Looking for a prybar, Kaylee stepped into the shed and found her coverall-clad beau standing at the workbench, cursing in Chinese as he applied a screwdriver to the cover of a sooty-looking control module. He leaned hard into his work, almost lying on the screwdriver as he twisted the handle back and forth. Just as she opened her mouth to caution him, the cover popped open. He fell forward, throwing out his hands to keep from hitting the work surface with his head, and the cover, module and screwdriver went skittering across the bench and disappeared over the edge in a spray of loose fasteners. Kaylee laughed, and Simon turned to her, looking sheepish.
Kaylee licked her thumb and rubbed away a spot of grease on Simon's cheek. "Never thought I'd see the day, Simon Tam. You look like a real mechanic. Sound like one too."
He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. She pulled it free and slid her fingers around the back of his head and brought their faces together. Her other hand found its way to the small of his back and points south, pressing him hard against her.
Thirty seconds later, she pulled her face back an inch to catch her breath, feeling a pleasant stiffness pushing against her lower belly. "They're still workin inside the ship," she said, voice husky. "But the hayloft's closer anyway."
"Kaylee-"
"Ma and Pa like you. Your pa likes me. How many more steps has this dance got?"
Knuckles rapped on the sheet metal beside the open door. "Kaylee,'" Matt said. "The Hensons are here."
"What! Where?"
"In the kitchen, with Ma and Pa."
The little redhead turned for the door, paused, and grabbed Simon's wrist. "Come on."
Kaylee emerged into the hazy sunlight, still towing him behind her. The eldest brother fell in step beside them, glancing at Simon. "Win, do you-"
"He knows all about it, Matt."
"Shiia. Be there in a bit." He separated from them, headed for a nearby shed.
Simon said, "What is it I know all about?"
"The Hensons are the men who got me and Mina out of that pit," she said.
They went through the kitchen door to find Jim and Stella Frye standing at the table in conversation with three big scruffy men in travel-stained clothing – just as Kaylee remembered them. She gave a little cry and wrapped arms around Royce, the father. "Didn't dare hope I'd see you while I was here." She released him and turned to his sons, Dell and Garrod, and threw her arms around their necks, one after the other. "Tell me you're stayin for supper."
The man in her arms glanced over her shoulder at Simon. "Seems like there might not be room at the table."
Jim Frye made a rude sound. "Tsai bu shir. Matt's dragging out the planks and sawhorses, and Rosh and Will should be pitching the canvas in the yard. We're gonna throw us a party."
Mrs. Frye said, "Our other guests are sleeping on their ship, so we've got empty beds in the house, too." She added, not too pointedly, "And plenty of hot water, if you three want to clean up and change before supper."
-0-
Nightfall on New Home, as on many terraformed worlds, was somewhat of a disappointment to a man who had seen real sunsets on worlds like Sihnon and Londinium: no big red-orange ball sinking toward the horizon lighting the undersides of the clouds, no shifting palette of colors in the sky. The hazy patch of brightness that covered a quarter of the blue-gray sky simply dimmed and went out as the lightsats shifted their attention to another part of the little world.
There was still a little light left in the sky. The atmospheric shield scattered starlight into a ghostly background glow. Yellow Sun looked like a flashlight beam low on the horizon. Brightest was a fuzzy line as wide as Jayne's thumb that cut diagonally across the sky. "What's that?"
"Inner ring," said Garrod Henson, the elder brother, now clean-shaven and dressed in clothing worn but clean. They stood together just outside the big lighted canopy that sheltered the makeshift tables. He lifted his glass to his lips. "If you squint, you might see crescent Jove behind it. When it's full, it's bright enough to read by."
Jayne frowned. "What would ya read by it?"
The man seemed taken back a moment, then said, "Maps. Books. Love letters, maybe." He took another swallow, and pointed with his chin at Serenity, silhouetted dimly against the sky. "So, you all are Kaylee's crew."
"Most of em. The others are off just now." Jayne turned in a half circle, taking in the rest of the party. It was quite a gathering. Besides the Fryes, the Hensons, and the crew, the hired farmhands who usually went home at suppertime had come back, some of them bringing family of their own. All told, there must be thirty people sitting and standing under the tent or wandering around in the dark just beyond it.
One place they weren't wandering, despite all curiosity, was inside the ship: Jayne had seen the hatches were shut tight before the festivities got underway. He'd thought about locking Simon and River up inside, but couldn't think of an excuse, or a way to keep them there. He just hoped none of the strangers talking to Simon and Kaylee, or watching River dance to Papa Frye's fiddle, ever read wanted posters.
Mal had checked in a few minutes before and exchanged words with him before turning off the radio to spare the charge. Zoë hadn't come on to speak with the little man, which Jayne thought peculiar, but he didn't question. He'd always wondered just how close Zoë and Mal had been during the War; maybe riding fence was giving them a chance to revisit old times.
His eye swept the inside of the tent, looking for the rest of his people. Mal hadn't exactly put him in charge of things while he was gone, and he wasn't about to start talking about the 'chain of command' again, but who else was there? Wash? The idea made Jayne smile; might as well give the job to Inara – she was more used to bossing people around. The Shepherd might do, but he would never accept the job. So it fell on him to do the worrying.
Simon and Kaylee stood among a group of girls her age in a spot where the doctor could keep an eye on River. Jayne figured the little redhead's girlfriends were oohing and ahhing over her new man, and wondering if she had finally settled down. Inara and the Shepherd were seated together near the middle of the room, talking to anyone who sat down with them but not mingling. Wash stood near the buffet and the drinks, talking with a brace of hungry-looking women who hung on his every word: spaceship pilots were romantic characters on worlds like New Home, where folks often lived and died a day's walk from where they were born. In all, it looked like everybody was having fun, and the party not likely to end with broken furniture and the crew running for their ship.
His eye lighted on the corner where Rosh Frye sat drinking alone, as far from his Pa's fiddle as possible. It could be the boy was no fan of music, but the quick glances he kept flicking toward the crazy girl, dancing alone like a fairy in a circle of admirers, seemed a more likely reason. It seemed strange. The boy hadn't seemed shy before; in fact, he'd seemed so far from shy around River that Jayne had thought about taking him aside for a talk. Now the kid was avoiding her, seemed like…
No. He wasn't just avoiding her. Now Jayne realized what was bothering him. Rosh was looking at River just the way Jayne had, after Ariel. Jayne wouldn't believe the boy had entertained notions of selling out his sister's friends, but there was guilt in that look, and worry. Had he made a pass, or something like? Maybe they should have a little talk after all…
Wash came wobbling up to them, a large tumbler full of squeeze in his hand. Jayne looked at the stubble on the pilot's cheeks and reflected that, with no ship to fly and his wife gone, the strawhead was getting a little sloppy. Wash hoisted his glass. "Now I know where Kaylee gets her recipes. Way better'n mudder's milk. Or the stuff Jayne bought from that blind guy."
"Think you've had enough." Kaylee deftly removed the glass from his hand. "Land somewhere. And if a curly-haired blonde so tall sits down and bumps hips, better mention your wife before she starts laying hands on you."
When the pilot tottered off, Kaylee looped elbows with Garrod. "Haven't had a chance to talk to any of you since you got here," she said. "What brings you out this way?"
"Prospecting, as usual," he said. "Between stakes just now. Worked out a lode a few weeks back, and decided to try our luck out this way."
"Really? What was your last strike?"
He raised his glass to his mouth. "Up Valeris way. Seventy tons, nickel-iron."
The little redhead paused. "Well. I'm sure you'll hit something good out there."
"One can hope. How long are you staying?"
"Couple-three weeks. Maybe you'll be back before then."
"I hope not, it'd mean we didn't find anything." He drained his glass. "Spect we'll stay a day, getting supplies together, then head out. Anybody want a drink?"
After Gerrod left, Jayne said to Kaylee, "What is it?"
She shook her head. "Unless you're some big mining outfit, the only mineral deposits on New Home are ones that fell out of the sky in chunks a zillion years ago. You find one, dig it up, sell it, and move on to the next. All kinds of different ores in em - silicon, manganese, iridium – sometimes gold, even. A really good one will set small-timers like the Hensons for months, give em plenty of coin to spend while they find another one." She watched Gerrod, glass now full, head away to another group. "But nickel-iron's hardly worth more than dirt. Prospectors pass it by. If they're working lodes like that, they must be as down on their luck as we are."
Papa Henson – Royce, Jayne thought the man's name was – came out from under the tent with Kaylee's ma. It occurred to Jayne that, after taking four meals at her table, he still didn't know her first name; she was 'Missus Frye' or 'Ma'am' to the hands and 'Ma' to everyone else, even Papa Frye. The two seemed deep in conversation, close enough to lay hands, voices too soft to hear. But Papa Frye was playing a reel in the tent, looking right at them while he grinned at River's high-stepping, so Jayne put aside his first impression. There were other things besides that that might draw two people close.
A faint whine caught Jayne's attention. "You hear that?" The sound swelled as he spoke. Now, off to the east, over the trees, he could see blinking nav lights in the dark sky, headed their way.
"Aircar." Kaylee's apprehension confirmed his guess that such a visit likely meant trouble; Jayne doubted that many citizens owned aircars. That it was approaching unannounced and uninvited and under cover of darkness had his hand brushing his hip and casting about for the rest of his crew. Papa Frye set aside his fiddle. He and his wife came up to stand beside their daughter, Pa Henson bringing up the rear.
The car slowed as it approached, its outlines becoming a little clearer, and the rest of the party paused to look. Its landing lights came on, bathing the flat ground between Serenity and where they stood, and some of that light reflected upward to illuminate the craft.
"Civvy," Kaylee said with relief. "Pretty fancy rig, too."
It settled to the ground, and its lights went out as the engines wound down. Two occupants got out and approached the party. They were better-dressed than the working folk of the Frye spread, but not in uniforms or the sort of suits that Core World business types preferred; Jayne took them for locals. They hesitated and looked around as they approached, which Jayne took for another good sign: officials would act more sure of themselves, and folk looking for a fight would be looking harder at the crowd and closing quicker.
The visitors stopped a few paces from the tent, just close enough to show clearly in the light from the lamps on the tables. Papa Frye stepped forward to meet them.
"Sorry to disturb your party," one of them said. "This Frye's Repair?"
"It is," said the patriarch, "but it's a bad time to do business. Like you said, you're interrupting a party."
"Sorry," he said again. "But, for the sort of business I'm here for, this is the best time."
The elder Frye scowled, seeming about to send the stranger off, but Jayne, on a sudden hunch, said, "What kinda business is that?"
"A job offer." He nodded toward the ship. "If those are the folk I've heard about."
Jayne said, "That depends on what you heard. Ship's in for repairs. Not takin cargo or passengers."
"It's not the ship I want to hire."
Mal's injunction on mercenary work was still firm, but constant refusals hadn't slowed down the offers any; in fact, after the sniper attack that had ended that jiba Bien's career, they'd gotten even more bothersome, just as that lawman Hoya had predicted. "Well, then, what do ya think we can do for you?"
The man took a deep breath. "My name is Simon Ames. This is my son Roderick."
Royce broke in, "The Simon Ames? The mining fella?" At the man's nod, the elder Henson went on, "Your operation is making it damned hard for an independent prospector to make a living. Everywhere we go, your teams have got there first and staked your claim."
"Bizui," said Mama Frye. "I know you got cause, but you've been out of the world, Royce, so you haven't heard bout this man's troubles." She went on, "Would you like a drink? Or some food?"
"Thank you, ma'am, the offer means a lot, but no. Best I state my business and be gone before I'm missed." He said, more quietly, "I have a little girl. Ten years old." He produced a small capture and activated it: a little girl playing at some kind of sports match, running down a field with a bunch of sprats the same age, grinning and yelling with her hair flying out behind her. "Amadine. We call her Amy. She disappeared a week ago."
"Kaywinnit," said Papa Frye, "think you better go check on your boy."
Ames's eyes followed her back to the tent. "She the one?"
"The one who lived through it." Papa Frye gave Jayne a glance; the merc nodded. I know.
"Sorry to bring this to you like this."
Jim Frye shook his head, brushing aside Ames's apology. "You think she was taken?"
"If she wasn't, she'd be home by now. She had no reason to run off, and my people would have found anyone who wanted to be found. But … it happened at Founder's Park."
The Fryes' faces turned to stone. At Jayne's look, Royce Henson said, "Founder's Park backs up against The Wood."
Jayne heard the capital letters in the man's voice. "This 'Wood' is somethin special?"
Jim Frye nodded. "Founder's Park is a hundred miles from here. But it's the same forest runs by the school a mile from our front door. Biggest forest on New Home, thousands of square miles. A man can go in there and never be found."
And the hundan who had stolen Kaylee and her sister never had been.
"I hope that's not true," Said Ames. "I was told the prospectors who found your girls are in town. That you, mister?"
"It is," said Royce. "But we weren't looking for them. Didn't even know they were missing, we'd been out there so long. Just luck."
"But you know The Wood. You've lived in it off and on for years, I hear."
"You could spend half your life in it and not know it all. So that's what you're here for? A search party?"
"Partly. But if there's any chance her kidnapper is the same man who took the Frye girls, I want the searchers to have someone along who knows how to handle bad men." He turned to Jayne. "And that's why I need to talk to you as well, Captain."
Jayne opened his mouth and shut it. Hell, he was doing the gorram job right now. Shouldn't the title go with that, at least among folk talking business? "What's the deal?"
"Bear with me," Ames said. "This might be a little long-winded." He addressed Royce. "The men you've met aren't staking my claims. They're staking their own, just like you. But I have a business arrangement with them that makes them more competitive. Tell me, Mister …?"
"Henson. Royce Henson."
"You say you've been prospecting for years. You must like the work. But I'll bet you like some parts of it better than others. How do you like spending weeks looking for a lode that's worth your time?"
"Bout as much as I like spending weeks hunting one down and finding a claim marker on it arready. We have to hump a lot more gear now than we used to, to find a good one, and look harder."
Ames nodded, unperturbed. "And hitting a good one is satisfying, but digging it out of the ground and getting it to market is backbreaking work for a small operation."
"This sounds like a sales pitch."
"It is. But not for what I'm usually selling." He went on, "I bought the license to operate the old network of survey sats from the terraforming project. There aren't many of them left, and they're pretty creaky. They go offline for any reason or none, and when that happens it's a dice roll whether they ever come back. But the ones that work give me a picture of what's under them that you can't get any other way. That's how those prospectors are getting to the good lodes ahead of you. I show them the best places to look, and they grant me a percentage. If they don't like digging for their money, then for another percentage they can just present me with the assay and turn the operation over to one of my crews, and head off to find their next claim while we work it for them."
Royce grunted. "Makes em sound like employees."
"They're getting rich doing what they do best – finding paydirt. Ask any of them if they want to go back to the way they were doing it before." The spunk that had fired the man up for a moment melted off him again. "The reason I told you that was to explain what I might be able to offer you as payment. Say 'yes' to my offer, and you'll get first notice of any clues those sats find for as long as you want them. A year from now, you'll be rich enough you won't have to work ever again, if you don't want to."
"Me and my crew ain't prospectors," Jayne said. Truth, if there was a chance he might lay hands on the man who had taken his little redhead ten years ago, he would go no matter what the deal, but he supposed he had to think about the others.
Ames turned to him. "All I have to offer you is money, Captain. But I know you're here for some serious work on your ship. You find my girl and bring her back safe, your ship'll be fixed up new and packed for a tour of the 'Verse, and you won't even see the bill."
-0-
"Right, then." Badger's voice through the speaker was a little blurry, though not nearly as blurry as his green-tinged image on the bridge's decrepit viewer. "Think I got all the particulars. Never dealt with this Ames bloke, but I'm sure I can find out if he's got the cash."
Jayne reflected that it was damned stupid that a man halfway across the 'Verse was easier to talk to than one who was just a few miles away. The relay beacons would send a wave to any world, but unless someone went out on horseback to track down the captain, he was incommunicado till an hour before sunset tomorrow. "How quick can ya find out?"
Badger blinked at him. It occurred to Jayne that the fixer wasn't wearing his trademark hat, and his hair was messed up. What time was it in Eavesdown? He rubbed his eyes. For that matter, what time was it here?
Badger looked offscreen at something, then looked down at something else. "How bout now, that soon enough? Yeah, he's got it. Might be the richest bloke on New Home – least, the richest one who's not a Core Worlder."
Jayne huffed. "Fast work. Thought you said you didn't know him."
The arranger shook his head and mock-sighed. "There's this thing called the Cortex, mate. Just have to know which buttons to push is all. Anything else?"
He hesitated. Jayne sometimes brought deals to Mal, but the captain was always the one who made the decision. But Ames wanted them off at first light. Badger was a master dealmaker. "This all sound straight to you?"
Badger's smile widened. "So it's advice you want, eh? Well, Ames looks like a straight arrow. His contracts with his prospectors and employees are solid, plain language with no fine print. He's been sued, but what honest businessman doesn't get sued? No criminal charges, no rap sheet. Just a rich bloke who wants his little girl back. Why so skittish?"
"I just don't want to put us in a tighter spot than we're already in."
"Fraid the Sarge will clock you with a wrench when you come back?"
Jayne's ears flexed. Seemed like that business on Ariel wasn't much of a secret any more. Who had told? River? She and Badger seemed uncomfortably thick since the night she'd gone missing at Eavesdown and Badger had brought her home.
"Uneasy sits the pigu parked upon the throne. If you'd been straight with him at the start, Ames prolly would have taken you on personal. Your agreement with Reynolds isn't exclusive, is it?"
"Dunno. Never came up."
"No, then. So long as you don't act against his interests, at least. Instead, you let Ames think you were the captain, which meant when he put the deal to you, you had to accept for everybody, including Reynolds. That's what's got your knickers in a bunch, innit?"
He nodded. "Ayuh."
"Heh. Pride has been the undoing of better men than you, Jayne Cobb." Badger's smile disappeared; even through the fogged and dusty glass of the viewer, the sudden coldness of the little man's stare was creepifying. "If it was me there, you couldn't stop me from going. You find that gan ni niang, Cobb, and you deal with him." He lightened and sat back. "Well. The call's collect on my end, and the charges are piling up. That all?"
"Ayuh. Guess so."
"Give me regards to the ladies." Badger's face vanished.
-0-
Jayne rose before dawn, feeling out of sorts after a very short sleep. He'd been up most of the night talking – to the Fryes, the Hensons, to his crew and to Badger. But his new employer was impatient to get his kid back – who could blame him? And there had been details to hammer out and preparations to make.
Ames had insisted on a small posse, to the point where he'd ordered his angry son not to join. "He's already shown that he can see a big group coming before they see him, and avoid them," he'd said. "For this job, I need hunters." Jayne tended to agree. Besides, there was no one else from Serenity to send. The Shepherd could have been useful, but he had already shown a reluctance to kill that might prove troublesome. Ames had talked of rescuing his girl, but he'd wisely been non-specific about handling the man who had taken her.
As he was finishing his shave – possibly his last for a while - a soft knock sounded from the door panel at the top of the ladder. "Jayne?" Wash's voice.
"I'm up," he said, blotting his face with a towel. He slung his gear over his shoulder and climbed the ladder.
By the look of the pilot's skin and eyes, Wash was paying for last night's fun, but he was awake and cleaned up and dressed for a day of work. In his hand was one of the ship's com units. "I boosted it a little. Should be able to reach the comsats now, so we can talk just about anywhere. Just watch what you say, because I'm sure the Feds monitor. You know the drill about battery usage."
Jayne nodded. Like Mal and Zoë, he would shut the unit off when it wasn't in use; likely, it would still only last a couple of weeks.
"Don't forget to call at dusk, every day. Zoë won't wait more than one night with no word before she mounts a search."
Jayne raised his eyebrows. "Why? I owe her money or somethin?"
"As if anybody who knows you would loan you a credit." Wash sobered. "Be careful, big man. If you find him-"
"Oh, I find him, I'll be real careful with him."
Wash offered a hand. "How about I see you off here? I think the sound of an engine firing up would make my eyeballs explode right now."
The Shepherd waited at the bottom of the companionway. "Inara gave me this for you," he said, producing a small necklace on a fine chain. "For the girl, rather. Captivity can do strange things to your mind. Offering her a gift might ease her a bit. Tell her it's from her family."
Jayne nodded and pocketed the trinket. He glanced inside the infirmary: no sign of Simon or River. He considered taking the short walk to passenger quarters to say goodbye, but decided against waking them.
Kaylee met him at the mule that would take the party and their gear to the edge of the forest. The girl regarded him silently as he set his packs - one for his weapons, another for everything else – into the baggage recess.
The Hensons arrived, laden with packs, and dumped them into the back as well. Garrod said, "Sure you don't want to start at Founder's Park?"
"If he's smart enough not to get caught, he's prolly watching his back trail. We wanna surprise him, we don't come at him from a direction he expects."
"It adds days to the trip," Royce said quietly. "Ames won't be happy about that."
"Think I am?" It wasn't hard to imagine what might happen to the girl in those few days, not with Kay-Kay standing there pale and wide-eyed with her arms crossed over her belly. "But we might only get one chance at this. We go in smart so we don't get her killed or hid too good to find, dong ma?"
Royce Henson wasn't a man used to taking orders. "You better be as good a tracker as you say you are."
"Shootin and trackin are two things I don't lie about." Jayne wondered if the prospectors would still be willing to follow his orders, however reluctantly, if they had known he wasn't Serenity's captain, just a hired gun and bullyboy with a habit of turning on his crews. Was he the right man for this job?
A small cool hand slipped into his. "Go get her," said River. "You're the man for the job, your tab fits into the slot with a click. She won't be so broke she can't be fixed."
Simon stood beside the vehicle, dressed in borrowed clothes, his ridiculous red bag in one hand and a backpack in the other. "I'm coming along."
Jayne traded glances with the other three men. "You sure you want a part of this, Three Percent? Cause I kinda doubt, we find this fella, we'll be comin back with him."
"And if we find the girl, she'll probably need medical attention." He stowed both bags in the back. "You do what you have to do, and so will I."
Jayne grabbed the medical bag and pulled it back out. "Find somethin else to put this in, that you can carry on your back and can't see through the trees half a mile away."
The Hensons watched him go. Royce said, "This a mistake?"
Jayne took a breath. "He's a city boy, Core bred and raised. If nobody packed his sack for him, it's prolly fulla feioo he's better off without. But he can handle a gun well enough for cover fire, and he ain't weak. I once seen him choke an armed Fed unconscious with his hands cuffed behind his back. Another time, he got shot and dug the bullet out hisself. And if this girl's just three breaths short of dead when we find her, he'll save her."
