My Own Kind of Freedom [Firefly] by Steven Brust (2007)
Posted on February 15th, 2008
Serenity: Bridge
The alarm never went off.
The first warning he had, less than a minute after disconnecting with Mal, was when Serenity shook and pitched about three degrees to starboard before righting herself again.
"Wang ba dan," he said, his hands already finding the emergency warm-up sequence. With his first spare fraction of a second he punched the intercom and said, "Kaylee!" and checked to see which indicators were blinking red, which were solid red, and which were green.
The grav-boot was still good, the engines would fire, and—
In less time than it took to think about it, Serenity was off the ground. She wasn’t happy about it; she moaned, and the controls fought him and complained, and he didn’t dare leave atmo. But they were airborne before whatever it was that had happened had time to happen again.
Kaylee’s voice came back. "I’m looking."
"Hull integrity is breached, so we can’t get too high, but I can go up. I need to know if I can count on all my attitude adjusters."
"Top of the list, then. Ninety seconds."
"Go."
Her voice sounded icy calm.
Serenity fought him; a sensation he liked not at all; somewhere not too far below the surface was the panic you feel when you try to open your eyes but they’re already open; when you reach for a glass and your arm doesn’t move. And not too far below that was the memory of the one other time he’d felt controls act like this; and the knowledge that there was no ejecting from Serenity.
Three kilometers up the air was noticeably thinner; the ship tried to grasp and claw at what there was, and hated it that there was nothing to hold on to.
Kaylee’s voice came back. "I found your control problems. Half the starboard extender is gone."
"Copy that, Kaylee."
Damn. If it was the whole extender; or, better yet, both extenders, this would be much easier. No wonder she was fighting herself.
"I’ll get you more when I have it."
He didn’t dare take her any higher. And he wasn’t terribly excited about trying to land her. And he couldn’t keep control of her of this way for much longer.
His whole body was committed to keeping her in the air; leaving his mind free to reflect on which way to go, when all the ways led the same way: down, and much too fast.
Chapter 10
My Own Kind of Courage
Yuva: Jail
"So then, Mister Cobb—if that’s your name—what will it be? Spend the rest of your life digging bauxite, or answer a very simple question?"
"I don’t know. Sounds kinda complicated to me. I’m a pretty simple guy at heart."
"Of course, you might not be digging bauxite; you might be hauling topsoil. A sack at a time, on your back. That sound like fun?"
"I always did like the outdoors."
"I’m losing patience, Mister Cobb."
"Yeah, well you’re breaking my heart, Mister—what did you say your name was?"
"I didn’t."
"Well, ain’t we gonna be friends?"
The officer’s mouth worked, then he said, "Rennes. Officer Rennes."
"Yeah, well my heart is breaking, Officer Rennes."
"It isn’t your heart we’re going to break."
"Careful. If you scare me, I might faint."
"You aren’t in any bargaining position, Mister Cobb. If you don’t want to tell us, that’s fine. We don’t need to know."
"That’s ruttin’ good, because I don’t need to tell you."
"Are you sure, Mister Cobb?"
"Yeah, tell you what. I’ll answer your questions gen wo de jiba jiangu de cha zai ni de zuiba."
Officer Rennes punched a button on his desk. "Come take this man back to his cell," he said. Then he shook his head, sat back, and folded his arms.
Serenity: Engine room
It took her about five minutes to conclude that there was no way to fix the extender without landing, so she turned her attention to the ugly hole in the aft hull, starboard side. It had come right through to the Engine room, not three feet from her hammock.
Wash’s voice came through. "Kaylee, is there anything you can do to give me some stability? I can’t hold this much longer, and there’s no way we survive a landing like this."
"I could maybe boost the attitude adjusters, but I’d have to run them parallel to the thrusters."
"Which means?"
"More engine, more juice, more I-grav, more gees, more thrust, more power on attitude, less control, more—"
"Okay, I get it. How long to set it up?"
"I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before. The engine’s going to cut out while I’m hooking it up."
"Kaylee . . . ." She could hear the strain in his voice. She’d never heard that from him before. "If the engine cuts out, we die."
"I’m only talking about half a second or so, while I switch lines."
"Half a second? Okay, maybe I can hold her. Set it up, but let me know before you do it."
"I will."
"And Kaylee, it would be very helpful you could hurry on this."
"It’d be easier out of atmo, so we’d stop bucking."
"Kaylee, I can’t hold this much longer, and the airtight won’t respond from here."
"I’ll go close it; I’m right there."
"Chui lei fo, ni jiu shi! Kaylee, get your pressure suit on!"
"I know that, Wash. I will."
"First!"
"All right. Give me a minute to get suited, then I’ll work on the AT lines."
"Hurry."
No question about it. Wash was scared. Kaylee would have been too, only there was no time.
Yuva: Canteen
"Okay, Zoë. We ready to do this thing?"
"Ready."
On the table in front of him were the notes from Wash about the layout of the security office, and the lockdown behind it. He gave the notes a last look, folded them up and put them in a pocket, then stood up. Zoë was with him.
They exchanged nods with Mark on the way out of the canteen.
They reached North Street; there wasn’t a great deal of activity. As they approached the security office, Zoë said, "That wasn’t there before, was it?"
"Nope."
"Looks like the sort of thing you’d transport a prisoner in, doesn’t it, sir?"
"Yep."
"We might be too late."
"It’s possible."
They were within fifty feet of the hovercraft when the office door opened, and there was Jayne: shackled, fettered, with a guard in front and one at each side.
"Or we could have come at just the right time," said Mal.
"We changing plans sir?"
"Don’t we always?"
"Pretty much."
"What do you think about taking the hovercraft?"
"Should work."
"You get the driver."
As it went down, Mal decided, it played out far smoother, and even slicker than it had any right to: the security guards loaded Jayne into the back of the ‘craft, by which time Zoë had secured the driver. The security guards locked the door and found Mal’s weapon pointing at them. A few words were exchanged, and the three security officers were on the ground with their hands clasped behind their necks.
Mal stopped long enough to remove a set of keys from one of them, hoping they were the right ones but not caring too much, then he climbed into the passenger seat, and they were out of there before he had time to close the door.
Then he flipped on his comm and said, "Wash, get her warmed up."
His only response was static.
He boosted the signal and tried again. Then boosted it still more, and then maxed it.
Wash’s voice, when it came through, was very faint.
"Yeah, Mal. Well, there have been some developments."
"Wash, where are you?"
"About seven clicks from your position."
"All right."
"Straight up."
Yuva: Outside the jail
He pulled himself to his feet, muttering generalized curses toward the driver of the ‘craft. They’d taken off before he’d even had time to sit, knocking him onto the floor. He made it to one of the opposing sets of built-in steel benches, and sat down.
He needed to relax, to be ready, from the minute the door opened, to note where he was, what the conditions were, and to begin planning his escape.
Why didn’t I just tell them what they wanted to know? he asked himself for perhaps the fiftieth time in as many minutes. It isn’t like I owe the captain anything.
No, there was no point in thinking about that. He needed to be at his best, to get the information, to formulate a plan.
Except that formulating plans was never his best game.
No, now was not the time to think about that, either.
Be ready, Jayne. You need all your gorram wits about you from the instant that door opens.
It was sooner than he thought. The abrupt stop almost knocked him to the floor again, but he kept his seat.
The back opened, and the light struck his eyes.
"Okay, Jayne," said Mal. "Let’s see if any of these keys fit. It’ll make running easier."
Outside Yuva
She kept an eye out for their pursuers, who couldn’t be all that far behind, and, as Mal unlocked Jayne, she tried to spare half an eye for him, as well.
"Running?" he said. "Why don’t we take—"
"Okay, Zoë . . .we’re good."
"What about the hardware?"
"Good idea."
Mal gathered up the chains and restraints and set them in the vehicle, then closed the rear door and nodded to her. She leaned into the hovercraft, set it, strapped down the throttle and jumped back. The ‘craft took off down the road, wobbling a bit from the open door.
"They have a trace-lock on it," said Mal. "Into the woods now, and let’s run."
Before they had gone fifty meters, two patrol vehicles came humming up the road; fortunately, they continued after the ‘craft without even slowing down.
"I hear horses," said Mal.
Zoë nodded, and they continued running.
"Anyone got a spare gun?" said Jayne.
"Let’s just run for now."
"I like running more when I got a gun in my hand."
A few minutes later they stopped and listened.
"Nothing yet," said Mal.
Jayne said, "About that gun . . . ."
She looked at the Captain. As far as she was concerned, Jayne unarmed was much better company than Jayne armed.
"Yeah," said Mal. "Let’s talk about that."
"Don’t need no ruttin’ talk," said Jayne. "I need a ruttin’ weapon."
"We’ll see."
"If you weren’t planning to give me a weapon, why’d you bust me out of there?"
"For your mind," said Mal. "We need all kinds of your wisdom."
"What the gorram hell are you talking about?"
"I’ll explain later. Right now, I want more distance. Let’s run."
"A gun—"
"I’ll give you a gun uguo ta ka zai ni de gangmen zhong er ni hai neng pao de hua, Jayne."
The big man scowled, and they ran some more.
Good call, Captain .
Half an hour later they stopped and listened again. Still nothing. Mal found his comm link. "Wash? You there?"
Crackle and hiss and, "Just barely, Mal."
"Can you get a fix on us?"
"Mal, if I let go of these controls long enough to do that, we’re going down hard."
"All right. If you get the chance, we’re staying here for a bit."
"Copy, that."
"All right, Jayne," said the Captain. "Let’s talk."
Zoë folded her arms, her fingers brushing the butt of the backup pistol under her left arm; she kept a close eye on Jayne.
Serenity: Dining room
"I’m not sure what’s going on, mei-mei," said her brother, "but I don’t think it’s anything we can help with."
"She’s been shot," said River.
"Who?"
"Serenity."
"Oh. Yes, I felt that. But we managed to take off, and now I’m not sure—"
"The others are waiting for us, and we can’t get there."
"I don’t—"
"The hole is too big, and the repairs are too slow. We can’t land in time."
"Mei-mei, there’s nothing we can do."
Every once in a while, in all the conflicting rhymes and rhythms and colors and equations and smells that made the criss-crossing interference patterns that were her thoughts, something came through clear and clean, almost painful in its sharp contrast to everything else. It was never a sight, an image; sometimes it was a chord progression, sometimes it was tactile. This time, it was like becoming a sine wave with the tide of battle coming in, and there were moments trying to float in on her. She was as aware of them as one could be aware of a single match in a room of pure darkness.
It was a moment, and the wave would advance, and then recede, and maybe something would still be there, and maybe it would not.
She could taste it like a single drop of lemon juice.
That one place, that one time.
And all she had to do was something she had never done before.
But it was not as difficult a decision as it could have been, because for her, failure would mean little pieces of herself scattered about Hera, and They would never be able to touch her after that.
Her hesitation was so brief, her brother didn’t even notice it.
"Yes there is," she said. "I can save them."
Outside Yuva
Mal clicked off the comm, looked at Jayne, looked at Zoë, and shrugged.
"Did you catch any of that, sir?"
"I picked up that your mister is a busy guy."
"Yes, sir."
"And it seems like my boat has got a hole put in it."
"They found her with the gun."
"Speaking of guns—" said Jayne.
"So it seems," said Mal to Zoë. "And someone wasn’t paying attention to the proximity—"
"And they put a camo field up in front of her."
Mal stopped. "A camo field? Where would they get technology like that?"
Zoë stared at him.
"Oh," he said at last. "Yeah, we ran into a few of those, didn’t we?"
"Yes, sir."
"Not five thousand miles from this here spot."
"Yes, sir."
Jayne cleared his throat. "I know Zoë carries a backup piece under her arm. If you could maybe—"
"Jayne, I’m getting to you. In the meantime, your job is to create as large a field of silence around you as you can manage. Is the idea coming through?"
Jayne scowled loudly.
"So, what now, sir?"
"I don’t know. My boat has a hole in it, and we’re stuck on the gorram world I hate the most, where we’ve just busted a fugitive out of jail after saving the life of an Alliance agent, and I’m trying to resist the temptation to put a hole in the fugitive we’ve just rescued.
"What did I—"
"So I’m open to suggestions, Zoë."
"I suggest you answer Jayne’s question, sir."
"Answer his question?"
"He was asking what he did."
"That’s what I’d like to know," said Mal.
"Exactly," said Zoë.
"Oh. Right." He turned to Jayne. "What did you do?"
"Huh? I didn’t do a ruttin’ thing! I got a little drunk and clocked a loudmouth—"
"No, Jayne. I’m not talking about last night."
"Then what are you . . . oh."
"Yeah, oh."
"You kicked me off your gorram ship! I wasn’t on your gorram crew!"
"So you couldn’t wait to find out what you could get for River’s scalp."
"So?"
Oddly, Mal realized he was not suddenly taken with the urge to kill Jayne. He was suddenly taken with the urge to shoot Jayne in both kneecaps, let him lie there for a while, then kill him.
"All right," he said, keeping his voice even—which required more effort than he’d used in several near-run skirmishes. "We’ll get into that later. Right now, I want to know what happened."
"Huh? You know what happened. I called the feds on that wangu de shagua gen ta shenjingbing de meimei. What else do you need to know?"
"How did you call them?"
"Huh? I got hold of a comm unit—"
"What comm unit? Where?"
"In that same gorram security hut you just busted me out of."
"They have a direct link?"
"Why wouldn’t they?"
"I thought they were a private security force."
"They are, and they’re also the Locals."
"That’s right, so they are. All right, what happened?"
"How ’bout we talk about how I didn’t do nothing wrong, seeing I wasn’t on—"
Jayne broke off as Mal drew his pistol and leveled it at Jayne’s face from a distance of around three inches. Mal heard the familiar sound of Zoë’s carbine coming from her hip, and knew he was covered.
"There are a number of things going on right now, Jayne, and I need to learn what they are, and so I need you to answer questions. The only thing I want to do less than talk about anything else is explain to you why I need those answers. So you’re going to tell me what I want to know, or I am going to start putting holes in you, and I’m not too particular about where they are, or how many. Now do we have a meeting of minds on this subject?”
Jayne glowered. Mal waited.
"You keep saying what happened, and I keep telling you. So—"
"So tell me how it played out."
"I walked in, said I wanted to get a message to the feds. They set up the link—"
"Just like that?"
"I had to do some convincing."
"How did you convince them?"
"I asked them how it would go down with them if they didn’t let me."
"All right. Then what?"
"They gave me the mic. I told the Feds about the crazy girl."
"Uh huh. And what did they say?"
"We negotiated."
"They wanted the details?"
"Yeah. I said I wanted money first."
"Did you tell them who she was?"
Jayne barely hesitated. "Yeah."
"And?"
"They said they’d have someone there to meet me and we’d agree on a price."
"When?"
"They said an hour."
"Right," said Mal. Yeah, okay. No way there was a fed station that close. And if they wanted to send someone special, it might be days. So they’d grabbed up the nearest agent, knocked him off whatever assignment he was on, and—
"And all this time, what were the security officers doing?"
"Huh?"
"While you were talking to the feds, where were the officers, or the Locals, who set you up with the connection?"
"What do you mean? They were just sitting there."
"Just sitting there."
"Yeah."
"Listening."
"I suppose they might have been."
Mal sighed. "You know, Jayne, you’ve done some stupid things from time to time."
"Maybe."
"I think this time you pegged the meter."
"What the—"
Zoë spoke for the first time. "Sir, could they have put it together, got word to Sakarya, and set it up that fast?"
"In an hour? Why not? This isn’t the Alliance, this is just one guy running things himself. And he’s someone who believes in moving fast."
"Yes, sir. That he is."
Jayne said, "What in the—"
"Shut up," said Mal.
"Now what, sir?"
"I don’t know. Now we try to not get caught until we can figure a way out of here."
"What about him?" she gestured toward Jayne.
"We could kill him."
"Hey!" said Jayne.
"Yes, sir. Or just shoot him in the leg and let him get caught."
"Maybe there’s a reward."
"If that’s a joke," said Jayne, "I ain’t laughing none."
"And what if it isn’t a joke? Then you gonna laugh?"
Jayne stared at him. "You gonna do me, go ahead and do me. Quit yakking."
"I gotta figure some. You got any special reason why I ought to let you live, Jayne?"
"I didn’t mention you or the boat."
"When?"
"When they questioned me. They said they’d drop the charges and let me go if I told them everything."
Mal searched the big man’s face. As well as being stupid, Jayne was one of the worst liars he’d ever met. This time, oddly enough, he wasn’t lying.
"Why didn’t you?"
"Hell, I don’t know. I just didn’t."
Zoë said, "Sir, I’m hearing a buzzboat."
Mal glanced up. "Yeah, okay. Let’s find some cover."
Zoë said, "Sir, if they have infrared—"
"Unlikely. Too much bounce from this topsoil during daylight."
"But if they do—"
"Then we’re humped. Let’s go."
"What about him?"
"He comes with us for now."
"I don’t think you can take the chance with him, sir."
"Sure I can. Let’s try this way."
Outside Yuva
Jayne followed Mal, keenly aware of Zoë and her sawed-off behind him the whole time. He didn’t feel any special resentment for Zoë’s being so determined to kill him; he knew well enough it’s what he would have done. He wasn’t sure why the Captain hadn’t just done it, but he never did quite know what the Captain would or wouldn’t do, or why. He knew the Captain had some sort of code he kept to; but he had never been able to figure out what that code was. It made things gorram confusing. And it was impossible to figure out how to use that code against him.
So he followed Mal toward cover, and tried to forget about the weapon behind him. If he had the chance, he’d turn on Zoë, take out Mal, and—
No, in fact, he wouldn’t.
He wasn’t sure why, but he wouldn’t. He’d go along with them, and try to get out of this with them, and if they killed him, that’s just how it came out.
He wasn’t exactly sure why he made that decision, but neither did he spend much time trying to figure it out.
They found a tree with a particularly thick covering of branches, and ducked under it.
Chapter 11
My Own Kind of Hate
Outside Yuva
The buzzboat was now clearly audible, moving slowly, just a little ways east and about two hundred meters off the ground.
What was the Captain thinking this time?
Letting Jayne live was just crazy. And if he believed that story about not having given them away to the Locals, then he was completely off his nut.
Of course, it might be part of some larger plan; but if it was, she’d appreciate being let in on it.
Jayne, as part of the crew, was like a barely controlled element, always just a bit more likely to save them than to get them killed. Jayne, not as part of the crew, was just dangerous; any little slip and he’d turn on them both without giving it a second thought.
What was the Captain thinking?
He had betrayed members of his crew—twice. He had proved, over and over again, that he cared nothing— nothing —for anyone except himself. He had endangered the Captain, and, by now, Wash, Kaylee, and Serenity herself.
He was doing no good to anyone still walking; there was no possible reason for allowing it.
She kept under the cover of the tree, holding her weapon on Jayne, and hoping the buzzboat didn’t have infrared scanners. It was so tempting to just pull the trigger.
So very tempting.
She put her trust in the Captain and waited.
Outside Yuva
The buzzing vanished off to the east, and he saw Mal breath a sigh of relief; Zoë didn’t seem to react.
"Safe for a while," said Mal.
"You guys are safe," said Jayne. "What are you—"
"Haven’t decided yet, Jayne."
"Sun sets in a couple of hours," said Zoë. "They’ll be back with infrared."
Mal nodded. "With any luck, by that time we’ll be . . . ."
"We’ll be what, sir?" asked Zoë when Mal didn’t finish the sentence.
Mal flipped on his comm link. "Wash, how are we doing?"
There was an agonizing delay—maybe two seconds—then Wash said, "Still flying, Mal."
"Going to be able to come fetch us?"
Another pause, then, "No. Not soon. Maybe, if Kaylee . . . take a while."
Mal disconnected. "We’re on our own," he said.
Jayne thought about asking for a gun again, but decided it would be a waste of breath.
Helpless. I’m ruttin’ helpless. Locals chasing me to make a ruttin’ miner for life of me, and a gorram carbine at my back, and all I can do is sit here and wait for what happens.
"Okay," said Mal, with the sort of finality in his voice that indicates he’d decided on a plan.
Mal had a plan
Now I’m really humped.
Yuva: Sakarya’s office
Mister Sakarya’s office was full of open spaces, windows, natural woods, and padded chairs. His desk was wide and wrapped around in a gentle curve to the big window that looked out on a shallow hill leading down to a pond. A few trees flanked the pond, and a family of ducks floated in it. There was one chair facing the desk, and it was, at present, unoccupied; the heavy man in the gray uniform stood, sweating. Sakarya sat, glowering.
His voice was barely controlled as he said, "How did they do it, Rennes?"
"It was well-planned, and well-timed, Mister Sakarya. We were transferring the prisoner for transport, had just gotten him loaded, when they were there. They got the drop—"
"Well-timed," repeated Sakarya. "You say it was well-timed."
"Yes, sir."
"Who knew when you’d be doing the transfer?"
"Sir?"
Sakarya closed his eyes and counted to eight.
"How many people knew the transfer schedule, and who were they?"
"There was no transfer schedule, sir. We finished the paperwork, then moved him—"
"Then how could it have been well-timed, you piece of ga-sa?"
Rennes wilted, sputtered, and said, "I meant—"
"You meant they got the drop on you because you weren’t expecting him to be rescued, and so you were all going through the motions without paying attention. Is that correct?"
Rennes cringed and looked down.
"Is it?"
"Yes, sir."
Sakarya nodded. "All right. What are we doing about it?"
"Three buzz-boats, roadblocks, and we’ve put a detail on searching the woods east of town, since that’s . . . that is to say, we think they’re hiding—"
"You think?"
"We found the vehicle they hijacked, and it was empty. Backtracking along the—"
"You’ve messed this up just about every way you could, haven’t you?"
"Yes, sir."
Sakarya let out a long, slow breath.
"All right," he said at last. "Keep me informed, and try not to screw up any more."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
Sakarya nodded and waved him out of the room. When he was gone, Sakarya hit a button on his desk. A voice came back at once: "Yes, Filo?"
He grimaced. "Miss Wuhan, Officer Rennes is on the way out. Have someone get him, slap him with indentures, and send him to Site Four. I don’t want to see him again."
"All right."
"And we’ll need someone to take over his post. Promote whoever is his second in command."
"All right."
Silence fell like a curtain in his office.
The whole thing had been bungled from the beginning. It wasn’t just the escape: that man, Cobb, should never have been processed anyway. And that ship should never have been permitted off the ground. Cobb should have been questioned, fined, and released. Didn’t those idiots realize that the gorram Alliance was here? And that this Cobb was, one way or another, connected with it? That everything he had could come tumbling down just because these idiots refused to think, refused to change tactics when the situation changed?
The whole thing would have to be crushed, and fast. Cobb would have to be killed. His rescuers would have to be killed. And, above all, that bloody damned, snooping, sniveling little spy for the feds would have to be found and made to vanish. And once all that was done he was going to have to find a way to lie very, very low for a while; he’d have to change his whole operation, which would cost him, well, a lot.
He turned and faced his window. He felt like ordering the ducks killed, but he knew he’d regret it later.
Yuva: Warehouse
Finally finishing a rutting exercise in rutting futility, he disconnected his rutting comlink, which held all the rutting information he’d gathered in eight rutting months.
It was a fair question which bothered him more: the eight months wasted on the investigation; the fact that he was within a couple of weeks of having it sewn up when he was required to blow his cover; the stupid reason for blowing his cover; or the fact that if they didn’t show up to retrieve him soon, he’d probably die on this stupid rock.
It was one thing to know, in the abstract, that field work was risky; it was another thing to know that he was being hunted like an animal and could be snuffed out at any moment. And all because some pissant bureaucrat decided some pissant fugitive was more important than eight months from his life, eight months from the life of his three-man support staff back home, at least a quarter of a million credits, and, above all, the job of seeing to it that this bastard didn’t get away with what he was doing.
Not even taking into account what a successful prosecution might do to the—probably dozens, maybe scores of— bastards doing the same thing on their own little worlds.
Being hunted didn’t frighten him only because he was too busy being pissed off.
Whenever he could concentrate on the big picture, he liked what he was doing: he was making a difference, he was making lives better for people who couldn’t stand up for themselves, he was taking down the bad guys. But it was hard to keep his mind on the big picture when every detail ranged from bungling stupidity to outright evil.
The cure was better than the disease, he told himself.
But just barely.
Outside Yuva
Zoë said, "What’s the plan, sir?"
"Well, seems the three of us can’t do much against the whole passel they’re throwing at us."
"True enough, sir."
"Especially as we’re not keen on giving Jayne a firearm."
Jayne said, "Can we reconsid—"
"So I figure we need reinforcements."
"Good call, sir. Got a battalion in mind?"
"Better than that. Major reinforcements."
"How many?"
"One."
"Hooray, sir. We’re saved," said Zoë.
Jayne stared at him. "You’re going to bring the gorram fed in on this."
Mal cocked his head at the big man. "Damn, Jayne. When did you get higher order cerebral function?"
"I don’t know that math stuff."
"Sir, you aren’t really—"
"Yes."
"Do we have any way of reaching him?"
"Sure. We walk back to Yuva and find him."
"Walk back to . . . I think it’s a bad idea, sir."
"Maybe, but we’re doing it. Let’s head to town."
"I think you ought to reconsider, sir."
"Zoë, I’m not used to having my orders questioned."
Zoë looked at him and waited.
"All right," he said. “I am used to having my orders questioned. But we’re heading back to town."
"Yes, sir."
Jayne said, "Why should I go back there, if you won’t even give me a gorram gun?"
Zoë poked him in the back with her carbine.
Mal took his lack of reply for agreement.
They were still in deep woods when the sun set. They kept listening for buzzboats or horses, but they heard only the sounds of whatever wildlife had been imported to make the woods seem natural.
Every once in a while, he thought as he walked, I get tired of sounding confident when I ain’t. It’s almost like lying to them, making it seem like I know what exactly I’m doing, when all I have is an idea that’s just a bit better than any other idea. And it doesn’t help that Zoë knows damned well what I’m doing, and goes along with it anyway; almost makes it worse.
He mentally shook himself. What’s going on with me? Why am I doing this now?
"Damn this whole world," said Zoë. "I hate being on it, I hate marching on it, I hate—"
Mal looked at her.
"Sorry, sir."
"No, it’s just I was having those same thoughts."
It was full dark, so they had to slow down a bit; the light from two of the moons, one of them almost full, was just barely enough to keep them from walking into trees. They stopped from time to time to check the direction, and to listen.
"I think we’re getting close," said Zoë. Jayne, blessedly, didn’t say anything.
"Once we leave the woods, we have about a quarter of a mile to cross. We go slow and steady, like we belong. Once we hit town, we head to that warehouse, and hope the fed is still there. Keep to the shadows. I doubt they’re looking for us in town, but be careful."
He felt Zoë nod, and heard Jayne grunt, and they moved forward. The woods ended abruptly, leaving them on rocky, broken hills that reminded him of other parts of this same world. Memories wanted to flood him; he focused on the task at hand.
Gorram this whole world.
Yuva: Warehouse
Something rattled on the window.
He’d have turned the light out, but it was already off. He waited for a few minutes, then carefully looked out.
There were three figures standing there, out in plain sight, like they were waiting. Even in the dim light, he recognized two of them from their shape.
Well, all right then.
He armed himself, went down the hall, opened the door, and stepped out. He kept himself next to the wall. They were still there, and still silhouetted. Only one was holding a weapon, and that weapon was pointing squarely at the back of the largest of the three.
He stepped away from the wall. "Good evening," he said.
"So far," said Captain Reynolds. "Going to invite us in?"
"All right. Come in."
He stuck his pistol back in his belt and led them inside, down the hall, past the office he’d taken over, and to a second office, which had the advantage of being windowless. He turned on a light, and waited while all of their eyes adjusted; then he focused on the big man.
"You were supposed to meet me in the canteen."
"Figured," he said.
Mal said, "Kit, meet Jayne. You already know Zoë."
Kit nodded. "What brings you to my little sanctuary?"
"We need your help, and you need our help," said the captain. “Seem like that gives us grounds to do some bargaining."
Kit studied the captain, wishing he had access to a full psych workup of the man. He didn’t seem like the trickster sort; but a good confidence man never did. So: play it careful, pull out what intel he could, give away the minimum, commit to nothing.
"Let’s start with the part where I need your help," he said. "I imagine you could explain that if you tried, so I’ll do the listening."
"You have people coming to pull you out," said the captain, as if he knew it for fact, which he almost certainly did not. Kit waited, giving him nothing one way or the other. Reynolds went on, "You don’t much cotton to leaving the job unfinished, on account of you were behind this one personal."
Now that was either a daring guess, or some pretty sharp deduction. If it was deduction, it meant either this man had a way of tapping into some files there was no way he could get to, or . . . .
"You know a lot about him."
"Just what’s on the Cortex."
"You start out lying now, Captain, and it’s going to put a severe strain on our relationship."
"Mostly what’s on the Cortex. Some other stuff, too."
"All right. I’m still doing the listening part."
"So, we help you finish what you started, you help us get the gorram hell out of here alive. That’s the deal. You want it?"
"Get you out alive? Okay, now, last I heard, you had a ship. What’s keeping you here?"
"The ship got hit, and had to break sky. She’s hanging up there now with the best pilot in the ‘verse fighting to keep her there. Can’t land on account of a big hole in her hull and too many control surfaces shot to hell."
"What do you imagine I can do?"
"Get us to a safe place until my boat is working again. I know you got people coming."
"You do."
"I do."
"All right, suppose I do. What do you mean about helping me finish the job?"
"We can take him out."
"Take him out."
"Yeah."
"You’re offering to commit murder to an agent of the Anglo Sino Alliance?"
"What, that offends you?"
"There’s this thing called the law, Captain Reynolds."
"Yeah. The Alliance enforces it; it doesn’t seem to much care about following it."
"We will argue politics another time, Captain. For now, I’ll just say that I decline your offer. We do not commit murder." As Reynolds started to speak, he said, "Very well, if you prefer, I do not commit murder."
"You must have a nice set of problems with them that employ you."
Kit shrugged.
"All right, so you don’t want to kill him. What do you want?"
"I’m afraid I can’t—"
"Evidence, right? Proof of forced indenture, child labor, safety violations. That’s what you’re after, isn’t it?"
"Suppose it is."
"Suppose we can do that?"
"How?"
"That’s our business."
"There are a couple of problems. The first is that I’m not going to believe you can do it unless you tell me how you’re planning to go about it. The second is, I have no way to get you off this world until my people show up, and that won’t be for a couple of days. And Sakarya’s people are looking for me as hard as they’re looking for you, and, between them, I don’t see any way they aren’t going to find us both before then."
"Yeah, well, that’s a problem. How close are they?"
"From what I’ve picked up of their code, they’re going to be starting a building by building search tomorrow morning."
"Tomorrow morning. That’s . . . what?"
The one called Zoë spoke for the first time. "Six hours, sir."
"Six hours."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, isn’t that just shiny."
"Yes, sir."
"You were out of town, weren’t you?" asked Kit.
"Yes."
"East?"
"Yes, how’d you know?"
"They found tracks. By now, the perimeter is sealed."
"I see."
"So you’ve humped yourself pretty good, Captain."
"It’s a specialty. You have a tap into their line, I take it?"
He hesitated, then, "Yes."
"And their code?"
"Most of it."
"Impressive."
"It’s a specialty."
"I like yours better. Where’s your gear?"
"Next office down, but there’s a window, so no lights."
"Can you see at all in there?"
"A bit filters in from the moons."
"Okay. Mind if we go there?"
Kit shrugged and led the way.
When they reached the other office, he fired up the link, listened on the headphones for a bit, and said, "Nothing new."
"Good to have, though."
Kit nodded. "It’s how I learned about the jailbreak."
"So, you know who we are."
"I take it you mean, I know who you’re carrying. Yes. Simon and River Tam."
"I see."
Kit felt the weight of his sidearm, and wondered how long it would take the captain to draw his. Zoë had hers out, but it was still pointed at the big man.
He leaned forward to make a meaningless adjustment on the comm, and in so doing moved about two inches to his right, positioning himself so the big man was squarely between him and the sawed-off, and kept his eye on the captain.
"And what do you plan to do about that?" asked the captain.
"My only orders were to meet with your man Cobb and negotiate a deal. I’ve already reported that that fell through."
"And so?"
"If you had a way out of here, we might have something to deal with after all."
"What, us rescue you? That’s not what I had in mind. And if you don’t mind my saying so—"
"You’re safer with me dead."
"Seems like."
"Only you don’t do that."
"I don’t?"
"Nope."
"What, you have a psych make-up on me?" The captain almost smirked.
"For this, I don’t need one."
Reynolds shrugged. "Maybe you’re right and I don’t much care for the idea of shooting you cold. Still don’t mean I’d cross the street to save you, even if I could, now that I know who you are."
"I have something to bargain with."
"What’s that?"
"Simon and River Tam."
"I don’t—"
"I can throw them off for a while."
He felt the intensity of Reynold’s stare. "I don’t get it," the captain said at last. "Are you that scared?"
"No," said Kit. "But if I live through this, I still have a chance of taking down Sakarya."
The captain rocked back, almost as if he’d been hit. He recovered quickly, though, and said, "Okay, don’t see as it matters much; we got no means to—"
"Sir," said Zoë.
The captain frowned and looked at her. "What is it?"
Zoë was looking out the window. "I think we have the means."
Everyone followed her gaze. A small, close-range shuttle was settling down outside the office.
The four of them stared at it, frozen in place, until the door swung open and a small figure emerged.
Zoë was staring at the captain, as if he could produce an explanation for what she clearly considered impossible. Jayne’s mouth opened and closed.
"Na, zhan wo zai qiaokeli dang zhong, jiu song wo dao leisibian gei tamen chi ba," said the captain.
"Let me guess," said Kit. "I’m about to meet River Tam."
Chapter 12
My Own Kind of Landing
Yuva: Warehouse
The fed grabbed a small disk and stuck it in his pocket.
"The evidence?" asked Mal.
"What there is of it. Nothing else here matters."
"All right then," said Zoë. "Someone probably saw the shuttle land. Maybe we should move."
Mal nodded. "Let’s hurry; she’ll take off a bit sluggish with five on board."
"Five, sir?" said Zoë.
"I’m taking our friend the fed up on his offer."
"Yes, sir. Five?"
"Oh."
Mal looked at Jayne, who stared back at him. Then he turned back to Zoë.
"Five," he said.
"Yes, sir," she said, managing to put a full hold’s worth of disapproval into the words.
Mal ignored her, and said to Jayne, "Nothing is settled."
Jayne grunted.
River met them halfway to the shuttle.
Mal decided that any questions would wait until they were back on Serenity. Or at least in the air. Or at least buckled in.
"River, where in the gorram hell did you learn to fly a gorram shuttle?" he said.
"The operation of an LS-seven type Coreless A-drive is implied by the width to force ratio of the main thruster, the number and position of the attitude jets, and the limited number of control surfaces. Wash has a book."
"A book?"
River beat him to the pilot’s chair without appearing to try; he decided not to argue, and slid into the co-pilot’s seat. She turned around and looked at the fed like he was a curious species of spider. Then she turned back to the controls.
"A book?" said Mal.
River fired up the shuttle like, well, like a pilot.
"He loaned it to me."
"When did you read this book?"
He was pressed back into the seat as the nose pointed up, then she hit it and they leaped skyward.
"About an hour ago. The book had some mistakes," she added.
"We will never speak of this again," said Mal.
Above Hera
She made a few mental notes to pass on to Kaylee: the calibration of the guide-scope was off enough to make lock-on bumpy if it were followed, the spinner was off-balance, and the engine kept wanting to cough. With another part of her attention, she followed the guide-scope (making mental adjustments), bringing the shuttle closer to the lockdown point. With another part of her attention she considered what design improvements might be made on the shuttle—or, more precisely, what she’d have to study in order to make reasonable suggestions for such improvements. With another part of her attention she tried not to think about the men who were coming closer with each minute; that took a fair bit of attention: not thinking about something.
And with the rest of her attention . . . .
It was so much better when she was busy.
When her mind and body were both occupied, the voices didn’t have time to get inside her. Everything was quiet, and she could do and she could think and she could be.
People spoke about "freedom" but they didn’t know what it was. Freedom was being able to do what you were meant to do. Just that; no more.
And most of them didn’t appreciate it, because most of them had never been without it.
Simon didn’t understand that. Wash didn’t understand that, though he’d been held captive. Even Zoë didn’t understand.
Mal, though. Mal understood.
Sometimes, when she could spare the attention, she cried for him.
She made the last adjustment and the shuttle slid home with a "click" and the voices came back.
Serenity: Near shuttle bay
The Captain told Jayne to stay in his quarters when they got there.
"Can I get some food?"
"Yeah. Get it, bring it back to your bunk and stay there till I come get you."
As the shuttle door opened, Zoë was running through the locations of the firearms on the ship, and how many of them would be between the airlock and Jayne’s bunk. At least one, she decided, which was way too many.
Simon was waiting when they stepped out of the shuttle.
"River! What did you do? "
Though River’s back was to her, Zoë could imagine the frown. "Is that a trick question?"
The doctor took his sister’s arm, and the two of them went off toward the med bay, Simon’s voice gradually climbing in both pitch and volume. Zoë shrugged and tuned them out.
She made her way directly up the stairs, past the bunks and up to the bridge, heavier by two pistols, which she set down in the co-pilot’s chair.
"Wash!"
He didn’t turn around. "Hey, baby. Come look upon the empty shell that was once your big, powerful love machine. It’s been pretty ugly up here."
"You’re all right?"
"Depends what you mean by all right. When this is over, I’m going to sleep for three weeks."
"But you made it? We’re in a stable orbit?"
"You’d have had a fun time docking the shuttle if we’d still been bouncing around."
"Yeah, did you know River was going to take the shuttle?"
"Not exactly. She asked if she could look at the LS-Seven manual, and half an hour later—"
"Yeah. The Captain almost had a coronary when it landed, and she stepped out."
"She’s scary."
"That she is."
"Well, I’m glad you’re back."
"With company."
"Oh?"
"We brought a fed with us."
"A fed? On the ship?"
"It’s a long story."
"Where is he?"
"The Captain put him in Book’s old room, and asked him to stay there until we figure things out."
"Oh. Are we ever going to figure things out?"
"Unlikely. How are things here?"
"Kaylee is trying to get us in shape to fly. Or at least limp to somewhere we can get fixed up. She’s outside now, working on a patch. We—"
He frowned at something, muttered, and flipped a couple of switches. For the next several seconds, she could see him fighting with the ship in a way she’d never seen before; some of the jerkiness of the movements penetrated the inertia field, and Zoë had to shift her feet to keep her balance. Then he nodded, scowled, shut things down again, and continued with what he’d been saying as if there had been no interruption. "The engine room is sealed off, so she’s trying to work in a suit. Can’t be fun. And I haven’t quite figured out why we didn’t just get away from this world when we could have."
"It’s complicated," said Zoë. Wash started to say something, and she had the sudden feeling that this was going to go somewhere she didn’t like; somewhere involving the Captain, and explanations, and loyalty. "Also, Jayne came back with us," she said.
It worked. "He’s back on the crew?" he asked.
"No. At least, not yet. But he’s on the ship, anyway. Not sure where it goes from there."
"Straight down," said Wash.
Zoë nodded. "That much is pretty certain," she said.
Serenity: Engine room
It really was hard to work in a pressure suit.
It wasn’t just the loss of manual dexterity, or mobility; it was that there was the sense that she couldn’t actually touch Serenity. It was surprising how much she learned just from contact; feeling the rhythm of her engine, the constant little adjustments of the artificial gravity, the re-balancing of the inertia guide.
And now she was without it, and Serenity was hurt; hurt worse than Kaylee had ever seen. To say, "structural damage" just didn’t express it. There was a hole in Serenity. The black was inside her, when she existed to keep the black out there. Her heart beat as smooth as ever, and life-support still worked, and, after a bit of work, she had inertial thrust.
But she wasn’t supposed to be rigged that way, like a guy trying to walk on one foot and one hand while eating through his nose. She could do it for a while, but she didn’t much like it, and pretty soon now she’d just quit.
Kaylee didn’t much care to be out here, either; surrounded by the black, Hera there huge and swirling green above her, like she was going to grab Serenity and drag her down; and below her feet Serenity with her gaping wound, only magnetic boots and a lifeline keeping her secured while Wash made his adjustments.
And she really wanted to scratch her nose.
She should come up with a way to wipe one’s brow while wearing a pressure suit. It really couldn’t be that hard to do. Then she could work on a way to scratch one’s back.
Okay, never mind, back to the job.
Kaylee laid out the welding gear, and the pieces of scrap she’d found in the hold, and eyed the big wound that was, if not her biggest problem, then at least the next one she had to fix if she was to get to the others.
She started filing away at the jagged edges. "I’m sorry, baby," she murmured.
Serenity: Near shuttle bay
"Is Kit your real name?"
"Why would that matter?"
"Don’t figure it would, just asking. So, how d’you see this working?"
"You mean, getting me back into the hands of my people while you go on your way?"
"Yeah, that’s what I mean."
"Or do you mean how am I going to bring down Sakarya now that I’m off the world and my cover’s blown."
"I might mean that, too."
"Or maybe how I’m going to singlehandedly end all poverty, injustice and disease in the ‘verse, including among as yet undiscovered alien species."
"That’s less likely."
"You never know."
"How is it going to work?"
"Get on the Cortex, I’ll give you the code, you arrange a meeting with an Alliance vessel, we make the transfer, you go on your way."
"Okay, second idea."
"And the problem with that is?"
"They know about us."
"You sure about that?"
"Jayne told them he had the Tams. The Locals have connected Serenity with the Tams. All the Alliance—"
"Serenity," he said.
"That’s the name of the boat."
"I was there," Kit heard himself saying.
"What?"
"Serenity Valley. I was there. Some of my first intel training—sussing out your positions, trying to figure any weak spots. They made me . . . it was tough."
Mal didn’t say anything.
"You made a hell of a fight," said Kit.
After a moment, Mal said, "All the Alliance has to do is tap into the Locals’ comm, which is about the first thing they’d do, yes?"
"Yes."
"After that Jayne could put it all together. I’m not getting next to an Alliance ship, whatever guarantees you give me. If they need to, they’ll lie to you to get to the Tams. Won’t they?"
Kit hesitated, then nodded.
"So," continued Reynolds, "what’s your next idea? We can set you down somewhere, either on Hera, or somewhere else, and then let them know where you are."
"I guess that’s what we’ll do, then."
"You hungry?"
"Starving."
"Me, too. We have protein in nine different flavors and some dried apricots. I’ll show you where the kitchen is, then I’m going to go check on my mechanic, see how she’s doing."
Something went off in Kit’s head, then—that feeling that, all of a sudden, he had all the pieces if he just put them together. He nodded to Reynolds, and followed him to the kitchen, his mind racing.
Captain Reynolds knew; there was no other explanation.
And that put an entirely different light on things.
The captain headed down toward engineering. Kit followed him absently, but his mind wasn’t on it. He needed to think this through.
Serenity: Engine room
The airtight door opened, and Kaylee was standing there, still in her pressure suit, but helmet off.
"Fixed?" he asked.
"Sort of," she said. "Still needs some work, and she isn’t going to take to being put on the solid with half the starboard extender missing, but—"
"Get some rest, Kaylee. Rest, eat something, relax."
Kaylee leaned against the bulkhead, closed her eyes, and nodded. "Okay, Cap’n. What are you going to do?"
"Try to come up with the right questions, so I know where to put all these answers I got."
Kaylee shook her head. "That almost made sense."
"Yeah," said Mal. "That’s about how I’ve been feeling for some time."
Kaylee stepped up and kissed him on the cheek, her pressure suit bumping his collar bone. "It’ll work out, Cap’n."
"Now we got two witches on this boat?"
She just smiled, shook her head, and thunked off toward her bunk. For one crazy moment, he wanted to follow her. Not to sex her, but just to lie down and close his eyes and be next to her for a bit.
He took a deep breath and let it out slow, then made his way to the Med Bay, the fed still with him. As expected, River and Simon were both there, River staring up at the ceiling with a glazed look; she just barely responded with he walked in.
"River, you did good today."
"Captain," said Simon, "she needlessly risked—"
"No needless about it, Doctor. We were humped down there. You planning to fly the shuttle to get us?"
"Wash could have—"
"Wash left the bridge a minute, and this boat’d be scattered all over the world, and you with it."
"I don’t want her—"
"Your wants ain’t got too strong a hold on my intentions, Doctor. I’d think a bright young fellow like you would have sussed that out by now."
The doctor stared at him for just long enough to let him know how he felt about that, then said, "River says they’re coming."
"Who?"
"She didn’t say. She just said, ‘they’re coming.’"
"Well, lest she’s just spouting gibberish, I’d guess it’d be the feds, and we were figuring hard on that already. Now, if she knew when they were coming—"
"Tomorrow, early afternoon," said River.
Mal looked at her, then at the doctor, then back at River. "Something creepifying about you," he said.
River didn’t answer; she seemed to have fallen asleep.
Mal shrugged, turned, and made his way up toward the bridge. As he walked, he noticed that the fed was still with him, and still looking impenetrable.
"Well, any thoughts?"
Kit looked up. "Plenty. How would you feel about letting me make contact with my people?"
"Your people means the Alliance, don’t it?"
"Yes."
“I told you about—”
“Not to arrange a pick-up. I just want to make contact.”
"Don’t seem like that would be in my best interest."
"Doesn’t seem like it, but it would be."
"You want me to just trust you?"
"Yes."
"When do you need to do this?"
"Before you do whatever it is you’re going to do."
"I’ll think on it. Meantime, I’m heading toward the bridge. You can be in the dining room, or your quarters. I catch you anywhere else on my boat and I’ll kill you."
"You don’t need to threaten me, Captain. I know where I stand."
"Do you?"
"I told you, I was there."
"Yeah, you did at that."
Mal left him in the dining room and headed up to the bridge.
"Don’t mind me, you two. I’ll just stand here and wonder why there are two weapons in the co-pilot’s chair."
Zoë and Wash broke their clinch, Wash giving Mal something of an annoyed look.
Zoë said, "Keeping them out of Jayne’s hands."
"Ah. Good decision."
"Thank you, sir."
He said, "Just letting you two know that we need to be out of here by tomorrow afternoon, according to a highly reliable source I don’t trust at all."
"Mal," said Wash, "can you tell me why we aren’t leaving this place now?"
"No, I’m not sure I can."
"Oh. Well. All right, then. That’s all I needed."
"There’s some things that got to be settled on that world."
"Why?"
"’Cause," said Mal.
"She’s handling a little better now," said Wash. "Kaylee did something."
"She’ll do that," said Mal. "Can you get us on the ground as things stand?"
"Not sure," said Wash. "But we’re two and a half days from Tagwyn."
"Tagwyn?"
"An orbiting repair dock, around—"
"No, on the ground here."
Wash stared at him. "Are you serious, Mal?"
"Just want to know if you can do it."
"Mal, I can’t keep my eyes open any more. I can’t land a handkerchief on the floor. I could maybe, if I got lucky, punch in the coordinates to Tagwyn and start us there, but without being here to monitor—"
"Go to bed, Wash. We’ll talk in the morning. Zoë and I can take shifts keeping us in the sky."
For once, Wash had no remarks. He raised his arm, and Zoë took and hauled him to his feet, kissed him, and escorted him toward the door.
"I’ll be back to work out shifts after I’ve put my exhausted man to bed," she said.
"Exhausted?" said Wash. "If I sleep for five years I might make it up to exhausted."
Mal nodded and sat down in the pilot’s chair, and stared at the line of dawn on Hera through the front window—an ugly world, full of sickly greens and oppressive blues. Yuva appeared down and off to the right; in Serenity Valley, away on the other side, the sun would just be setting.
He watched Hera like a snake watches a rabbit.
Then he tapped the intercom for the dining room. "Anyone there?" No response. He tried the room he’d given Kit, the Shepherd’s old room. "Fed? You around?"
Kit’s voice came back. "I’m here."
"Once we’re on the ground, come on up to the bridge and make your call," he said.
Serenity: Bridge
"Good morning, sir."
"You’re a good relief, Zoë."
"Anything?"
"She’s doing a bump and grind; you have to knock off the autopilot, bring her back to the grid, then turn it on again; seems like every twenty minutes or so. It isn’t too bad."
"All right."
"Wash?"
"He was snoring before he was horizontal."
"He did a good day’s work. A good week’s work."
"Yes, sir."
He stood and stepped out of the way so she could take the pilot’s seat, then he picked up the two pistols and held them while he sat in the co-pilot’s seat.
"I’m going to talk to Jayne," he said.
She barely nodded, concentrating on checking the auto-pilot’s settings, and the position grid.
"Zoë, I want this guy."
This time she made no pretense of nodding; just continued checking the board.
"Zoë?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You know why, don’t you?"
"The war’s over, sir. I seem to remember hearing you say that once or twice."
"It’s not about the war."
"Of course it’s about the war, sir."
He leaned back, and stared out as Hera drifted slowly from his right to his left, until he was staring into the black.
"You don’t think it’s maybe about what’s happening on that there very piece of ground below us?"
"No, sir. I don’t."
"So, I take it you want no part of it, Zoë?"
"I didn’t say that, sir."
"Then—"
"I’d just feel better going into this if you knew why we were doing it. I’ll back you either way. But I’d rather you knew."
"Ain’t no one to tell me. Maybe if the Shepherd were still here, he’d explain it."
"You’d ignore him, sir."
"Most like I would. So, you going to tell me?"
"I would if I could."
"I just know I got to do this. I can’t let it alone. It’s everything. It’s the war, it’s the . . . it’s everything."
"You’re bringing Jayne back on."
"Might be."
"And working with an Alliance agent."
"Yeah."
"What do you believe in any more, sir?"
"My crew."
"And what does this do for your crew?"
"Wo zenmayang bei la dao zhege huati dang zhong?" He stared out into the black. Serenity lurched; though buffered by the artificial gravity, he could still feel it. Zoë killed the auto-pilot, re-settled Serenity on her course, and re-engaged the auto-pilot.
She turned the pilot’s chair and faced him.
"I have to put it away," he said.
"Sir, three days ago, you didn’t even know—"
"Yes, but now I do. And it makes it all different. All of it. All the way back, and what’s happening here and now. It isn’t one thing, it’s all of it."
"Yes, sir. But what about the fed?"
"Funny you should ask."
"Sir?"
"He’s just been trying to figure me out."
"Ah. I see. Well, that must have been entertaining."
"I did figure him out."
"Sir?"
"I figured out why he’s doing this."
"He wants to take down Sakarya, because he likes beating bad guys?"
"That’s part of it."
"And the rest?"
"Simon and River."
"He wants them?"
"No, he wants them to get away."
"I don’t—"
"He went and found out who we were, and who they were, and he figures it ain’t right for the Alliance to come down with all the law and everything for someone who decided to drop out of school."
"But he’s Alliance."
"Yeah, he is. Puts him in a nasty spot, doesn’t it?"
"So, he’ll help us?"
"Not directly. He can’t. He’s a believer."
"He still believes, even though—"
"Even though."
Zoë shook her head. That sort of conflict couldn’t happen in Zoë’s world. In Zoë’s world it was people, not ideas. For people like the fed it was both, and it was no fun when they smashed into each other. That was a feeling Mal could understand.
"Zoë?"
"Sir?"
"Thanks."
"Yes, sir."
"I’d best be about my business."
He stood up and looked at the two holstered pistols in his hands; it took him a moment to remember why they were there.
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