Chapter 4: Debts Called In
River tugged the flapped hat more tightly over her ears and knelt down to tie the lace of her boot. She glanced up the dirt street towards the captain, his brown coat billowing gently as he sauntered away. Under cover of the flaps, her gaze flicked to two men who had been loitering in a doorway and who now casually strode after the captain.
She knew those minds. She had touched them briefly when she had cast her mind out towards their ghostly pursuers. They had never been close or intent enough for her to fully read, but the echo was distinctly familiar. As she stood up, she squeezed Zoë's arm. The first mate didn't acknowledge the signal, but she clapped the girl on the shoulder and smiled in a comradely fashion. "Ready to go on?"
River nodded. She thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her borrowed coverall and took long strides in order to keep up.
Beside her, Zoë whistled a lilting dance tune.
Up ahead, Mal turned into a disreputable-looking bar. The two men stopped to speak briefly into a comm link and then followed the captain.
Zoë scanned the street for any other observers, but saw none. She steered River towards a shop across the street. "I feel the need of a drink," she said. "Why don't you see if you can find a gift for Billy?"
River nodded and entered the store dutifully while Zoë walked back across the street to the bar. She fingered the goods on the table nearest the front window while she strained all her senses towards the captain and his crewwoman. As usual, Zoë was hard to read, but the captain was radiating tension and a certain wild enjoyment. It felt like salt spray on a stiff ocean wind.
Slowly her senses registered another trace, a whiff of hot metal and sickness. She leaned against the table and looked down the street towards a tall white-haired man in a dark suit. He was smirking. She backed away from the window, closed her eyes, and reached out with her mind.
She sifted through the images. A faceless girl. A Firefly. Smiling superiors. Blue hands.
River's eyes flew open. She let out a whimper and cast frantic glances around the shop. She had to hide, now. There was a door at the back of the shop. Ignoring the protests of the shopkeeper, she bolted through the door and stumbled into the alley beyond. There she ducked behind the garbage bins, collapsed to her knees, and covered her head with her arms.
She had to run.
"Two by two. Hands of blue."
To hide.
"Two by two . . ."
She had to warn the captain.
She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked gently, taking deep breaths to calm her rising panic. She pictured the captain and how she'd touched minds with him before—in Serenity Valley. On a different level, images of the Alliance academy flashed by: cold needles penetrating her eyes, fingers sifting through her brain, endless screams with nobody to hear.
She arched her back and flung a mental shout to the captain.
Zoë got a drink at the bar a few stools down from where Mal was leaning and took it to a table against the wall. She faced the entrance as if she were expecting somebody, but her real attention was on the two men at the table nearest the door.
To all appearances, they were shippers killing a few hours in port while deciding how to spend their first free evening. They were unremarkable: medium height, one fair and dressed in gray, the other dark-skinned and wearing black and red. Their jackets could easily conceal firearms.
They kept up a casual conversation regarding plans for a night on the town. The fair one cast a surreptitious glance at Mal's back.
Mal took a long pull on his drink and turned slowly around. He leaned back on the bar a moment and listened to the conversation. Then, to Zoë's unsurprised dismay, his lips turned up in a friendly grin, his eyes lit up with mischief, and he strolled over to the table.
"You boys sound like you might know what this port has to offer in the way of entertainment," he said, pulling a chair over and sitting down. "Any words of advice for a first-timer?"
Both men stared at him. He flicked his gaze from one to the other, still smiling, obviously waiting for them to answer his question.
The dark one cleared his throat. "Hey, listen, mac, we're trying to have a private conversation here."
Mal's eyes widened. "Heck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to butt in."
Then he leaned over and clapped the man on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "It's just, ya see, since you fellas followed me in here, I figured you must wanna make my acquaintance." His lip curled up and he extended his other arm to touch the shoulder of the second man. "So, how about you tell me what's on your minds?"
Zoë reached beneath her coat and fingered a pistol.
The door to the bar creaked open and an aged, upright man in a dark suit paused in the opening. He took in the scene at the table with one cold glance.
"I thought I told you two to avoid contact with the suspect until I arrived," he remarked.
Mal pushed his chair back and stood up.
Zoë pushed her chair back slightly and drew her gun under the table.
"'Fraid the contact part was my idea," Mal volunteered. "These boys tried real hard, but they're not exactly adept when it comes to tailing people. I was just cuttin' to the chase."
"I think you'll find the chase is over, Captain Reynolds," the man replied. "We meant to follow you to your contact and intercept the girl when you made the exchange. As it is, I'm afraid we'll have to insist on returning to your ship with you."
Mal's brow furrowed. "Girl?"
The man smiled tolerantly. "Come, come, Captain. Let us not play games."
Mal put his hands on his hips. "On my honor as a loyal member of the Alliance, I swear that I have no idea what you are—" He broke off and rocked back. His eyes screwed shut and he put a hand to his brow.
Zoë sprang to her feet, biting her lips to keep from calling to Mal.
"Unnhhh. Two by two . . ." He stumbled sideways to the bar and fell against it. He clutched his temples and turned slowly towards the middle of the room, his back against the bar's edge. Suddenly his manner became calm and he looked sadly into the eyes of the white-haired man. "The lieutenant is dead. It's up to us now," he announced.
Then his eyes rolled back and he crumpled bonelessly to the floor.
Nobody moved. They all stared at the fallen captain, unsure if his collapse was a ruse of some sort. Finally, the older man snapped his fingers. "Check him."
The other two stood and took a step towards Mal.
"Step away from him!" Zoë barked, her gun covering all three men.
They froze.
She stepped around her table and up to the captain. Her eyes never left the first two men, and they backed away as she got closer. The older man stayed where he was and regarded her with mild interest. She knelt next to Mal and groped along his neck until she found a pulse. It was faint, but steady. She slid her hand down to his chest and felt it move slightly. He was breathing.
The cold hand around her heart loosened a little.
She stood. "I would take it as a great kindness if the three of you would just go along your way," she said firmly.
The white-haired man laughed kindly. The sound sent chills down Zoë's back. "My dear, let us help you. You can't possibly manage the captain on your own. Allow my men to carry him back to the ship for you."
"No, thank you," Zoë said. She backed away a step. "Just go. Now." She raised her gun higher and glared at the man.
To her right, the darker man suddenly dove past her and flipped a table up. Her gun arm swung to that side and she fired.
At the same time, she heard another shot.
She whipped her head around and saw the older man standing with a small pistol in his hand. Presumably it had been in a sleeve holster of some sort. The gun was pointing toward the floor.
Toward Mal.
"Put your gun down now, my dear," the man said smoothly. "My men have finally managed to draw their weapons, and even if you could gun them down, I'm afraid my next shot is going through the captain's face."
Zoë stared at the man for a moment longer, afraid to look. Finally she dropped her eyes to Mal. He was rolled further onto his back than before and a red stain was spreading along his outer thigh.
He didn't hit the coat, she thought absurdly. Mal will be glad he didn't hit the coat.
The gun fell from her fingers.
Wash and Lily were on the bridge with the dinosaurs spread out between them on the deck when Zoë's voice came over the ship's intercom: "We have Alliance officials on board, people. They'll be searching the ship. Just let them do their job—the sooner they figure out we've got nothing to hide, the sooner they'll be gone."
Wash dropped his triceratops and scrambled to his knees, grabbing Lily by her shoulders and looking frantically about. "Gāisi. Sweetie, we don't want those officers to see you. You want to play hide-and-seek again?"
She nodded, her eyes huge. She pulled away from the pilot and headed towards the corridor.
"Not too far," he advised in a stage whisper. "We don't want to run into them."
She ran only as far as the hatch to the captain's quarters. Without even glancing back at Wash, she popped the hatch and scurried down the ladder. "Don't come out until Kaylee calls you," he instructed, closing the hatch behind her. He rushed back to the bridge, where he gathered up the dinosaurs and tossed them on the copilot's chair. Then he headed to the cargo bay.
He joined Inara on the catwalk and shrank back as a pair of men with a portable sensor of some kind mounted the stairs towards them. Below, a white-haired man stood at elegant ease just inside the cargo bay, a gun held loosely in his hand.
Zoë sat on the floor by the airlock controls. Mal was lying limply in her arms, his head cradled against her breast. She hunched over him protectively, shielding him from the gun. Wash couldn't see his face. His coat was open wide, and he could see a bloody cloth wrapped around his left thigh.
His first instinct was to run to Zoë, to add his own body as a barrier between her and that cold glare. He moved just one step before Inara's hand closed on his arm. When he met her eyes, she shook her head once and whispered, "Don't!" He swallowed and bit his lip, and then he gazed below again, this time with a more critical eye. Inara was right—this man had a cold cruelty about him. He would not be helping the situation if he gave him another hostage to use against Zoë.
He put his arm around Inara's shoulders and steered her towards the mess.
Kaylee and Simon had been sitting at the table, but now they were both standing, Kaylee clutching the doctor's arm.
"Mal's been hurt," Inara reported breathlessly. "I think he's unconscious. It looks like they're coercing Zoë by threatening to harm him further."
Simon turned wide eyes upon her. "Is River with them?"
She shook her head. "I didn't see her."
Simon looked helplessly from Inara to Kaylee. "What do we do?" he implored.
Inara moved to his side and placed her hand on his arm. "We do what Zoë told us to do. We sit here quietly and we let them search." She sat down at the table and folded her hands in her lap.
Kaylee released Simon's other arm and leaned across the table. "But if they search," she hissed, "they'll find—"
Wash silenced her by putting a finger to his lips and sitting down next to Inara. Kaylee bit off her objection and sat, too. She tried to fold her hands in her lap, but had to settle for sitting on them in order to keep them still.
Jayne slunk in from his bunk. A moment later, Shepherd Book came up from the passenger quarters and joined them.
There were two teams of searchers. One team worked their way up through the passenger quarters, while the second team started with the cargo bay itself and then moved on to the shuttles. Inara stared straight ahead while they searched through her things.
Wash craned his head and watched as they searched the crew quarters. They started with his and Zoë's, then moved on to Jayne's. After that, they crossed the corridor and entered Kaylee's room. Wash held his breath.
When they finished there, they walked past Mal's bunk and went to the bridge.
Wash stared down at his hands, afraid that he would give the show away.
When the men finished and headed back down to the cargo bay, the entire crew followed wordlessly behind them. Wash met the doctor's worried eyes and smiled slightly in encouragement.
"Our sensors find no girl here, sir," one of the men reported to the white-haired official, "But there are a girl's belongings in one of the rooms." He held out a skirt and a dress—River's. "We observed a third person with the captain and the mate when they departed."
The older man took the proffered clothing and turned it over in his hands. "These things are too large for a ten-year-old." He looked up at the crew. "Who is this girl?"
"Uh—my niece, Annie," Jayne volunteered hesitantly. "She's travellin' with us a spell."
"And where is she?"
"Well . . . like your man said, she went to town with the captain and Zoë," Jayne said blankly.
"She went shoppin'," Zoë interjected. "She wanted to get Jayne a present."
The man pointed his gaze and his gun at Zoë while he considered what she had said. Finally, he flung the clothes on the floor. "Pah! It might be that your captain was telling the truth. Don't think that we won't be watching."
He turned on his heel and strode out, closely followed by his underlings. Jayne punched the button that closed the airlock behind them.
The moment they had cleared the doorway, Wash flung himself down on his knees beside his wife. Inara crouched beside Mal. She touched his face tentatively, as though afraid that it would be cold beneath her fingers.
Zoë leaned across Mal and grasped her shoulder. "He's alive, Inara."
Wash watched the companion look into his wife's eyes and saw the same fear, the same desperate comfort in both faces.
Then Simon gently pushed Inara aside and felt for Mal's pulse. He glanced at Zoë. "What happened?"
"I'm not sure," she replied. "Mal was just talking to that húndàn when he suddenly grabbed his head and then collapsed. Like he had a stroke or something."
Simon pulled the captain's eyelids up and checked his pupils. "OK. Let's get him into the infirmary." He moved to take hold of Mal's legs. Before he lifted, he paused and looked up at Zoë. "And River?"
"I didn't lie, Doctor," she assured him. "I left her in a store across the street. Once the captain's settled, I'll take her uncle and go find her."
Wash bit off a curse and clutched his hair. "Find! I've got to let Lily out!" He leapt to his feet and grabbed Kaylee by the hand. "C'mon, Kaylee, I need you to call the all clear."
Zoë hardly spoke as she and Jayne walked from the ship to the store where she had left River. Jayne didn't mind: his own thoughts were churning from the events of the past hour.
To his own great surprise, he couldn't get the vision of Mal lying so still in Zoë's arms out of his head. He had always expected Mal to go down in a fight, not to just collapse like that. Hell, Mal was younger than Jayne—didn't seem right.
And nothing had better have happened to River. Jayne wasn't done atoning for turning her into the Alliance, and he thought of her as his personal charge. He wondered if Mal had picked up on that, if that was why the captain had made River his niece for the benefit of passengers. Oddly, it was a relationship Jayne welcomed.
As he followed Zoë into the store, he pushed all his concerns and doubts out of his mind and concentrated on River. He couldn't explain to anybody what it was that allowed him to track other people so well: he just opened his mind to her and followed his instincts.
His gaze darted around the small showroom. He circled the room once and then stopped by the display in front of the window. He touched the folded clothing.
One stack was knocked askew. He fingered the sweater on the top and looked up. He had a direct view through the window of the entrance across the street.
He turned to face the opposite direction and spotted a doorway at the back of the store. "C'mon," he grunted, striding to it.
The shopkeeper tried to follow them out the back, but Zoë put her hand to her gun and shut the door in his face.
Outside, Jayne could hear a familiar murmuring. He walked further into the alley and found River seated behind the trash bins, rocking side to side and talking quietly to herself. Her face was tracked with tears.
Jayne knelt beside her and looked up at Zoë for guidance. The first mate's face reflected the same helplessness that he felt. Suddenly Jayne wished they had brought Kaylee or Wash with them.
He cleared his throat and waved his hand in front of River's eyes. "Hey, River? You in there?"
When she failed to respond, he grasped her gently by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Annie! C'mon, enough hide-and-seek—time to head back to the ship."
Her gaze shifted towards him, but her eyes were still unfocused. "He slipped through to the back room."
Zoë crouched beside Jayne and touched River's shoulder. "She must've felt the captain fall. River! Honey—the captain is gonna be fine."
Jayne shot her a questioning glance, wondering if she really believed that. She shrugged back and addressed the girl again. "Come on. I bet he'll be awake and waiting for us when we get back."
River looked at her with anguished eyes. "No! You don't understand. I felt him leave. He's gone!" She beat her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I just wanted to warn him. Just warn him."
Jayne backed away from her in horror. "Tāmāde." He looked at Zoë with naked fear in his eyes. "She really can kill you with her brain!"
Zoë found the silence in the infirmary unnerving. The doctor had sedated River and put her to bed, and Zoë had ordered the crew to catch what sleep they could. Inara had drifted off on the sofa in the outer room, and the shepherd was poring over his Bible beside her. The doctor had left strict orders that she call him if there was any change and had retired to catch what sleep he could.
Mal had not stirred since she watched him collapse, and his shallow breathing made no sound. The stillness was frightening: the air around the captain was normally filled with tension. Even when he slept, he tended to dream and speak the names of long-dead soldiers. She found herself touching him—laying her hand against his cheek or taking his hand—to confirm that he was still warm.
Truth be told, she had expected Mal to wake by now. It was the deepest dead of night—the time when he tended to prowl the ship restlessly. If he slept through this night, she feared he'd never wake at all.
River had been so sure that she had killed him.
Without the proper monitoring equipment, Simon was unable to determine how much brain activity was going on inside the captain's head. He had warned her that if the captain had indeed suffered a stroke of some sort, he might be partially paralyzed or have trouble speaking.
She crossed her arms across her chest and paced the few steps to the far wall. There she turned on her heel and regarded the captain coolly. "C'mon, sir—this sorry crew is in need of some leadership. That sad excuse for a pilot needs to know what course to set, the hired muscle is contemplatin' desertion, and the first mate is too absorbed in her own problems to keep them all in hand. We need you back—and soon would be best."
He didn't respond.
She leaned her hip against the wall. "Mal, you're broken enough without this. You may think I don't remember, but I can still see that devout, hopeful boy that I followed into battle after battle. I keep thinking that if I watch your back long enough, I may actually get to see a glimpse of him again. I'd dearly like to, sir."
She pushed herself away from the wall and paced around the table. "You know, sometimes I think that if something were to happen to you—if one of our jobs were to go wrong—then I'd be free. There'd be nothin' tying me to Serenity anymore, and Wash and I could go off and start that family we're wantin'. It would be easier—I wouldn't have to make any hard decisions.
"But it's not that simple, is it? Think of the guilt I'd have to live with, sir. I know you're familiar with guilt, so I know that you'd want to spare me that."
She moved to his side and gripped the side of the medical table, leaning over him. "I'm baring my soul here, sir. Feel free to jump in with a smart comment any time."
Mal's nostrils flared. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes moved.
Zoë took a deep breath and held it. She gripped his right hand in hers and stroked his brow with her left. "I'm right here, sir. Just open your eyes and you'll see me."
His fingers twitched in hers. A very low moan worked its way out his throat.
Remembering her promise to Simon, Zoë dropped his hand and ran out to slam her fist against the doctor's bedroom door. "Simon! He's waking up." A moment later, she was clutching his hand again. "Still here, sir."
Mal's respiration deepened and became more jagged. His head rolled to the left.
Simon shuffled into the room, still fully dressed, but a little rumpled. He moved to Mal's left side and held his wrist lightly, feeling the pulse. Inara and Book trailed after him and hovered by the door.
Mal's eyes opened. He blinked a few times.
Simon placed his hand on the captain's shoulder. "Take it slow, Mal. You're on Serenity. Everything's fine."
Mal's eyes showed no comprehension. He turned his head to the right and squinted at Zoë.
She smiled at him reassuringly. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up, sir. It's good to see your eyes open."
In her heart, she willed Mal to speak.
He looked at her in total confusion. He pushed himself up slightly on his elbows and moved his lips tentatively. An odd grunt escaped them.
The hand in hers suddenly clenched, crushing her bones together. His back arched, the tendons in his neck stood out, and he slammed back on the table.
"Damn!" Simon swore, spreading his arms wide and pressing Mal's body down. "He's going to seize."
A moment later, the rigid muscles contracted and his limbs thrashed with a horrible, regular rhythm.
Zoë threw her arms out and pressed him down with all her weight, desperately trying to keep him from falling to the floor. She raised her chin high to avoid his flailing hands.
In the doorway, Inara gasped and buried her face against the shepherd's chest. The preacher stared with horrified fascination.
"How long . . . will this last?" Zoë gasped.
"Not long," Simon replied. "Just don't . . . let him . . . fall."
True to the doctor's word, the seizures eased after a couple of minutes. Mal lay motionless save for his gasping attempts to catch his breath. His face was ashen, his eyes closed once again.
Inara pulled away from Book and rushed to the foot of the table. "Is he all right?"
"I think so," Simon replied distractedly, counting Mal's heartbeats once again. He paused in his examination and looked up. "Seizures like that aren't uncommon. After what he's been through, it might be like hitting a reset button. Give him a few minutes—the convulsions can be exhausting."
They all stood and stared down at the captain, waiting. After a minute, Inara glanced at the doctor and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Zoë did the same. Simon shrugged helplessly.
"We're all kinda waitin' for you to say something, sir," Zoë finally said.
"I was sorta enjoying the quiet," Mal remarked hoarsely. He opened his eyes just enough to squint up at her.
"Thank God," Book breathed from the doorway.
The captain kept his gaze on his first mate. "Where are we?"
"On Serenity," Zoë replied. "Everybody's safe and sound."
"Huh? How'd we manage that?"
"Turns out those hours of zhuōmícáng weren't wasted. Lily's a first-class hider. She can even hide from sensors."
Mal's brow furrowed as he tried to absorb that. Finally, he gave up. "Is River all right?"
"She's been distraught," Simon interjected. "I suspect she'll be better once she sees that you've recovered." He wet his lips and then hesitantly asked, "Did she really cause your attack?"
Mal struggled to sit up. Simon and Zoë put their hands behind his shoulders and pushed him upright. He leaned forwards and scrubbed at his forehead with his palms. "She clawed her way into my head, screaming, and then she ran around in it in a panic, slammin' against the walls. There wasn't room for both of us."
"She said she was trying to warn you," Zoë said.
He looked up at her. "She did—those men were connected with the ones from the academy, weren't they?"
She nodded.
"So, I guess this means that she's more than a reader," Book commented seriously.
Mal sighed. "I get the ramifications, Preacher, believe me. But right now, I'm just wishin' the little mógui in my head would stop stabbin' the backs of my eyeballs."
"Sleep's the best thing for that, Mal," the doctor assured him. "I'll give you something to help you rest."
"Okay," the captain complied gratefully. "How long was I out?"
"About fifteen hours, Mal," Inara told him. "We were getting worried."
"That long? Then why am I so jīnpílìjìn?" he complained.
"Seizures will do that," the doctor remarked. He was filling a syringe from a vial he'd taken from a cabinet. "Also, you lost some blood."
Mal frowned in confusion.
Simon pulled the blanket aside to reveal the bandage on Mal's bare thigh. A red stain was seeping through it. "The convulsions started the bleeding again. I'll change that dressing." He swabbed Mal's arm.
"My head hurts so bad, I didn't even feel the leg," Mal confessed as the doctor gave him the injection.
"It's not too bad," Zoë assured him. "That chunrén shot you while you were unconscious."
Simon turned away to find the bandages.
"That's how he got Zoë to surrender her gun," Book explained angrily.
Mal met Zoë's eyes. "Any chance you killed this guy already?" His eye was caught by something at the door. "Hey—why ain't you in bed?"
Zoë followed his gaze. Lily stood in the doorway, her hair tangled from sleep. She was wearing Jayne's Big Guns t-shirt; it came down well past her knees. She moved stiffly to Mal's side and fixed him with a wide-eyed stare.
"That man hurt you," she stated.
"Nothin' serious," he assured her.
"He was going to hurt me," she continued.
"I'm afraid he was, sweetheart. That's why we're gonna find you someplace safe to live."
She chewed her lip, considering. "But I like it here," she finally protested. "I want to stay with Wash and Annie."
Mal lay back with a pained expression. He put on the frown that Zoë knew meant he was deadly earnest. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but Serenity ain't no place for little girls. It can get right dangerous here, and we don't like to risk precious cargo."
Like Kaylee or Inara, Zoë thought wryly. Or Wash.
Inara put her arm around the girl and smiled at her. "Sweetie, it's the middle of the night and we all need to sleep. Come on—I'll tuck you in, and we'll let Billy and Zoë tuck the captain in."
Lily looked annoyed, but gave in. She resisted long enough to turn to the captain and say, "Good night." Then she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.
He reached out and touched her face as she turned away. "Good night," he called after her.
chunrén prick (person)
húndàn bastard, son of a bitch
jīnpílìjìn exhausted, tired
mógui demon
tāmāde damn, fuck
zhuōmícáng hide-and-seek
