My Own Kind of Freedom

Chapter 4 My Own Kind of Stupid

He found her in the engine room, of course. She was fiddling with something that required a large wrench in one hand and a dirty rag in the other. She looked up as he came in and gave him a big smile.

“Hello, Simon.”

“Hello, Kaylee. Are you hungry?”

“A little. What did you have in mind?”

“I thought I might cook us up something to eat.”

“Simon! You cook?”

He tried to decide if he ought to be offended. “There are some things I can make.”

“And you want to cook for me?”

“If you won’t be too critical.”

She grinned her Kaylee grin at him, and he got that sensation in his stomach again. “When did you learn to cook?”

“Actually, River taught me a few things while we were growing up. She’s the real cook.”

“Wow! I never knew! Why hasn’t she cooked here?”

“She’s made snacks for me a couple of times, but, well, there isn’t much you can do here.”

“Why not?”

“For real cooking, you need a real stove, a real oven… you know, a real kitchen. The things they have in civilization.”

She stared at him. She wasn’t smiling any more.

“Actually,” she said slowly, “I’m not really hungry.”

She turned back to the engine. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, then gave up and went to find his sister.

She was in her bunk, arms wrapped around her knees.

“River, are you hungry?”

“The preparation of food has been a community-building and interpersonal bonding activity since before the dawn of history. The rituals and devices associated with food preparation are nearly always, in all cultures, matters of pride and identity. You’re an idiot.”

“River.”

“I think there are some protein chips left in the cupboard and some soy dip in the cooler.”

Zoë and the Captain showed up just as he was setting out the dip. He set the chips down in front of his sister and sat down next to her.

“That was a good call, doctor,” said Mal.

“What was?”

“About Jayne selling you and your sister out to the Alliance.”

His heart sank. River picked up a chip and studied it intently. “It is carbon-based,” she said. “That makes it organic by definition.”

“What happened?” asked Simon.

“Sudden chatter on the Alliance security channel,” said the Captain, “and there’s no reason for that here. It’s in code, but we can be pretty sure what it’s about. Its origin is in the world, on this continent.

“What are we going to do?”

“Wash is checking the sky to see if we have a clear path out. No point in running straight into an Alliance ship.”

“It isn’t about me,” said River.

“No,” said Simon. “It’s about what they did to you, and what they want to do to you again.”

“No,” said River. She looked at the Captain. “It’s the Alliance agent. He’s trying to find out who you are.”

“Alliance agent?” said Mal. “What Alliance agent?”

“The one you met in the canteen today.”

Mal looked at River, then at Simon, then at Zoë, then at River again. “Doctor, is your sister reliable when she gets like this?”

“Uh, I have no idea.”

“She is completely reliable,” said River. “She is only wrong about the important things.”

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” said Mal. He sighed. “A gorram Alliance agent. I’d be more doubtsome if it didn’t answer all sorts of questions.”

The Captain and Zoë were looking at each other. Simon cleared his throat. “Feel like letting me in on this?”

“Nothing much to it,” said Mal. “We saved the life of an Alliance agent today.”

“Good going, sir,” said Zoë.

He punched the intercom. “Wash?”

“I’m still checking, Mal, but it looks good.”

“Skip it. Can you pinpoint the source?”

“Skip it? You mean, we’re not running?”

“Wash, I need you to pinpoint the source.”

“How close do you need?”

“How close can you get?”

“Gao shenma gui, zenma hui shi? I don’t know. Give me a minute.”

“A minute,” said Mal.

He turned, leaned against the bulkhead, and closed his eyes. “Wo taoyan fuza,” he said, and headed up to the bridge. Zoë fell into step beside him.

“For someone who hates complications, sir, you do seem to go out of your way to create them.”

“You should be used to it.”

“Oh, I am.”

“Well then. I’d like to get paid.”

“Paid would be good, sir. What about the fed?”

“What about him?”

“We’re not going to do anything?”

“What would you suggest we do, Zoë?”

“I’m not sure, sir.”

“Well, if you get any ideas, let me know.”

“I have a question, though.”

“Hmmm?”

“If that was a fed, who was trying to kill him?”

“Lot of folk on this world got no reason to love the Alliance.”

“Yes, sir. But not loving them is one thing, killing a fed is another. And that wasn’t just killing a fed, that was planned.”

“There’s something to that.”

“So, what do you think, sir?”

“I think I want to get paid.”

“Yes, sir.”

Wash turned his head. “Paid? But I thought this job was legal. Are we supposed to get paid for legal jobs, too?”

“Did you find the source?”

“It came from about two miles away from us, Mal. I can bring up a map of town and show you the place.”

“Okay, take us out of the world.”

“What about being paid?”

“Don’t give up yet.”

“What course should I set?”

“None. Synchronous orbit; keep us right here.”

“Okay.”

“Sir?” said Zoë. “Why—?”

“I’m taking the shuttle down. If something goes wrong, I want Serenity to be able to get away clean so we don’t lose River and Simon.”

“And you?”

“I’m in no danger.”

“Of course not, sir. You’re going to find that Alliance agent, aren’t you?”

“Alliance agent?” said Wash. “What—?”

“Zoë,” said Mal. “Why would I go seek out a fed?”

“Because you’re curious, sir, and can’t leave anything alone.”

“What fed?” said Wash.

“I’ll tell you all about it, dear,” said Zoë. She turned back to Mal. “But sir, I don’t think—”

“You’ll be waiting on Serenity. It shouldn’t take long.”

Wash cleared his throat, “If someone could—”

“Print out that location for me,” said Mal.

Zoë looked at him.

“I just want to know what to avoid,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Wash generated the map, and handed it to him. He folded the e-paper, put it into his pocket, and said, “All right. Get us airborne, Wash.”

“You yi tian…” said Wash, and turned back to the controls.

Zoë sat down in the co-pilot’s chair. Mal headed back down to the dining room to tell the others.

Rennes didn’t seem so large when he stood in front of Sakarya’s desk, trying not to tremble.

“Who did you send to do it?” he asked.

“Taylor and Falworth, sir. They’ve always been—”

“Idiots, Rennes. Like you. Big, slow, and stupid.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what do you know about those two who broke it up?”

“I’ve got their names, sir.”

Sakarya felt his eyebrows go up. That was fast work, for Rennes. “Do you? How did you manage that?”

“They came into the office—the other office—for payment.”

“Payment? For what?”

“They’re the ones we hired to bring the lumber for—”

“Them?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you paid them?”

“No, sir. I wanted your orders on that.”

“I see. Good thinking for once, Rennes.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Sakarya considered for a moment.

“All right,” he said. “Pay them in full.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then get a crew together, follow them to their ship, and kill them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once he finished his report to Asher House and admitted to himself that staying in his home was no longer safe, it took him three minutes to shut everything down and get what he needed, and then twenty minutes to walk across town to the place he’d already prepared.

It wasn’t the safest place, but it was safer than home. And he had installed enough gear to do a reasonable amount of work once he got it set up; and certainly enough to get hold of Asher House and say, Why in the gorram hell did you just blow off my last eight months of work?

He did not, of course, get hold of the House and say that. The very best thing that could happen with such a course is that he’d get no answer. But he had the equipment to do his own checking.

Malcolm Reynolds, Zoë Washburne.

And if that didn’t bring up anything directly, it would at least be a place to start.

Those bastards in Asher House had blown eight months of investigation right at the point where—well, maybe they had a good reason. They had better have a good reason.

In any case, they had trained him to sniff out and sift through facts he wasn’t supposed to be able to get access to; so, one way or another, he was going to find out what the gorram reason was.

He set up the miscues and false addresses very carefully before entering the search parameters.

Two hours later he was scowling at the screens as if it were their fault. A little voice in his head told him that something the House went to so much trouble to hide must be too big for the likes of him.

But eight months of work, of good work, of important work, all washed away in an hour. No, no. If they were going to do that, he was bloody well going to know why.

He wiped his hands on his shirt and got down to serious work.

“So that’s the short version,” she said.

“You rescued a fed.”

“Yeah.”

“And now Mal wants to go back alone to get the payment.”

“To get the payment, and, unless I miss my guess, to find out about that fed.”

“He’s being a hero again, isn’t he?”

She nodded.

Wash gave the boat some throttle, and Zoë felt Serenity lift, followed by a small lurch as the I-grav kicked in.

“I don’t like him going down there by himself,” said Zoë.

“Yeah, well, the us being up here thing and the him being down there thing is a problem if anything goes wrong.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Of course, what are the chances of anything going wrong?”

“That’s the other thing I’m thinking.”

“Dead certain?”

“Pretty much.”

“So,” he said, “what do we do? I could wait until the shuttle is launched, then land. I mean, once he’s gone, you’re in charge.”

“I know.”

“Mal won’t like that much.”

“I know.”

They didn’t speak for a moment, while Wash made the calculations for a geosynchronous orbit, and tapped it in. Then Zoë felt his eyes on her.

“Zoë, what are you thinking?”

She didn’t answer.

“You’re planning to go after him, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I know.”

“But you’re going to anyway.”

She nodded.

Her husband sighed and turned his attention back to guiding Serenity.

He was careful not to drink too much, confining himself to beer that he nursed carefully, and making certain to eat. There was something going on, and he was in the middle of it, and if he made a misstep, it could cost him his freedom, or worse.

The feds knew he was here, but hadn’t made contact with him. That was dangerous—it meant they might be planning to turn on him. They had once before, and he scowled at the memory. And Mal and Zoë were around, probably pissed as hell at him, and that was dangerous. And there was something strange going on, what with Mal and Zoë having saved the ass of someone he didn’t recognize, and that was dangerous. It had obviously been a trap, but for who? For him?

He could cut and run.

He still had the ginseng sitting in a rented locker; he could sell that for enough to buy passage off world. Go back and call the feds again, try for another meeting? But if he’d just missed a trap, then he’d be committing suicide by walking into the security office again.

How did this get so gorram complicated?

He muttered and drank some more beer.

The money for the crazy girl would be good, so good. But what good was money if you ended up dead or in an Alliance lockdown?

He should play it safe. He should sell that ginseng and get passage out, right now. Tonight.

He went up to the bar to get another beer, brought it back to his table, drank some, and looked around the canteen, slowly filling up with well-dressed citizens—just the sort who could afford what he was selling, and would probably love to have a rare, fine tea. He could do it. He could be away from this gorram world by tomorrow morning.

He drank some more beer.

“Naw,” he decided.

He looked from the doctor, to Kaylee, to River. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s the situation: Mal went back down in the shuttle to get our payment, and Zoë followed him in the other shuttle to keep him out of trouble.”

He bit his lip, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. “So, the question is, do we do what Mal wanted, or do we go down there?”

“We go after them,” said Kaylee. “That’s what the Cap’n would do if it were one of us.”

“I know,” said Wash. “Only there are two problems with that. The first is, it’s really Simon and River who are running the risk. Second, what can we do if they’re in trouble?”

Simon shifted uncomfortably. “As to the first,” he said, “I should point out that, uh, you are all harboring known fugitives, so it isn’t just us running the risk.”

“You have a point there,” said Wash.

“As to the second,” said Simon, “I’m not sure. The thing is, I’m not sure what they’ll run into, if they do run into anything.”

“It just don’t seem right to sit up here and do nothin’,” said Kaylee.

“I know,” said Wash.

“I’d feel better about disobeying the Captain if we had a reason. Are they in touch with us? Will we know if something goes wrong?”

“They’re both talking to Serenity, but not to each other. Mal doesn’t know that Zoë followed him yet.”

“They won’t be here for two days,” said River.

“Mal and Zoë?” asked Simon.

“They want their thing,” said River. “They’re a long way off, but the dead travel fast.”

“River?” said Simon.

“Two by two,” she said.

River stood up and left the dining room, heading toward her cabin. Simon started to follow her, stopped, turned back to Wash, looked at Kaylee, and spread his hands. “Do whatever you think is right,” he said, and hurried after his sister.

“Well, that makes it easier,” said Wash. He sighed. A memory tugged at his sleeve, then, and he said, “You know, Kaylee, just a few days before we dropped off the Shepherd, we were sitting around reminiscing—”

“I miss him,” said Kaylee wistfully.

“Me too. We were reminiscing, and he said something about how a lot of things would have been a lot easier if we had listened to River and just believed what she said.”

Kaylee tilted her head and said, “Hunh.”

“Yeah. I was about to ask him what he meant, but I got distracted by something. Landing, I think it was.”

He shrugged.

“So,” said Kaylee, “does that mean we should do what the Captain says and just wait up here?”

Wash nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s what it means.”

“All right.”

“But I’m not going to.”

Kaylee smiled.

Wash sighed and headed back to the bridge.

It was evening on Hera when he nursed the shuttle to a standstill. He was glad Wash wasn’t there to see the landing; but he was down safe, and nothing was damaged.

He carefully went through the shutdown process, leaving the comm on. “Wash? Let Zoë know I’m down.”

“Will do, Mal.”

He reset the comm for the local office, and spoke once more.

“This is Captain Reynolds. Anyone there?”

After a moment, there was an answer. “Yeah. We have your payment here.”

“Going to be around for a while?”

“Another hour or so.”

“I’ll be there.”

Then he shut down the comm, as well.

He pulled his pistol, checked the load, re holstered it. “Okay,” he muttered. “Let’s do this thing.”

He left the shuttle, closed and locked it. Fifty feet away was the road; he took it.

Half an hour later he stood in the office, where the walls were white and clean and spacious, and everything blinked and hummed and flickered, and the few people who were working late were all dressed more or less like Kit had been. The place gave him the creeps.

A couple of questions led him to the right office, which turned out to be standing open. In it was a desk, and behind the desk a fat, pale man overflowed his chair, stubby hands typing at a keyboard. He looked up as Mal came in.

“Captain Reynolds?”

Mal nodded.

“Good. Sign here, please.”

The fat man passed him a clipboard and a lightpen. Mal signed it, passed it back, and received a narrow piece of paper.

“What’s this?”

“A check.”

“I was told—”

“Sign the back. I can cash it.”

He signed it, passed it back, and received a thick envelope. He opened it and counted, getting a look but no comment from the fat man.

“All here,” he said.

The other nodded. “I’m to convey Mr. Sakarya’s thanks.”

Mal nodded. “If he needs anything else, he knows how to reach us.”

“Indeed.”

Mal stuck the envelope into his coat and left the room, heading back out of the office. Okay, good. We’ve been paid. All is well, we can get out of here now.

There were a few pedestrians on the street, most of them looking like office workers, and many of them, it seemed, heading toward the canteen.

He dug into his a pocket, and found the map Wash had given him and studied it, relating it to the landmarks he knew. It wasn’t easy.

What’s the difference? I’m not going to go hunt him up. What’s the point? He’s a fed. Bad enough to have saved his life; there’s nothing to be gained by having anything more to do with him. Nothing at all.

He stared at the paper and tried to work it out.

Pointless, he told himself.

He frowned.

Oh, right. It’s about a hundred and fifty yards that way.

He went back to the main road and followed it most of the way out of town, turning to the right until he saw a low series of bungalows.

Yep, he said. Has to be that one.

His feet carried him that way, and right up to the door.