Disclaimer: Y'all know the deal by now. Nope, they ain't mine. Nope, ain't makin' coin off 'em. And yup, Joss is still Boss!
Thanks to Jellie_RayneLuv for the beta and help on this project!
What does Jayne have buried so deep even he can't remember… and why does the Alliance want with him?
Recap:
Jayne Cobb can't remember a thing. Serenity's hired gun wakes each day with his mind wiped clear, though a notebook in his own handwriting gives him details of his life onboard. A meet with Patience turns out to be an ambush, but she's teamed up with Alliance operatives. They get Jayne – alive – and she gets Malcolm Reynolds – for her own revenge. Zoe and crew have mounted a rescue, but the men have already escaped. Mal confronts Jayne, who admits he has no clue what's going on, or who he really even is. Before the men can return to Serenity, they must escape the hunting party sent after them, including a thermal scanner to help find them…
Chapter Thirteen – Hunted
Whitefall, fourth moon of Athens…
As the scuffle-crunch of hooves on debris grew louder and closer his cover, Mal fought the urge to just spend one of his five bullets in the nearest man's brainpan and be done with.
He knew Jayne's scheme had it right; he'd been thinking the same ruttin' thing himself when the hired gun laid it out simple. With just the two of them, and near about two dozen folk answering to Patience, they'd need more than the few weapons and the horses they could take from the first searchers that got close. They needed disguises and a half-decent head-start to get away clean, especially with that begorramed hovercraft in play. Jayne's plan was about as solid as could be managed spur of the moment, nice and simple, but the pack of mounted thugs creeping closer to their hiding spot made Mal's trigger finger a mite twitchy.
"Steady, Sarge, wait for the moment," he told himself, and was rewarded by a blur of action in the vicinity of the farthest of the two goons. The one nearest him didn't notice his partner go down. Didn't notice when a larger silhouette swung back into the saddle and slowly headed his way. So far so good.
Scanner light raked back across the terrain, revealing the second horse approaching, its rider bent over, hat brim pulled low across his face. The first one half-turned in the saddle at the sound of hooves.
"Ya find any more tracks? These just kinda peter out."
"Naw," came the faint response, more of a grunt.
Mal heard the first man's frustrated hiss. "Gotta gorram be round here someplace. Boss Lady ain't gonna be happy, we let 'em get away. Again."
"Mmph," was the answer, drawing the man's attention.
"Y'all right? Sound funny." Mal stiffened, ready to jump early as the man's hand slid into his coat, but he eased back when the hand reappeared with a pocket flask.
"Ain't no wonder, that ruttin' scanner. Cain't be doin' none of us no good," the man muttered, uncapping the container and taking a swig. "Never did trust them things. Ain't right, some e-lectric raygun goin' through ya. Messin' up a man's innards, or who knows what go se."
The man sure likes to hear his own voice, Mal thought as he waited for the thermal scanner's wide beam to cross back over his hiding spot. As the green light ranged out to its limit and started swinging back across the landscape, he let the familiar tension coiled through his muscles, preparing for the strike. A singlemindedness fell over his thoughts.
Been a long time since he'd felt this unwavering determination and rightness down to his boots. Not since the Valley. Not since they'd been abandoned. Ordered to lay down arms. Give up. Take on the shackles of the Alliance. Lay down and take it.
He let the old, cold rage rise through him as the eerie glow edged near. A hundred smuggling jobs and heists hadn't killed the dull anger in him, no matter how many times he'd flashed his ass at the gorram Alliance, no matter how many under'verse crooks and bad guys he'd outdone and lived to tell the tale. He'd thought after telling the 'verse about the Alliance-made horrors of Miranda, some of that hard ache would seep away. Somehow it had only made it worse.
A split second after the scanner passed over, he sprung from his cover, gripping the man's torso as they toppled across the spooked horse. His adversary cried out, a high squeal cut short as Mal's hard blow knocked the wind from his somewhat soft underbelly. Not short enough, though, as shouts from the other riders echoed across the distance.
"Damnation!" Jayne growled, spurring his horse to the fight. "Mal!"
The captain split his attention for a half-second, long enough to grab Jayne's offered knife hilt first. A swift slice later, the second thug lay still on the desert floor.
"Gonna have to break for it!" he yelled, grabbing the man's horse and swinging up into the saddle without bothering with the stirrups. "Got no notion where his gun landed."
They rode for the valley floor as hard as they dared. Riding in the dark was near enough to riding blind, never a choice option, but the fairly level ground would lessen the chance of stumbling. The far end of the valley lay in the direction of town and, Mal hoped, Serenity.
"At least they can't see any better than us," Jayne shouted, sparing a glance behind them. "Damned fly-boat's gonna be a problem, though."
Gorramit, Mal cussed. Damned thing's just gonna track us down no matter how hard we push.
As if Fate heard his thoughts, the whine of the craft's drive closed in on them fast. The edges of that ruttin' green light nipped at their ponies' heels and Mal could make out the angry shouts of an old spiteful woman. He wished he could dare push the horse to more than an easy lope, but getting tossed to the ground now would be his end.
"Split-up!" he yelled to Jayne, veering the animal quickly to the left. Patience would just have to choose between getting even and getting along, and with any luck she and her new Fed friend would have differing notions as to which was more important.
Apparently, they did. A loud squawking commenced, followed by the sound of the craft angling off toward Jayne, who'd ridden toward the far right side. Reining the horse back toward them, Mal pulled his gun and started a wide arc behind the craft and the direction he thought Jayne was. He hoped he had enough distance between himself and the craft when the gun hand started shooting so as to not get taken out by friendly fire.
The scanner found Jayne quick enough, riding hell-bent for leather now that the beam cast enough light to see by, but the steed was no match for the engine's speed. With their quarry in sights, the Fed hauled out a large rifle and yelled for Patience to speed up. Mal fired off a round at the craft, but they were already too far out of range and pulling away fast.
Jayne had slowed up a bit to take aim over his left arm, but the terrain was too choppy to let him do more than fire in the general direction of the craft and hope to get lucky. Mal grimaced. Gorramed luck, again.
The hovercraft was closing in on his crewman, and Mal knew from painful experience that the ruttin' light from that thermal scanner was shining directly into Jayne's eyes, making it damned near impossible to see what the guay he was aiming at. He thought he saw Jayne make a break for it, his horse taking off across the valley like Reavers were on its tail, but it wouldn't take long to track him down again.
"Cao!" Mal cussed as the vehicle banked and shot after the retreating hoofbeats. Kicking his own horse into a run, he lunged ahead on a wing and a… well, not a prayer, but a healthy dose of hope… and was surprised when he damn near ran overtop an on-foot Jayne Cobb.
"Bwaahh!" he shouted at the startle, but Jayne sidestepped the thousand-pound animal to reach Mal's side.
"Two feet my muscular buttocks!" he fairly crowed, jabbing the rifle toward the retreating craft. "Slid right behind a rock and they never picked up on me."
"Shiny," Mal countered, ducking low on the horse's back, though he didn't know what good that would do. "So we hide again 'til they find us again, and take out another two? Gonna be here a while, if we plan to just whittle 'em down?"
Damned if he couldn't see the man's pearly white smile in the dark. "Got a better plan. I hide, you draw them back past me, I take 'em out with a couple of broadside shots."
Mal cringed. "So I'm bait."
"You got better?"
"No," he sighed, "just rememberin' it was you what they wanted still breathin'. Me? Not so much, I figure. Gotta be fairly quick, them riders ain't close, but they will be before long."
"Yes, sir!" In a moment, the night had swallowed him up again. Jayne stuck his hand up a moment, to let Mal make out where he was hiding, where to bring them back to.
"Don't miss, Cobb," he snipped, rounding back toward the now slowed hovercraft.
"Don't aim to," came the invisible reply.
Catching the vehicle from behind, Mal picked up the pace and fired a precious round toward the Fed in the front seat. Hauling away from them, he raced back toward Jayne's hiding spot, hoping the angle of entry wouldn't leave the man exposed to the thermal scanner and give him away.
As the craft flew by Jayne's rock, Mal heard the stutter of automatic weaponry, followed by a flurry of curses. He spared a glance over his shoulder to see the Fed slump into a now beyond-irate Patience, and spun the horse around the help clean up.
The bullet nearly took off his left ear, and he was pretty sure it singed his hair on the way past. Mal ducked low in the saddle. Patience didn't care about Jayne ruttin' Cobb, or any hundan Fed. She wanted Malcolm Reynolds' head on a plate. Judging from the closeness of the second round that whizzed by, she didn't care if it was in one piece or not.
A third shot fired toward him, and for a brief, heartstopping moment he thought he was hit. Flying through the air, he landed hard against the packed, dry soil and dismissed the notion that he was just in unfeeling shock from the bullet. No, he was feelin' pretty much every muscle and nerve in his body, and his gorramed lungs burned in want of the air knocked out of them. Not to mention the bells ringing between his ears. He wasn't sure if he'd hit a rock, or if the ground was just that hard.
"Shot yer own ruttin' horse," he wheezed, promising to spare a later moment of pity for the fine creature that had got him this far, now laying in a tangled heap a dozen feet from him. Raising his gun, he hoped he had at least one bullet left, but right now he couldn't recall just how many of the five he'd actually fired.
He could hear the repeat of Jayne's weapon from a slight distance, but Patience was closer, slowing the hovercraft as it approached him and the dead horse.
"Ain't lettin' you by with nothin' this time, Reynolds," she yelled, clear and matter-of-factly.
Well, she does kinda have the upper hand this time, so I guess she's got call to be cocky, he snarked. Damn. Those are some piss-poor last words, if I do say so.
"Got you dead to rights, boy. Told ya, ol' Patience would get hers, an' I meant it." The clacking sound of a rifle being reloaded ripped through the fog surrounding him.
When the hell did the fog roll in? he mused.
"Can't say it's been a pleasure knowin' ya. But it sure has been… interestin'," the old woman laughed coldly as she stood in the hovercraft and raised the barrel at his head.
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To be continued… sooner, I hope. Sorry for the delay. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks!