Chapter Seven: Heroism
"And I swear, he said 'Well, I'm alright,' and stabbed him again," Inara continued, shaking her head. Haroldington was laughing silently, even as he was donning his clothes.
"After that, Lord Harrow was glad to give us his cargo," she added.
Is the Captain always that lucky? Haroldington signed to her, and Inara smiled again.
"I'm not sure how, but he keeps getting out of every hairy situation he ends up in." She poured them an extra cup of tea each as he put on his trousers. For her part, she still hadn't dressed yet. "I want to say its luck, but I don't believe in that. Maybe karma."
God looks after fools, Haroldington gestured, and Inara laughed quietly. He started to sit down beside her, and took up the cup of tea, and frowned as he noted a look on her face. Something the matter?
"Oh, no," she replied, shaking her head. "I haven't relaxed like this in a while. With most of my clients - and a few of my crew, too - I have to maintain an act around them, however small. But I don't need to around you."
Well, we've known each other for how long? Haroldington indicated, smiling. Playing with masks is a waste of time when you're this old, I say. But surely some of your people you can relax more around?
"A few," Inara admitted with a smile. "Our mechanic, and the doctor. His sister, too. They're all young and innocent, and I don't need to hide much from them. But there are others I can't fully be myself around, even if I have to put up the smallest facade. That's the worst problem with me and the captain, really."
You can't be yourself around him? he gestured. But you speak so fondly of him.
"He's . . . strange." She shrugged slightly. "He's got just as many facades and mysteries to him as I show, except his are genuine. He doesn't know who he is, I think, and that means I have to dance around him so much. Its frustrating."
I know what you mean, he replied. I have this official I deal with who-
He stopped as a buzzing sound came from the other end of the shuttle, and Inara rose.
"A wave," she said, throwing on a silken cloth over her upper body to make her seem somewhat decent. She hurried across the room, to the computer screen, and pulled the curtain aside. The monitor lit up, and flashed with an incoming message. A tap of the screen, and it appeared, scrolling across her monitor.
She frowned, looking back toward him.
"Its for you," she said, and Haroldington rose, cutting across the shuttle to stand beside her. He leaned down, reading the message, and frowned. Being former commissioner of the Persephone police force, he was kept apprised of these sorts of things.
A series of rapid, apparently linked acts of violence in the city - a sniper attack, several bodies found in the streets, jamming attacks on comms systems in the area, a shootout in one of the shopping complexes a few blocks away from the sniper attack, a Firefly-class ship suddenly violating land-lock and taking off . . . .
"Oh, go se," Inara breathed as she read that last one, and Haroldington glanced to her.
Isn't that your ship? he asked, and she slowly nodded. What insanity had Mal and his crew gotten into today?
"Captain?"
Mal squeezed off a shot as he dropped behind a display rack, several of Obrin's thugs spraying the area with gunfire as they charged into the storefront.
"Yeah?"
"I would just like to say," she paused, loosing a shot at one of the thugs and dropping him with a round to the thigh. "That it would be very embarrassing if we got ourselves killed in a lingerie store."
"Noted," Mal said, moving behind one of the mannequins in the room, covered with some improbable-looking yet highly-revealing frippery. He fired a couple of quick shots.
"Are we still running? Two, right!" She fired another blast, throwing another man off his feet, and Mal whirled to his right, putting down a trio of rounds into a wall near where two more men were trying to flank them. They fell back.
"The notion," Mal replied with a nod. "Can't stay here, gonna run out of ammo quick." He only had two more cartridges for his pistol, and Zoe was almost out of shells for her lever-action, though she still had her extra handguns.
"There's a side access, fifteen meters right," Zoe muttered, spotting a door in the side of the shop.
"Cover me, I'll head for it," Mal said, and she nodded. In a smooth motion, Zoe holstered the lever-action and whipped out a pistol, firing a barrage of shots at the thugs storming into the shop. They dropped behind the variously-posed mannequins and display racks as Mal roadie-ran across the chamber, crouching low but moving quickly.
He reached the door, shoved it open, and found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun.
Mal was still moving forward, so he simply let his feet slide out under him, allowing his momentum to carry him as he fell underneath the shotgun and the man holding it. The thug was looking down in surprise as Mal slammed into the floor beside him, and then his face disappeared as Mal sent two shots into his chin.
As his foe fell, Mal spotted another pair of thugs standing in the access corridor, pointing weapons his way. Obrin must have sent them to flank them, he realized. Rolling onto his side, Mal fired with his gun hand, hitting one of the men in the chest and sending him toppling backward. The other goon fired his sub-machinegun, and Mal rolled behind the shotgun-wielder's corpse. The body shook as rounds impacted and buried inside it.
Mal snapped up his pistol, firing two wild, unaimed rounds that forced his foe to drop to his belly, and the captain shot up to his feet, firing another quick pair. As the thug hit his stomach, one round struck his shoulder, and the other hit him in the left eye. He went still, and Mal exhaled, not believing he'd just survived something that close.
One more instance where he'd dodged the reaper out of pure luck.
Reloading his pistol, Mal spun toward the doorway, and saw Zoe was almost surrounded. He voiced his objections to that, dropping another goon, and yelled to his second. She looked up, nodded, and broke into a roadie-run of her own as Mal covered her. Rounds slammed into the walls and display racks around her, one scratching along her back, but Mal's covering fire kept the thugs pinned down long enough for her to reach the doorway. She ran through, and Mal slammed the door closed.
"Where'd they come from?" Zoe asked, and Mal pointed up the passage.
"Thataway," he said, and she nodded the other way.
"Then that way, sir?"
"Oh, yes," Mal replied, and the door beside them shook as someone slammed into it.
"Think I know somewhere we can go!" he yelled, and they broke into a flat run down the corridor.
"Where?"
"Car park," Mal replied. "Buncha hovercars on outdoor parking garage. Saw 'em while we were running."
"Lee might know we're headed that way," Zoe replied, and Mal shrugged.
"Just have to beat him here, then."
Book had mostly recovered from the shock of the baton impact, and was standing on his feet again. He looked back and forth between Kaylee and the soldier crouched beside her, not entirely certain what irony was more pointed: the outlaws and fugitives being saved by the military, or the nearly-impossible coincidence that Kaylee would encounter her sister among those soldiers.
Of course, odd coincidences were part and parcel of their trade, and Book didn't quite believe in random chance.
"Kaylee, how did this happen?" Ash demanded, before her sergeant moved over and pushed her back. He apparently was trying to keep it from becoming too personal.
"I dunno," Kaylee said, wincing. The bandage Simon had wrapped around her leg was heavily soaked with her own blood. "Was just - ah! - walkin' along and . . . ."
"This wound hasn't been dressed properly," the sergeant said. "Frye, medkit." Ash stepped to it, pulling out a medical kit from her side, and as the sergeant reached up for it, Simon grabbed it instead.
"I'm a trained doctor," he explained. "I can treat her more effectively." The sergeant paused, frowned, and nodded, stepping back and allowing Simon to do his business. He rose, glancing to Book, and nodded toward him.
"Sir, did you see what happened?" Book quickly shook his head. He couldn't explain what had actually occurred, but he didn't need to.
"She was walking along with me, and the doctor, and she suddenly fell over, with a gunshot wound in her leg. I'm not sure who shot her or why. I didn't even hear a sound."
"Sniper," the sergeant hissed. "Some gorram sniper was shooting up the crowd. Probably one of those Browncoat terrorists."
Book was silent on that, instead looking between Kaylee and her sister. Ash was standing a couple of steps behind Simon, uncertainty on her features until the sergeant clapped her on her shoulder.
"Frye, stick with it," he growled, and she looked up, before straightening. The Shepherd could see the military professionalism trying to reassert itself. "We'll get her to a hospital as quickly as we can."
Book looked back out toward the rapidly clearing plaza, and spotted more Alliance soldiers and police converging on the area. He quickly realized that they would soon find the unconscious and dead bodies they'd left in their wake, and that would lead to uncomfortable questions . . . .
"Sir," the sergeant said, stepping toward Book again. "Do you know why these men attacked you?"
"Most likely these Browncoats you're so worried about," Book replied, though he knew the real reason why. "Or maybe just thugs. Murderers looking for easy prey."
"In broad daylight?" the sergeant muttered, looking around. He didn't seem convinced, though his suspicions weren't being directed their way, thankfully. "Something about this doesn't make sense. Have you tried using your communicator or anything?"
"No, I haven't," Book said, and the soldier tapped the side of his helmet.
"Someone's jamming radio in this area," he said. "Now we've got snipers, shootings, people turning up dead in the streets . . . ."
"Sergeant!" the soldier looked away from Book, to see the man he'd sent to fetch the ambulance running back. "Sarge!"
"Did you make the call?" he asked, and the trooper nodded.
"Yeah, Sarge. Got an ambulance on the way, but there's been an alert on the Cortex! Big!" He held out a datapad to the sergeant, who looked over it, his eyes widening.
"What is it?" Book asked.
"Panic alarm at the Haroldington estate," the sergeant whispered.
Serenity dove around one of the spires, swooping over the cityscape in a massive and blatant violation of a couple dozen federal laws regarding operating spacecraft over civil zones not cleared for vessels of her class. For the crew of the little Firefly, breaking traffic and safety laws were the least of their concerns.
Even so, as Wash flew the ship through the upper reaches of the city's skyscrapers, he found himself checking the aft cameras repeatedly, making sure nothing was pursuing them. Thermal sensors were useless in the concentrated heat of the urban landscape, and every other crappy sensor on the ship was being jammed quite thoroughly.
"They chasin' us?" Jayne asked as he maneuvered through the city, the pilot trying to remember where Mal and Zoe had gone to meet Obrin. They'd destroyed the data disc Badger had given them as a precaution, and now it had come back to bite them in their collective pi gus.
"Uh," Wash said, frowning as he checked his cameras. Though there was the usual registered flight traffic any city this size accumulated, none of it looked like police or either hostile craft chasing them.
"We are . . . oddly shiny," Wash said, confused. "We must have set off a hundred alerts at Port Control when we lifted, but . . . wuh de mah."
"Why the feds ain't chasin' us," Jayne muttered, and then glanced to Wash. "And you even got any clue where we're headed?"
"No, I don't," Wash said, shaking his head.
"So you got us paintin' a big target on our butts with no idea where we're supposed to be?" Jayne said, frowning at Wash with his best angry-Jayne-look.
"Hey, you're the one who told us to come out here!" Wash said. "Don't blame this on me."
"Hey, was River who told me-"
"Wait!" River shrieked, suddenly, looking up from her spot in the copilot's chair. Both Wash and Jayne immediately realized it had probably been a not-too-smart idea to let her sit there in her mental state, and both men reacted with alarm when she started fiddling with the controls.
"River, don't touch-"
"Girl, the hell you doin'?"
"Shhh," she hissed, looking toward them with a sudden, obstinate glare, her voiced tinged with dangerous seriousness they hadn't heard before. Jayne was rising out of his chair, but stopped at the look in her eyes, and then glanced to Wash, who shrugged helplessly.
"Hey, you want to grab her and get your neck punched off, fine by me," Wash said, gesturing toward River as she went back to her console.
"Quiet, please," she murmured. "Need to think." Jayne sat back in his chair as she continued mumbling. "Coordinate data. Reflections of faulty minds, superimposed on official planning diagrams, marking relative locations of . . . ."
She trailed off, brow furrowing, and looked up, fingers typing in a navigational course that flashed onto Wash's screen.
"That way," she said. Wash hesitated for a heartbeat, glancing River's way.
"You're certain?" She looked up and gave Wash that look. "Okay, you're certain." He hit a coupel of switches, checked her navigational course, and brought the ship around.
Serenity whipped about and set off on a new course, with Wash and Jayne hoping River wasn't simply spazzing on them.
Simon finished wrapping the gunshot wound in proper bandages, after filling in the wound itself with a puff of biofoam. Kaylee was wincing and breathing quickly from the pain; the biofoam concoction from the military medical kit didn't include painkillers, resulting in a sharp pins-and-needles feeling when it made contact with damaged tissue.
"Don't worry, Kaylee," he said, working to keep his collected, controlled bedside manner when surrounded by Alliance soldiers and tending to her injuries. He'd had a lot of practice at this in his time, and he'd gotten very good at projecting that cool facade when in reality he was terrified. "This should hold until we can get you back home."
He looked up from her wound, into her eyes, and she nodded after a moment. Her felt her fingers brush his, and he grasped her hand tightly.
"Well, least I'm awake this time," she managed, forcing a smile. "Last time I couldn't feel nothin', so this 's good, right?"
"Yeah, its good," Simon reassured her. He felt movement beside him, and looked up, to see Ash lingering nearby, her back partially turned toward them and keeping an eye on the other end of the alley. He could tell from her stance that she was wavering between her need to be aware and alert of her surroundings and her concern for her sister.
"So, ah," Kaylee said after a second. "Simon, this is my sis. Ash, this is Simon."
"Hi," Simon managed, and Ash nodded. There was a moment's awkward silence, and Simon felt the urge to fill it. "Kaylee talks about you sometimes."
"Well, that's good news," the soldier replied. "Don't think many of our folks talk about me much."
"Really," Simon said, glancing back toward Kaylee's injury. "Why would that be?"
"Fundamental disagreements," Ash replied, and he saw the helmeted head shake slightly. "Look, now's not the time. Kay, you still hurtin'?"
"Yep," she replied. Ash glanced back, but the mechanic raised her hand in a placating gesture. "Don't worry none, Simon's takin' good care o' me. Done it before."
"Before?" Ash said, turning a bit more toward them. "You mean . . . you got shot before?" Her eyes were widening in shock and alarm.
"Yeah, now and then," Kaylee admitted.
"You never said anything about that to me," Ash muttered.
"Cause you worry all the time," Kaylee replied, frowning, and then wincing as a fresh wave of pain hit her. Simon once again fervently wished he had some painkillers on hand. "Got enough troubles on you with Dad an' such that you ain't gotta be worried 'bout me."
"Just please tell me you're not flying around on that deathtrap anymore," Ash said.
"She ain't a deathtrap!" Kaylee said, scowling. "I keep 'er good an fixed up."
"Yeah, and for your troubles, you get shot," Ash replied, looking away from her area and straight at Kaylee, worry in her expression beneath the brim of her helmet. The mechanic's frown turned into a sheepish look mixed with annoyed defiance, and she glanced to Simon.
"Simon, you shouldn't be seein' this," she said. "I gotta argue with big sis here, private, okay?" He nodded. He'd had similar incidents with River before, and understood the need for privacy. With a last squeeze of her wrist, he rose, and Ash leaned in closer. Immediately, the two began a quiet, heated exchange, and he moved away lest he get caught in the crossfire between bickering sisters.
"Book," Simon said as Ash and Kaylee argued. The Shepherd turned toward him, and the doctor stepped close, keeping his voice low.
"We can't take Kaylee to a hospital," he said, and Book nodded. "I get the feeling we're dealing with . . . ."
"She'll be vulnerable at a hospital," Book agreed, speaking as quietly as he could. "And we don't have time."
"When the ambulance lands, we'll need to move fast," Simon added, and Book nodded. He caught a look in the preacher's eye, and they both immediately knew what had to be done. The doctor looked away, out into the plaza, and frowned. "Where is . . . ."
"He's out there," Book answered. "Just keeping his distance. Doesn't want to draw attention to himself."
"How do you know that?" Simon asked. "How can we trust him?"
"You trust me," Book replied. It wasn't a question. Simon nodded again.
"Yes," he said.
"Then trust me," Book finished.
"Hey," called one of the soldiers. "I think I see it! Here it comes! Ambulance is on its way!"
"Get ready," Book whispered as Simon hurried over to Kaylee, who was still in the midst of her argument with Ash. They stopped in mid-sentence as soon as he got close, sensing the newfound urgency. "He'll be watching. We'll need to move fast."
Simon grunted as he crouched beside Kaylee, biting back the fear. He glanced to her wound, letting the injury bring him back into his clinical mindset as he checked it, and forced the apprehension back down into the pit of his stomach. He had a job to do, and he had to get Kaylee to safety.
He felt helping hands shifting her weight as he lifted her up, and Simon glanced up to see Ashley on her other side, worry apparent on her face as well. Somehow, seeing the trained soldier as anxious as he was both alleviated the feelings and made them worse at the same time.
"Stop!" River suddenly shouted, sitting up in her chair. Wash glanced over to her, and slowly throttled back on the engine, slowing the ship down.
"What is it?" he asked. She was silent for several long seconds, and then her fingers suddenly played over the navigation console The clacking of the keyboard filled the bridge for a second, and then she looked up, frowning.
"I see him," she whispered, and then looked up to Jayne.
"Jayne," she said, staring into his eyes. He stared back, a bit uncomfortable at the pleading way she was looking at him.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Do you trust me?" she asked, and he frowned.
"Kinda," he replied, blunt and direct.
"If you don't, Kaylee is going to die," she said, her voice as clear and steady as either of them had heard in a long time.
A long heartbeat of heavy silence filled the bride, and Jayne's scowl softened. She may be bonkers, but she hadn't led them astray, and the look on her face brought back memories of Niska's ship, all too vivid-
He stopped thinking about that as he saw the pained expression on her own face, and rose to his feet.
"What do you need me to do, girl?" he asked, hoping she was as sane right now as she seemed to be.
They saw the white-painted ambulance swooping down into the cleared plaza, and the soldiers started to move out into the open. The few people still in the plaza itself backed away from the landing area as the sleek vehicle dropped toward the ground.
"Okay, let's get her moving!" the sergeant yelled. "Frye, you and the doctor get her up! Everyone else, fan out and cover!"
The orders were somewhat unnecessary, as Simon and Ash had already gotten Kaylee up on her feet, keeping her weight off of her wounded leg.
"Doc," Ash said as they rose. "Do you know fireman's carry?" He blinked, shaking his head. Ash slid one of Kalyee's shoulders over her own, and nodded toward Simon. "Crouch. Time for a ride, Kay."
"Wish it was under nicer-" Kaylee was saying but her words were cut off as Ash moved her over and draped her belly-down over Simon's shoulders.
"Arms here," she ordered, lifting up the doctor's arm that was on the same side of his body as Kaylee's legs, and laying it over her backside. "Hold her good, and get ready to run."
"Why-"
"One man carries faster than two," Ash replied, unslinging and shouldering her rifle. "I've got to cover you. I don't know why those guys are after you, but we're getting you safe to the ambulance. And . . . ."
Simon looked back to her, to see her staring at Kaylee.
"Keep her safe. Look after her. Promise?"
"I promise," Simon said, nodding.
"S'okay, Ash," Kaylee murmured. "Simon'll take care of me. What he does."
Ash nodded, nervous. The rest of the squad was fanning out into the plaza as the ambulance finished settling down. Paramedics were beginning to emerge, but the squad sergeant was gesturing for them to hold position where they were. They believed the "terrorists" were still about, and while the men that had attacked them were as far from that as possible, neither Simon nor Book were in a terrible hurry to correct that notion.
Simon steadied himself, reached back and squeezed Kaylee's hand, and started jogging toward the ambulance. Book kept pace, right beside him, and the squad spread out over the area, covering their approach. He was momentarily struck by how protective of Kaylee they were, and how ironic it was that they were protecting him. He'd spent so long fleeing from any sign of real authority that he'd developed an unconsciously negative option of anyone in uniform, and had felt a bit of sympathy for Mal and Zoe's near-automatic disdain for Alliance troops. But now . . . .
They were halfway toward the ambulance when he spotted them, and his heart jumped into his throat. Half a second after Simon saw the first one, one of the soldiers raised his rifle, shouting a warning.
His head jerked back as a shot rang out, and the plainclothes man running toward them kept firing his pistol, dropping to one knee and bracing his weapon. More gunshots filled the air as other agents closed in on all sides, emerging from seemingly nowhere. An instant later, the squad of Alliance soldiers returned fire, rifles roaring and brass flying wildly into the air. The entire plaza became raw, pounding chaos, and Simon broke into a sprint, perceptions swimming as the headache from his hangover surged back up in full force.
The enemy had dropped any pretense of subtlety, he realized, and that was chased by his sudden shock that their pursuers were firing on Alliance troops in their desperation to capture them.
Shots rang out next to him, and he looked up, to see the Shepherd holding the rifle dropped by the dead soldier, firing the weapon from his hip at one of their attackers.
"Go! Get Kay out of here!" Ash shouted over the report of her rifle. He pushed himself forward, mumbling reassuringly to Kaylee as he pressed on. Bullets skipped off the pavement beside him, throwing up chunks of concrete, and he heard more shouting and gunfire from all directions.
Kaylee's hand was gripping his so tightly that he could feel her nails digging into his palm, drawing blood.
Almost to the ambulance now. The medics had retreated back into the transport, and were yelling and waving for him. He pushed forward, Kaylee's weight almost nonexistent, and surged closer to the vehicle-
A man suddenly emerged around the far side of the ambulance, leveling his pistol at Simon. A flash of panic shot through the doctor, and he charged straight toward the ambulance, not thinking, just pushing on. He tensed as he ran, expecting a bullet at any second.
"Do you see him?"
"Yeah," Jayne whispered, stilling his breath. Near two kilometers, by his estimation. This was going to be tricky. Had to take a lot of factors into account at this distance.
"Stop him. Please."
He heard worry and fear in the girl's pleading voice, and Jayne scowled. He had to fight to keep the anger in check. Kaylee. Gorram it, Kaylee . . . .
The red was creeping into his vision. Had to keep himself steady. He exhaled, inhaled, held his breath, and waited for the still space between heartbeats. Just one little squeeze was all it would take . . . .
"The ambulance is landing," the Operative said. "I see movement."
Lots of it, actually. He counted several soldiers running with the group emerging from the alley, and snarled at the blatant mix-up. He should have contacted the military in the first place, he realized, made sure they were on his side. Now he had his targets being helped by loyal, oblivious Alliance soldiers . . . .
Well, not for long. His sights settled over the old man who was carrying the data needle. There were gunshots in the plaza as his snatch team started shooting at the soldiers and the fugitives they were protecting.
"I've got them," he breathed.
"Sir," Hall called back. "I've got an alert from Port Control. They say a Firefly-class freighter just lifted off despite the land-lock . . . and is headed this way."
The Operative blinked and looked up.
"What?" he said, and then caught a flicker of movement out of the corner his eye. He turned, and saw a shape about two kilometers away, moving between the skyscrapers. It was hard to make out, but . . . .
He spun, leveling his rifle, and looked down the scope, then inhaled. It was a Firefly-class ship, and on its side was painted the word Serenity.
"Reynolds," he breathed, and then saw movement on the upper side of the ship. He raised his scope, and saw what looked like a man halfway out of the top hatch, holding a long-
The scope on the Operative's rifle shattered, an armor-piercing round punching through the glass, into the scope itself, ripping through electronics and optics, before blasting out the rear of the scope and straight into the Operative's eye. His skull was pulped in a heartbeat, and he flew backward, falling off the side of his hovercar and toppling to the streets far below.
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeah!" Jayne Cobb shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "Straight down the scope!" He lifted his sniper rifle up high, laughing at the top his lungs. The air rushed past him as Wash brought Serenity around, the wind stealing his cheers.
He'd just scope-sniped a man at two kilometers from on top of a moving spaceship. If that weren't gonna get Jayne Cobb sainthood, nothing could.
"Jayne!" Wash yelled over the radio as he basked in his moment of triumph. Jayne put a finger to his ear, still laughing.
"Did you see that!" he asked.
"Yes, incredibly stirring. I'll write a poem about it. But we need you back inside."
"What's up now?"
"River's got us a new course, and we're expecting guests."
There was no shot. No blossoming pain, no sudden flash of numbing shock, no deadening weight in his limbs. Simon reached the ambulance intact, by some miracle, and he felt the medics grab Kaylee and begin pulling her off his shoulders. He spun toward the man with the pistol, expecting to a bullet to strike him where he stood.
Instead, he saw the cloaked figure of Nemo, blade in hand, the edge fresh with hot blood. Behind him was their attacker, lying facedown on the pavement.
"Get in!" he shouted, pushing Simon toward the ambulance, and he started to clamber on board as the cloaked man shook off his blade and sheathed it. Behind him, the Shepherd cast aside his spent rifle and leapt into the ambulance as well. He closed the door behind them.
"Whoa!" yelled someone inside the ambulance, as they crammed themselves into the vehicle. "Hey, you can't have this many people on-"
The paramedic stopped in mid-sentence as Nemo drew a handgun from his cloak and leveled it at the man.
"This is very crowded, I agree," he whispered. "But it is preferable to the alternative. Fly."
"Lift-lift off! Go!" yelled the paramedic
A half-second of hesitation passed, and the pilot of the vehicle started up into the air, shooting away from the plaza with its most precious cargo safely on board.
"Where did you get that?" Book asked.
"Firearms are much more attention-grabbing than blades," he replied with a shrug, keeping his gun leveled on the pilot. "Now, head for the port. We have a very particular destination."
"There," River breathed, pointing. "There!" Out the front window, they could see the little white shape of the ambulance zooming across the cityscape.
"Okay, how am I going to signal them with all this jamming?" Wash asked, and River paused. She looked back at Wash, her frantic expression replaced by a sudden realization.
"Um," she managed. Wash kept maneuvering the Firefly toward the ambulance, thinking frantically himself. He didn't have any idea what to do; if he has a laser or maser, he could just send a point-to-point transmission, but he didn't have either and the ambulance probably wasn't equipped to handle it.
How were they going to get their-
"Barnswallow!" River said, sitting up. He frowned, considering that option.
"Won't they just fly out of the hangar if we try that?" he asked. "They don't know-" She shook her head quickly.
"They won't," she replied, her voice firm and certain. He considered the tone of her response, and then Wash swung Serenity around toward the ambulance. She had been right so far, and he was willing to trust her one more time.
"Jayne, open the bay!" he yelled over the intercom.
"What the hell?" the pilot said, and Nemo looked past him, seeing something maneuvering ahead of the ambulance. It was a ship, ungainly but familiar looking.
"What are they doing out here?" he mused, and Book moved up beside him in the tight quarters.
"That's Serenity," he said, confused. "They're flying right toward us. Do they know who we are?"
"If she's on that ship, then yes," Nemo said, glancing back to Book. He didn't reply.
A second later, the Firefly had swerved about, flying ahead of them, and waggled its engine pylons as it flew. The ambulance pilot looked back, uncertain, but Nemo kept his handgun leveled at him.
"Dead stop," he ordered, and the pilot obeyed. Inertia pushed them all back in their seats - those who had taken them - and the Firefly came about again, its bay wide open.
"Prepare to land," Nemo ordered. The edges of the ambulance's windows darkened as the Firefly carefully moved forward, the wide open bay inviting them inside. Within a few seconds, the ship had maneuvered up and taken the ambulance into its bay.
"Land," Nemo ordered, and the pilot complied, the little aircraft cutting its engines and settling down into the bay.
"Okay, help me get her up," Simon was saying, and he opened the ambulance's side door. It slid apart, rising up into the air, and Simon found himself staring down the barrel of Jayne's handgun.
It lowered almost immediately, the mercenary cursing as he saw Kaylee and her wound. He reached toward her with his free hand for a heartbeat, and then raised his pistol again instead, keeping the paramedics covered. Book and Simon lifted her up out of the ambulance and into the cargo bay.
Nemo kept his weapon trained on the pilot, but took a glance out the door into the bay beyond.
His tracking gaze stopped as he spotted another figure standing on the stairs by the ambulance, watching the group carry Kaylee to safety with a worried look on her face, little hands wringing together. As he looked upon her for the first time in the flesh, her gaze snapped back toward him. Their eyes met, and he looked into her gaze, seeing a mixture of fear, pain, and . . . empathy?
"River Tam," he breathed.
"What?" Jayne Cobb asked, looking back between the two, suspicion spreading across his features. Nemo looked to the huge mercenary, and then glanced to the paramedics in the ambulance with him, and then smiled.
"Nothing," he replied.
"Who the hell are you?" Cobb demanded, not-quite pointing his pistol at the stranger in the ambulance.
"No one," he replied. "A friend of Captain Reynolds."
"That don't mean much," Jayne replied. "What are you gonna-"
"Go," Nemo replied, glancing to the pilot. "Back us out of the bay. Quickly." He looked to Jayne and nodded.
"The Alliance is aware of your presence on this world, or they will be soon enough," he warned. "You should leave. Tell Captain Reynolds to hurry away from this planet, if he values his crew's life."
"Yeah, whatever," Cobb replied, as the door slid shut. A few seconds later, the bay was sliding backward, and they were once again flying in the open air.
"Now what?" the pilot asked, and Nemo looked to him and the two terrified paramedics that had witness the whole exchange.
"Outskirts," Nemo ordered, a profound sense of regret filling him. His free hand touched the blade in his cloak. "Find a nice, safe landing zone."
They were innocents, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. The cause came first, however, and this part of the job was what he hated the most. Nemo wished it could have been different, but Malcolm Reynolds had shown him that it couldn't.
He couldn't leave any witnesses.
"We're trapped."
"In retrospect, sir, it was a bad idea." Zoe punctuated her comment with a blast that sent one of her opponents scurrying into cover.
Glass cracked nearby, rounds punching through the windshields of parked hovercars. They were back under open sky, which was slightly reassuring, as it meant they'd have the sun on their faces when they got gunned down.
Mal had tried to hotwire a couple of hovercars, but he'd lacked both the tools and the time to really get one into the air. The glass of most of the cars was bullet-proof, only breaking under repeated fire, and five hundred years of automotive security advancements had rendered grand theft of vehicles a risky and difficult proposition. Several wailing car alarms testified to Mal's numerous failures, audible over the gunfire ripping across the lot.
That was Mal's other problem: he'd gotten halfway into hotwiring his first car when Obrin's men had finally tracked them down. Now, more than a dozen men had surrounded the area, and were surrounding them, slowly driving the pair back until they were trapped at one edge of the platform, their backs to the ledge looking over the city streets a half-dozen levels below.
"There is just an acre of these hun dans," Mal grumbled as he fired a couple of shots, and checked his pistol's ammo supply. He cursed again. Down to less than half-a-dozen rounds.
"Its over, Mal!" came a yell from across the lot, and Mal fired a shot in response, telling the speaker just how over things were. A couple of seconds later, the incoming gunfire that was raking their position had slackened off.
In the odd quiet, Malcolm Reynolds could see Lee Obrin rising up into sight, one hand raised. The other hand held a pistol, but he kept it lowered. Lee nodded something to one of his men, and something went hurtling through the air at the pair.
"Grenade!" Zoe yelled, and they both dove for cover as the object clattered along the ground next to them. A couple of second passed, and Mal had his back firmly pressed to a large, fuel-guzzling heavy transport hovercar, when he realized there was a striking lack of boom.
He peeked back around the vehicle, and saw it wasn't a grenade; it had been a spent ammo magazine.
The unspoken message was quite clear: they were in hand grenade range. Lee had them.
Mal rose out of cover slowly, spotting Lee, and stared across the car lot at Obrin, his own handgun in hand but only leveled in his vague and partial direction. Zoe slowly slid sideways, but Mal knew she was still in burst range if someone chose to fling a grenade their way.
He glanced around the lot, noting the number of Obrin's troops surrounding them, most of them in good cover. For Zoe and himself, their backs were to the open sky, only a dozen meters away. Not a good bargaining position.
"Gotta say, Mal," Obrin called out. "You can still fight like a devil, even if you've gotten soft in the ethics department."
"Ain't soft to know what's decent," Mal shot back, raising his pistol a little higher. He only had five rounds left, best make them count. It was possible they could fight out of this, so long as he and Zoe didn't miss any shots.
"What's decent is ending this shung min yao Alliance," Obrin called back, stepping forward. "We're not going to hurt her or mistreat her. We just need your little girl's brain."
"Not gonna happen," Mal replied, leveling his pistol at Obrin. The colonel seemed entirely unperturbed by that, and a smile spread across his features.
"Mal," he said, shaking his head. "There's nothing to gain from this. What do you think you are, now? Some big damned hero?"
"Might be," Mal replied, tightening his finger on the trigger, determined not to give in yet. "Maybe I could just sit here a spell. Let the feds come your way."
Obrin's mocking laughter shook a bit of Mal's bluster.
"I've spent the last seven years since the war building up this resistance, Mal," he said. "Longer than that, once we realized the Independents wouldn't win a conventional war. Seven years of accumulating resources, buying and building properties and personnel. I own half the Persephone police force. This building we're in right now, how do you think my men kept flanking and surrounding you? I own half this damned planet by now.
"Mal, you can't escape. Just give up, give us your crazy little problem child, and walk away. We all benefit."
There was a long moment of drawn-out silence. Mal glanced to Zoe, who stood tense and ready, slowly edging away from him. He looked across the sun-baked lot, at the enemy troops who were tightening their noose around his neck. His eyes fell on Obrin, a man he'd once respected as a commander, and now . . . .
"I can grenade you if I want to," Obrin added. "But I'd prefer you alive. Drop those weapons, before you become a big dead hero, Mal."
"You know, Lee," Mal said, pulling back the hammer on his pistol. "You said you remember me when I was a good little soldier. Well, I remember when you used to have principles. Used to have honor."
"Gorram it, Mal, I still have them!" Obrin snarled. "And I know what we need. What the Browncoats need, what these people need! Its up to men like us, men with the understanding, the responsibility, to give the people what they require!"
"So its up to you to decide what's right now?" Mal asked. He felt a breeze whistle along his neck, a familiar hissing whine, and his hair fluttered in the wind. Heroic-like.
Delay them, he thought at that moment. Just a couple seconds more . . . .
"Who else is left?" Obrin replied. "The people can't chose for themselves. You know that, Mal. Folks will always be stupid and selfish and barbaric without the right men to lead them. Men who know what needs to be done and what sacrifices need to be made."
"Then I was right," Mal whispered, an odd feeling of sadness falling over him as he spoke. He was tired. Dead tired. "There ain't no difference anymore. You an' the Alliance. Exact. Gorram. Same."
"Put 'em down, Mal," Obrin said. "There's no point in fighting any longer."
"Got plenty of point," Mal replied. He stared down the sights at Obrin, his voice quiet and cold. The man he looked at now was not the man he'd known in the war. "You want to push me, Lee? You want to see the me that came out of that war? Keep on. Any o' your boys makes a move, I'm droppin' you first."
"You don't have the balls," Obrin replied, taking a step toward Mal.
Mal's inevitable response was drowned out by a rush of air, and the roar of engines, and then the whistling breeze was replaced by a wave of wind that threw his coat and hair all about. Obrin's men took a step back as shade suddenly fell over them, their ears filled with the growl of might engines and their bones shaking with the rumble of working machinery.
"Good afternoon, ladies and menfolk," came a blessedly familiar voice, ringing from the external speakers. "I'm your entertainment for this evening. I'm from the 'Don't Shoot The Captain or All of Your Pi Gus are Chunky Salsa' company. Now for our first song, 'Put the Guns Away Before You Make the Giant Ship Angry.'"
Mal glanced back to the bulk of Serenity looming up behind them, Wash's inappropriately chipper voice echoing in his head. Obrin's men stared, glancing to their commander, who stood flabbergasted for a heartbeat, before his decisive military assertiveness rose back up.
He pointed a finger toward the Firefly, even as the cargo bay began to open.
"What are you waiting for! That thing isn't armed! Shoot that can down!" he ordered, and one of his men raised a rocket launcher.
"Oh, hotze du pi gu-" Wash was able to get off as the missile launcher was raised.
"Are you sure you want to do that?"
Obrin froze on hearing the second voice, as did Mal. They both recognized the delicate, feminine tone.
"Tam," Obrin breathed.
"That's right," she spoke. "If I'm not mistaken, you want me alive. You want me to help you. So, it wouldn't be a bright idea to attack my ship, would it?"
"Tam!" Obrin yelled, gesturing with his pistol toward Mal. "We've got your Captain, dead to rights. Come with us, and we'll let him live. Understand?"
"Let me consider your offer," River replied. A couple of seconds passed. "I think that, really, the Captain would be smart to shoot you right-"
Mal ended the sentence by firing his pistol, and Obrin threw himself to the floor as the round grazed his shoulder. Gunfire erupted from all directions and both Mal and Zoe ducked behind cover and began running toward the bay, their weapons firing wildly.
Obrin spotted their attempted escape, and surged forward, pointing his pistol at the escaping pair.
"Shoot them!" Obrin yelled, pointing at the escaping Captain and his second. Gunfire continued to lance out at them, and Mal fired over his shoulder. One of Obrin's men went down, his shoulder erupting with blood, and the Captain caught a glimpse of the inside of the ship, the white-haired Shepherd firing a rifle to cover their escape.
Mal leapt up into the bay behind Zoe, rolling into cover, and slammed the controls for the bay doors. Rounds rang and deflected off the doors impotently as the Firefly pulled away, the doors hissing closed.
Mal stood in the bay for a second, looking across at Zoe, exhaling, and then managed a wild, exhausted peal of laughter. She echoed it a moment later, letting the stony facade fade.
"I knew I paid them for something," he said, shaking his head.
Mal looked up as he laughed, and saw the Shepherd standing nearby, rifle in hand. Book looked tired himself, lowering the weapon slowly, and Mal noted what looked an awful lot like a burn mark on the side of his shirt.
"Something happen while we were away?" Mal asked, and Book managed a small smile of his own.
"Quite a few somethings," he replied, his voice deeply tired. Mal nodded, and stepped over toward the intercom mounted by the bay doors.
"Wash!" he shouted. "Take us out of the world, quick-like!"
"Aye, captain," Wash replied. "But, uh-"
"No time for arguin'," Mal replied. "Got all manner of ugly peerin' our way. Best we get the hell off this rock."
"Understood, Captain," Wash replied. "I'll send a signal to Inara, she's still a bit overdue . . . ."
"Good," Mal said, closing the intercom. He turned around, nodded toward Zoe, who was sitting against a crate, letting the exertion o the last hour of nonstop combat roll off her shoulder. "Zoe. I'd appreciate it if you'd show your husband the extent of our gratitude for the timely rescue."
"Don't worry sir," she said, rising, a smile on her face. "I've got all manner of gratitude to give out."
As she started for the stairs, Mal noticed Book, who himself seemed wearied, sweat beading his face.
"So, something exciting must have happened on your end as well, huh?" Mal asked, and Book nodded.
"Captain, I think you should head for the infirmary," he said, and that had Mal straighten instantly.
"What happened?" he asked, sudden apprehension rising back up.
"Kaylee," Book said, at which point Mal broke into a run toward the doorway leading to the ship's aft end, not waiting for any further explanation.
It was a massive, wonderfully constructed palatial estate on the edges of the rich district of the city. A huge mansion surrounded by a thousand acres of immaculately maintained lawns, orchards, flower gardens, and a series of stables, garages, and landing pads. One of these landing pads was occupied by a small, innocuous shuttle.
Right now, the estate of former Persephone Police Commissioner Haroldington was surrounded by nearly a more than five hundred police officers, soldiers, and special response troops, and no less than six light helicopter gunships were flying over the huge estate. Soldiers and police were storming the building and the grounds, shocking servants and staff, and as they moved through the buildings and lawns, the response units slowly started to feel a bit confused.
There were reports of other major crimes taking place at the same time in the city proper, but Commissioner Haroldington was one of the uppermost crust of Persephone's aristocratic community, and the police and military of the planet held him in high regard. Snipers shooting up plazas, gunfights in malls, ships violating federally mandated land-lock, all of these were irrelevant in the face of a panic alarm being sounded at the home of the most beloved former head of the Persephone police force.
The police and soldiers had expected terrorists, thieves, assassins, something to be opposing them, but all they met were bewildered house staff who had no idea why an army of Persephone's finest had descended on them.
A squad was closing in on the shuttle on the landing pad, where they had triangulated the signal of the original panic alarm. Two gunships hovered overhead, and a second squad rappelled down to reinforce the troops flanking the transport. The soldiers and police closed in, a squad stacking up beside each of the two external doors-
And were caught entirely off-guard as the door slid open, and out stepped the illustrious and beloved former Commissioner, fully dressed and with a surprised, baffled look on his elderly face. The officers lowered their weapons after a few seconds, seeing the man uninjured, and behind him stood the Companion he had contracted for the evening.
What is this? Haroldington signed, confused. What's going on?
"Sir," one of the response officers said, confused himself. "We received a panic alarm from your residence. We thought something had happened to you."
Haroldington looked down to his hand, at the ring he wore, and then back up, a shocked and sheepish look on his face. The Companion's eyes widened, and she looked away from a moment, trying to regain her composure.
This is, Haroldington gestured quickly. This is horribly embarrassing!
"Sir?' the officer asked.
"Um," the Companion said. "I believe that . . . well, the Commissioner was so vigorous during our business together that . . . we must have accidentally tripped his alarm."
The officer blinked, and looked back toward his men, not sure how to react to this news. On all sides of the pad, there was more movement as the battalion of soldiers who had responded to the call flooded the area. After a few seconds, the officer reached up to the side of his helmet.
"Stand down," he ordered. "Stand down. It was a false alarm."
The torrent of shouts and complaints over the radio was deafening.
As that was happening, Haroldington turned toward Inara, grinning.
Well, they bought it, he indicated. Do you think that this was enough of a distraction to get your friends to safety?
"I'm sure," Inara replied, smiling. "Thank you."
My dear bao bei, he signed to her, It was my pleasure.
-
Author's Notes: Well, that took too darn long for me to get to.
Like I said, Inara had her own, not insignifigant role to play in this story. Also, expect Ash to return later on in the story; Kaylee's family is going to have a role to play in this series' plot.
Next chapter is the epilogue for the Condor arc; we'll find out just how everyone reacts to today's events, and get an idea of just what was on Book's data needle that caused all these troubles. And there'll be a little bit more of our favorite Brit and his very fine hat.
Until next chapter . . . .