Chapter 3

Mal and Zoe were frog-marched down the thoroughfare to the town hall. More armed men were waiting for them there. The doors slammed close behind them, and Mal noted the very audible click of the lock fastening.

The lamps were activated, then immediately dimmed to the lowest possible setting. They were standing in the main hall, a wide room with a wooden floor. Chairs were stacked on both sides of the room and a platform had been built at the far end. It was very bare and cold. The men who had escorted them stepped back to the edge of the room, their weapons held in plain view. A door opened at the far end of the room, beside the platform. Mal and Zoe turned to watch the advancing figure of Matthias Gable, the mayor of Easy.

"That was a very noble thing you just did, Captain Reynolds," he said, crossing the hall to stand in front of them. He was flanked by two grim faced men, each cradling a rifle.

"And you can be sure that when I say noble," Gable continued, "I mean stupid. Very stupid."

"Wha? Why… what did you call me?" Mal mumbled, still struggling against the effects of the whisky-substitute. Gable took a disdainful sniff.

"Drunk as skunks. Havisham," he barked, "brew up some coffee for these two."

It was good coffee, made from real beans. Mal considered Gable as he drank away the last of his stupor. He had only seen the mayor in passing before now: a dour, grey-haired figure in black, always on the far side of the street. Closer to, he noted the carefully trimmed moustache and the hard, cagey stare. Be careful, his instincts warned him, this is not a man you can fool easily.

When they had finished drinking, Gable had his men bring up three chairs and they sat down to talk.

"I shall assume that you have no idea of the seriousness of what you just did in the thoroughfare," said Gable, staring intently at Mal and Zoe.

"We just saw a man who needed some help," Mal replied slowly; the details of the fight were somewhat blurred in his memory.

"That he did," Gable nodded, "but you may have brought much worse down on yourself, and the whole town.

"Tell me," Gable asked, "why do you think there are no lawmen on Asphodel?"

"Why…? 'Cause… 'cause there's no crime," said Mal, "Least, that's what people said when we asked them. Didn't seem wise to pry further."

"That's what they tell themselves," Gable said grimly, "I guess, to them, anything's better than admitting the truth. The real reason is, any man tries to enforce real law on this moon, he's dead within the week.

"No, the real law on this moon is the law of force and what's more the law of the protection racket. You see, all the criminals on this moon answer to one man: Du Yuesheng. He's the top man: controls all the gangs."

"What about the Alliance?" asked Zoe.

"Oh, Du isn't just some common crime lord," said Gable, shaking his head, "Story is that he worked his way up from nothing: son of a tinker, they say. He made a lot of powerful friends on the way to the top. Besides, he's got enough money to bribe the local feds to look the other way. There's no law on Asphodel: just Du.

"His system's simple," Gable continued, "First of the month, each householder pays a fee, on top of the regular Alliance taxes, and they get left alone. You fail to pay up and… well, thanks to you two, it didn't happen to Mr. Johnson."

"And people let this carry on?" said Zoe.

"What choice do we have?" Gable sighed, "Even if we wanted to challenge him, he's got every gunslinger on this moon in his pocket. The Alliance won't help, so we suck it up, pay him the money and get on with our lives. Round these parts, we try to help out those that fall behind but in other places, they say there are whole towns standing empty."

"And what about mister," Mal sneered at the word, "Johnston? He just slipped through the net, did he?"

"Johnston's been dipping in and out of dope for months now," said Gable sternly, "We tried to get him off it but no one dared try too hard: Du has a monopoly on the dope trade, too. In the end, we voted to just let him go."

Mal lapsed back into angry silence.

"How come we didn't hear about all this before?" asked Zoe.

"Well, your protection money was factored into your rent: your landlady paid for all of you," Gable explained, "but mostly, people don't like to talk about it. Just smile and get on with your business and everyone can pretend that we're something more than serfs to a murdering hwun dan."

"And my guess is that our little stunt in the thoroughfare will have earned us the wrath of said murdering hwun dan," concluded Mal.

"Oh, not yet," said Gable, "You only beat on a couple of his heavies: most likely you'll get a visit from Magpie: he's Du's lieutenant in this province. If I were you, captain…"

"Hey, wait, wait, wait!" Mal held up his hands, "What's all this 'captain' go-se? I'm just a…"

"We know who you are, and what you are, captain" said Gable with a small smile "All of you. Why else do you think you've escaped Magpie's attention all these weeks? Du keeps strict control on migration; stops people moving on to escape the protection payments.

"The day after you arrived in town, we received a communicat from a very respectable lady. She explained your situation to us, and we agreed to cover for you if any of Magpie's boys asked us about you."

Mal flushed: he couldn't stop himself being grateful to Inara for her help but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"As I was saying," Gable continued, "If I were you, captain, I would expect trouble in the morning. If you're quick, you might just make it out of town before Magpie…"

"No," said Mal, cutting across Gable, "My ship's in the next valley: I'm not running."

"Well," said Gable, "as I said: if I were you, I'd expect trouble tomorrow morning.

"I say this purely in the spirit of disinterested advice, you understand," Gable said, standing up, "We hate Magpie plenty but my people won't lift a finger to help you when the time comes. We've got our families to think about. I hope you understand."

It was nine o'clock when Magpie rode into town. The thoroughfare cleared in a matter of seconds. People disappeared into doorways, wagons down side streets. He was riding a chopper: a type of hover-vehicle designed to resemble the legendary 'motorbikes' of Earth-That-Was. It was an old model but out on these provincial moons it represented a real extravagance. He was followed by three men on horseback, each one wearing a gun belt over their black cheongsam.

Magpie pulled up and dismounted outside the town hall. Mal watched him from the cover of a support outside the Bamboo Garden. Magpie's hands and throat dripped with gold jewellery, which jangled in time with his spurs as he walked. He dressed like a city dandy, in black and white silks with a tall stovepipe hat. Reaching down, he drew a sawn-off shotgun from a holster on the bike. He wore his diamond-encrusted pistols openly.

"You all know why I'm here!" he shouted, in a surprisingly high voice.

"I ain't lookin' to cause a disturbance," Magpie continued, advancing slowly down the thoroughfare, shotgun held loose in one hand, "Just send out the two men I want, and we'll say no more about this."

Behind him, the three toughs dismounted and fanned out, covering Magpie's flanks and rear.

Mal considered his options. He was armed only with his pistol. Zoe had her carbine. She was stationed on the other side of the street. Jayne had only the pistol he had bought with him to Easy, and was sitting at a window in the saloon further up the thoroughfare. This was the sum total of his forces. Zoe had given Wash her derringer but he was working today (Mal had simply not shown up to the restaurant) and had been ordered to stay indoors, unless the shooting carried on longer than seemed healthy. Mal doubted that would happen, one way or another.

"There's no reason that this has to be difficult," Magpie continued, "but it will, if you don't give me what I want."

Mal took a deep breath and stepped out into the thoroughfare. For all that he was a portly man, Magpie was quick on the draw; his free hand was on his pistol the instant he spotted Mal.

"Who're you?" Magpie asked. Nobody had drawn, but every eye was now on Mal.

"The name's Malcolm Reynolds. I'm the man you're looking for."

"Where's your friend?" asked Magpie.

"Friend?"

"My men said there were two men attacked them."

"Must'a been mistaken'. It was very dark."

Magpie frowned, but he did not press the matter:

"Reynolds, huh? You ain't from around here."

"I'm new in town."

"Well, that changes things" said Magpie, a greasy smile shining through his dark beard, "Seeing as you're new around here, I'm inclined to be reasonable, like. How about you pay us what Johnston owed us, plus a little interest, and we'll say no more about it. Shall we say… eight hundred platinum?"

Mal felt his stomach give a jolt, although he kept his face mildly disinterested: eight hundred platinum was all the money they had earned in the past month, plus their initial savings.

"I think," he began, drawing the sentence out to buy time, "I am going to have to decline your very reasonable offer Mr. Magpie, sir."

Magpie's smile vanished.

"Well," he said, "that presents us with a problem."

Magpie's shotgun whipped up. Mal went for his gun. The pistol cracked, and Magpie fell. Zoe and Jayne burst onto the boardwalk, weapons raised. The three men in cheongsams froze, hands on their pistols.

Keeping his pistol on the nearest of Magpie's men, Mal crossed the thoroughfare to where Magpie lay. Still not lowering his arm, he turned the body over with his boot: Magpie was dead, a bullet wound straight through his heart. Raising his head, he addressed Magpie's men:

"Drop 'em."

Moving slowly, the three men undid their gun belts and dropped them in the mud.

"Good," said Mal, "Now go. We'll see he gets buried."

Still moving slowly, the three men backed towards their horses. As soon as they were mounted, they dug in their spurs and galloped away down the thoroughfare. Mal did not lower his pistol until the last of them had disappeared out the town gate.

Twenty minutes later and Mal and his crew were standing on the platform at one end of the town hall. The hall itself, so quiet and bare last night, was thronged with people. It was standing room only: Mal could even see some children peering through one of the windows. Everyone was babbling away excitedly, except for Mal and his crew, who just looked stunned. As soon as Magpie's men had vanished, the people had converged on the thoroughfare. The body had been borne away, and Mal and his crew shepherded up to the hall.

The side door opened and Matthias Gable stepped onto the platform, wearing a broad brimmed hat and a delighted expression.

"Congratulations, my boy!" he said, wringing Mal's hand, "Congratulations! I must confess, I had my doubts about you, but by God you proved me wrong!"

"Err… happy to help… Your Honour," said Mal.

"We have been waiting a long, long time for a man like you," Gable said, "A man with the skill, the determination and above all the courage to do what needed to be done."

"No, really… I was just…" Mal said, completely nonplussed by the whole situation.

"My boy," said Gable, thrusting his thumbs into his weskit pockets, "I would like to offer you the position of marshal of Easy."

Mal's jaw dropped. Behind him, he heard Zoe snort with laughter.

"Excuse me?" was all he could say.

"How'd you like to be our new sheriff?" said Gable, his face beaming. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a tarnished silver badge.

"Whoa… wait a minute," said Mal, holding up his hands as if the mayor was holding a rattlesnake, "you folks got this all wrong. I didn't kill Magpie outta any sense of justice: I ain't lawman material."

"You're damn right you're not!" shouted a voice from the audience. Turning, Mal saw a red-faced youth, little older than Simon, shoulder his way to the front of the crowd. A crowd of other youths followed him. They were all dressed in the most sober fashion, and looked thoroughly outraged.

"This man is a gunslinger and a criminal!" shouted the red-faced youth, pointing an accusing finger at Mal, "We should run him out of town, before he causes any more trouble!"

"Is that how you show gratitude, Nathaniel Spokes?" Gable roared, "This man has just rid us of our greatest oppressor, and you dare to slander his name in front of this wholeassembly? Shame on you, I say, shame!"

Spokes glowered up at Gable, but he did not reply.

"Captain Reynolds," said Gable, "would do my fellow citizens and I the singular honour of accepting the office of sheriff?"

"No," said Mal bluntly. Spokes and his cohorts grinned.

Gable was no longer smiling.

"You mean to say, that you will abandon…"

"Look," said Mal, cutting across the mayor, "I don't know who you all seem to think I am. I'm not a lawman. I didn't come here to bring freedom, or justice to y'all: I came to earn some money, so that I could fix my ship and get off this crazy rock. What happened out there… just happened, is all. And besides, I couldn't help you, even if I wanted to: I'm just one man."

Now Shepherd Book spoke, loud enough for the whole hall to hear:

"Sometimes, captain, one man is all it takes."

Mal whipped round to glare at him. Book smiled a simple smile and said nothing.

"See," said Gable, "even your own crew agrees with us: you are the man we need."

"Wuh duh ma huh tah duh fong kwong duh wai shung!" Mal shouted, "Am I the only one thinking in this room?! I can't go up against Du Yuesheng: he's got a whole moon at his back. I've got this town, a crew of eight and a ship that can't fly. Do you understand? It – can't – be – done."

"A whole moon, who are afraid of him and hate him," said Gable, "You take him down, his whole organisation would fragment in a matter of days. Then we could call in the Alliance, and they could take it from there."

"I'm sorry," Mal said firmly, "this isn't my fight."

He turned to leave the platform. The audience was in uproar at this point, some shouting for Mal to take the post, others, led by Spokes and his cohorts, cheering and catcalling. Despite the tumult, Gable's voice carried clear to Mal:

"How much will your repairs cost, captain?"

Mal paused. The noise from the audience subsided.

"About eighteen-hundred platinum," said Mal, cagily.

"That's another two month's work for you, isn't it?" said Gable.

"That's right," Mal said with a nod.

"What would you say if we, the town, were to pay you that sum, in return for taking office?"

Mal paused. He was tempted: two month's pay for one job, and then they'd be free again. But what a job… It couldn't be done; there were no two ways about it. Not impossible though, said an insistent little voice at the back of his mind. It could be done: if they had a plan, and everything went smooth, it could be done. Did he have the right to volunteer his crew, though?

He turned to look at them; he didn't even have to speak. Book looked insufferably smug. Kaylee was nervous. Jayne was clearly disgusted with the whole idea but, like Wash and Zoe, resigned. They could not return to their jobs, anyway: Du Yuesheng was bound to come after Mal sooner or later, whether he worked as a waiter or as a marshal.

Scowling like a bulldog, Mal turned and took the badge from Gable's outstretched hand.

When the cheering (or booing, depending on which side of the room you listened to) had subsided, Mal addressed the crowd:

"I still think you're all makin' a real big mistake but, since you don't seem to have left me any other option, I accept. Rest assured, Du Yuesheng will be sipping tea with his ancestors soon enough!"

To his surprise, this did not raise a cheer. Instead the crowd was muttering nervously. Now Nathaniel Spokes raised his voice again:

"See, Your Honour, I told you he was nothing but a common cut-throat!"

"What else have you hired me for?" Mal demanded "To write a strongly worded letter(?)"

"He hired you to uphold the law," replied Spokes, pointing to Gable, "That means making an arrest, not just gunning him down like the bandit you are!"

"Wuh de ma!" shouted Mal, "Will you just listen yourself? Do you think Du's gonna just let me walk up to him and clap a pair of handcuffs on him?! I was right: this is insane…!"

"But I'm afraid he's right, son," said Gable, grimly, "You're our sheriff now. This has to be done by the book."

Mal opened his mouth to protest but Gable cut him off.

"You must at least attempt to arrest Yuesheng: that is the law."

"Alliance law," spat Mal.

"And the law of this moon," said Gable sternly.

"This is going to be done under the law, sheriff," Gable said, "or not at all. Do you understand?"

Mal's fist closed around the sheriff's badge. More than anything he wanted the hurl that badge in Gable's insufferably straight-laced face but the thought of eighteen hundred platinum stayed his hand.

"Sir," said Zoe in his ear, "if we could find out what Du's plan is I think there might be a way to make this work."

"And how're we gonna do that?" Mal demanded, "To find that out, we'd need a spy. The only person I'd trust to send would be someone from the crew and I'll wager platinum to go-se that he'll know every one of us by this time tomorrow; someone in this room is bound to be on the take."

"Forgive me, captain," said Book, stepping forward, "but there is one person whom Du might still not know about."

The spy hole in the door slid open.

"Password?" growled the doorman.

"Shanghai," came the reply.

The doorman slammed the cover back across the spy hole. With a grunt, he heaved the heavy steel door back. A burly messenger wearing a black cheongsam stood in the doorway.

"Got someone here: says he wants to talk to the boss," the messenger said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

The messenger stood aside to reveal an odd figure, half-tramp, half-cowboy: he wore an odd mismatch of frontier clothes, all a size too big for him. He reached up and raised the brim of his hat.

"I'm here to see Mr. Yuesheng," said Simon Tam.