Assignment 8: Fantastic Firefly Fanfic

Based on the cult hit show Firefly, by Joss Whedon. The scene takes place shortly before the first episode.

Sergeant Malcolm 'Mal' Reynolds settled his dark brown long coat as he finished his wake up routine: the same way each cycle on the troop transport hurtling through space. Mal figured you couldn't call it morning without a proper sunrise, so the brown-coats relied on a 24 hour cycle of activity. Closing his footlocker and taking one last look in the mirror on his way out, Mal clambered up the ladder of his cubicle onto the barracks catwalk. Leaving his quarters exposed him to the hubbub of the barracks bay, a cluster of human activity in tight confines. The sound of people, fighting for their rights on the border of the galaxy. 

Stomping along the catwalk towards the officers quarters for the briefing set that morning, Malcolm considered their current mission. This was the last jump before their final destination: the last push against the Alliance of planets. Finally, the war of Independence would be ending, and the rebel brown coat army would have secured itself the leverage it needed to beat the oppressive Alliance.

He passed a handful of grunts cooking a can of beans near the end of the catwalk, among them his right hand woman Corporal Zoe Alleyne. A tough amazonian warrior-woman, she's saved Malcolm's life many times before, and more like than not would again. She nodded towards him as he passed, prodding the soldier making the food to check the pot again.

“How's the chow, boys?” Mal chimed jovially, stopping briefly.

“As good as we're gonna get out here, sarge” replied one of the men. A fresh face, Mal didn't recognise him. His name tag read 'Bendis'.

“Yeah? Well maybe you can get out and ask the Alliance for some of their rations, I hear they get actual meat with theirs!” Zoe added. “At least they have qualified people making their food.”

“Well, that's why we call ourselves 'Independents'. Do all our work for us.” Mal quipped as he continued down the catwalk.

“So where we goin' to now, sarge?” asked one of the other squaddies.

“The last stand of the Alliance, private. Only a few hours out is an agricultural world called Hera, and a little place called Serenity Valley...”