"With respect, sir - to hell with the head wound. We need to be looking at how we're going to get my husband back."
"Zoe, stay down, gorramit! Doc needs to check you out first. And doctor - I understand you're feeling a mite restless as well, but at the moment what we need to know is if Zoe's gonna be all right." Mal's hand pressed her back into the infirmary chair. He caught Simon's shoulders, firmly guiding him around and setting him in front of the chair. "Right now, might as well relax and get doctored. Can't do anything 'til Jayne gets back... assuming he hasn't gone and gotten himself caught, too."
Zoe had woken up as they approached Eavesdown Docks to find Mal hauling her and Kaylee back to Serenity like so much baggage and her husband nowhere in sight. They'd come back into the ship, Mal waving some Alliance toy pistol around, to find Simon in a flat panic and fixing to do Jayne some serious harm. Mostly, though, Zoe's concerns were for her man who'd not so long since been tortured by Niska and now was in Alliance hands. Potentially the hands of those folks who'd tortured and cut into River, who'd also demonstrated no compunction about leaving a trail of corpses behind them of people who knew too much.
"How do we even know it wasn't Jayne who betrayed us - again - in the first place?" Simon raised, although at Mal's pointed glare he at least took to making his protests in between doing his job. His hands felt cool and steady at her temple, despite the anger and the shake in his voice. "He took her out of the ship! What the hell was he thinking?"
"I'd guess in this situation he was thinking of Badger's people having a bunch of guns on the both of them." Mal had that stillness he got in place of anger which meant, usually, he hadn't any patience for having his orders questioned, though the doctor had showed a persistent slowness of uptake on that matter many a time before. "Jayne didn't do this, on account of earlier he was shooting feds by my side and they ain't that forgiving, ruse or no. 'Sides, that last betrayal near got him killed twice over, by them and by me, so if his lesson ain't learned by now he's even dumber'n I ever thought."
"How about your Sir Warwick?" Book asked, watching grimly in near-military stance, arms folded. "In fact, how can we be sure they won't descend on us here, that they aren't just waiting for the right moment?"
Mal fixed him a glare, too, over the top of Simon's bowed head. "We can't be sure - but I'm not about to cut and run. If we lose Serenity, we lose it all. If they have our names, it's over, sooner or later. No way can we hide the whole crew. But we have to work on the assumption they don't know those things and we can still haul ourselves clear of all this mess. Only assumption right now that's worth working on."
"Something of an act of faith, captain," the Shepherd pointed out gently.
"Nothing but simple common sense," Mal retaliated. "I'll worry about those things I can do something to change." He grimaced. "It wasn't Sir Warwick. That wasn't an ambush set up from someone knew we'd be coming out of his place. Plenty better places for them to jump us if they knew we were coming." His eyes strayed over to where Kaylee lay on the bed in the corner, as an unidentifiable mumble emerged from that direction.
Zoe shifted slightly in the chair, easing aches, as Simon finished cleaning the gash on her head and started to unroll a wad of dressing. He still looked angry. Boy had done well to stay on the ship, though Book had also had something to do with that, and might've struggled if the waiting had stretched any longer.
Mal jerked his head toward Kaylee, distracting Simon from dressing the wound a moment. "There something you can give her? I could use my engineer operational."
"There is," the doctor said reluctantly, "But she'd feel it later, and would be unlikely to thank you."
"Then she and I will have to deal with that later. Reckon she's got some misery headed her way if we do nothing anyhow." The edge of his mouth quirked up in a fragment of a smile, dragged down too soon by their weight of problems. "Get her up and about once you're finished with Zoe."
There was a crash of a door that reverberated from somewhere inside the ship, and Mal was out of the infirmary, the Alliance issue gun drawn, in an instant. Simon's fingers stilled on her head as the two of them waited, not breathing, and Zoe wished she could be confident of staying on her feet unaided if it happened they had to fight. After a moment, voices sounded from somewhere down the passageway, and slowly worked their way closer.
Book relaxed the position he'd taken by the door as Mal walked back in with Jayne at his side, even though they'd been able to discern who was approaching by their voices some seconds earlier. He relaxed too soon anyhow, as it turned out.
Simon was a blur as he flung himself forward. "You!" the doctor snarled, teeth bared, backing Jayne over a work-surface with the force of his tackle, the mercenary too astonished to have even struck back. "How much did they promise to pay you this time? How can you even - knowing what they'll do to her - !"
"I didn't, gorramit - " Jayne protested, voice descending to a growl as Simon managed to land a respectable punch to his jaw; caught both the doctor's hands roughly and it looked for a moment like they were going to have a surgeon with a full matching set of broken fingers.
"That's enough!" Mal shouted, dragging them apart. He ignored Jayne - the fact he turned his back on him enough an indication of trust for Zoe, watching. He tossed Simon against the wall and pinned him there by leaning weight on the hands he clenched in the doctor's collar. "I don't care what choices he did and didn't make this evening. That's past now. Jayne may just have made it possible to rescue your sister tonight, so I'd quiet down and listen polite to what he has to say." His fingers flexed, tightening their grasp, and Simon flinched. "Now, are we gonna have a problem again if I let you go?"
Simon shook his head, still looking rebellious.
"Good." Mal released him, shoved him back toward the chair, and placed himself between the doctor and Jayne anyway. "Finish doctorin' Zoe," he ordered.
"Here's the situation as it stands." Mal paced in front of the crew where they'd arranged themselves around the dining table; Kaylee huddled in her seat back in grease-stained overalls and trying to keep her head up, Zoe with a red-blotted dressing on her head wound standing leaned over her chair with her arms set to the table like a challenge, Jayne outwardly relaxed but his eyes continuing to slide over to where Simon stood with an unusual troubled cast to them, Simon too agitated for sitting. Shepherd Book stood quiet over at the back - man always had had an aversion to sitting in with the rest of them, these meetings where they were about to do something not-entirely-legal. "It's looking like River was spotted in the street by someone with brains enough to report it back in and keep her tagged 'til the cavalry arrived. These weren't regular Alliance troops; they had too much idea what they were chasing for that. And they were playing for keeps - least one bystander got killed by their guns in that exchange. Didn't see anyone caring too much, neither."
He paused, watching their faces. "Point being, firstly - they don't know about Serenity. They don't know who we are. If they had, they'd have come for us by now. So they got no more'n what they had before, leastways for the moment. Now, the way things stand, I don't see that we have many choices. Jayne - " He crossed his arms and stood still, leaning back against the wall, handing over the floor to the merc.
"Place I trailed 'em to - " Jayne jabbed a finger down on a battered electronic map, making the image dissolve a moment with the pressure. "There's an Alliance installation right here. Don't look like much from outside. Small. On the face of it, seems like one of those bureaucratic bits they set up on worlds like this to shift paperwork. But I did some sniffing around and, you ask me, the security don't add up. They got themselves a lot of fancy devices and a whole hell of a lot of armed personnel."
Book put in thoughtfully, "Don't forget, last time, Persephone was where we picked up our mole."
Mal nodded. "So what we have," he said, "Is a secure Alliance installation. Now, we don't know for sure the extent of what's in there, but I imagine we can all grasp pretty well we're not talking a walk in the park." A small cough of nervous laughter escaped him. "We need to think about this carefully."
"Sir," Zoe began, and Simon angrily said, "We are going to get them back, captain? If you think I'm just leaving my sister in their hands, after everything - "
"Didn't say we weren't." Mal cut him off. "See, they don't know about Serenity... yet. But soon as they get Wash or River or - hell - Badger talking, they will. And then, there won't be nowhere the rest of us can hide. Speed is what matters here. If we can get in fast, we can get them out 'fore that information gets logged and makes it onto any permanent records... or the cortex... then there's a chance we can still get out of this free and flying. We rescue them, we rescue ourselves - because if they stay in Alliance custody every one of us is gonna end up a tagged fugitive. And need I remind you all that on top of everything else, Serenity is going precisely nowhere without Wash. Ain't none of the rest of us know enough about flying to break atmo in this boat."
Simon had listened to all of that with his lips pressing harder together in anger, until they were white by the time he said, "That's very selfless of you, captain."
Mal shot him a look. "I'm just outlining the facts as they stand. And I'm not finished yet." He dragged his gaze over the rest. "This time-scale doesn't give us long to come up with a plan. Kaylee, we need to know if there's any way we can break their security, or at least make some kind of distraction to get the edge on them. You and Jayne and - " He gave the preacher a quelling glance " - Shepherd Book can get to working on that, seeing how Jayne's the one has seen what they've got and has the best idea of the ground." Mal gauged their understanding from their faces. They were all of them in; even Jayne. This wasn't a rescue mission, it was basic survival.
"There's more," he added carefully. "We need a workable plan and we need it quick... but I want to make one thing clear: it has to stand a chance. We don't have a lot of hope if we can't do this, but I'm not leading us all into suicide, either. We can't do this... then we scatter, make our way separate. That's the only chance any of us will have."
He saw the announcement hit them all. Jayne gave a faintly sour nod of agreement, but otherwise even Kaylee opened her mouth in protest.
"No," Simon said. "I'm not leaving River. We have to try - "
"We will." Zoe's voice had a dangerous edge. She faced Mal across the table. "Something on your mind, sir? You know we don't have anywhere near enough fighters or firepower among us to pull off this kind of operation. Not against the Alliance, even if Kaylee works miracles tying their security in knots."
"Well, now," Mal said, resting his own hands to the table top to mirror her. "I do have an idea might garner us some extra resources in that area."
Badger wasn't a man made a habit of courting trouble with the Alliance. No, sir. He had his business, and they had theirs, and happened that the two didn't agree with each other so well, but that was just fine so long as he made good and sure their paths didn't intersect. He'd done a stretch in an Alliance jail a time or two, but he'd no truck with the kind of sentences handed out for aiding fugies. To be harbouring a fugitive from federal justice on his ragged little crew - well, seemed Captain Reynolds had more balls and less brains than Badger'd ever credited him with, for a one-time rebel soldier scraping by in the world that kicked his pigu.
Still, that wasn't to say he couldn't understand the notion. Was a pretty little thing, after all, though apparently more'n a little fickle. Gave a man pause wondering just what it was she might've done, but then who wasn't a bit tarnished in the eyes of the law, these days? Wouldn't be murder, or nothing too bad, if Reynolds chose to take her in - man seemed to reckon he could afford to cling to principles, in these times where all the rest of them were forced to trade theirs off. No, more likely something political that would appeal to that subversive Browncoat mindset.
Sitting on a bench with the lady herself and Reynolds' pilot, in a near-empty room all white reflective tiles and harsh lighting, his hands cuffed behind him and a guard watching them on either side, Badger wished he'd let Captain Reynolds try and play the gorram hero.
They'd been walked into some pokey Alliance building looked more like a storefront than any military set-up. 'Cept this one had a lift at the back that went down a way, and the stretch of sterile corridors and doors and more corridors leading off where they emerged was anything but pokey, and Badger was beginning to get even worse a case of bad feeling about this than he'd had from the moment the cuffs snapped in place around his wrists with that odd kind of familiarity like they'd missed him and was welcoming him back. ("Don't you worry, love," he'd said to the girl - River - as they'd been hustled away 'fore Captain Reynolds could mount that daring rescue. "Prison's not so bad. Play your cards right, even learn yourself a skill or a few while you're there." And she'd looked at him seriously, something in her gaze that bordered on terrifying, and said, "We're not going to prison, Simon." He somehow just knew she didn't mean that in a good way.)
Had been about halfway into the journey through the streets to their current stark cell before he'd remembered 'Simon' was the name of that pampered young doctor Reynolds employed on his crew - and that was a joke, a ship that size keeping a qualified doctor on permanent retainer. Given Reynolds' habit of getting himself sliced and diced, maybe he hadn't given so much thought to it before as it warranted... But the fact was, no doctor without some major circumstances at work would be staying on some gorram junkheap firefly that barely scraped enough living to keep itself in the air.
Now Badger was sitting in handcuffs and not speaking because he couldn't think of anything to say wouldn't reveal to all and sundry he wasn't River's gorram brother. He'd gotten the distinct idea he might be speedily cast off the mortal coil if these people should learn he wasn't part of this business - which didn't exactly make him much in the way of hopeful for the future, given he didn't look a bit like the fellow. Also not speaking because, well, outside you might be able to spin the world on sharp talk, but in the hands of the Establishment you got by on shutting up and keeping your head down. 'Cause sharp talk wasn't about to buy anything more'n a beating in that man's world.
The girl was staring at him. Her feet kicked against the bench that the three of them were arrayed along and he realised for the first time she was wearing too-big black combat boots with that sad cast-off of a dress. "You're much louder now you've gone all quiet," she observed, in near a whisper, still talking for all the world like someone from the Colony, with a tiny smile didn't fit the situation nor all her earlier screaming at all. He grimaced back, trying to think up a retort and decide whether he'd just been insulted. If he could string what she'd just said into any gorram semblance of sense. Her head rotated up and to the side and her smile widened. "Your hat's all crooked."
"I know." It had tipped forward half over his left eye when one of their Alliance escort had gotten friendly with his fists, and it'd been annoying the crap out of him the last half hour while there was precisely nothing he could do about it for the handcuffs.
Reynolds' pilot was giving him an odd look, from over the other side of the girl. Badger had been too relieved he'd finally shut up, after running his mouth off so much about nothing on the way in, to want to encourage conversation. The way the guards had paid attention ever so carefully when River spoke didn't make him want much to get chatty, neither, since he could do without that kind of attention from feds. Even so, he couldn't resist a barked, "What the hell you think you're looking at?"
"Nothing... nothing..." The man looked away innocently, but gave the definite impression of being somehow amused.
River turned her head 'round to the pilot. She said, "You don't tell them nothing if you want that pretty lady o' yours to get away clean." Dyton Colony was thick in her earnest voice, and the guards listened then exchanged their noncommittal glances. Moment after, the door slid open and that bastard lieutenant and two more regular soldiers trailing behind him stepped through.
"You," the lieutenant said, pointing to the pilot. "Get up."
The man looked like he was considering it, but didn't move fast enough for the feds. At a motion from the lieutenant, the two regulars manhandled him to his feet, not being over-gentle about it. "We're going somewhere?" the pilot asked, voice wavering in almost a high giggle. "Where are we going?"
"Processing. These two, we might not be able to touch, but you... you'll tell us where to find the others who've been helping them. Might even buy you enough goodwill to be released from the penal moon a few years before you leave in a coffin."
"That sounds... very... goodwill..."
"Remember," River said, as the poor unfortunate bastard was led away, and the door closed. Then it was just the two of them on a bench in a stark-lit room, and the guards fidgeting with the renewal of boredom.
The girl's eyes slowly went distant as the minutes passed. After a while, her body jerked in her seat - once, and then again only a second after; her eyes wide and shocky as though with pain.
"Something wrong, love?" Badger asked.
She looked at him, and it seemed more like she was looking through him. Spoke in a voice wasn't anything like his or her own, but maybe a little like Reynolds' pilot... at least in the way it was instilled with no small quantity of high panic that wasn't matched in her now-blank gaze.
"You don't scare me. I've been tortured by experts," she said, as her body jerked again.
"I'm still not sure I understand why I'm even here," Simon murmured as they headed towards the set-up where Badger made his den. Garbage with pretensions, he thought. Crates, parts and make-do fashioned in a junkyard palace on the edge of the docks.
"Simple," Mal said, clapping a hand on his shoulder as they walked. "Wanted a criminal mastermind on hand in this job. You just think evil thoughts and twirl that imaginary black moustache of yours, doctor, and pretend you're our good luck charm."
"Ariel only worked because I knew the ground," he said, rather suspecting Mal wanted his 'criminal mastermind' out of the way of Jayne. "Are you people never going to let go of that one?"
"About as soon as they all let go of fancy shindigs and sword fights."
The gun at Simon's hip felt unfamiliar, himself too aware of its weight and the way it poked his thigh when he moved. When he'd strapped it on, he'd been thinking of wearing it to storm the Alliance installation where River was held, to get his sister back no matter what. It was something of a comedown to be taking it instead into a den of thieves and scoundrels who reportedly tended to consider Captain Reynolds quaint and honourable in the business... His mind had a great deal of trouble processing that one.
They were very near the construction now. Simon took a deliberate breath and tried to fall into step with Zoe and Mal the way they were in step with each other, and he didn't quite manage it, but he told himself this was as much of import to rescuing River as a full-out attack on the Alliance itself, and kept trying.
A hand fell on his arm and half a dozen guns levelled as they brushed through a curtain into a main chamber that overall looked decidedly shabby, though there was a desk and the odd individual item that must have been expensive. The hand on his arm belonged to a guard who'd been standing out of sight at the edge of the curtain. His grip was bruising.
Simon's hand wanted to drift to his own gun, as though just wearing it created that very reflex, but neither Mal nor Zoe had made any move to draw theirs. They just stood projecting an aura of unimpressed calm Simon was certain he didn't have himself.
"Some bad news about your boss," Mal said casually. "Alliance bagged him. I'm thinking that's an awful shame, with him being such an upstanding citizen in these parts. Pillar of the community..."
The several dangerous and armed men didn't move. Mal surveyed them carefully, then stepped further inside the chamber, his hands keeping well clear of his pistol. They swung wide as he walked, in a half-hearted parody of being raised. He came to a halt at Badger's empty desk and hitched his hip over the side, leaning there with an air of command. Badger's men looked restless.
Zoe shot Simon a look that he interpreted to mean 'be ready'. Because he really needed to be told that, he thought irritably, the way his nerves were already on edge.
"I figure you already got this information," Mal said, toying with a few harmless objects on the desk, "Badger's information network being so good and all. Maybe you've even already engaged in a discussion or two 'bout how you might fill that power vacuum."
Some of the men looked more agitated than others. Simon noticed more had crept out of the woodwork, another half-dozen pairs of eyes watching on the sidelines. To say he had a 'bad feeling' about this plan didn't even begin to cover his apprehension.
"Way I figure it, though - " Mal's voice had taken on a friendly, near-amused tone, and he waggled an open hand at the men in a placating gesture while his left hand, exploring, found an apple on the desk and plucked it up. He regarded it, eyes flicking down for what felt like way too long, and then back up. Next to Simon, Zoe stood like she was cut out of rock " - Better the devil you know." The captain waved the apple. "Transition is always painful, and in this line, as I'm sure you're aware, usually results in more'n a few corpses alongside the general upheaval. From what I hear, Badger was a fairly reasonable animal, all things considered, not too bad to work for. Kept you in pay, stayed clear of trouble... cagey with his contacts, mind. I guess that last part might make life a fraction hard-going a while without him, 'til things settle in. Maybe you boys are even thinking you might be in for some trouble."
Simon looked to Zoe. The thought running through his head was, inescapably, 'We're going to die', but her expression hadn't changed.
"Could be there's another choice," Mal added, almost an afterthought.
Finally, one of the henchmen stepped forward of the others. A scrawny, stretched-out fellow with long, lank hair and an array of knives hung about his person. The glances the other men sent his way spanned a range from resentful to uncertain. "Get off my gorram desk," he said.
As he started speaking, Zoe kicked Simon's foot surreptitiously: an unmistakeable now.
Before he'd finished speaking, a shot sounded, and Simon scrabbled to draw his own weapon as Zoe was doing - had already done - without taking his eyes off the scene. Even so, he'd already missed entirely the moment the captain drew, and only saw him now with his pistol raised, but not aimed at anyone, merely resting parallel to his shoulder, pointed up to the air. With a brief grimace at the defiance of long habit, he took a bite out of the apple in his other hand and waited, letting the new landscape of the situation sink in to all present. Simon stood with Zoe and tried to look threatening, levelling the unfamiliar gun at... the world in general.
By the time Mal finished chewing, the air in the chamber actually felt, if anything, a little more relaxed. He rested the hand still holding the apple against the edge of the desk and nodded at the corpse on the floor. Nobody had made any particular move toward it.
He said, "How about we say I'm your new boss and I'm saying we're going to get your old boss back?"
"Sit down!" Fury in the voice and the shove that took the last of his balance from him. He almost landed on Badger, but the smaller man managed to scoot to the side at the last moment so that Wash ended up this time seated between his fellow captives. River looked pale and serious. Paying attention to that at least pried some pieces of his concentration from the lingering pain of his questioners' fists. His nose felt squashed, and there was a trickle over his top lip that he left to ooze.
"Torture a part of the arrest process now in a civilised society?" River said sweetly, though there was enough mockery in there that Lieutenant Armin raised an angry, open palm, only stalling it as he'd begun to bring it down. River hadn't flinched, like she'd known the blow would never land. Nice for her.
"Your ally refuses to identify himself, little girl. As such, he's waived any rights the due process gives him, including legal representation, might I add - " the lieutenant looked pointedly at Wash " - according to Alliance law."
"Like it'd matter anyhow." Wash raised his head, defiantly trying to focus his blurring vision. "You people have no intention of following due process." That time, Armin didn't curtail his blow, nor deliver it open-palmed. Wash fell back against Badger again, who bolstered him up with a shoulder and an edgy, "steady."
The lieutenant smiled. He had two subordinates behind him who looked like they wouldn't mind at all if he didn't want to get his own hands dirty, but Wash figured he was a hands-on kinda guy. He proved it again by placing those hands on the wall either side of Wash's head as he leaned in close. "It won't matter, you know. It will take less than twenty-four hours to isolate your DNA scan and find out just who you are. Soon after that we'll have a trace on who you're working for or with. And whoever else was shooting at my men out there in the street that you're trying to give a head start? They can't run fast enough or long enough to escape the Alliance. There aren't many people out there foolish enough to harbour a tagged fugitive. There'll be nowhere they can hide."
Wash looked away, telling himself it didn't matter, a head start was better than nothing. It was a chance... Simon and River had found Mal, and Serenity, after all.
"I don't know," Badger said, eyes darting to River, then back to the lieutenant, with a spark in them that had been notably absent earlier. "It's a big universe. No shortage of places to hide. Took you people long enough to find us, didn't it?"
"He speaks," Wash murmured, with mock surprise, as Armin backed off to pay attention to Badger instead.
"How long's it been, now? A year? And you only found us this time 'cause you got lucky. Who was it sold us out, if you don't mind my asking? After all, not like we'll get opportunity to do anything with the information."
"Nobody 'sold you out'." The lieutenant's fingers twitched at his sides. "You were spotted on the docks. Her face is well known."
"But not so much mine, eh?"
Wash tried to elbow Badger covertly, while Armin's face twisted in distaste. "I can see that a year living as a renegade hasn't done you any favours, doctor. But she's the one they really want."
"'They'? Comes from high up, doesn't it, I'll bet? So you're just the legwork, then. Not even allowed to lay a hand on little sister here and my own unfavourable self, eh? Nah... not even allowed to process us. I'll bet that must rankle something mean."
"I'd suggest you not test the limits of my patience too hard," Armin said frostily. He half-turned away, appeared to consider a moment, then came around again with another blow that knocked Wash back into the wall, forcing the air from his body in a 'whuff'.
Badger snorted.
"No!" Wash snapped, soon as he'd the breath to, snapping his head 'round between Badger and River. "In case you're thinking this has the potential to be a really fun game, just... don't do anything else, okay? Either of you!" The lieutenant laughed and turned again to go. "And why is it I have to be the one it's okay to hit?"
"The universe decided," River said. "Tossed a coin. The coin would have had a billion different sides, you know, but then what's basic physics to fate anyhow?"
"What indeed." He heard a touch of hysteria in his own voice. River might have the worst of their predicament in the long run, but that didn't mean he wasn't scared to the bone. The Alliance folks involved in this killed those that knew too much. He hoped his wife was still alive, and Mal had gotten her away. Not long since, he'd been resenting that relationship... now it was the best hope he had to count on. Mal and Zoe looked out for each other a long time before Zoe met him. They'd keep on doing so, no matter what happened to him.
Mal had never owned up to his talent for picking enemies when, all those years ago, Wash had agreed to take on this job.
Another Alliance uniform chose that moment to enter the room, halting Armin at the door. The newcomer wore a hassled expression and no insignia on a simplified uniform that suggested an admin or intelligence role. From the glimpse he caught through the door, it seemed there was something going on in the corridors outside. Wash would've liked to call it a disturbance and imagine it was his own gorgeous warrior wife leading the rescue operation, but it seemed strictly more of a 'bustle' than a disturbance.
"What's going on?" Armin demanded.
"Problem with waste disposal, lieutenant..." The man took in Badger, Wash and River disinterestedly, then his attention caught, and stayed, on Badger.
"Problem?" Armin prompted impatiently.
"Sewers, sir. Seem to have backed up. With, er, gusto. Bit of a mess."
"For God's sake, get it cleared by the time they get here." Armin looked a mite on the hassled side, now, too.
"Yes, sir, that was... They've signalled their expected arrival in ten minutes." The officer's eyes had returned to Badger, who slunk down further into the bench, and his forehead furrowed. "These are the three prisoners, sir? The fugitives? The brother and sister? Simon and River Tam? These?"
"Yes," Armin said. "What's - ?"
"That - " he pointed " - isn't Simon Tam. His name's Badger - I processed him a couple of years back on smuggling charges. He's one of the more colourful pieces of the local lowlife."
His back slammed against the wall of the interrogation room, and he heard a pistol drawn - a moment later, smooth metal pressed to the side of his head. "I won't ask you again," the lieutenant said. "Your little stunt may just have killed every man on this base, so don't think I'll hold back from pulling this trigger. Now, where... is Simon Tam?"
The girl's dark eyes rose up in his mind, looking through him. The pilot's desperate, cracked voice replayed: "Don't tell them anything! They'll kill you anyway."
"Don't!" Badger gasped around the grip constricting his throat. "It's Malcolm Reynolds you want - captains this pile of go se firefly... Serenity! Serenity, he calls it; laid up in docks right now, seeing as that's his rutting pilot you got in there. Your fugie kids... they're on his gorram crew."
