Spartan's Quest - Chapter 22
Author owns no rights to Firefly, and writes only for his own amusement.
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Athena was gliding along at a stately pace, though for that ship 'stately' was fairly fast. She was a sleek vessel, made for fighting, and it showed from bow to stern. The fact that it was mostly used as a personal transport didn't detract from her ability to fight. Or from her speed and maneuverability.
"Wave coming in, sir," Harry called from the bridge. Jayne frowned at that, but reached for the com.
"Patch it through to the galley, Harry," he ordered.
"Yes, milord." Seconds later the small cortex screen in the galley came to life, Jarrod Barstow's face appearing on the screen.
"Janos, we may have a problem."
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"Something's up," Fell murmured, and Meadows nodded, still dealing his cards. The two of them were playing alone, sitting inside the small pub style bar that Wilson's men had pretty much taken over while on Sihnon.
"Seems like," the gamble replied. All around them, Wilson's men were being told, quietly, to gather their things and head for their ships, and do it now. The two watched without further comment, careful to avoid attracting attention. Once the last of them had gone, the two stood, paid their tab, and left.
"They're headed for their ships," Fell said aloud. Meadows nodded.
"So much for watching them here for another six weeks," he sighed. "I'll keep tabs on them, while you call Jarrod. They're leaving. We need to follow."
Non of Wilson's men ever noticed the two men following at a discreet distance.
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"Well, that tears it," Jayne growled as the cortex went blank. He reached for the com once more.
"Harry, change of course. For now, just head in the general direction of Sihnon. We'll have better nav info in a bit."
"Aye, Milord. Course change in five." Jayne looked up at River.
"I don't know," she shrugged helplessly. "It seems problematic to me that this group would leave so abruptly, and ahead of schedule, just as Captain Daddy makes planet fall on Londinium."
"Just what I was thinkin'," Jayne nodded. "Someone must have seen Serenity leaving atmo, and informed Brockman." The big man stood, pacing a little, his mind swirling.
"There are only two possible targets," he said. "The children, and Serenity. Even without us, the children are fine. Safe as they can possibly be. That leaves Serenity. They have to be after Mal."
"I agree," River nodded. "What do we do?"
"Well, it just so happens that Mister Brockman has made a mistake," Jayne grinned evilly. "We been worried over tryin' to take this lot in the open, how much attention it would get, how many of our own people would get hurt, and the like. Now he's gone and put most of'em in just a few shiny baskets, all alone in the black." He sat down again, and entered an address on the cortex. In seconds, the face of one of his retainers appeared on the screen.
"Hello, Milord," Hiram Wickershaw smiled. "This is a pleasant surprise."
"Hiram," Jayne nodded. "I hate to be abrupt, but I have a need. I want Artemis in the black as soon as possible. Fully armed, and a security team on board. Special security, Hiram," Jayne emphasized. The older man nodded.
"I understand, Milord. I'll see to it at once."
"You have any idea where Mal was taking Serenity?" Jayne asked. Hiram nodded.
"Indeed, sir. He spoke of work waiting for the crew on Beaumonde. They departed almost eighteen hours past."
"Good!" Jayne smiled. "That's outstanding, Hiram. See to Artemis as quickly as possible, and have her trail Mal far enough back not to be seen. I want them there just in case. Got that?"
"I'll see to it myself," Hiram promised.
"Thank you, Hiram." Jayne turned off the screen, and looked up at River.
"Things are gonna heat up soon," he promised.
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"My ship is not a warship!" Elizabeth Winter said sharply, as she and Barstow left Sihnon's atmo, trailing behind the three vessels of Wilson's small armada.
"We aren't supposed to be," Barstow assured her. "We're just following them. And Meadow's boat, while not exactly an Alliance cruiser, is heavily armed, you know, and he's right out there, on our wing."
"He needs a fast frigate, the company he keeps," Winters growled.
"Liz, he's not a. . . ."
"If you call me that one more time," Winters cut him off with a growl, "so help me I'll. . ."
"You'll what?" Barstow cut her off, smiling. "Spank me?" Winter's face was furious as she turned on him, but froze as she saw the look in his eyes. They were fairly twinkling. Suddenly she lost her anger.
"You just do that to needle me," she growled, though not as harshly as before.
"Partly," he agreed, smiling. "And partly because I like it. Liz sounds less formal than Elizabeth. I remember when you were just plain Liz. I liked Liz. Quite a bit in fact," he added. "And I'm rather fond of 'Elizabeth' as well, comes to that."
Winters spared him another glance, then turned back to the instruments in front of her. Once clear of the planet, she set the auto pilot, never saying another word. Once it was set, she leaned back in her seat.
And in the next second, grabbed Barstow by the neck, and slammed her mouth against his. Startled, Barstow took a few seconds to realize what was happening, then responded in kind.
Wonder how far they're going? he wondered.
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"Well, howdy stranger."
Neera looked up from the table to see Mal leaning against the doorway of the galley, smiling. It was roguish, devil-may-care smile, one of the things that so endeared him to her.
"Hi yourself," she replied, leaning back. "Come her often?" Mal laughed, crossing to where she sat. He sat next to her, facing backwards, and kissed her without warning. Neera recovered fast, however, and kissed him right back.
"Well," Neera said breathlessly as the two broke apart, "that was a welcome treat."
"Oh yeah?" Mal's eyebrows rose. "That's just the tip o' the iceberg, so to speak. We got near on four-and-a-half days 'fore we hit Beaumonde, nothin' don't slip, rip or tear. And with all this new shiny, I'm hopin' that don't happen."
"I take it you have something in mind?" Neera asked coyly. "Some way for us to spend all that worry free time, perhaps?"
"Well," Mal said seriously, "I thought we could inventory the cargo bay. Lotta stuff in there, and we ain't been on board in a while, so there's bound to be a buncha. . . ." He stopped abruptly as Neera grabbed him, planting her lips firmly to his. When they broke apart this time, Mal's eyes were shining.
"Not so much with the inventory, huh?" he asked, trying not to laugh.
"Not so much," Neera breathed huskily. "I got another kinda inventory in mind," she grinned wickedly.
"Well, I'm open to the sound o' that. Sounds all manner o'. . . ."
"Cap'n!" he was interrupted by Willie's voice coming over the com. "Wave comin' in! From Janos. Or Jayne. Or whatever the hell he calls hisself. Says it's right important!"
"It had damn well better be," Mal grumbled. Neera chuckled, and drug him to his feet.
"C'mon, lover," she teased. "How bad can it be?"
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"You wanna give me that again?" Mal said slowly. Jayne shook his head.
"No, I don't. You heard what I said. They're moving to intercept you, either on Beaumonde, or right after you lift off. Somebody ratted you out, and Brockman's bunch seem to be headed straight for you. We're on the way, and so are some others."
"And what are we 'sposed to do?" Mal asked.
"Just carry on with what you're doin'," Jayne smiled. "Artemis is shadowin' you, and we'll be there with Athena in a few days. I got some friends following Wilson and his crowd, so we'll know where they are all the time. We'll let them make their move, then blow'em outta the black."
"Why not do it now," Mal asked. "'Fore my shiny new ship can get dinged?"
"How'd you like that, by the way?" Jayne smiled. "I hope you did like it. It was meant to be a gift. Way o' saying 'thanks'. Was everything okay?"
"Everything was fine, Jayne," Zoe assured him, moving where she was behind Mal, and making a face. "It's wonderful. Thank you."
"Welcome," Jayne beamed. Mal didn't.
"I asked you why you don't just take'em now, Jayne," he repeated.
"The ships following ain't got the moxie," Jayne told him. "We do, but we ain't there. I can't figure no way, nor can River, that we can reach you 'fore they do, Mal. So just keep goin' like you are, get your job, and get back in the black."
"Why can't we just stay on the ground?" Mal demanded.
"Mal, there's at least seventy of them," Jayne told him. "We don't have the manpower to fight'em on the ground. Period. In space, though?" he asked, smiling. "Out here, we got the edge. And it ain't like Serenity's helpless now, is it?"
"I don't want to get the reputation o' bein' an armed freighter, Jayne," Mal said seriously. "That invites trouble we don't need."
"I ain't even askin' you to fight," Jayne assured him. "Just pointin' out that Serenity ain't helpless. This is about the only way we can wipe these hundans out, Mal. And until we do, it ain't safe no matter where you go. Dong ma?"
Mal eyed Jayne for a long moment, clearly considering. He didn't want to risk his people, his family, in a space battle. Or any battle, it come to that. But he'd agreed, for better or worse, to help. Doing that had made him a target. And he'd be one until this was over, Jayne was right about that. Finally, he nodded.
"We'll play it your way, Jayne," he said. "Just like we ain't gotta clue. You make sure don't nothin' happen to us."
"I give you my word, Mal," Jayne said solemnly. "We'll destroy them, here in the black. Kill several birds with one stone. After that, all that'll be left is finding Brockman."
"All right, Jayne," Mal sighed. "It's your plan. We'll call when we're ready to settle on Beaumonde." The screen flicked off.
"Gorrammit," he murmured. "I shoulda knowed."
"Sir, we knew it was a possibility," Zoe reminded him. "We knew that when we agreed to take the job. We did the right thing."
"I know that," Mal nodded. "Just tired of being in the middle o' all this, that's all."
"Won't be much longer, looks like," Zoe reminded him. "Jayne's got two o' his little pocket cruisers on this, sir. They can't take three freighters, even with them armed, then that bunch deserves to win."
"True," Mal nodded, feeling better as he remembered the power of the two ships Jayne was using. "Well, don't matter none, no how. It's what it is, and we can't change it."
"We still have that inventory to do, Mal," Neera purred into his ear, and Mal's face shot red at once. Zoe tried, but couldn't maintain her trademark stoicism. She broke into a laugh, which she promptly strangled off.
"I'll be in my bunk," Mal said, stomping off in that general direction. Neera smiled at Zoe, winked, and followed. Zoe watched them go, and shook her head.
She wasn't the only one wearing a smile again. Or a light in her eyes.
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Wilson sat back on his chair as his ship and two others, carrying the bulk of both his and Brockman's 'forces' headed for Beaumonde as fast as they could. The pirate leader smiled fondly at the chance to catch Reynolds and his 'crew' on the ground, or even in space, with the numbers he had this time.
And Reynolds element of surprise was now gone, as well.
"This time it'll be different," Wilson murmured.
"Sir?" his second asked, passing by.
"Nothing. How long?" he demanded.
"Just under three days, sir," the other responded. "Call it two days, twenty-two hours."
"We have anything on what Reynolds is takin' on, or where he's headin' with it?"
"Not as yet, sir."
"Stay on it," the pirate ordered. Just as the second was about to respond, the cortex receiver started to blink. Wilson answered it himself.
"Ah, good," Brockman smiled, seeing Wilson. "We've not yet determined where Reynolds is going, but we do know the meeting place," he said without preamble. "I haven't been able to find out, as yet, exactly who he's dealing with, but I don't really care. I'm sending you the coordinates that Reynolds was given for his meeting. If you can reach them before he does, or even while he's there, you should be able to take them without any problem."
"I've heard that one before," Wilson growled, and Brockman's face went red.
"This time will be different," the larger man grated. "You have far more men, and there won't be the confusion that erupted last time. Just get it done." With that, Brockman killed the wave.
Wilson sat back, growling under his breath. His patience was wearing thin.
"Sir, how much longer are we goin' to let him push us around?" Startled, Wilson turned to see his second still standing there.
"What?" he demanded.
"You should be givin' the orders, not him," the second said plainly. "Why let him keep tellin' us where and when to go?"
"We need him for now," Wilson temporized, caught up short by the other man's blatant statement. "Rest of them feel the same way?" he asked, working to keep the excitement from his voice.
"Pretty much," came the reply.
"Well, just tell everyone to let it lie, for now," Wilson put on his best smile. "It won't last much longer." The second nodded, and moved about his duties. Wilson sat back, smiling in spite of the ire that remained from his 'discussion' with Brockman.
Things might be easier to pull off than I expected, he thought to himself.
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Wilson's second in command retreated to the shuttle he called his cabin after his talk with the 'captain'. He pulled a panel from the wall, revealing a hidden compartment crammed full of gear. Removing a small electronic device, the man quickly scanned his quarters. Satisfied there were no listening or recording devices hidden in his quarters, he replaced the unit, and the panel, then went to the small cortex receiver at the helm of the shuttle. He entered an address from memory, and seconds later, Brockman appeared before him.
"What?" the larger man demanded, though not so gruffly as he might have from someone else.
"Wilson is definitely planning a coup," the man told him at once. "I think I've convinced him that the crew is behind him. If I can keep him blinded, he may depend on me to have the crew in line when the time comes, which will leave him virtually alone when he makes the attempt."
"See to it that it happens that way."
"Yes uncle," the other man smiled, and killed the transmission.
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Brockman settled back into his chair, wondering if he should be pleased or disappointed. He decided to be pleased.
He'd know that Wilson was unreliable. That was why he'd seeded some of his own men into the pirate's crews over the last few years. One, his nephew, had risen fairly high in Wilson's command, and was now in a position to keep Brockman informed about Wilson's ambitions.
If I can trust the nephew, he reminded himself. That was the problem with crime. Everyone wanted to move up, and sometimes it didn't matter who got hurt along the way. Brockman had forced his own father, and two of his uncles, out of the business himself. Families did that sort of thing all the time, but it left grudges.
So far as he could tell, the nephew was loyal.
But he'd bear watching. Just as everyone around him did. There was a reason that Brockman didn't discourage the bickering that went on between the factions under his nominal command. So long as they were fighting each other, they didn't have time to come after him.
But if some of them should realize what he was doing? Then all bets were off.
So I just make sure they don't find out what's going on, he mused. With that in mind, he decided to make a wave of his own, just to stir the pot a little.
Be a shame is something happened to Wilson before his little plan could hatch, now wouldn't it?