Chapter 11: In which Simon escapes just as a rescue plan is formed
Wash stared the T-Rex in the eyes and tried to find some reassurance in the yellow molded plastic. "No human ever saw you," he told the toy. "You all died in tar pits and from dust storms and ice ages long before any human had evolved enough to even be considered a decent meal. And yet, I know all about you. Your bones were buried in the mountains and deserts of a planet that doesn't even exist anymore. But still, here you are."
The T-Rex didn't have any philosophical reasoning for his preeminence to offer Wash. With a sigh, the pilot put the dinosaur back in his spot on the control panel where it was battling an oversized anklyosaurus. "Ya think it'd be easier to find two kids who were here just yesterday," he muttered.
As if in divine response to his musings, the consul in front of him chirped. "Finally," he said, pushing a few buttons and establishing a comm link with Serenity's shuttle One.
"Hey Nara," Wash said, smiling as the companion's pretty, yet clearly worried, face appeared on the vid screen. "How's it going?"
"Wash, what the hell is going on?" Inara said.
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you didn't see the wave Mal sent last night."
"I didn't notice it," Inara said dismissively. "I had a very unusual morning. You'll never believe who was at breakfast."
"The charming Dr. Tam and his always interesting sister?" Wash asked.
"Just River," Inara clarified, shocked that Wash had guessed so easily. "What happened? How did they . . .?"
"We were actually hoping you'd know," Wash said seriously. "They were nabbed yesterday by the governor's guards."
"They, you mean River and Simon?"
"Yeah, Kaylee was there too but she just got a knock on the head."
"Is she all right?"
"Fine," Wash said. "Just a little concussion."
"What a nian di bu," Inara muttered to herself. "You say they took Simon too?"
"Best we can figure," Wash said. "You had breakfast with River?"
"Yes," Inara said. "It was the oddest thing. I guess she knows the governor from before she went to that school. She told me she sent the governor a letter and he sent his personal transport to bring her here."
"Did she mention the armed guards that came with the transport?"
"She was very vague," Inara said. "I think she was afraid of saying too much."
"Too much how?" Wash asked. "She knows you."
"But Genie, the little girl I'm tutoring, was there. River kept almost saying things, stopping herself. I think Simon told her not to mention Serenity."
"I take it you haven't seen Simon."
Inara shook her head sadly.
"Well," Wash said nervously. "I guess he might be . . ." the pilot couldn't think of an optimistic way to end that sentence.
"What is Mal planning to do?" Inara asked after a second. Her voice was trembling a little.
"He doesn't have a plan yet," Wash sighed. "Till you called we didn't even know where the kids were."
"I'll try to find Simon," Inara said. "And I could talk to the governor. He's a very kind old man. If I explain things he might understand."
"Or
he might come and arrest us all for aiding and abetting federal fugitives,"
Wash pointed out. "You should talk to
Mal before you make a move."
"You're right," the companion
sighed. "I just . . . I don't think
River realized what danger she's in and Simon . . ."
"Hey," Wash said quickly, "None a that. Companions are supposed to be chipper and bubbly. No one wants to sleep with a sobby Susan."
"You'd be surprised," Inara chuckled. "But I really should go, Genie and River . . ."
"Yeah, hey, when can you chat next, ya think?" Wash asked. "Once Mal hears you got River, he'll want to start with the scheming."
"I don't think I could get free 'till after dinner," Inara said, a little guilty. "I had to invent a reason to steal away now."
"So, what, like around 1800?"
"Later," Inara said. "Tell Mal I'll call him at 2200. And I'll try to find out about Simon."
"Will do," Wash said. He tried his best to smile at the companion. "See ya then."
She tried her best to smile back at him, "Yeah," she said. "See you then."
* * *
"I will say this for Reginald," Gabriel Tam said as the Governor's transport pulled into the mansion's courtyard. "He's brought civilization to the rim."
"I know," Regan said, smiling sadly. "To look around us, one would hardly believe that we're not in the ore."
"I like the way he's landscaped the place," Gabriel was looking out the window. He didn't want to look at his wife, he was afraid he'd catch her crying. "It's very classic."
"Reginald always had a taste for the classics," The woman said; she was looking at the fabric of her skirt, rubbing gloved hands over tweed, smoothing wrinkles that didn't exist.
The conversation dropped off there, as neither husband nor wife could think of anything else to say to each other.
The transport landed softly on its pad, right outside the governor's private office. From the window the Tams could see Reginald Comworth waiting for them. It was odd, Regan thought, that he was not smiling. It was also odd that Genie was not waiting with him, which was the first thing she commented on once they were off the transport and standing under Newhope's warm afternoon sun.
"Genie's in the garden, with a surprise for you," the Governor said, almost hesitantly. "But before I take you to her, I was wondering if we could have a serious talk."
"I'm not sure we'll be able to oblige you," Gabriel said jokingly. "We came here to relax, not be serious."
"Of course," Comworth said, nodding. "I don't mean to be rude, but something's happened and I didn't want to discuss it with you over the Cortex, I feel there are some things that need to be said face-to-face."
"You want to talk about Simon and River," Regan said, with a small smile and an eager look in her eye.
"Reginald," Gabriel sighed, "We came here to try to get away from all that."
"They haven't contacted you, have they?" Regan asked. "I know Simon always trusted you so completely, I've wondered . . ."
"Come into my office," the governor said. "I have tea set out . . . unless you want to go rest, I know these interplanetary trips can be . . ."
"A cup of tea sounds perfect," Regan said quickly before turning to her husband and adding, "Your not too tired, are you, dear?"
"No, not at all," Gabriel said cagily. "By all means, let's go into your office and talk about our wayward children."
* * *
"So," Mal said. "Plan is, Nara lets us in, we grab the kids, we get out. Easy-peasy."
The crew of Serenity, gathered around the Frye's kitchen table, didn't look convinced.
"Won't there be guards?" Jayne asked.
"We'll be sneaking," Mal said, "At night. Guards'll hardly notice us."
"And what if they do?" Zoë asked.
"Well, then, ah, we shot them," Mal said simply.
"Wouldn't that just bring more guards?" Wash asked.
"Look," Mal said a little defensively. "This here's just a prototype, I'm open ta any suggestions you all can give me!"
"What if," Kaylee said softly, "What if we did it durrin' the day?"
"Kiddnapin' in broad daylight," Jayne grumbled, "Brilliant plan, why didn't anyone think a that before?"
"Well," Kaylee said uncertainly, "It ain't really like we gotta steal them, is it? I mean, it's more like were helpin' them escape. And everyone thinks 'bout escapin' in the night time and no one much worries 'bout that sort of thing in the day. So, why try too sneak around at night when we could just walk 'round easy as pie in the day?"
"What you know that I don't, Little Kaylee?" Mal asked, leaning towards his pretty little mechanic.
"Nothin' much, sir," the girl said with a shrug. "Just it ain't hard ta get in and out a the gov'ner's mansion. Folk do it all the time with no one battin' an eye."
"How?" Zoë asked.
"Tours," Kaylee explained. "Twice a day, one in the mornin' and one in the afternoon."
"Tours?" Mal said a little skeptically. "Governor lets people just wander round his house?"
"Oh, no," Kaylee said. "There's a guide and a route ya take and they point ta a wing an say stuff like 'This is the Governors personal quarters, we can't show ya that cause he hasn't had time ta clean up his room' an' the whole party laughs. But them parties is big. If a few people snuck off, no one'd notice."
"Hunh," Mal said, nodding. "That ain't a half bad idea. And it don't put Nara in no tricky position, which I like. But if we do manage ta sneak off and grab the kids, how we gonna escape? I don' like the idea of tryin' ta blend River into a group a innocent tourists. 'Specially when what Jack told us makes me wonder if she'll want ta come at all."
"What if," Wash said slowly, "We steal the shuttle?"
"We don' know where they keep the shuttles," Mal started to say dismissively, "Nor, what kind they got, nor the types of security . . ."
"Not one of theirs," Wash said quickly, "Ours."
Zoë laughed softly and proudly at her husband's idea, "Steal Inara's shuttle?"
"Yeah," Wash said, his wife's smile giving him confidence. "Look, she could say that it was broken or something and then I could come in and say I was going to repair it. I'll prep the shuttle for launch, you get the Tams, jump in, and we're off."
"Couldn't that transfer suspicion to Inara?" Book said. "I thought we didn't want that."
"Not if she makes a fuss about it being gone," Zoë pointed out. "If she play's it right, we might even be able to make a profit on this."
"That ain't a half bad idea," Mal said with a roguish glint in his eye.
"Seems kinda mean," Kaylee interjected. "When I meet the Gov'ner he seemed like the nicest guy."
"You meet the Governor?" Mal asked.
"Well," Kaylee amended, "We all did, at the end a the tour they show ya his office and I guess most time's he makes a point a bein' there, sayin' 'hi' ta all his constituents and such. But still, I ain't never heard a bad word against him."
"Kaylee," Mal said, "His guards knocked you on the head and took Simon and River. That's not exactly a nice thing to do."
"I know," Kaylee muttered.
"But the tour thing is a good notion," Mal said. "And a notion I think we can use. Wash, how long 'till we talk with Inara?"
"Another couple of hours, sir," Wash said.
"Right," Mal muttered, "I guess we'll just have ta sit tight 'till then."
* * *
Simon stared at the ceiling and worried. He didn't have much else to do.
He worried about River. She was going to get sent back to the Academy. She was going to be tortured and used. She was going to be lost to him forever. The thought of it made him sick, his stomach turning in painful knots, his throat constricting so he had to gasp for breath.
He closed his eyes tightly. He couldn't think about River, it was fruitless; he had to think about something else.
He had to think constructively, find a way out.
He opened his eyes and started thinking of plans. He could feign injury or illness and then, when the guards came in to check on him, he could daringly grab their guns, spring up, and lock the men in the room. Then he could sneak, unobserved, through the large mansion. Oh, maybe he could even steal one of the guard's uniforms: then no one would suspect him. He could grab River and they could fly away to Serenity on the magic Pegasus that would undoubtedly be waiting for them if he pulled off the first half of his plan. Simon laughed at himself. If he was going to escape he'd have to come up with something much better than that.
The prospect of contacting Mal didn't seem impossible, but he'd probably have to jerry rig something or bypass some safety and he didn't know how to do that. Kaylee would have. He opened his eyes and stared back up at the ceiling, the sound of her pretty laugh ringing in his ears.
Simon smiled softly at these thoughts. He remembered how pretty she'd been outside of that church. The way she'd smiled at him, at River. His stomach started twisting again. He remembered how her pretty face had turned into a scowl when he'd started heaping judgment on her for being less chaste than he'd assumed she'd been. He remembered River saying she'd been hit in the head and fell down. If Kaylee had been killed, or was seriously injured, it was his fault. So not only had he cruelly insulted Kaylee, the sweetest, kindest, most joyful and all around wonderful, person he'd ever know, but she could be dead, and it would have been his fault.
"Stop," he told himself, closing his eyes again. Worrying about Kaylee was as futile as worrying about River. "This won't work," he muttered, rolling off the bed. "The key is to be goal-oriented. My goal is to get River out of here. Before that can happen I need to be free. I need to find River, and I need to convince her that we should leave. That could take some time, so I'll need to find River, hide for a while, and then it's just a matter of escaping the guards and . . . that's enough for right now," he said. "In order to escape I'll have to . . ."
His voice trailed off as he heard an unusual squeaking noise. He paused and listened for a moment. It seemed to be coming from the ceiling in the bathroom attached to his chamber. Very cautiously he walked over to the doorway to the bathroom and paused, leaning on the doorframe, watching as one of the panels in the ceiling moved. "Huh," he said softly to himself. "I wouldn't have thought of that."
He watched for almost a minute before there was a loud crack and the panel fell from the ceiling onto the tiled floor in the spacious bathroom, and with the panel there was a man.
"Auuughhh," The man groaned as he laid writing on the floor. Simon was so shocked that, for a moment, it didn't occur to him to run up and help the obviously injured man.
He was drawn out of his shock by a banging on the door of his chamber. "Dr. Tam," the guard's voice called through the thick wood. "Are you all right in there?"
"Ah, yes!" Simon called. "Just a little accident in the bathroom. I'm fine though. Thanks for checking."
Simon waited expectantly to see if the guard would believe him or press the point, demanding to come in and be sure that the governor's beloved godson was not hurt in any way. But after a tense moment, Simon realized this particular guard was not that dedicated.
"Are you all right?" the young doctor asked the groaning man on the bathroom floor.
"Man, that totally sucked," the man, who was not much older than Simon said. He had shaggy blond hair, an unusual tattoo around his right eye and was wearing a jumpsuit not unlike the ones Kaylee usually wore. "Gan tian hua ban."
"Can you move your feet?" Simon asked.
"Someone should fix that ceiling," the man said, turning seriously to Simon. "That could have killed me."
"Yes, it could have." Simon said, a little bewildered. "Can you move your feet?"
"Dude, I just feel through a ceiling," the guy said. "Move your own humping feet."
Simon stared at the man for a second, amazed. "I'm a doctor," he finally said. "I want to make sure you're not badly hurt."
"You got any painkillers?" the man asked hopefully.
"No," Simon admitted.
"Dai dai gan mei yong yi sheng!"
"Well, clearly, your lungs are working just fine," Simon said tersely. "What hurts?"
"My humping zao gao back mostly."
"Kindly prove to me that you haven't snapped your spine by moving you're feet."
"What happens if I snapped my spine?" the man asked.
"In all likelihood, a very painful surgery followed by six months of recovery."
"An' if I can move my feet?"
"Then we can move you to the bed."
"Yu tian bu yu yu yuan qi wei de di di qian yi sheng, you qi ni!" the man muttered, wiggling his feet. "Ya happy?"
"Very. You've probably just got a sprain. Nothing to worry about," Simon said, walking around the man and kneeling down behind his shoulders. "Now, I know this will hurt but if I tried to carry you, we'd both end up with sprained backs."
As gently as he could, Simon eased the man who'd fallen through the ceiling up and half led, half carried him to the very soft, very comfortable bed as the man swore in Chinese under his breath the whole way. By the time Simon had him reclined with pillows supporting his neck and a blanket to keep him warm, the doctor and his family had been cursed several times in several different, creative, ways, back several generations. Simon felt particularly bad for his mother's father's father who was cursed to have chickens peck his face until he was so ugly no woman would willingly sleep with him so that Simon would never have been born.
"There you go," Simon said. "Are you comfortable?
"My humping back's killing me!"
"Yes, well," the doctor said, hedging away from the bed back towards the bathroom. "There's not really much I can do about that."
"Ain't you a doc?"
"Well, yes," Simon said, looking into the bathroom up towards the hole in the ceiling. If he dragged the chair from the desk in his chambers into the bathroom, he'd be able to reach the hole without a problem. "Are you a mechanic?" he asked, glancing back to the injured man on the bed. "Is there a maintenance catwalk up there or something?"
"Yeah," the guy said. "Some of the com wiring runs though those ceilings. A day ago we got some wired local transmission, I was tryin' ta figure who hacked it when your la shi ceiling gave way."
"I see," Simon said. "And the catwalk, it leads to what, a maintenance closet somewhere?"
"Yeah, you gotta climb a ladder, which I won't be doin' for a gorramn humpin' while," the man muttered. "You don' got any alcohol or anything?"
"I'm afraid not," Simon said as he walked fixedly towards the desk and grabbed the back of the solid wood writing chair. "You're back is just sprained, it will be fine. You'll want to get a lot of rest and not stress it."
"What, like, stay in this bed?"
"Excellent idea," Simon said as he carried the chair into the bathroom. "You ah, you just, you stay right there and call if you need anything."
"What?" the guy said, craning his neck so he was, more or less, looking in the general direction of the bathroom. That hurt, so he quickly turned back to stare at the ceiling above him. "You goin' up ta the crawlways?"
"I, ah," Simon called from the bathroom, his voice was strained as he tried to pull himself up into the hole. "I want to see what kind of conditions you've worked under." There was a grunt as the doctor finally swung himself on to a secure crossbeam. "You understand, don't you?" Simon called.
"Uh," the man called back. "Yeah, I guess."
"Just lie there and rest," Simon yelled. His voice began to sound muffled and distant. "I won't be gone too long."
"Yeah," the man muttered. "You got it." It seemed odd that the doctor would need to crawl around in the ceiling, or would want to for that matter. But he was a doctor, and who was Bester to question what a doctor thought was best?
To Be Continued . . .