The Nine – Chapter Ten
Author owns no rights to Firefly ( as if anyone didn't know that by now;)
--------------------
Mal was sitting at his desk when his cortex screen lit up suddenly. He started, looking over to see. . .
"Well, well," he leaned back, looking at the hooded figure on the screen. "You seem to be a different sort than the last one. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Sheriff Reynolds," the hooded man nodded. "I must apologize for that unfortunate business, earlier. Good help is rather difficult to find, as I'm sure you're aware."
"Might difficult to keep the good'uns," Mal agreed amiably. "So are you apologizin' for tryin' to kill me? Or for missin'?" he grinned.
"Neither, actually," the hooded man chuckled. Even with the distortion caused by whatever method he was using to disguise his voice, his humor was evident. "Rather, for not trying to win you over to my side, first. You should be getting a package, about. . ."
Mal looked up as Evelyn knocked lightly, and opened his door.
"This just came for you, Sheriff," she smiled, laying a courier envelope on the desk. "Said it was urgent." She closed the door behind her as she left. Mal's eyes flickered to the screen.
"Well, I'm impressed," Mal nodded, and the hooded man bowed slightly.
"We aim to please," he replied. "Open it, Sheriff. It won't bite, I assure you." Mal eyed him for a second longer, then opened the envelope. He whistled at the money inside.
"Well, now," he looked back to the screen. "That's a mighty generous campaign donation. Course, I ain't runnin' yet," he added with a snort.
"I will send an identical envelope to your office each month, Sheriff," the hooded man promised, "so long as you stop interfering in my affairs. It's a very generous offer."
"Well, that it is," Mal nodded, smiling. "So all I gotta do is keep lettin' you run drugs through here, and let people steal, and hurt others, and. . .well, you get my point. That it?"
"I'm not in the mood for joking, Sheriff," the mechanical voice warned.
"I ain't jokin'," Mal's own voice lost it's humor. "And while I sincerely appreciate your concern for my old age fund," he waved the envelope in the air, "I'm afraid I'll have to say, um, no."
"You're making a mistake, Sheriff," the voice warned, and Mal frowned. Why did that sound familiar?"
"I'm practically famous for that," Mal assured his caller. "But when I get done, and you and yours are behind bars, or dead," Mal shrugged, "then you can tell me that again."
"It's in your best interest, and that of your associates, to accept my offer, Sheriff." Mal wondered again why the voice sounded familiar, but couldn't figure it out.
"We'll see what happens, then, I guess," Mal replied evenly. "But it's no deal. You really expect to buy me off, with this?" He waved the envelope. "I may can be bought, Mister Hood, but I ain't cheap." Mal reached out with a flourish, and shut off the screen. He was on his feet in seconds, outside his office.
"Evelyn, got an errand I need run," he said quietly. "Can't use the wave. I need Mister Guilford, and Mister Bickford to come to the office, say in an hour. Can you see to it?"
"Of course, sir," Evelyn nodded, rising. "I'll go at once.
"Thanks," Mal nodded. "Tell'em not to tell nobody they're coming here, and don't you breathe a word of it, neither."
"I won't."
Mal watched her go, mind racing. The ante had just be raised. He'd have to respond to this. He suddenly found himself hoping that Jayne and Goldie's friends were available, and that he could afford. . .
A slow smile spread across Mal's face. He had an idea.
-------------------------
"Okay, Jayne," Zoe said, holding out the manifest. "Should be loaded by now. Be safe."
"Thanks, Zoe," Jayne nodded. "See you in a few days."
"Be more'n a few," she grinned. "We lift in two days with another shipment. We'll pass each other somewhere."
"Good for business, though," Jayne shrugged. Zoe nodded.
"Keep this up, we may get another ship," Zoe smiled.
"Admiral Reynolds," Jayne mused out loud. "Just don't sound right, does it?"
"No," Zoe chuckled. "It don't sound no stranger than Captain Cobb, either. Or Washburne, comes to that."
"We have come a long way since then, ain't we," Jayne grinned.
"That we have," Zoe nodded. "Time's wastin', Jayne," she reminded him.
"We're already set to go," he smirked. "Ain't no slack in my crew," he declared, imitating Mal's suspender routine. Zoe chuckled at that.
"See you when," he smiled, and boarded his ship.
My ship, he shook his head. Sure as hell, that didn't sound right.
"We're closed up, Angel girl," he called over the com.
"Thank you, ai ren," River called back. "Holly?"
"We're set, ma'am," Hollins answered. "Ready for the black."
The ship shuddered ever so lightly, and then, she was sailing, heading for the upper atmosphere. Jayne made his way up the steps, and then down the passage way to the bridge. Chelsa was standing behind River, watching every move.
"If we're not at the right angle leaving atmo," River was telling her, "then we burn more fuel, and the heat shields aren't used at optimum efficiency. That causes wear and tear on the hull, and the external equipment. Hello, bao bei," she smiled, seeing Jayne appear.
"Hi," he smiled. "Everything going well, I see."
"Indeed it is," River assured him. "We are about two minutes from being in the black."
"Good deal," he nodded. "I'll be helping Liam, if you need me."
"Okay," River smiled again, then looked at Chelsa. "Once we start exiting atmo, you will see a flare around the ship, caused by the friction around us. It will seem horrible at first, but it's nothing to worry about. . .there it is, now," she pointed, and Chelsa gasped as the heat danced off the ship.
"Don't worry," River smiled. "It's normal. Nothing traveling into or out of proper atmosphere can avoid the friction heat. That's what the heat shields are for. Now, watch how. . ."
Jayne smiled as he made his way out of earshot. Chelsa was throwing herself into flying full tilt, and River was eating it up. Good. For them both.
"How we lookin', kid?" Jayne asked, seeing Liam in the bay.
"We're shiny, boss," Liam smiled. When Jayne started to object, Liam raised a hand.
"You really are the boss, now, Boss," he pointed out with a grin. "I figure I can call you Jayne long as we're on the ground, but up here? You're the Boss." Jayne nodded. That made sense.
"Okay, kid," he grinned. "Whatever makes you happy. I heard you bangin' away, yesterday. How'd they shoot?"
"It was great!" Liam replied. "Rifle's sweeter'n apple pie, and this pistol is the cat's meow, sure enough."
"Glad to hear it," Jayne nodded. "Chelsa didn't bother you too much, did she?"
"Nah, not once I found out you two knew where she was," Liam assured him. "She just asked a few questions, and left."
"Oh?" Jayne's eyebrows rose.
"Yeah, 'bout why I was shootin' fast at times, and what I meant by drift, and what not. Then I went to fire again, and when I was done, she was gone."
"Well, if she get's to botherin' you when you're doin' somethin' like that, send her packin'," Jayne ordered.
"Well, I was thinkin' on somethin', Boss," Liam said seriously. "If Mal's right, then maybe she ought'a learn to shoot." He grew red under Jayne's look.
"I ain't talkin' 'bout me teachin' 'er," he stammered. "But maybe she oughta have a smaller gun, and know how to use it, s'all." Jayne's face softened. Some.
"Might have somethin' there, kid," he nodded finally. "I'll talk to River, see what she thinks."
"Just a suggestion," Liam nodded, going back to work.
And I wonder who'll she'll want to teach her? Jayne grinned at the thought. He couldn't help but needle the kid, just a little. But the idea of Chelsa latching onto a good boy like Liam didn't bother him near as much as he'd figured it would.
Not nearly so much at all.
---------------------
"You wanted to see us, Malcolm?" Braz Guilford asked, as he and Mason Bickford walked in.
"Let's take a walk," Mal suggested. The two men looked surprised at that, but followed him out the door.
"I needed to tell someone this, and you two are about the only one's I trust at the moment," Mal said as they walked along the street. "I got another one of them 'hood calls' a little bit ago. Just as this," he withdrew the envelope from his jacket, "was being delivered to my door." The two men examined the envelope, surprise evident on their faces.
"That's a good deal of money, Sheriff," Bickford said, returning the envelope.
"It is that," he placed it back in his jacket. "Thing is, I was promised an envelope like this once a month, long as I turned a blind eye to the goin's on here 'bouts."
"I ain't takin' it," he assured both me, "but I kinda implied that this wasn't enough to buy me off. Maybe they'll make another offer. Or they may just try to kill me again. I don't know."
"I'm assuming you have a plan," Guilford's eyes were almost shining. "Else you wouldn't have bothered telling us all this."
"I do," Mal nodded, smiling. "The start of one, anyway," he amended. He explained for a few minutes.
"Gotta admit, the irony is an added bonus," Mal smiled at the end.
"It's a dangerous proposition, Sheriff," Bickford said seriously. "It could backfire on you."
"Well, if things ain't what I want, then I'll go another direction. Thing is, though, we ain't got no idea who these people are. And until I do," he shrugged. "I can't fight what I can't see."
"True," Bickford nodded. "I assume you want our blessing?"
"Well, I don't want to go off on something like this without someone in higher authority knowin' what I'm aimin' to do," he agreed. "Like you said, it might backfire on me. But I can't figure another way to attack this, to be honest."
"Might be dangerous for your people, Malcolm," Braz said gently.
"I already warned'em 'bout that," Mal nodded. "And, if I use these other folks, then my people will always be around. They're a tough bunch," he added.
"Yes, they are," Braz chuckled. "Mason, I'm inclined to let Sheriff Reynolds run with this. Your thoughts?"
"I don't like the idea of using mercenaries," he admitted. "But if they're as straight as you say, then. . .yes, Sheriff. You have my blessing."
"Well, if I can get them," Mal reminded them. "If not, I may put out feelers to other folks I know, looking for ex-soldiers and the like. Either way, I need some people who can stand up to this kinda fight. Let my regular deputies work other problems, and keep these folks workin' on this little, matter."
"I like it," Guilford nodded. "Please keep us informed. I would suggest that we avoid these little walks, however, as you may be a target. Shall we set a meeting time and place, somewhere it wouldn't be odd to see us together, yet still afford us some modicum of privacy."
"I suggest a weekly card game," Bickford said. "We can meet at the Club, and use a private room there. Anyone who gets wind of it will assume that you're merely hobnobbing, Sheriff," he winked. Mal grinned at that.
"I'll bring Toby along as a fourth," Mal nodded. "He'll have to be in on this, anyway. Good idea."
"Then we'll start meeting every Thursday, at around eight pm," Bickford suggested. "Sound good?"
"Bring plenty of chips," Guilford smiled. "We may as well play, since we're going to all this trouble."
---------------------
Goldie waited patiently in front of the cortex, seeing if his call was answered. He'd been working for three hours trying to find Blade and Pistol. So far. . .
"What?" a surly voice demanded, bringing his attention back to the screen.
"I'm looking for Blade," Goldie told the unknown face. "Tell her it's Goldilocks."
The man snorted at that, but Goldie ignored it. The face disappeared for a minute, then a stunning blonde woman appeared.
"Well, look who it is," she smiled, and Goldie chuckled.
"Still surrounding yourself with cheerful people, I see, Blade."
"He's a bit ornery," Blade nodded. "He don't work for me, though, so I ignore him. How's tricks, Golden Child?"
"Pretty good at the moment," Goldie admitted. "Ran into an old friend, and hooked up to a pretty good job."
"Old friend, huh?" Blade's eyes narrowed. "You ain't got any old friends, Goldie. Or any young one's for that matter," she snickered. Goldie put on his hurt face.
"Now that ain't true, Blade," he whined. "You hurt me when you say things like that. Why don't you dump old Hog, anyway, and come live with me. You know I'm. . ."
"Stop tryin' to steal my woman, Goldie," Hog snarled, stepping into the screen. "Else I'm gonna tear your arm off, and feed it to you."
"I see Blade's rubbin' off on you, Pistol," Goldie chuckled. "Anyway, I was wondering if you guys are hired out anywhere right now."
"Why?" Pistol's eyes narrowed.
"I gotta job for ya, if you're interested," Goldie told him. "Straight job," he raised a hand when Blade started to speak. "I know your rules."
"Who for?" Pistol asked.
"Well, that's the kicker," Goldie laughed. "Ever hear of Malcolm Reynolds?"
"Sergeant Reynolds?" Blade asked at once. "That Malcolm Reynolds? From Serenity Valley?"
"That's the one," Goldie nodded. "He's the sheriff on a little backwater moon, nowadays."
"No kiddin'," Pistol mused. "How 'bout that."
"And he's hit a bit of a, well, snag, shall we say," Goldie told them. "Needs the kinda help you could give him, if you're available. And willin', of course."
"What's it pay?" Pistol demanded, ever the pragmatist.
"Still gotta a five man crew?" Goldie asked. Blade nodded.
"Well, he can offer two-fifty a week, for now, guaranteed. Plus room and board. Money might go higher as things go along, but that's all he can promise up front."
"Plus room and board, huh?" Pistol was clearly calculating. "What's the job?"
"He needs some special deputies," Goldie said seriously. "Someone who can deal with serious firepower, and might have a hacker to help trace some threats he's gettin' here and there."
"Deputies?" Blade looked astonished. "Goldie, you did mention we're mercenaries, right?"
"Yep," Goldie nodded. "And that's fine. You ain't gonna be walkin' no beat, or dealin' with no drunks. He needs a team that can go toe-to-toe with some genuine mafia wanna-be types. His men are good fellas, but they ain't up to that kinda thing."
"And the two-fifty is locked?" Pistol asked, still musing.
"He'll pay your way out here, too, if you want to talk to him about it. And if you turn it down, return passage as well." Blade looked thoughtful at that. She looked down at Pistol.
"I say we go," she said quietly. Pistol looked at Goldie.
"When's he want us there?"
---------------------
Jayne sat in the galley of the Companion, thinking on things. An apple, partially eaten, sat ignored in his large hand.
Mal's revelation that someone was after him, that had struck a nerve. A criminal with enough gumption to go after a sheriff was a threat, right enough. What worried Jayne was that everyone who worked for Mal was a possible target.
And that included River. And that made it his problem, as well, so far as Jayne was concerned.
"What are you thinking, Zhang fu?" River's voice sang across the room as she glided into the galley. She sat down beside him, kissing his jaw softly.
"Just ponderin'," Jayne smiled, knowing it was useless to lie.
"On what?" River asked, her hand snaking out to take the half-eaten apple from his hand. She nibbled a bite off of it, then kissed him, letting the taste of apple flow between them.
"Things," he smiled, when she sat back. River frowned.
"What things, Sean?" she asked, voice now serious.
"What Mal said earlier," Jayne admitted. "And how that affects us. All of us, not just you and me," he added.
"It is a troublesome development," River nodded.
"Yes, it is," Jayne nodded. "Thing is, I'm wonderin' who these people are, and how serious they're gonna be. If they see they can't kill Mal, or run him off, then the next logical step, for them, is to hit some of us."
"True," River nodded. "This is what worries my Zhang fu, I take it?" she smiled.
"It is," he smiled slightly. "I ain't no lawman, River," he said honestly. "Ain't had much use for laws o' no kind in my life. They ain't never but failed me and mine."
"I ain't got it in me to sit back and watch what happens, waiting for something to happen. Especially if it could happen to you," he said pointedly. "And now we got Chelsa to think about, and even Liam. He's got his own folks, but he's here, with us."
"Liam seems able to take care of himself," River pointed out.
"In a straight up fight, no question," Jayne nodded. "But this won't be straight up, Angel. It'll be down and dirty. In the back, out of the dark. He ain't got no experience with that sort o' thing."
"True," River frowned. "But I don't like what I'm hearing, Sean. I'm hearing you warm up to some sort of pro-active attack on an enemy we don't know."
"I ain't warmin' up to nothin', just yet," Jayne assured her. "But," he added forcefully, "I don't aim to let this play out like the other stuff has either, baby girl. And I mean that, 'fore you start in on me. I ain't gonna sit here and wait to be hit."
River frowned again, brow knotting. His voice told her he meant it, as did the wave of determination radiating off of him.
"What do you want me to say, Sean?" she finally asked, her voice small.
"Don't want you to say anything, you don't want to," he shrugged. "You asked me what I was thinkin', I told you."
"I don't want us involved in this," River's voice was quiet. "Not if we can help it."
"I don't neither," he surprised her. "If they'll leave us be, I'm happy to do the same. But the first time I even think that it's gonna go another way, that's it. I'll do whatever I have to, to whoever I have to, to make sure it don't happen."
River shivered slightly at the edge in his voice. He was so gentle and loving with her that it was easy sometimes to forget the killer that lurked beneath all that. The merciless, stalking beast that was known as Shade.
"You are the male," she whispered suddenly. "It is your's to protect the family unit, Sean. It is not mine to interfere." Saying that, she eased her way into his lap, and kissed him.
"I ask only one thing," she murmured, her hands running through his hair. "Two things. First, that you come back to me, always. I cannot bear to lose you, my great bear. Second that you do nothing that will cause problems for, or between you and Baba. That is not so much to ask, is it, my Zhang fu?" Her voice was almost desperately soft, urgent, and Jayne could see that her eyes were wet with unshed tears.
"No, it ain't," he assured her, hugging her to him. "And I'll always come back, woman. Don't you doubt it for a second."
"Promise?" she asked, her face hidden in the curve of his neck. "My Jayne always keeps his promises," she whispered against his skin. "If you promise me, then I know it will happen."
"I promise," he whispered into her ear. "I promise."
With that, he stood suddenly, lifting her with him, and walked toward their bunk.