons also bartered for non-factionary weapons. Each place I stop, I never stay long; just long enough to resupply, to steal a new ship, to check again on the information I am leaving behind me to trip up anyone following me. And to show that damning holo-recording again, to anyone who wishes to see it.

I can't run forever. The Alliance's arm stretches out further and further into the Rim every year. They'll find me soon. But what else can I do? If I am to die, then I will make sure enough people get to see the truth of what the Alliance is before they catch me. I will earn my name as a dissenter, a renegade, maybe even a Browncoat. The way things stand, I would be honoured to be considered one of those who fought and died in defence of their freedom.

This time I know I'm right. The Alliance has to be brought down, one way or the other, and I'll do my damndest to weaken them before they silence me.

Because they are wrong.