The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Seventy Two

RECONSTITUTED GAMMA TEAM FRAGMENT -23:39

“What the hell just happened?” Jayne asked, in a daze. He couldn’t help staring at the number of bodies – some with heads, some not as completely equipped – that just moments ago had been big mean sons of bitches with guns. “Jesus, they’re all dead!” one of the Hammerstrike mercs moaned. “Their heads . . .” “Aaaah! I got some brains on me! I got some brains on me!” “Where’d Shan Yu go? I’m gonna do that dirty sumbitch!” “I’m gonna be sick—” “Is she OK?” “God, that smell—!” “BI ZUIE!” bellowed Mal, who had wasted no time in rolling over and grabbing the knife that was so recently at his throat and slicing through his bonds. Seconds later Colonel Campbell was also free, and he took over the knife to start on the Imperial Commandos. The moment he had turned over the blade he had secured a rifle from a conveniently located body and checked the load as he shouted for silence. “Thank you,” he said, when everyone had shut up and looked at him. “I know y’all got questions – I think it’d be fair to say we all do – but lets focus, for a moment, on the fact that we all aren’t about to be tortured to death. Kinda puts things in perspective, don’t it?” There was a murmur of agreement that, yes, it was kind of nice not to be under the threat of imminent destruction. “Great. We can all agree on that. Now, I got my people freeing everyone, but before we get to y’all,” he said, nodding towards the bounty hunters, “I’d like y’all’s personal word of honor that you won’t try to capture, kill, or otherwise interfere with my people if we do.” “Uh, what if we ain’t got a personal word o’ honor?” “Then if you try anything, I’ll shoot you. But I’ll feel bad about it,” he admitted. “I feel like we’ve bonded. Besides, we can leave y’all here ‘till someone comes along . . . like more Tigers . . .” There was a general chorus of assent that the Imperials would not be harmed, thus extending the truce. After thanking them graciously, Mal came over and used a Tiger’s combat knife to sever Jayne’s bonds, and then handed the knife over with instructions to cut the bounty hunters loose. By that time, of course, the Imperials had already done a decent job of policing up the Tigers’ weapons, and while they weren’t holding them in a threatening manner, they did mean business, that was clear enough. The bounty hunters didn’t seem too perturbed by it, though, and a few even shook hands with their former fellow prisoners. Colonel Campbell went to tend to River the moment he could turn the liberation duties over to one of the other commandos. She had emptied the contents of her stomach – managing to avoid her dress, he noticed – and was now rocking slowly with her hands around her knees. “River . . . come back . . .” he murmured. “Didn’t want to do that,” River mumbled. “He made me, though, he was going to kill us. Didn’t want to do it.” “I know, River. It’s OK. He’s gone, now. Everything will be OK. No more fighting, now, no more killing, no more pain.” River stopped rocking and looked up at him. “That’s factually incorrect,” she said, then went back to rocking. “All right,” Campbell said with a sigh, straightening. “Just . . . here, I’ll get you a drink. Water, anyone? Water?” The two groups of men milled around the area, and one or two had chosen to examine the wounds on the Tigers. It wasn’t long before the mystery of the exploding heads was solved. One Hammerstrike man called Mal over to examine the hole in the base of one corpse’s skull. “Blew clean through the brainstem,” he observed. “Clean through. But from inside. Had to be an explosive charge. I bet if you dug around in there a while, you’d find all manner of biocircuits in there. My uncle has epilepsy, has a similar rig in his head. ‘Cept for the explosives, o’course.” “I’ll skip the autopsy,” Mal said. “But you’re probably right. Why bombs in their heads? Seems a mite foolish.” “To ensure their loyalty,” Campbell supplied as he held a canteen to River’s lips. “The Tyrant was pathological about betrayal – probably because he was the ultimate traitor. His elite guards, his ministers, his closest servants all had charges implanted during his reign. I suppose River . . . guessed what the ultimate detonation codes were.” “That’s some impressive guessin’” one of the Hammerstrike men said, rubbing his wrists. “I’m a good guesser,” River said between gulps. “Hey! I found our weapons!” one of the commandos called. “Let’s get our mess straight, then finish the job afore anything else awkward and untoward might happen,” Mal declared. “I’m in line for a gargantuan breakfast and three days o’ sleep, once we get this can stabilized.” “Agreed,” Campbell said, helping River to her feet. “The sooner we can get those reactors on line, the sooner we can get shut of this system.” “Here’s your coat, Mal,” Jayne said, tossing the heavy leather garment across the room. “Your guns are over here too.” Mal shrugged the coat on, and immediately attracted attention from a few former Browncoats who were impressed he still wore it this long after the War. That made a statement, of sorts – stubborn or stupidity, they weren’t exactly sure, but they admired it nonetheless. He shook a few hands before strapping on his pistol. He drew it and checked the load before re-holstering it – a moment too late. He quickly drew it again. Men burst into the room from two directions, men in black tactical armor bearing the logo of the Hammer Group and carrying assault rifles and machine guns. The Imperial commandos immediately took positions to cover them, but they were outgunned and they knew it. They didn’t fire. “Crap!” said Mal in disgust. “We were so close!” The Hammerstrike men fanned out to surround the former prisoners, and while the commandos didn’t put their guns down, they did fall in back to back with Mal and River and Jayne to cover as many bounty hunters as possible. “While it beats bein’ tortured to death,” Jayne said as he aimed two pistols at several different targets at the same time, “I ain’t much fond o’ bein’ surrounded!” “I done been captured twice in two days. I ain’t about to go for three narrow escapes. Luck only takes you so far afore she bends you over,” Mal said quietly. “Hold your fire,” Campbell counseled. “I’m sure we can talk our way out of this situation if we keep our heads . . .” “Well, here’s your chance,” Jayne said through clenched teeth. “That man there appears to be in charge.” A mature, stocky man in tactical armor did, indeed, step forward to address them. He peered at them searchingly, then grunted. “I’m Julian Martel,” he said. “You probably have heard of me.” “You’ve come up a few times,” agreed Mal. “Good. Then you know what I want. River Tam, drop your arms, for you are bound by law!” “She ain’t got no arms,” Mal said. “And she’s right exhausted, what with killin’ all them Tigers you see in such abundance.” He raised his own pistol in demonstration. “Me, I got some arms, though. Perhaps you’d best speak to me.” “So I see. Captain Reynolds, under the circumstances I’m prepared to let bygones be bygones and let you walk away from this alive and unbound – provided you don’t make any attempt to stop me from placing Ms. Tam under lawful arrest.” “I see we have a problem, then,” Mal agreed. “She’s a member of my crew. She’s under my protection.” “And mine,” Colonel Campbell said, taking a bead on one of the bounty hunters with a hurriedly scavenged rifle. “We aren’t likely to stand down, Mr. Martel. We’ve become quite fond of River.” “Yeah, her manic outbursts of random violence are real enduring,” Jayne added, earning him an evil look from River. “What?” he asked, confused by her gaze. “Evil can be very attractive – seductive, even,” he sneered as he took a step closer. “That doesn’t make it any less evil.” River started to giggle maniacally. “He thinks . . .” “Hush, girl!” Jayne barked. “ ‘Less you can make their heads ‘splode, too, you let Mal do his business!” “She ain’t evil, Martel,” Mal insisted. “But that’s our business, not yours.” “I know what she and her brother have conspired to do,” the bounty hunter said knowingly. “I know all about it. The sedition. The deceit. The superweapons.” Jayne looked at him quizzically. “You sure you got the right River?” he asked, his forehead furrowed in confusion. “Loony-girl here couldn’t conspire with th’ sink to brush her gorram teeth!” “She ain’t what you think, Martel,” Mal added. “You really do have the wrong impression,” agreed Campbell over rifle sights. Martel grimaced and came closer, apparently ignoring the threat of the weapons trained on him. “I have my orders. And I don’t really care what she can or can’t do, what she’s done or not done. None of my concern. What is my concern is the thick stacks of cash she’s worth to some people. Now, I’ve lost an awful lot pursuing her and her brother. And I have an awful lot to loose if I don’t bring her in. So let’s just cut to the chase and you turn her over, and the lot of you walk away . . . for now. Otherwise its going to get bloody,” he said, looking around at the corpses that littered the room. “Or bloodier, I should say.” “Ain’t gonna happen,” Mal said. “She’s one o’ my crew!” “She’s a fugitive from justice,” Martel growled. “As are you all. The only difference is I don’t have active warrants on you all. Yet. But I’m just as happy to take you into custody and see if there are any as leave you here. Hell, any bounties I get would help offset the costs of her pursuit. Take your advantages where you find them, gentlemen. Don’t be idiots.” “Ni juede wo hen ben ma?” Mal asked. “The moment you have her, you’ll open fire on the rest of us. You need her alive. So it looks like we have an impasse, Martel.” “No impasse,” Martel disagreed. “And I don’t need her alive,” he said, raising his rifle to aim at River’s head. There was a very tense moment as everyone waited for someone else to make a move. Then a lone figure approached Martel from behind and suddenly cocked a revolver at the back of his head. “Mr. Martel – all the respect in the ‘verse for you, Sir, an’ I mean that truly. But you even pretend to harm my River, and I swear I’ll end you like a three-legged dog!” “ . . . Fexive?” Martel asked, confused. “What the hell are you doing, boy?” “For good or ill, only reason I’m standin’ here at the moment is that little lady. Now, whatever else happens, I ain’t about to allow you to do harm to her. Nosir.” “You realize what kind of trouble you just got yourself into?” Martel demanded, not taking his finger off the trigger or lowering his weapon. “Think about it, son! That’s mutiny and obstruction of justice, just to start! You put that away and go back to the line, and we’ll forget about this. Alternatively, I’ll kill you myself when this is over with!” “Sorry, Mr. Martel, this is the way it’s gotta be,” he said, sadly. “I can’t allow no harm to come to her. She’s my intended!” “Your what?” he asked, confused. “Your what?” Mal asked, shocked. “I’m what?” River asked. “I know we’ve only had a short acquaintance, Miss River, an’ most o’ that has involved gunplay and beatin’s an’ all, but I feel compelled to tell you that I want to press my suit for your hand,” Fexive said earnestly. “I done felt that way since that day back home on St. Albans.” “You ain’t wearin’ a suit!” Jayne observed. “You . . . you want to marry me?” River asked. “Oh boy,” Mal breathed. “River, anything you wanna tell me about your trip to St. Albans that you may have forgotten to mention?” “Um . . .” said River, sheepishly. “It ain’t the bended knee an’ band o’ gold it’s s’posed t’be,” the young man admitted. “But that don’t make it any less real. I . . . I think I love you, River Tam. I want that we should be wed!” “Well now,” Jayne said with a grin. “Ain’t this an interestin’ development!” “Boy, I don’t know who you are,” Mal said with a sigh, “and I don’t know how or why you’ve taken a shine to River, but under the circumstances . . .” “I ain’t foolin’!” the earnest young man said. “My name is Robert E. Lee Fexive, Miss River, an’ I got all my teeth. I admit my career prospects are lookin’ a mite dim under the circumstances, but I ain’t got no problem with workin’ with my hands. I’d be a good husband to you, Miss River, I promise I would!” “This is all so sudden,” River said, confused. “This is a load of feh hua!” burst out Martel. “Welcome to the family!” Jayne burst out wit a hysterical grin. “So, we’re back at the impasse part of the program,” Mal observed. “You got guns, we got guns. You want River, we got River. I guess there’s only one thing left to decide,” he said, menacingly. “And what would that be?” growled Martel. “Spring wedding?” Mal asked, his eyebrows raised inquisitively. “Or June?”

*

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IMPERIAL GUARD -23:45

Johnny looked down at the unconscious body of his alleged ancestor and heaved a heavy sigh. He ached with a half-dozen knife wounds himself, and was exhausted with the strain of perhaps the toughest fight he had ever been in. But he had won. Because he had gotten lucky. Fighting with a bat was a tricky thing, much harder than fighting with a staff or other civilized weapon. It was a club – a crude, rude, bludgeon, nothing more. It was awkward to use effectively, and against a skilled opponent the very advantages that you thought a bat might provide – greater force, mainly – could be eroded in a number of ways. The fight had been hard. They had done the usual circle dance, each one seeking advantage, and when it became clear that neither would claim one Major Lei advanced ferociously, his long knife slashing like tiger’s claws. Johnny had a slight wound on his cheek from that first assault. But Johnny knew how to fight against knives. He’d been doing so since he was thirteen. Knives didn’t scare him – they had to stick in you someplace vital to do more than hurt. You keep them at bay and you could stand a hundred cuts to your extremities if you had to. Major Lei, however, had apparently had little experience fighting against baseball bats. Oh, he did a passable job staying outside of its range – mostly – waiting until Johnny over-extended to try to skewer the younger man on his knife, but every time he did he found the haft of the bat blocking him out. Nor was the contest confined to their weapons; both tried a fury of kicks and strikes against the other as they fought, to varied effect. Johnny was taken aback, at first, by the Major’s aggressive style. It was designed to intimidate, to overpower him before he even got close enough to strike. But Johnny had seen a similar attitude from the self-important street gangs back home, the bully-boys that the Tong had used as a de facto training program for future enforcers, and Johnny was well aware of the weaknesses of it. You let them come, and you just weren’t there when they were ready to strike. You let them project their power and you let it pass you, and when it was passed, then you chose your moment to strike. They had danced for ages – at least three minutes – feinting and making cautious attacks. Johnny, of course, knew enough to hold back in those early passes – you didn’t want your opponent to know too much about your defense. But there was no room for error. The way that Major Lei wielded his blade, a millimeter mistake could make a difference. Eventually the Major made a serious attack, and forced Johnny to demonstrate just what a good defensive weapon the baseball bat was. What finally settled the matter was a combination of ignorance and luck. After a dozen vicious attacks, narrowly dodged or blocked, Johnny pressed a few of his own, which in turn caused the Major to increase the frequency and the ferocity of the blows. On one of his furious attacks Johnny’s bat landed a minor, unpunishing blow to his bare shoulder – nothing serious, but it did knock the Major off-balance for a crucial moment. His knife hand and his off hand both shot out to correct the issue. Had he ever fought against a bat before he perhaps would have chosen otherwise. While the bat’s main advantage is pure swinging power, there are other, minor ways in which it could be wielded as a weapon. Held close into the body, it appears to be a purely defensive stance – there is no way, at that angle, to put sufficient torque on the bat to land a credible strike. But a good shortstop knows how to bunt . . . The wood made an impressive crack as it impacted the Major’s skull. For a moment Johnny wasn’t sure that it had had an effect. Then the Major fell to his knees, and further, on his face. Now a large welt was forming across his forehead, and a thin trail of blood came from his nose. Luck. Ignorance. And batting practice. “Have a medic attend to that man, and keep him under guard.” He looked up to the ten White Tigers that watched, aghast. “Your commander made a deal. We won. You walk away. You don’t, these fellows in the yellow coats are terribly anxious to kill you . . . a lot. So cling to your honor and slink back to your Master, or show me how an honorless villain acts and fire. The choice is yours.” After brief consultation the Tigers elected to withdraw. No surprise, that – they may have been fanatics, but they weren’t suicidal. Major Lei’s fight allowed them an honorable way to withdraw, and to open fire would have not only been an aspirtion on their own honor, but on his as their commander. Johnny shook his head as the last of them marched out of sight. Soldiers. “Are you well, Your Highness?” asked a private who handed his armor back to him, and followed it with a bottle. “I am,” agreed Johnny. “Didn’t mean to get in the way of a tactical decision, but I thought it would be the quickest way through them. Expediency is key.” “It was your choice to make, Your Highness,” the grizzled sergeant whose name he couldn’t remember said. “Damn fine take-down, too. If you never make Emperor, I’d be glad to have you in the Guard,” he added with a grin. That brought peals of laughter. Indeed, the whole unit seemed elated at his performance, and Johnny realized that he had inadvertently established a bond of loyalty from these men – and the story would spread, no doubt, with plenty of embellishments. Soon the entire unit would look to him for leadership as much for his personal prowess as their duty. More, even, as there was considerable personal bravery, risk, and daring involved, all traits cherished by good soldiers everywhere. As the men excitedly murmured about the fight, Johnny started to feel, just a little, how a real Prince might feel. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Kind of like being Team Captain, only with lots more guns and teammates that were willing to kill for you, not just give a little more hustle. He shook his head to dismiss the thought. I’m a petty crook, not a prince! he reminded himself. I’m here for the loot, not the fame. Money first, ego gratification later! “Sergeant,” he said, willing his breath to slow down. “Sergeant, I want you to detail a few men, enough men, to open up one of the platinum vaults and remove, say, a goodly amount. A generous amount. An amount that expresses the kind of gratitude a Prince of the Empire would show for a loyal and hard-working vassal for extraordinary support. Then take that amount to the central docking bay – the one with the intercept fighters – and there you will find a small transport ship. Load that platinum on board and have the men guard it.” “Yes, Your Highness,” the Sergeant said. “Beggin’ your pardon, but can I ask what for?” “Certainly. That ship – she’s called Serenity, by the way – was the vessel we came here in. I promised its captain payment, and whatever else happens from here on out, I want to make good on that debt. The word of a Lei is solid.” “Yessir!” the sergeant said, visibly impressed. “And don’t worry about looting any for yourselves – if we succeed, I plan on being very generous with the bonuses, mark my word!” That sent up a very loud cheer, and that Princey feeling came back for a moment. Of course, another part of him cringed and railed, because he knew how devastated these men would be when they learned the truth. He had the platinum moved to Serenity against the chance that things wouldn’t go well. If they were able to escape, then he wanted the trip to have been worth something. As it was, he guessed Nyan Nyan was on board. Getting the loot there too would be a long step to chalking this whole caper up as a success regardless of what else happened. “Let’s go ahead and get going,” he said, after finally catching his breath. “I’m sure the other two divisions are already way ahead of us.”

*

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* DELTA TEAM –23:10

Kaylee didn’t mean to fall asleep. She was in charge, after all, technically the Commander of the ship under common space law – as long as Serenity was under power and out of a world, she was Master here. Serenity’s ad hoc Master snored like a buzzsaw, her feet propped up on the flight console in the cockpit, one of Wash’s uglier sweaters draped over her. Her mouth was open – and there may have been drool. Her hair was greasy and unwashed. Her coveralls were as grimy as they could get. As Masters and Commanders went, she could have painted a prettier picture. She had only meant to close her eyes for a minute, after inspecting the ship. It was something a flight officer did on watch, where they wandered around to all the possible work stations and visually inspected all sorts of things that needed to be in their proper places. Kaylee was usually spared the duty. Being the Engineer (Chief Engineer, in her mind) meant that she was the one responsible for repairing anything the flight officers found amiss. So when she dragged her tired body through the ship, making sure the auxiliary atmo tanks for the space suits had not wandered off, the fire suppression gear had not been mislaid, and the pressure doors were unhindered by foreign obstruction, she did so as if in a dream. Had she been quizzed, she would not have remembered that the first aid kit in the cargo bay was shy a bottle of antiseptic and three pressure bandages (and if she had, she would have been irritated that Simon had not been keeping up with his duties as Medic). And after her conversation with Wash, the Toilet Paper situation was well under control. She did note a grounded power relay was in need of replacement in the kitchen, and had discovered two separate instances of loose supports on the catwalk in the cargo bay that could stand to be tightened – why hadn’t anyone told her? All that time she and Zoe and Inara had spent staring at the handsome Yuanese soldiers exercise had apparently taken a toll. Then she remembered that a lot of those boys were dead now, and that made the prospect of repair a sad thing. By the time she stumbled back into the cockpit to log her report, it was as if she was moving through a thick blanket of lead. Her eyes would just not stay open, and despite all the dire warnings of what happens to a flight officer who falls asleep on watch, she decided that just a few moments of resting her eyes would no doubt improve her efficiency. Moments later she was well on her way to REMland. So when there was a scratchy, tinny voice on the radio speaker, she did not hear it at first. “Kaylee? Kaylee, come in?” came Wash’s voice. There was no answer. “Kaylee, this is Wash! Pick up!” Still, no answer. “Kaylee,” he sang. “I know you’re there!” No answer. “Kaylee, I know you didn’t leave the ship without the radio because you’re not that irresponsible,” he commented. No answer. “Kaylee, I’m headed home, but I need your help,” he added. No answer. “Kaylee, I’m going to keep talking because . . . well, I don’t have a hell of a lot else to do. I’m using the suit radio because my antenna has been damaged.” No answer. “I hope . . . I hope you all aren’t sitting around . . .” No answer. “. . . mourning my death, ‘cause that would be creepy. So I’m going to assume you just went to the head.” No answer. “Speaking of head, I’m headed home. I’m . . . I’m in the ship. Most of the ship.” No answer. “That’s the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘tell us what happened to the rest of your ship, Wildfire!’ in case you were wondering.” No answer. “Well, I’m glad you asked. You see, I bagged all of those gorram drones – all but one.” No answer. “It was an easy flight out, that fateful day,” he began, a singsong quality overtaking his voice. “The ship flew well – no, the ship, slumbering in its cradle for lo these many years leapt to the touch of her master like a champion thoroughbred to its rider.” “The odds, they couldn’t have been more dire . . . twelve soulless machines, their tiny brains programmed with nothing but death and destruction, poised to rend the brave pilot to atoms . . .” Kaylee rolled over. “But Wildfire, he tore out into the Black like . . . like a . . .” No answer. “Like an enraged fury! The first of the foes was easiest, of course. It didn’t see me coming, and I sniped it out of existence with a single missile – it was so shiny!” No answer. “Well, not to bore you, but it got harder and harder, the more I fought. Each time they came at me, it was like they were smarter!” No answer. “Um, smarter than they were, not smarter than me, because, let’s face it, I’m pretty heavy in the gray matter when it comes to this kind of thing.” No answer. “No, really, they were hard. And I got ‘em, all but this last one, which I did sorta get, but not quite enough.” No answer. “It came outa nowhere, just smashed my engines. I could have been killed. I was this close – you can’t see this, but I’m holding my fingers about an inch apart – I was this close to an icy and inconveniently permanent death.” No answer. “So I’m sittin’ there, staring out at the stars, not knowing whether or not to be happy I wasn’t dead, or pissed that I probably would be shortly.” No answer. “Facing death like that . . . let me tell you, it gets to you. Makes you think. Makes you . . . reflect . . . on your life, your family, your interpersonal relationships, career . . .” No answer. “. . . kids. . .” No answer. “. . . waffles . . .” Kaylee snorted in her sleep, “ . . . waffles?” “But while I was staring at the naked face of my own mortality . . .” Kaylee stirred. “. . .mmm . . . naked?” “I came to some important realizations. Call them . . . call them epiphanies, if you will, about my life.” No answer. “I’m thinking, you know, there aren’t any certainties in this crazy ‘verse, and a man can’t always be afraid of what tomorrow may bring.” No answer. “A man has a duty, a duty to pass along his genetic heritage, no matter how . . . suspect it might be, because in the final analysis, what do we have to let the boundless ‘verse know we passed here at all, unless we have children to prove that we were at least smart enough, tough enough to make it to puberty.” No answer. “Honestly, I never thought I’d ever get the chance to have kids, bein’ as I am in a bit of a transient profession.” No answer. “The ladies, well, they may be drawn to the romance of it all, the exotic worlds, the danger, the excitement . . . I mean, there are definitely some spacer sluts out there eager to nail any smooth talking, interesting featured . . . potentially well-built pilot who can land a ship, but . . .” “. . . sluts. . .” Kaylee mumbled in agreement. “. . . but those ain’t exactly the kind of woman you want to swap DNA with, if you know what I mean! I could tell you stories . . . ” No answer. “And trying to find a decent woman who will put up with the schedule, and the pay, and the . . . the rutting insecurity of it all, and have that woman actually . . .” No answer. “. . . actually want, actually desire to take half of you, your vital essence, and mix it with half of hers, and bake it in her rutting body for nine months, that kind of woman . . .” No answer. “That kind of woman is rare, a rare and special jewel among all the stars of the Black. And when you do get that kind of opportunity, you’d better not be stupid enough to pass it up, ‘cause the good Lord doesn’t provide that kind of opportunity every gorram week, you know . . . No answer. “So, when you have the chance at having this . . . this new little person, it’s not something that you should . . . you should do something with it, that’s all I’m saying.” No answer. “And you’ll try to give it the best life you can, and you might think that life would be better off on a world somewhere, but wouldn’t that be taking the very things that made his – or her – parents the special gorram people they are from raising that child?” No answer. “If you’re going to go to all the trouble of reproduction – and I have the beginning parts all memorized, so I’m not a complete amateur – if you’re going to pass on a genetic legacy, don’t you have an obligation to pass along a cultural legacy, too?” No answer. “I mean, what me an’ Zoë do, it ain’t among the most secure kinds of work, but gorram it! It’s who we are. And little . . . whatever his name is – or her – he – or she – should have the chance to experience it.” No answer. “Even if that means risking . . . death . . . or . . . incarceration . . .” No answer. “And besides, how will the little bugger know what a . . . what a portside thruster exhaust manifold looks like, or . . .” “. . . manifold?” Kaylee said, stirring. “. . . or a smooth hummin’ reactor core, or a three-phase auxiliary power coupling is . . .” “Power coupling? Wha—Wash?” Kaylee said, coming slowly out of REMland. “. . . y’know, like his – or her – old man. Or how to strip down, clean, and reassemble an assault rifle, like mommy, or garrote a school yard bully . . .” “Wash?” Kaylee said, confused, to the board in front of her. Her feet fell to the floor of their own accord, which pulled her partially upright. This was sufficient to compel her into wakefulness. “. . . not that I’d be thrilled if my little boy – or girl – decided to enlist, because, deep down, I’m kind of a pacifist, or maybe I was just too scared to fight back when I was little – I dunno, I’m not a shrink – but I’d prefer my—” While the pilot rambled, Kaylee realized that her best option at communication with him involved a radio mike. She clawed for one, then held it possessively by her mouth. “Wash?” “Kaylee?” “Wash?” “KAYLEE! Oh, my GOD I’m so happy to hear your gorram voice! Is everything okay? I’ve been going pure crazy with worry out here, with no one answering. . .” “Uh . . . I had a . . . a minor crisis I had to handle, ‘cause, uh, y’know everyone else kinda left, and that leaves me, and then Inara and Nyan Nyan, and the soldiers, but I’m the only real clue left so I’m kind of oh Wash it’s so good to hear you! What the hell happened?” “Kaylee, Kaylee, I’m coming in hot! I need you to get down to the hatchway ASAP with some emergency gear, dong ma?” “YES! Yes, not a problem, not a problem, I’ll be there . . . Wash, are you sure you’re OK?” “Right as rain, Peaches, now that I know you all haven’t been horrendously killed while I’ve been out saving the day. Look, honey, I need to cut this short, because in about a minute and a half I’m going to have to concentrate on not making a smear of this ship on the hull, so you get down there and wait for me, and . . .” “Yeah?” “Bring your tools,” Wash ordered. “I might need help leaving the plane. And . . .” “Yeah?” “Bring a capture.” “A capture?” “Yeah, I’ll explain later. And Kaylee?” “Yeah Wash?” “Did you hear all of that go se I just said?” “Wash I . . . I wasn’t . . . no, no I didn’t . . .” “That’s fine, that’s fine, just rambling. But get down there quick. I’m gonna need a hand.” Kaylee sighed with relief and ran to alert the medic and Inara. “Kaylee? Kaylee? Is the waffle iron fixed yet?”