PART THREE - THE MAN IN BLACK

After several minutes of watching the black-dressed, black-masked man move fingerlength by fingerlength up the cliff, Fess Higgins grew bored. He fiddled with his sword belt, kicked a few small pebbles over the cliff's edge, then gave a jaunty little wave when the man looked up. A low growling sound carried up through the thin air.

"Hello there," Fess replied to the sound. "Slow going?"

The man grunted, shifting one foot into a crack in the rock a few inches up from its previous position, then put his weight on it and levered his body up just that little bit more. "I ain't lookin' to be rude," the man replied, his Border accent thick, "but this ain't as easy as it looks. I'd appreciate if'n you'd stop tryin' to distract me."

Fess sighed. "Sorry!" Not that he'd mind especially if the man fell; it would take the burden of killing him off Fess' shoulders. But there was an air about him, all the same, that almost had Fess rooting for him. Something very nearly heroic, and that pulled at the part of Fess that had never outgrown his mother's adventure stories.

"Thank you," the man called back sarcastically, and continued to climb.

Fess thought again of the gun at his hip, and of the length of time it would take him to start up the shuttle and get it off this rock alone, and fiddled around impatiently for a few more minutes. It felt even more wrong to him to just kill the man summarily now after neglecting to do so immediately, but neither did he want to stand around in this arid, unpleasant climate for the rest of the afternoon with nothing to do but watch a man crawl up a cliff.

"I don't suppose you could speed things up?" he asked, half-heartedly, staring down at his masked foe.

The growl came again. "If you're so all-fired impatient to meet me, why don't you drop me a line or find a winch or somethin' else useful 'stead of standin' up there harassin' me."

Fess sighed. "I could do that. I have the equipment in the shuttle. But I have my doubts that you'll actually accept the help, as I am only waiting around up here to kill you."

Impressive biceps displayed nicely by the tight black cloth of the man's shirt flexed, and the climber moved upward another few inches. "That might could affect our dealin's," he admitted, voice strained by the effort he was making.

Fess sighed again, and debated actually going through with the offer. Well, either way, the man would be dead; and this way would be quicker. "Very well. Then I'll promise I will not kill you until you reach the top."

"Yeah, that's real comforting," the climber drawled. "You'll just have to hold your horses."

"But I hate waiting!" Fess complained impatiently. "I could give you my words as a Higgins?"

That got an unexpected chuckle out of the other man. "No good, considerin' I robbed a Higgins nigh on a year ago. A downright unpleasant man he was, too. Offered to sign over his kid if'n I'd let him keep his platinum. Don't suppose that was you?"

Fess stared. Of course, how could he not have guessed? "But that was the dread pirate, Roberts! Are you saying you're the man who ruined my father's fortune?"

"'Less there's another Roberts runnin' around claimin' what I done," the pirate grunted.

Well then. Fess straightened his back, placed his hand on his sword's hilt, and offered an oath he suspected Roberts would find more appealing. "Then I swear on the sword that killed my father, you will reach the top alive."

The pirate turned his face upward, eyeing both the sword and Fess himself speculatively. Then he grunted. "Well, hell. You coulda shot me already, I s'pose. Go ahead, then."

Fess made short work of retrieving the line, anchoring it, and running it down the side of the cliff. There was a tricky moment or two when Roberts nearly fell trying to shift his grip from the rock to the line, but soon enough he was making his way up the line hand-over-hand, and then climbing onto the cliff-top next to Fess.

"So how we gonna do this?" he asked, resting on his heels, panting slightly as he turned wary eyes on Fess.

The man didn't seem to be wearing any significant weapon, though he had an empty handgun holster at one hip and the hilt of at least one knife protruded from the mouth of a sleeve. Fess considered that, wondering if he might successfully challenge the man to a knife fight instead of his usual sword duel. "Well, we'll wait until you're ready," he finally answered, still considering his options. The man who had so thoroughly humiliated his father-- for which Fess would eternally be grateful, despite the effects the aftermath of that event had had on his own life-- would undoubtedly be a worthy opponent regardless, but Fess was slightly better with swords than knives, and much less gifted at gunplay.

Unfortunately, he had misjudged the pirate's own sense-- or lack-- of fair play. The man rolled his eyes behind the mask, then scooped up a chunk of rock from the ground in one swift movement.

"Gou huangtang," he said irritably, as he threw it.

Fess barely had time to gasp in outrage before his world went dark.

The pirate known as Roberts shook his head as he stared down at the slumped form of young Higgins. Decent kid, that one; dumb as a box of rocks, but anyone else'd been in his position, Roberts would be dead right now.

Good thing he'd never cottoned on to no similar notions of fair play and justice; they only served to hamper a man unduly. Roberts growled a little, reminded again of the whole reason for this little mission of his, then sighed. Still, he hadn't been able to bring himself to kill the kid for it. 'Verse could use a few more like him around, keepin' things fair and easy. He'd wake up with one hell of a headache from where the rock had struck his skull, but none the worse for his nap. Roberts stepped over him, headed into the shuttle, and took a quick look through the luggage.

Unfortunately, if there'd ever been any spare weapons, the crew had already taken them. Higgins had had a small handgun on him, but it weren't worth much; at least it were better than nothin', though. Roberts slid it into his holster, replacin' poor Betty what had fallen down the cliff after his transport, then headed off into the hills followin' the signs left by two distinct pairs of feet.

"Is not possible!" Monty's employer hissed, gazing down from the high, hillside path toward a distant black-clothed form threading its way up from the cliff's edge.

Monty shifted Mal's limp form on his shoulder again, wondering what Niska would expect of him now. Mal had struggled and fought and nearly got away once or twice on the hike up, prompting the old crime lord to inject him with some drug or other to knock him out; wasn't no way he'd be able to drag Mal any further without Monty's help. So he couldn't be expecting Monty to stay behind, like he'd had Fess do. Could he?

"We are almost at meeting location," Niska said, irritably. "Carry him into the next valley, just beyond that corner; then put him down and come back. You have reputation for getting things done, yes? Prove to me it is not gossip. Kill this man in black, then come back for Mister Reynolds and help me get him to Alliance shuttle."

"Kill him how?" Monty asked, shrugging. He had a sniper rifle, but there really wasn't time enough to move Mal and return to set up before the man following them arrived. Aside from that, all he had was a pair of knives. Niska hadn't wanted him heavily armed for close-in fighting; probably still didn't trust Monty as far as he could throw him. It left him a little light on options, however.

"I don't care how he dies," Niska replied, "just that he is dead. Mister Reynolds, him I will show the meaning of pain. Many men know the name Malcolm Reynolds; many know of his... disagreement with the Alliance. When he is found, this correlation of Alliance and torture, it must be made in their minds. This man in black? Is not so important."

Monty gulped. Was it too late to back out now? Sullenly, he followed Niska's directions, patting Mal awkwardly on the shoulder as he laid him down on a flat stretch of rock. Didn't seem right for it all to end this way.

Niska was busily removing things from the little rucksack he'd been carrying when Monty left them again, returning to the trail they'd seen the intruder from. He had no idea what the crazy old hundan was up to, but he was rapidly beginning to think he wanted no part in it. Maybe he should try to talk to the other man, see just why he was following them in the first place.

He managed to find a good rock for cover just before the man in black arrived, appearing around a bend in the trail and moving at a fair rate of speed. He had a small handgun in one hand, and was checking his surroundings warily as he ran; Monty knew he wouldn't have long before the man spotted him.

"You there!" he called down to him.

The masked man reacted instantly, diving off to the side and firing instinctively at Monty's position. Monty ducked, hearing the whine of a bullet pass by a foot or so from his head, and winced.

"I did that on purpose!" the attacker called up. "I didn't have to miss!"

"I believe you!" Monty yelled back. "I don't suppose there's any chance of dealin' with this like civilized people?"

"Considerin' what civilized people is capable of?" the other man chuckled. "You gonna try and kill me like the last guy, or what?"

"'Pends on what you came here for," Monty called back.

"For the same reason it looks like you did," came the puzzling reply. "Only you got to Mal and carried him off afore I could."

Not a rescue, then. But why did he want Mal? "You meanin' to kill him?" Monty had to ask.

"'Course not," the man in black snorted. "Though he'll wish I had 'fore I'm through with him. Why? Is that what Niska's plannin'?"

"Niska's aimin' to restart the War," Monty told him. "He's got Alliance meetin' him somewhere close by..."

"Ni tama de tianxia suoyou de ren dou gaisi," the masked man interrupted, swearing virulently. "Throw me your guns. If you hurry, you can catch Higgins afore he blasts off this rock. And if I ever see you again..."

Monty chewed the ends of his mustache in indecision for a moment. In a choice between helping kill Mal, though, and getting the hell out of here, he thought the small risk of getting himself killed by the masked intruder was worth it. He was beginning to believe taking up with Niska in the first place was the stupidest thing he'd ever done.

He unslung the rifle from his shoulder, then tossed it out onto the rocky path.

Seconds later, a blur of movement passed him by. Monty sighed in relief, then started back down the trail, retracing his earlier steps.

-(3/5)-

Gou huangtang -- Enough of this nonsense
hundan -- bastard
Ni tama de tianxia suoyou de ren dou gaisi -- Fuck everyone in the universe to death