NOTE: This one was kind of a difficult chapter. Especially realising at this point that having read the previous story would help to explain why Mal is so punchy for a fight. Ah well, already posting this one now. Just take my word for it that he's not had the best time lately.
Chapter 2
All of which meant the whole lot of them ended up arrayed 'round the kitchen table trying to sober up again 'stead of taking their carcasses off to bed as planned. Mal stood with his spread hands rested wide across the end of the table, and he could feel through his palms, fainter through the soles of his booted feet, the steady beat of Serenity's engines humming smooth and sure as shecarried them away from Athena Station.
Around the table, Kaylee looked miserable and hugged a mug of black coffee, Inara looked stony, Simon uneasy, River distracted, Jayne impatient. Book held himself neutrally off to one side. Zoe and Wash, seated together just on Mal's left, had their hands clasped under the table, his demeanour unusually aggressive and hers supportive.
"What I want to know," Mal said, staring down at his hands with a mite too much focus, "Is how in the hell Niska even could have known to snatch her? Woman's got no ready connection to me - we've met all of twice, a handful of days either time."
"You're married to her," Inara said, without subtlety. "Most people would go so far as to term that a 'connection' of sorts."
"One that only happens to exist between me and her and her and half the rest of the gorram 'verse," Mal retorted. "No. The two of us, we got nothing. No way Niska could've known 'less she went to him... Damn fool woman prob'ly figures she can play him, too. Got to be a trap." He rubbed his forehead with his fingers, headache improved none at all by all the palaver. "Zhen zao gao. The two of them workin' together... hell, maybe Saffron found one she'll reckon a keeper, long last."
"If she is working with him," Wash said, sounding a mite more concerned than Mal might've expected. "Not saying I believe she isn't," he added quickly, "But much as I might not like her and sure as hell don't trust her, that doesn't mean she deserves - " Old pain in his eyes as his voice cracked up, and Mal held his gaze and nodded tightly, letting him know he'd no need to finish that thought.
"Mal?" Zoe waited 'til she had his full attention before she said carefully, "There is one explanation - if she's been using your name." A drag in her voice like on this point she backed up her husband only mighty reluctantly. Well, she had been the one to deal with the best part of scraping up the mess last time.
It threw Mal. "Using my - ?"
"You are married to her," Wash said.
"I am not married - " He spluttered and choked on the protest. "Wait... are you saying that 'Mrs Reynolds' is going 'round bein' Mrs Reynolds?" Rustling up enough disgruntlement at least to shove the sick feeling all this evoked to the back of his mind. "That crazy woman's claiming to all and sundry that she's married to me? Ta ma de! Got problems enough as it is without some gorram tweaked floozy using my name, getting into scrapes, pissing people off and telling them she's my gorram wife in the rutting bargain!"
"She is your wife," Book reminded flatly.
"That's beside the point! That's a - a technicality, is all."
Jayne raised a hand, albeit wavering, still dopey with drink. Once he noticed he had the floor, he grunted and looked a moment like he'd forgotten just what he'd been waiting to speak, then asked, "Am I losing track of the part where we don't like her? Hell, she did try kill us all that one time. Not to mention leavin' you stranded butt-naked in the middle of nowhere, Mal." He made no attempt particularly to hide his amusement 'bout that point. "Even if it ain't a trap, why the hell would we care?"
"I'm thinking mostly I don't," Mal said curtly, and furtively fielded a few glares courtesy of Kaylee, Book and Wash for the most part. "But if it ain't a trap, he's got hold of that crazy woman 'cause he thinks she's my wife. She tried to kill us, and she ain't our friend, but like Wash said, that don't mean she deserves what Niska'd do to her. I've been there and I wouldn't wish it on anyone."
There was a brief silence, followed by Zoe asking a little too obviously for the purposes of breaking it sooner rather than later, "How'd Niska know where to contact us to be sending love letters, anyhow?"
Kaylee stirred. "Saffron must've given him the codes. She was into everything when she was here that first time, y'know?"
"So we don't need to be worrying too much on that score, least - I mean, it don't look as though he's got any current beam on where we are."
"We could worry," Wash suggested. "We don't know what else she might have told him."
Mal shook his head decisively, changing tack. "She doesn't have enough on us. Might know a bit 'bout how we operate, but she don't know where we're at. Woman might make her living, such as that is, playing folks, but she don't understand real people not out to screw one another over."
"While I agree with you there," Inara said carefully, "What she clearly does know about us is you, Mal. She's already played you successfully twice."
"That supposed to be some sort of a commentary on me?" he shot back, with a wince that wasn't entirely joking around.
"It's an observation that you're in danger," she responded. "She knows you too well. I just need to know you're not going to do something crazy out of misplaced gallantry. Because that results in... well, sword fights, for one, and we know what happens then."
"Misplaced sense of - Inara, she's my wife!"
Inara sighed huffily, folded her arms and looked down her nose.
"Didn't seem much like she was tryin' to convince Niska of the truth of how things are between the two of you, cap'n," Kaylee said, worriedly.
"Yes," Inara said. "'Don't do it, Malcolm, sweetie'! Ca bu shi. I'm all overcome." She fluttered a hand before her face as though fanning herself against fainting.
"Perhaps she's afraid Niska would kill her if he thought her no use to him," Book said. "She wants to convince him the relationship between you both is real." Hands clasped before him and head tipped down, he frowned at Mal over the table and the heads of the crew.
"She wants you to come - " Inara began angrily, almost rising from her chair.
"Oh, no doubts on that score either way," Mal said, eying her calmly until she deflated.
"Don't do it," she insisted, back to just simmering. "It's a trap."
Mal sighed and rolled his head back on his neck, shutting his eyes tight momentarily. "Of course it is." He slowly pried himself up to standing, jerking his head across to - "Wash?"
"Sir?" Zoe queried as he turned and Wash rose to follow.
"Gonna give that old bastard his reply," Mal told her, not looking around. He could hear Wash's steps at his back, almost speeding to running a couple of times as he purposefully strode on ahead, along the corridor and up the steps to the bridge.
He planted himself in the pilot chair and leaned forward to tweak the controls. "All set up for answering, right?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Yeah. Return codes attached to the message. Their origin doesn't match the co-ordinates for the meet or the skyplex - I could unscramble those. Wonder where old man sadist is hanging out these days."
Mal nodded. He held up a hand to silence any further talk, pasted on a smile that hurt to maintain, and flicked the switches on the console. "Niska," he said, keeping his voice smooth. "Hate to break it to you, but that crazed harridan you got there ain't my wife, nor anything to me I don't consider myself a lucky man to be able to leave to your tender care. Go play your games to your heart's content. Anyways, business to be getting to, so I reckon that about wraps us up for now. You be taking care of yourself, though, 'cause that unfinished business between you and me gonna get finished someday. Tell Mrs Reynolds I'm still waiting on the divorce."
He cut the communication off and sat back.
Wash stayed so silent he might not have been standing behind him.
"Shuttle prepped?"
He had himself a gallery of mixed expressions the like of which he'd seldom seen. Wash's was a 'specially lemon-sucking sort of a mixture, but he thought he saw approval in there somewhere. River was a couple of universes distant in a world all of her own, andInara hadn't deigned to even be physically there.
Kaylee's sideways look and reluctant nod certainly seemed to indicate he wasn't winding his way back into her good books any time soon. He gave her a brisk jerk of his own head by way of exchange. "Good. Guess I'll be seeing you folks in a day or two, then."
"Mal, this is gorram craziness - " Jayne tried. Again. Mal cut him off with a look.
For a moment it seemed nobody had anything to say 'part from Wash's croaky "Good luck, Mal." Then Kaylee visibly forced herself to look at him and say, "You take care, cap'n. Come back in one piece - " She blushed furiously. "And I mean really. No missing ears nor nothing."
"On that score, you can count yourself reassured I intend to," he replied, grimacing and ruffling a hand through her hair as he passed, heading up the last of the steps to the shuttle.
Zoe ghosted from nowhere to lean casual against the shuttle's access port, arms folded across her chest, blocking his way. He hadn't noticed her leave the others.
"Well, now. I was expecting Inara." Mal halted a few paces short of her as it seemed she had no intention of moving herself, least for the time being. He frowned back over his shoulder. There was something decidedly uncanny in how his crew had seen fit to vacate the area. Specially the part where they'd done it with an absence of griping.
"It's become more than clear this past day that you've set your mind against listening to Inara on this one. After all, we all know how she feels about Saffron. How you did, too, or so I thought," she added pointedly.
"Inara sent you here to do her haranguing?" Mal guessed with some disbelief. "Or was there some kinda vote? Draw straws?"
Zoe sighed. "I'd be here because you and me go back a way further than any other pair of bodies on this ship. My call." She shook her head, looked away as her features stretched in contemplation, then back. "You know Wash is half-convinced you're only doing what you rightly ought to."
"And I take it you ain't convinced?" He swayed his weight from foot to foot in front of her, looking for an opening. Finally, he gave up the game and caught her arm, trying to guide her from the shuttle door. She foiled him by planting her feet and refusing to move. Zoe was a whole lot of stubborn, when you got down to it, for a woman who'd called him nothing but 'sir' for years.
He didn't particularly feel like using physical force to move her. It might hurt. That didn't stop him from loosing his exasperation in some choice curses.
"They all think you're being altruistic," she said, jerking her head back to where all the rest of his gorram crew unaccountably weren't. They'd planned this, he thought furiously. Zoe had planned this. Gorram sneaky, low-down ambush. A fellow could begin to feel put-upon.
"And I'm not? Risking life and limb to go rescue the little - well, since 'lady' clearly would be pushing the bounds of reason, let's go with 'missus'. Reckon even an old cynic like me is allowed a little altruistic lapse every couple years or so, right?"
Her face turned all the more stony. "I think it's risky, sir." She held his stare, and added, quieter, deliberate, "Pick a different fight. Not Niska. Not after last time."
"Not looking for a fight." Mal dumped the bag of supplies on the floor at his feet, and frowned at the expressionless surface of the wall, while Zoe leaned back and looked for all the world to be settling into her station at the door like it was an eight-hour guard post. "Just to look in on the missus, make good and sure she's just her own sweet conniving self and not bein' tortured to death for some old sadist's entertainment, then clear the hell out."
"Sir." The insistence in that word was hard. Yeah... Zoe knew him. Maybe read him better than he did himself at times. "Just because we got the better of her last time we crossed, you can't start thinking us on amenable terms with this girl. Hell, you got the better of her - I don't get the impression there's many who've done that. She probably has joined with Niska because she's out for revenge."
Her lips compressed at his lack of response. "At least don't do it like this - don't do it alone."
"And you'd all back me," he said flatly. It wasn't a question. "Alone is the only way I'm doing this. Last time we had Niska trouble, Wash ended up tortured, Kaylee near got herself shot, and River made of herself a gorram killer. You know something? It was me got us in business with Niska in the first place, it was me backed out and put his man through our engine. Got no call to be bringin' the rest of the crew into this. Innocent folks already paid enough on my account."
He looked away, deliberately not thinking of Inara... leaned down for the bag and pushed his way into the shuttle. This time, Zoe reluctantly gave way. "Counting on you," he said, turning, taking the next step backward. "Take good care of Serenity."
She grimaced. "Until you're back," she emphasised, and added harshly, "Don't want you landing me the job of mopping up any more of your body parts, sir."
He twisted her grim expression right back on her. "You and me both."
Mal kept the field glasses - clunky old metal-framed things patched together in some backcountry workshop that made his arm ache if he held them to his eye more than a few minutes a time - trained on the compound in the near distance; kept his calves locked around the branch and his body still, and ignored the gathering cramps in his limbs.
From his vantage he could see the whole of the back entrance, and also cover the front, because though it was sliced off from view by a corner of wall, the main building angled in on itself almost turning a full square and all traffic down to the main gate had to come that way. He had a more oblique view of the service gate, but view enough.
The inner perimeter was marked off by a large wall Mal's tree just scraped having the angle and height to view over. The outer perimeter was a hard-to-discern shimmer a few yards in front of that; electronic fence, requiring security codes to deactivate it section-by-section. He also knew that though it might seem like it would be a simple matter to take any long-range rifle with an adequate sighting mechanism and put a shot through the skull of the figure who was walking now across the yard, obligatory overmuscled goon tight to his side, that was one shot would never happen. A dampening field inside the compound put down all powered weapons within its range. Might be that an old-style rifle would make the shot, but the type of marksmanship could make it connect from that range without high-tech aid just wasn't in existence.
He watched the figure - and he wasn't close enough to make out for sure, even with the glasses, but all the same Mal was sure - gesticulate in familiarly animated conversation with the goon, before turning in around the wall and disappearing toward the main entrance. A feel of chill in Mal's stomach lingered as they passed out of sight, and he shifted minimally, searching for a more comfortable rest in the tree.
Dark motion caught his naked sight, and he snapped the field glasses back up into place, setting the branches rustling as he almost fell in the process. He zeroed in on the movement and watched a servitor white-clad in tunic and cap proceed purposefully across the yard. Their destination was an outbuilding composed of little more than a roof mounted on posts, under which he could make out the gleam and shapes of vehicles kept all shiny and polished.
He lowered the glasses briefly so he could rub a hand over his eyes, before setting them back in place.
Ezra was a world Mal had tended to experience in fleeting visits only, the last of them no exception given how he'd set down just in time to be bagged by Niska and hauled off to that fancy skyplex of his that itself weren't so fancy right now.
Apparently, the skyplex was still suffering some from the raid and the collision with Serenity - either that, or Niska's increased paranoia over its security after having a bunch of scruffy spacers whose numbers didn't so much as enter double figures take the place down. Either which way, it had been dead in space and opened up to vacuum, suited construction workers clamped to its upper side, when Mal had set his powered-down shuttle drifting past it earlier in the day.
Had taken a little while once on-planet to trace where the old bastard had relocated himself, traipsing the seedier bars in the planet's main settlement of New Omaha, but not long. Wasn't any hush about what Niska was up to. 'Course, he'd had to pick a few pockets to pay out to get the fellows drunk enough they wouldn't be remembering an unusually inquisitive fellow matching the description of one Malcolm Reynolds.
Turned out Niska's own blushing bride had connections - family variety. Seemed the old crime dynasties on Ezra didn't get much bigger or meaner. The compound where the old bastard was making himself comfortable now for the interim was one of their properties and packed with the security to match.
Which was no concern of Mal's on account of him having no plans whatsoever to be breaking inside the place. Fact was, it only had one real road in and out, and the trees along that had been let grow bushy enough while it stood unoccupied to be cover of a fashion, and he was fair certain that with a bit of patience something would crop up sooner or later.
He watched a small, utilitarian hover-unit emerge from the outhouse. A service vehicle best suited for short grocery runs to the centre of town, it would never break any speed records, but it progressed easily toward the service gate under the guidance of the white-clad figure just visible in the driver's seat. Paused while first the guard opened the gate (a procedure Mal caught little of from his angle of view), then again a second later. The electronic fence flickered out of existence, then back again after its passage.
Mal hastily stuffed the field glasses inside his jacket and slid down the tree to land on the straggly grass growing protected by its shade. He kept the tree between himself and the hover-unit as it passed, then broke cover and sprinted across the dust road. He continued to pursue the vehicle at an easier run in the shadow of a long wall belonging to one of Niska's less security conscious neighbours.
The hover-unit didn't stretch to much faster than a brisk jogging pace and following it on foot didn't stretch a body too much even in the oppressive heat of Ezra's desert-and-scrub climate, though likely it was fortunate the town wasn't a great distance. Less than a mile and a half saw them entering streets busy enough that the hover-unit had to pause constantly to give way, and trailing it became easier on the legs while harder on the eye.
Ezra was a frontier commercial world in a state of evolution. Not yet possessing the like of Persephone's high-rise upward sprawl, but its cities starting to make inroads towards claiming the sky as the thin band of comfortable living in its hot climate was swallowed by settlements and industry. Folks there still held onto their rough edges, upper and lower echelons both, the upper being for a large part composed of Niska and his wife's sort, and all in all it was the kind of place the Alliance would probably have washed their hands of had they not already fought so hard for jurisdiction over its criminal sprawl. It was new and varied enough a society to throw all manner of folks out to decorate its streets. The array of different vehicles stashed and locked where space allowed bore out that factor, from hovers and shuttles to the camels roped to posts purpose-set into the streets for them.
His mark cut the engine of the hover-unit, adding it to that array, disembarking and stepping briskly off into the crowd - almost too briskly. Mal lost the marka moment in the thick of a group of women shawled head to foot in black, surged forward with apologies quick to hand and managed to get the white cap back within sight.
He kept it in sight down the length of that street and around a corner on to the next, where colourful market stalls sprawled in clear danger of being flattened by the assorted traffic. He took in the lay of the ground and the confusion of the market, the density of pedestrians about, and spied the moment to make his move.
A surge of speed took him to the side of the white-capped figure: he pinned both arms and used his greater weight and momentum to carry them both onward. Turning down a narrow, quiet street, the noise and colour cut off like a switch had been thrown. Here, uneven buildings jutted out all higgledy fashion, their walls blotched with dark, unpleasant stains and the ground between strewn with garbage.
Mal pushed her forward of him, which not entirely coincidentally launched her face-first at a wall. The impact was loud in the sudden quiet, but not as loud as her indignant squeal. She bounced off the wall and spun around, staggering, the cap slipping sideways to loose a clump of red hair.
"Well... if it ain't the little wife," Mal said smugly, feeling his face stretch all a-smirk. "Honey, how've you been? What's that, tortured to within an inch of your life, you say? Uh-uh. Don't believe you. Try again."