XXIV. Redcoats, Black Tar and White Lies
Mao opened the discussion in the chamber that afternoon, his face drawn and guarded. He stood in the center of the red carpet and cleared his throat. "Last night, we parted with the question of Spike Spiegel's location. I have ascertained that information, and expect to make contact with him before the day is out. I cannot say without consulting him when he plans to return to Tharsis City, although I would expect him to do so as soon as he is well enough to travel again."
"We will expect you to report to us as soon as you have spoken with him," Wang Long replied. "Make clear to him that his absence is displeasing to us. Now that we have identified his attacker, there is no reason for him to operate outside our circle of influence."
"I would hardly call what he is doing 'operating'," Mao said with a wry smile. "My understanding is that he has barely been conscious since arriving at his destination, but he is well cared for, certainly as well as he would be cared for here, and with fewer prying eyes to interrupt his recovery."
Wang Long nodded. "We will require his presence and his services in the coming weeks, especially in light of what we plan to announce today. However, before we address that subject, we understand Vicious has requested audience with us, and with all of you assembled here. State your purpose, Vicious."
"I request permission to speak freely," he said, his voice clear and confident, filling the room.
It came as some surprise when Sou Long, the one who most often reprimanded him, who spoke in riddles and aphorisms, replied, "We will hear all that you have to say."
Vicious took a deep breath before going on. "Although his actions were reprehensible, and I hope that I can be the claw of the Dragon once more to mete out his punishment, Marcus Britt spoke truth. An attempt to broker a business agreement with the White Tiger over Red Eye was a move no one who walks on the street would so much as suggest in jest. You have lost your fangs, thinking that we traffic in goods and services like normal merchants. We do not sell rice to restaurateurs. We sell poison to exterminators. We do not finance mortgages with property as our guarantee. We lend power and collect blood in interest. The Red Dragon empire has grown powerful in legitimate ways, but my daily life does not reflect it, except in the cut of my suits. Ours is a treacherous division of the corporation, and it cannot – will not – adhere to the rules of polite society.
"Too often in recent months I have heard the placid repetition of ancient feudal theory in this chamber. It reminds me of the history books about Earth, when a great and noble empire, more powerful than any other, clad its soldiers in brilliant red finery and lined them up in spectacular parade formation, sending them out to fight a war. Their opponents welcomed the onslaught – seeing, instead of a formidable foe, a tidal wave of willing corpses, marching toward oblivion. Those opponents clad themselves in camouflage and lay in wait, picking off each successive row of soldiers, until the great empire had no more corpses to send. What you attempted to do with myself, and Spike Spiegel, and Mato Yenrai, amounts to the fallacy committed by that Earthen empire. We are fortunate that we still had our instincts to guide us, or we would all be deep in our graves already, casualties of a cause you might continue to champion until every son of every venerable member of this house had given his life in pursuit of your ignorant dream."
When he stopped, the echo of his voice cascaded back from the corners and ceiling of the chamber, and the audience stood stunned, stealing glances at one another. Finally, Wang Long rose to the bait.
"Your excellence as a leader in the affairs for which you are responsible affords you some leeway in our presence, but nonetheless, you demonstrate your ignorance by your words." He cleared his throat. "We might turn the lens of criticism on you, for failing to consider our larger goals. Another story from Earth before the destruction of the Gate informs our plan, and you have provided us with segue to open that discussion. On Earth, for centuries, people used the extract of the Poppy plant to produce opium and other highly addictive, hallucinogenic substances. These substances were simple to manufacture, in high demand, and brought power to their producers.
"Families involved in business, not unlike ourselves, saw an opportunity to own the distribution and profits of this substance, to control their flow and ensnare their buyers. But to do this with the same product a simple farmer could create seemed both pointless and arduous. So instead, they developed a refined version of opium, the drug you have heard called heroin – and with this concentrated and refined new product, they gained a stranglehold over those willing to part with their money. We have in mind a similar refinement of the stimulant known as Red Eye, and the acquisition of a manufacturing facility gives us the means to set our brightest minds in the legitimate scientific realm on the task of improving this pedestrian street drug."
Vicious raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "Then what was the purpose of brokering an agreement with the White Tiger?"
Wang Long gave him a disdainful look. "We stated our reasons at the time. In addition to the pressure from the ISSP, pressure we will now have to feel in full measure, it made good psychological and business sense to bring the White Tiger into our fold. They could not accuse us of attempting to break down their profits, and had you and your fellow ambassadors succeeded, they would have been helpless, by the time we introduced our superior product, to compete at any level. But you are young and impetuous, Vicious, despite your belief you know better than we do. So it does not surprise me that you did not think further ahead than your own petty discomfort at the idea of behaving like a businessman instead of an animal."
Mao stepped forward, raising his voice before Vicious could retort. "I believe everyone would have been better able to fulfill their duties if they had had some sense of the full scope of your intentions."
"It is neither necessary nor wise for us to reveal our full intentions to anyone. None of you should require justification for carrying out an order we give you. Perhaps that, more than anything else, is the lesson we expect you all to take away from the events of the past week." Wang Long sat back again, and Vicious thought they might be excused, but Sou Long took up the reins.
"Vicious, I did not miss your request at the beginning of your tirade, and I will answer you now: you will have no further contact with Britt. He is valuable to the Red Dragon as a traitor, for what he can reveal through slow degrees of torture. Your desire to simply be rid of him is, like everything else you have displayed of late, impatience. It makes you dangerous to the security of the Red Dragon as a whole. I cannot help but note you have been dangerous in this way, more and more frequently, in the recent past. Be careful you do not jeopardize all you have worked for by squandering our trust on personal vendettas."
It would have been impossible to miss the fury in Vicious' expression, but he did not open his mouth to speak again, clearly collecting every ounce of his resolve to keep from making his position worse.
"You are all dismissed," Sou Long said, "and may return to your regular duties. There will be frequent visits from the ISSP Special Forces in the coming days. Avoid them if you can, and say nothing if you cannot; we will do everything in our power to prevent any of you from being detained. Fortunately, we hear word of a skirmish erupting on Titan, and it seems the military police have much of their attention focused there. You should all hope that situation becomes dire enough that our problems seem petty by comparison."
***
Spike sat alone by the fire, watching the sun drop lower over the red Martian hills in the distance, and started when a hand dropped to his shoulder from behind. He turned to see Mayan, with a heavy rucksack over his shoulder and a dark look in his eye.
"We need to talk," Mayan said, looking around the camp. "Where are Astrid and Bull?"
"Went for water," Spike replied. "What do we need to talk about?"
Mayan pursed his lips. "I do not wish to have this conversation where Astrid or her father might overhear. Can you walk with me a ways?"
Warning bells went off in Spike's brain, and he was painfully aware that his weapon lay stashed in the bag in Bull's tent. However, something in Mayan's expression made clear it would be unwise to refuse, so he pushed himself to his feet and nodded, pulling the last cigarette out of his pack. He cursed under his breath, realizing he had not asked Mayan to bring back more.
Mayan dropped his rucksack next to the tent he and Astrid shared, and extended a hand toward the path into the forest. They walked in silence for fifty yards or so; when Spike couldn't keep up the pace any longer, he dropped to the ground and hooked his elbows over his knees. "We're going to have to chat here," he said, wary.
"Fair enough," Mayan replied, and pulled a comm. from his pocket. Spike recognized it, after a moment, as his own. "When I returned to our shop, which has been closed since we came to stay with Bull, two men were waiting for me. They were looking for you."
Spike frowned. "Only two people know I'm here in Tharsis City."
"They were sent by someone named Mao Yenrai. How they knew me, my association with Bull, and in turn your association with Bull, is beyond me and disturbing. In any case, they knew all of that, and they sent me on an errand to retrieve this to bring back to you." He held the comm. out.
Spike took it as though it might burn him. "I don't understand."
"Nor do I. I am not sure what you have brought to our home, coming here, but I want no part of it. I am a legitimate businessman, and Astrid is nearly due to bear our first child. We came here for the last months of her pregnancy to be in solitude and peace. It seems we will not have it long, with you here."
"I swear, I didn't tell anyone about Bull, or about where I was going. If you picked this up, you know how far away I left any trace of myself before I came. I had no way to know Astrid would be with her father." On top of being winded, his heart hammered with nervous suspicion. "I'll go as soon as I can. Tomorrow morning."
Mayan shook his head. "I wanted you to understand, as a man who also cares about Astrid, that I do not believe your being with us is a good thing. However, I will not unsay what she said, because I love her and respect her, so you may stay as long as she and Bull will have you."
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Spike looked at the viewscreen, noting the missed calls from Vicious and Mao, but made no move to use it.
"I was asked to relay the message to you that your attacker has been identified and detained. You are to contact Mao Yenrai immediately. Failure to do so will bring the business of the city here to us, and I will not tolerate that. So in exchange for allowing you to stay, I expect you to make the call now, before we return to camp." Mayan crossed his arms over his chest.
Spike nodded and elected to skip the messages, instead dialing Mao's private line, with one eye on Mayan. He wanted to turn away, but stayed where he was until Mao answered.
"Spike!" he burst out in greeting. "Thank god. If you had not called, I would have had a difficult time justifying your absence again."
"What do you mean? It shouldn't surprise anybody that I'm not there." Spike rubbed his eyes. "How did you find me? How did you find Mayan?"
Mao looked reticent. "I did not want to do it, but when you mentioned staying with a friend of your father's, I was fairly certain you meant Laughing Bull. It took the better part of last night, ever since the Van informed me you could not be out of contact, to find a way to reach you. We traced your ship, and your comm. signal, to its location, but had no idea where you'd gone when we found them. It took considerably more footwork to find someone who might be able to contact you. Please extend my apologies, and assurances that there will be no more."
"Mayan said you locked someone up. Who?" He felt sick to his stomach, afraid to hear her name cross Mao's lips, afraid perhaps he had been wrong to dismiss her from suspicion.
"Marcus Britt," Mao replied, and mistook the relief on Spike's face for general comfort at his enemy being found. "He orchestrated the attack, trying to bring down the Red Eye agreement and sow dissension within the Red Dragon. Vicious and I also believe he would have liked to take your place at Vicious' side, though he does not admit it."
He tried to keep from laughing out loud. "Britt? The penny-pusher? I suppose it makes sense, from the money perspective." He paused, some of the elation fading. "This must be a mess."
"A mess of planetary proportions," Mao said, "but we will not discuss it further over this line. The reason I had to reach you is simple: with Britt in detention, you are expected to return as soon as you are able. The Van considers you a broken arrow, now that the danger appears to be past."
Spike snorted. "The Van can kiss my ass."
"I will not pass that on." Mao gave the camera a fierce glower. "I have covered for you, and I'm pleased I will be able to report that I've spoken with you. But unless you can tell me when you plan to return, and unless I can remain in contact with you until then, there will be serious repercussions for both you and I. You do not want the Vanguard to initiate their own search."
With a sigh, Spike nodded to himself. "I should have expected it. But to tell you the truth, I can't seem to dredge up the desire to come home. Not to mention, I used the last of my strength getting here, and I won't come back until I can make the journey alone. I won't involve these people in it any more than they've already been."
Mao frowned, the lines in his face adding years to it. "I don't suppose you feel like telling me what makes you hesitant to return?"
"If I knew the answer to that, I'd tell you. I don't have a reason why. I only have a reason why not: I'm pretty sure I won't die here. I'm with people I want to be with. Tharsis seems pretty far away, in more than just distance. And I like that feeling." He thought of Julia, her hands on his face, her lips parting for him, and felt the pull of missing her at the same time the dread of having to see her again, and live with what he'd done, made his stomach clench.
"The absence of a reason won't do either of us any good. But I can buy you a few days, perhaps a few weeks, on the basis of your infirm state." Mao looked up from the camera and waved a hand, saying "In a few minutes," before looking back to his screen.
"That had better be satisfactory. I think Julia could give you a pretty accurate catalog of my injuries. Even another good steak won't be enough to get me back to the ship, for a while yet."
Mayan shifted, looking down toward camp and motioning with his head. Spike turned to see Astrid and Bull coming up the path. "Mao, you can reach me here if you need to. But I would rather you didn't. Tell the Van to expect me in a few weeks, and not to expect to hear anything of me in Alva in the meantime."
Mao nodded and let out a sigh. "I'll do everything I can."
"One more thing," Spike said as Astrid and Bull drew within hearing distance. "Leave these people alone. You owe them more than an apology."
"There's nothing else I can do but apologize," Mao replied. "I'll honor your wishes, so long as you answer your comm. if I need to call you. Rest well and come home ready to work again. We have difficult days ahead of us, and your leadership is missed."
"I'll come home when I'm ready to provide it, then," Spike shot back, wishing more than anything that the mantle of responsibility would fall during his absence. "Until then, I'm as good as dead. Proceed as though I were."
"More than your leadership is missed," Mao said more gently. "No one here would like to think you were dead again, anytime before you're old."
Astrid drew up next to them, linking her arm through Mayan's and looking curiously at Spike.
"I have to go," he said, "but the news you had was mostly good, and for that, I thank you." He hit the disconnect and looked around at the faces of his hosts, with no idea what to say.
Mayan spoke instead. "Spike had me retrieve his comm. for him. His attacker has been found and detained. But he'll stay with us until he's ready to return home. I think we could all use a good meal."
Spike gave him a grateful smile and took the hand offered to help him up, following slowly behind them down the trail as the last of the day's light faded.
Mao opened the discussion in the chamber that afternoon, his face drawn and guarded. He stood in the center of the red carpet and cleared his throat. "Last night, we parted with the question of Spike Spiegel's location. I have ascertained that information, and expect to make contact with him before the day is out. I cannot say without consulting him when he plans to return to Tharsis City, although I would expect him to do so as soon as he is well enough to travel again."
"We will expect you to report to us as soon as you have spoken with him," Wang Long replied. "Make clear to him that his absence is displeasing to us. Now that we have identified his attacker, there is no reason for him to operate outside our circle of influence."
"I would hardly call what he is doing 'operating'," Mao said with a wry smile. "My understanding is that he has barely been conscious since arriving at his destination, but he is well cared for, certainly as well as he would be cared for here, and with fewer prying eyes to interrupt his recovery."
Wang Long nodded. "We will require his presence and his services in the coming weeks, especially in light of what we plan to announce today. However, before we address that subject, we understand Vicious has requested audience with us, and with all of you assembled here. State your purpose, Vicious."
"I request permission to speak freely," he said, his voice clear and confident, filling the room.
It came as some surprise when Sou Long, the one who most often reprimanded him, who spoke in riddles and aphorisms, replied, "We will hear all that you have to say."
Vicious took a deep breath before going on. "Although his actions were reprehensible, and I hope that I can be the claw of the Dragon once more to mete out his punishment, Marcus Britt spoke truth. An attempt to broker a business agreement with the White Tiger over Red Eye was a move no one who walks on the street would so much as suggest in jest. You have lost your fangs, thinking that we traffic in goods and services like normal merchants. We do not sell rice to restaurateurs. We sell poison to exterminators. We do not finance mortgages with property as our guarantee. We lend power and collect blood in interest. The Red Dragon empire has grown powerful in legitimate ways, but my daily life does not reflect it, except in the cut of my suits. Ours is a treacherous division of the corporation, and it cannot – will not – adhere to the rules of polite society.
"Too often in recent months I have heard the placid repetition of ancient feudal theory in this chamber. It reminds me of the history books about Earth, when a great and noble empire, more powerful than any other, clad its soldiers in brilliant red finery and lined them up in spectacular parade formation, sending them out to fight a war. Their opponents welcomed the onslaught – seeing, instead of a formidable foe, a tidal wave of willing corpses, marching toward oblivion. Those opponents clad themselves in camouflage and lay in wait, picking off each successive row of soldiers, until the great empire had no more corpses to send. What you attempted to do with myself, and Spike Spiegel, and Mato Yenrai, amounts to the fallacy committed by that Earthen empire. We are fortunate that we still had our instincts to guide us, or we would all be deep in our graves already, casualties of a cause you might continue to champion until every son of every venerable member of this house had given his life in pursuit of your ignorant dream."
When he stopped, the echo of his voice cascaded back from the corners and ceiling of the chamber, and the audience stood stunned, stealing glances at one another. Finally, Wang Long rose to the bait.
"Your excellence as a leader in the affairs for which you are responsible affords you some leeway in our presence, but nonetheless, you demonstrate your ignorance by your words." He cleared his throat. "We might turn the lens of criticism on you, for failing to consider our larger goals. Another story from Earth before the destruction of the Gate informs our plan, and you have provided us with segue to open that discussion. On Earth, for centuries, people used the extract of the Poppy plant to produce opium and other highly addictive, hallucinogenic substances. These substances were simple to manufacture, in high demand, and brought power to their producers.
"Families involved in business, not unlike ourselves, saw an opportunity to own the distribution and profits of this substance, to control their flow and ensnare their buyers. But to do this with the same product a simple farmer could create seemed both pointless and arduous. So instead, they developed a refined version of opium, the drug you have heard called heroin – and with this concentrated and refined new product, they gained a stranglehold over those willing to part with their money. We have in mind a similar refinement of the stimulant known as Red Eye, and the acquisition of a manufacturing facility gives us the means to set our brightest minds in the legitimate scientific realm on the task of improving this pedestrian street drug."
Vicious raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly. "Then what was the purpose of brokering an agreement with the White Tiger?"
Wang Long gave him a disdainful look. "We stated our reasons at the time. In addition to the pressure from the ISSP, pressure we will now have to feel in full measure, it made good psychological and business sense to bring the White Tiger into our fold. They could not accuse us of attempting to break down their profits, and had you and your fellow ambassadors succeeded, they would have been helpless, by the time we introduced our superior product, to compete at any level. But you are young and impetuous, Vicious, despite your belief you know better than we do. So it does not surprise me that you did not think further ahead than your own petty discomfort at the idea of behaving like a businessman instead of an animal."
Mao stepped forward, raising his voice before Vicious could retort. "I believe everyone would have been better able to fulfill their duties if they had had some sense of the full scope of your intentions."
"It is neither necessary nor wise for us to reveal our full intentions to anyone. None of you should require justification for carrying out an order we give you. Perhaps that, more than anything else, is the lesson we expect you all to take away from the events of the past week." Wang Long sat back again, and Vicious thought they might be excused, but Sou Long took up the reins.
"Vicious, I did not miss your request at the beginning of your tirade, and I will answer you now: you will have no further contact with Britt. He is valuable to the Red Dragon as a traitor, for what he can reveal through slow degrees of torture. Your desire to simply be rid of him is, like everything else you have displayed of late, impatience. It makes you dangerous to the security of the Red Dragon as a whole. I cannot help but note you have been dangerous in this way, more and more frequently, in the recent past. Be careful you do not jeopardize all you have worked for by squandering our trust on personal vendettas."
It would have been impossible to miss the fury in Vicious' expression, but he did not open his mouth to speak again, clearly collecting every ounce of his resolve to keep from making his position worse.
"You are all dismissed," Sou Long said, "and may return to your regular duties. There will be frequent visits from the ISSP Special Forces in the coming days. Avoid them if you can, and say nothing if you cannot; we will do everything in our power to prevent any of you from being detained. Fortunately, we hear word of a skirmish erupting on Titan, and it seems the military police have much of their attention focused there. You should all hope that situation becomes dire enough that our problems seem petty by comparison."
***
Spike sat alone by the fire, watching the sun drop lower over the red Martian hills in the distance, and started when a hand dropped to his shoulder from behind. He turned to see Mayan, with a heavy rucksack over his shoulder and a dark look in his eye.
"We need to talk," Mayan said, looking around the camp. "Where are Astrid and Bull?"
"Went for water," Spike replied. "What do we need to talk about?"
Mayan pursed his lips. "I do not wish to have this conversation where Astrid or her father might overhear. Can you walk with me a ways?"
Warning bells went off in Spike's brain, and he was painfully aware that his weapon lay stashed in the bag in Bull's tent. However, something in Mayan's expression made clear it would be unwise to refuse, so he pushed himself to his feet and nodded, pulling the last cigarette out of his pack. He cursed under his breath, realizing he had not asked Mayan to bring back more.
Mayan dropped his rucksack next to the tent he and Astrid shared, and extended a hand toward the path into the forest. They walked in silence for fifty yards or so; when Spike couldn't keep up the pace any longer, he dropped to the ground and hooked his elbows over his knees. "We're going to have to chat here," he said, wary.
"Fair enough," Mayan replied, and pulled a comm. from his pocket. Spike recognized it, after a moment, as his own. "When I returned to our shop, which has been closed since we came to stay with Bull, two men were waiting for me. They were looking for you."
Spike frowned. "Only two people know I'm here in Tharsis City."
"They were sent by someone named Mao Yenrai. How they knew me, my association with Bull, and in turn your association with Bull, is beyond me and disturbing. In any case, they knew all of that, and they sent me on an errand to retrieve this to bring back to you." He held the comm. out.
Spike took it as though it might burn him. "I don't understand."
"Nor do I. I am not sure what you have brought to our home, coming here, but I want no part of it. I am a legitimate businessman, and Astrid is nearly due to bear our first child. We came here for the last months of her pregnancy to be in solitude and peace. It seems we will not have it long, with you here."
"I swear, I didn't tell anyone about Bull, or about where I was going. If you picked this up, you know how far away I left any trace of myself before I came. I had no way to know Astrid would be with her father." On top of being winded, his heart hammered with nervous suspicion. "I'll go as soon as I can. Tomorrow morning."
Mayan shook his head. "I wanted you to understand, as a man who also cares about Astrid, that I do not believe your being with us is a good thing. However, I will not unsay what she said, because I love her and respect her, so you may stay as long as she and Bull will have you."
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Spike looked at the viewscreen, noting the missed calls from Vicious and Mao, but made no move to use it.
"I was asked to relay the message to you that your attacker has been identified and detained. You are to contact Mao Yenrai immediately. Failure to do so will bring the business of the city here to us, and I will not tolerate that. So in exchange for allowing you to stay, I expect you to make the call now, before we return to camp." Mayan crossed his arms over his chest.
Spike nodded and elected to skip the messages, instead dialing Mao's private line, with one eye on Mayan. He wanted to turn away, but stayed where he was until Mao answered.
"Spike!" he burst out in greeting. "Thank god. If you had not called, I would have had a difficult time justifying your absence again."
"What do you mean? It shouldn't surprise anybody that I'm not there." Spike rubbed his eyes. "How did you find me? How did you find Mayan?"
Mao looked reticent. "I did not want to do it, but when you mentioned staying with a friend of your father's, I was fairly certain you meant Laughing Bull. It took the better part of last night, ever since the Van informed me you could not be out of contact, to find a way to reach you. We traced your ship, and your comm. signal, to its location, but had no idea where you'd gone when we found them. It took considerably more footwork to find someone who might be able to contact you. Please extend my apologies, and assurances that there will be no more."
"Mayan said you locked someone up. Who?" He felt sick to his stomach, afraid to hear her name cross Mao's lips, afraid perhaps he had been wrong to dismiss her from suspicion.
"Marcus Britt," Mao replied, and mistook the relief on Spike's face for general comfort at his enemy being found. "He orchestrated the attack, trying to bring down the Red Eye agreement and sow dissension within the Red Dragon. Vicious and I also believe he would have liked to take your place at Vicious' side, though he does not admit it."
He tried to keep from laughing out loud. "Britt? The penny-pusher? I suppose it makes sense, from the money perspective." He paused, some of the elation fading. "This must be a mess."
"A mess of planetary proportions," Mao said, "but we will not discuss it further over this line. The reason I had to reach you is simple: with Britt in detention, you are expected to return as soon as you are able. The Van considers you a broken arrow, now that the danger appears to be past."
Spike snorted. "The Van can kiss my ass."
"I will not pass that on." Mao gave the camera a fierce glower. "I have covered for you, and I'm pleased I will be able to report that I've spoken with you. But unless you can tell me when you plan to return, and unless I can remain in contact with you until then, there will be serious repercussions for both you and I. You do not want the Vanguard to initiate their own search."
With a sigh, Spike nodded to himself. "I should have expected it. But to tell you the truth, I can't seem to dredge up the desire to come home. Not to mention, I used the last of my strength getting here, and I won't come back until I can make the journey alone. I won't involve these people in it any more than they've already been."
Mao frowned, the lines in his face adding years to it. "I don't suppose you feel like telling me what makes you hesitant to return?"
"If I knew the answer to that, I'd tell you. I don't have a reason why. I only have a reason why not: I'm pretty sure I won't die here. I'm with people I want to be with. Tharsis seems pretty far away, in more than just distance. And I like that feeling." He thought of Julia, her hands on his face, her lips parting for him, and felt the pull of missing her at the same time the dread of having to see her again, and live with what he'd done, made his stomach clench.
"The absence of a reason won't do either of us any good. But I can buy you a few days, perhaps a few weeks, on the basis of your infirm state." Mao looked up from the camera and waved a hand, saying "In a few minutes," before looking back to his screen.
"That had better be satisfactory. I think Julia could give you a pretty accurate catalog of my injuries. Even another good steak won't be enough to get me back to the ship, for a while yet."
Mayan shifted, looking down toward camp and motioning with his head. Spike turned to see Astrid and Bull coming up the path. "Mao, you can reach me here if you need to. But I would rather you didn't. Tell the Van to expect me in a few weeks, and not to expect to hear anything of me in Alva in the meantime."
Mao nodded and let out a sigh. "I'll do everything I can."
"One more thing," Spike said as Astrid and Bull drew within hearing distance. "Leave these people alone. You owe them more than an apology."
"There's nothing else I can do but apologize," Mao replied. "I'll honor your wishes, so long as you answer your comm. if I need to call you. Rest well and come home ready to work again. We have difficult days ahead of us, and your leadership is missed."
"I'll come home when I'm ready to provide it, then," Spike shot back, wishing more than anything that the mantle of responsibility would fall during his absence. "Until then, I'm as good as dead. Proceed as though I were."
"More than your leadership is missed," Mao said more gently. "No one here would like to think you were dead again, anytime before you're old."
Astrid drew up next to them, linking her arm through Mayan's and looking curiously at Spike.
"I have to go," he said, "but the news you had was mostly good, and for that, I thank you." He hit the disconnect and looked around at the faces of his hosts, with no idea what to say.
Mayan spoke instead. "Spike had me retrieve his comm. for him. His attacker has been found and detained. But he'll stay with us until he's ready to return home. I think we could all use a good meal."
Spike gave him a grateful smile and took the hand offered to help him up, following slowly behind them down the trail as the last of the day's light faded.