The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Eighty Nine

“I’ll be right there!” Inara called, enveloping her hair in a bright white towel and twisting it expertly into a turban, when she heard the knock at her door. Washing her hair was a minor ritual for her, a restorative after a difficult period. So was wearing a thick, luxuriously bathrobe. The solitary nature of washing her hair allowed her to be introspective, without the gravity of actual meditation. It wasn’t the most attractive look, but she didn’t care. She just didn’t feel like being pretty right now – and one of the secrets to being a good Companion was knowing when you needed a break from being a Companion. The last few days had qualified. “Sorry,” she said, opening the door. “I was just— Mal?” she asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What?” he asked, mystified. “Do I have protein in my teeth?” he asked, concerned. “No. It’s just that . . . you knocked.” “Oh. That. I – y’know, it’s been a rough couple of days. I’ll make it up to you by barging in again later, at a more inconvenient time.” “Think nothing of it. What can I do for you Captain?” She should have been properly scandalized about him seeing her in such a state – Companion doctrine spoke to maintaining feminine allure in front of the public – but he had – for once – knocked. She couldn’t say he didn’t give her warning. Besides, she was too tired to affect outrage. “I, uh, I had something of yours. I wanted to return it.” He held it out for her. Inara looked at it, then at Mal. “Um. Thanks.” “I just figured, now that our little adventure is over, we can go back to bein’ whores and thieves like decent folk. No need for this lovely accessory.” He offered it again. Inara didn’t take it. “Mal, you know what you’re—” “It’s just a silly custom,” Mal said, his eyes betraying his casual tone. “I don’t put any stock in it. Just take the gorram thing and have done with it.” “You just want me to . . . take it?” “That was the general idea when I came in to give it to you, yeah.” She looked in his eye, and got a mischievous expression which she tried her best to hide under her usual serene aloofness. “I can’t.” “Yes, you can,” Mal said, patiently. “It’s right here. It’s yours. Take it.” “I’m sorry, I can’t just . . . take . . . it,” she said carefully, trying to be as dignified as she possibly could be in a damp towel turban.. “I tried to tell you that it was customary, as a point of interest. I could have left it at that. But no, Captain Cutesy-pie had to take it just seriously enough, and invoke the custom. Now I am bound by that custom,” she said, with mock dignity. “It was a joke. You know that. Take it.” “Look, if you had dropped it back on the Sun Tzu, when I asked you to, I’d let it slide. But you had to keep digging. So you now have a lovely hole to bury yourself in.” She felt smug about that. Anyone else she would have abandoned the joke, but not with Mal. “Inara, take the stupid sword!” Mal said, getting irritated. “According to custom, I can’t! Not until you tell me what you did that was so worthy!” she shot back. Mal looked at her, incredulous. “You can’t figure it out?” “It is customary for the gentleman to recite his worthy deeds for the lady,” she said airily, folding her arms judgmentally. He stared at her for several moments, to see if she would relent. “Fine!” Mal said, raising his voice in frustration when it was clear she would be stubborn about this. He laid the sword over his shoulder like a rifle and started to tick off his accomplishments on his other hand. “Let’s see – Let’s start with the big one: I just gave away more money than I’ve seen in my entire gorram life to get back three of my crew – two of whom I’d not weep to part with. I just put the rest of the crew at risk of a nuclear bomb, went face to face with the kind folk who have been doggin’ our heels for the last few months, and walked away clean! “Further, I’ve consigned the gang to poverty, stirred up a hornets nest of bounty hunters and earned the undying gratitude of an empire whose politics I disagree with and which is missing any actual planet to call home! I’m out on the Rim with two measly bars of platinum to show for my troubles, when by all rights I should be sipping girly drinks in a beach cabana, planning my new mansion and complaining bitterly about my taxes! Is that enough?” “It’s a start!” she shot back, her eyes flashing. “Well, lets throw in rescuing Johnny from certain death, rescuing Book from miserable torture, rescuing you an’ me both from the same, and a thousand other little bits of heroics I just haven’t had time nor inclination to jot down in my diary! How’s that?” “Is that all?” she asked disdainfully. “Gorram it, woman!” he declared, astonished. “I’ve put up with three squads of Chinese infantry using my cargo hold as a military base for a month and a half! I got attacked in my hotel room when I was on the only gorram holiday I ever took! I’ve had to deal with mastodon penises and ruthless Tongs and mercenary attacks on my ship -- I’ve fought a nasty little war with no sleep! And I had to walk across a gorram carpet of desiccated corpses for the gorram privilege of getting to the gorram war to begin with!” “Now you just sound like you’re whining.” “How about the timely rescue of your own valuable ass from ruthless killers? And saving a whole gorram village? In a toga, no less?” he asked, heatedly. “That was pretty entertaining,” she admitted with a sudden giggle. But then the serious eyes were back. “And all that makes you worthy?” Mal breathed heavily. His blood was up. “I’m sure I could stretch my memory a bit and come up with a few more, but I’d think that would suffice! Now take the damn sword back – if you think I’m worthy. If not, I’ll space the gorram thing.” Inara searched his eyes, but didn’t take back the sword . . . yet. “I can appreciate the noble deeds, Mal – rescuing me was very brave of you. So was the rest of it. But it isn’t bravery that the custom rewards: it is worth. Are your deeds . . . worthy?” “I don’t know,” Mal said, quietly, menace in his voice. “Worthy of what? To who? ‘Cause where I’m standing, I’m worthy of a medal or a noose, maybe both, and not much else. If you’re questioning my motivations, most concerned filthy lucre and precious else! Or the safety of my crew – but that doesn’t count in your eyes, does it? Because that’s my duty as a Captain. But there are a few points where I’d say, from any objective perspective, what I did and what I didn’t do might could be seen as worthy . . . of what, I don’t know. Gorram it, Inara, why you got to go and make things so gorram confounding?” he accused in frustration. “You started this! I just wanted to teach you to fence!” she retorted, annoyed. “And wasn’t that a successful venture?” he mocked, rolling his eyes. “Like I’m ever gonna be in a swordfight again!” “You never know,” Inara shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.” “Like me ever expectin’ you to accord me with some dignity when I’m standin’ here with my hat in my hands. I’m tired of playin’ this game, Inara. Tired of losing.” “Then why did you start it, Mal? I mentioned it casually. You took it as some kind of stupid egotistical masculine quest that you couldn’t even take seriously. Like you do everything else! You’re right, you did a lot of things that called for bravery, called for risking your life. But you’re also right that you did those things for money or for duty. What have you done that was selfless? That’s one way to measure worthiness. One way I measure it, anyhow.” “Do you now?” Mal mocked. “Well what have you done that’s worthy, Your Whoreness? Aside from sittin’ on that pretty, valuable little fanny of yours while workin’ folk were busy . . . um . . . workin’,” he finished, weakly. Inara snapped. She’d had enough. She couldn’t bear his scorn after everything she’d been through, all of her careful planning. “Okay, Captain,” she said, narrowing her eyes and flaring her nostrils. “How about this? I saved the Core from falling. For a little while,” she added. “I saved human civilization – probably.” Mal looked confused. “Uh, you pull this off while I was out scrappin’? ‘Cause it sounds like somethin’ I’d’ve heard about, I think.” “Subtle observation isn’t your strong point,” Inara tossed back. “You want to know what I did? Do you?” she demanded. “Besides change your shampoo – which smells absolutely lovely, by the way – I’d love to hear how you saved the Core. Or the Rim. Or anything, for that matter. From what I’ve seen, all you’ve done is tripped around with us hitting lucrative clients for a profitable bang and enjoying the ride!” “ ‘Hitting a few clients?’ ” she asked, her jaw agape. “Well, not literally. That I know about. I don’t judge – I mean, I hear tell what some folk like—” “You really have no idea, do you?” Inara interrupted. Her blood was up, now, too. “None. Well, consider this, Captain Reynolds,” she said, coldly, “and listen carefully. I’ll try to use small words but stop me if you get to one you don’t understand!” Then she outlined her plan to him in icy, biting words. As she laid out piece after piece of her plan, including the supporting data and the nuances of influence she had used to achieve her goals, it was Mal who stared gape-mouthed. She finished with a triumphant sneer. “. . . and that’s what I’ve been doing with my time and my . . . my pretty, valuable little fanny! Probably the most valuable thing on the ship,” she muttered. “You . . . you did all that?” he asked, skeptically. “Yes,” she hissed. “The little whore finally made good. Aren’t you proud? I haven’t had confirmation yet, but I’m expecting it soon. I was very thorough. All legal, and everyone gets what they want – except the corporate interests. They get screwed, for a change.” “They weren’t the only ones,” Mal mumbled to himself, casting a telling glance in her direction.. “So what if I did?” she spat back. “That’s part of my job, isn’t it? The only part you’re interested in, the part where I spread my legs?” “I seriously doubt it’s your lute playing. Unless ‘lute’ is a euphemism for—” “But only part,” she continued, ignoring his crack. “Would it shock you to know that there is more? You wouldn’t see that, would you? You see, Captain Reynolds, while you denigrate me as a common whore, a more intelligent and better educated man would have cultivated the sophistication to realize that sex, while essential to my work, is not the ultimate goal of my work.” “Seems like it to me,” he muttered. “That an’ a fat fee.” “Like I said – more intelligent, better educated you aren’t. Companions, you see, are not whores, as you accuse me every time you draw breath. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But what we do goes so much further beyond sex . . .” “Oh, please enlighten me!” “My pleasure! Companions are professional women who use sex to intimately connect with our clients – and yes, we charge a fee for that service. That’s the business part of it. But the role of the Companion is not, believe it or not, mere companionship. We are advisors. We are counselors. We are healers. We sooth people’s hurts and calm their fears and let them know that the big, ugly, brutal ‘verse does give them some measure of solace as they face the challenges of their lives. And we build bonds of intimacy, sometimes with folk who haven’t the skills or talent or time to find it on their own! And we can change the whole gorram ‘verse through what we do!” “Sex is what you do,” Mal retorted “That don’t change the ‘verse. Sounds to me like you’ve got an over-inflated sense of your own genitalia’s importance, Ambassador!” Inara rolled her eyes impatiently. “Barbarian! Your provincial upbringing left you woefully uneducated about the finer facts of life. You see sex in terms of love or lust, and leave it at that. But sex – between normal people – is far, far more complicated and nuanced than your rather simplistic point of view. “I used sex to get what I wanted,” she explained, “while I gave my clients what they needed – and it wasn’t just a payoff. I used sex to get information, to influence other people’s thoughts and actions, and even repay past kindnesses. “Everyone I’ve had sex with since Epiphany, Captain Reynolds, has built a bridge of trust and respect with me, a bond so intimate that only sex could encompass it in such a short time. Sex can be about love. It can be about pure, lustful, deliciously nasty pleasure,” she said, rolling her hips suggestively – but then she was all business. “But it can also be used to forge bonds between people, intimate bonds outside of love or lust, which predicate the kind of personal absolute trust that so many people lack in their lives. And in doing so, we can influence how they see themselves and how they do what they do, which in turn influences what the ‘verse does.” “Sounds like a helluva justification for whorin’ to me,” Mal declared. “Not somethin’ an ‘ honest woman would do!” “An ‘honest woman’? I’m totally honest with my clients, Mal, I have to be. They know that. They know they can tell me something in confidence, and it will stay in confidence. They know I will give my honest opinion of something – tactfully delivered, of course, but there is never any real deception. They respect me for that. How is that not being honest?” “Respect? Trust? Money? Intimacy? What about love?” he accused. “Pure, old-fashioned romantic boy-meets-girl love? No place for that in your fancy philosophy?” “There is always love, of a sort. My clients are very dear to me – and they love me, as well, in their ways.” “Like how?” Mal scoffed. “An extravagant tip?” “Mason loved me for my kindness, my attention, and my skill with diplomacy, as much as my skills in the bedroom. Heflan loved my expertise in the erotic arts enough to allow me to instruct his new bride – that’s not something you entrust to a common whore, Mal! And he gave me information that I needed and his financial expertise – an expertise that would have cost anyone else millions to consult! Debra loved my youthful energy and sensual nature, gave me the background information I needed and helped figure out the plan, and Nyan Nyan loved my maturity and grace, and provided the executive opportunity I needed to enact it!” she finished triumphantly. “All done with sex! Glorious, dirty, perfectly natural, you-ain’t-had-it-in-a-while sex!” “You slept with Nyan Nyan?” Mal asked, surprised. Inara blushed deeply. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.” “Does Johnny?” he asked, curiously. “That’s between him and his wife. And besides the point, entirely!” “When the hell did that happen?” he asked, eyes wide with wonder. “Hmp. Didn’t see that comin’.” “You weren’t supposed to! It happened while you were—never mind! The point is this whole plan was my idea, my initiative. No one else’s. Hell, no one else even saw what I did, much less saw a way through it – or had the balls,” she said emphasizing the word dramatically, “to do something about it. No one else, Mal. Just . . . me.” “You really think you did all that?” he asked skeptically. “That warship we just left? That Empire? The dynasty I arranged to found? I bent it to my will, and made it do what I want. And what I wanted was to keep the Core from being abandoned in the next fifty years by the powerful corporate interests that are responsible for it. And I achieved that. Pretty good for an expensive piece of ass, wasn’t it, Mal? Pretty good deal for a space whore to accomplish!” “If it works,” Mal admitted, quietly subdued. “Well, we’ll know in a few weeks, won’t we? Or whenever we get cortex access again. But I’d bet my sweet ass against both of your bars of platinum that it does!” Mal swallowed, hard. “Ain’t mine to wager,” he said. “Gotta split it with the crew. Shares,” he said, his eyes downcast. “Just the same. So if you want to go throwing around worthiness, you measure your ‘brave deeds’ against what I’ll accomplish, and contemplate that, will you?” Mal looked at her, his face a stony mask. Inara realized – too late – that she had gone too far – that she had metaphorically kicked him in the metaphorical testicles, a rookie mistake she shouldn’t have made. Every male ego was fragile, in some way, and Mal was a man of action. She had challenged his effectiveness as such. She had hurt him. But he had challenged her, insultingly. While one part of her looked on in horror as he set the sword on the floor in front of her and turned to go, the other was riled with a sense of triumph. Inara started to go after him, and then froze, conflicted. She wanted to speak, to say something to diminish her vitriol, but she couldn’t. Why does he do that to me? She wondered. At the door he stopped and turned around for a moment. “You want to know what I did that was worthy? You can’t figure it out? Don’t matter much, since I humped it up so bad. But you wanna know, then ask River. She knows. She’s behind that curtain over there,” he nodded. And with that, he departed. Inara looked after him in confusion, then looked down at the sword. “River?” she called, quietly. A rustling curtain pulled aside to reveal a very guilty looking River. “What were you – ?” “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she explained. “I came to . . . I forgot what I came to do. But I didn’t want to interrupt, not when . . . When I heard Captain Mal and you arguing, I wanted to leave but I couldn’t without you noticing.” “Oh,” Inara said, absently. “Sorry for the . . . the argument. Politics. Or something, I don’t know. What did you want?” “I forgot,” River said. “I . . . do you want to know?” “Know? Know what— oh. I – well, do you want to tell me?” “Not really. It will make you leave Serenity.” Her eyes were teary. Inara wrinkled up her face. She seemed so serious, she had to giggle a little. “I doubt it, mei mei,” she said with a grin. “He’s a bad man, sometimes, but he’s not so bad as that.” “It’s not what you think It’s . . . do you really want to know? I have to tell you, if you ask,I have to. It’s not anything he could say. He’s too proud. He failed, in his mind. But he knows I know, and if you want to know, he knows all you have to do is ask.” The tears started pooling at the corners of her eyes. “And I have to tell you because he never will!” Inara sighed and rolled her eyes. Really, how bad could it be? “What was Mal’s worthy deed, River?” River closed her eyes and swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with the whole affair – but also quite unable to not participate. “Captain Reynolds was going to take his share . . . and make an honest woman out of a whore.” Inara’s face went white. “He . . . what?” “He was going to ask you to marry him. Share his life and his fortune. But he won’t, now. He’s too proud. He won’t do it as a poor man. He thought you could save him from his . . . from himself. But not now. Now he sees himself as a failure, and a failure in your eyes, and the only reason it doesn’t kill him is he’s already so empty and hurt inside that he thinks it doesn’t matter. That he doesn’t matter. To anyone but Zoe. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say it –” tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke, but she didn’t sob. “And now you’re going to leave, aren’t you? Don’t deny it. I know. You’re leaving, Shepherd Book is leaving . . . it’s all falling apart.” With that the teenager turned and ran away, her bare feet barely making a sound on the metal deck. Inara was shocked. She staggered to the door and sealed it. She needed to be alone. “I can’t stay here any more,” she whispered to herself, the realization hitting her hard. She looked around at her shuttle, her home for over a year. Suddenly it looked dingy and sad and choked with melancholy. “I can’t stay,” she pleaded to no one in particular, and slumped to the floor, where she picked up the sword and cradled it like a lover as tears and despair poured out of her.

*

*

*

“You don’t have the prisoner,” the man with blue hands observed without looking up from the pilot’s console. His partner had entered alone, putting away one of their specialty devices with a snap. He didn’t need to turn around, of course – they had been working together for so long, he didn’t need to. “There is no prisoner. They let Tam go.” “Where?” “They wouldn’t say. They were most . . . uncooperative.” “That’s unfortunate,” the pilot noted as he brought the engines to life. “They had such a sterling reputation for tenacious pursuit, too.” “That’s what we get for using mercenaries. Bounty hunters,” he said, the slightest hint of scorn in his voice. “Did they have a lead, at least?” “A general direction only,” his partner said. “He – and, I presume, she – are still aboard that transport ship they got on at Persephone.” “Well, that’s something. Had they abandoned it, they might have been harder to track.” “The problem,” his partner said, taking the co-pilot’s chair, “is that Reynolds isn’t going to lightly step aside. He is every bit as tenacious in his defense as the Hammer Group was in pursuit. He is a much stronger ally that I had originally figured upon.” “You’ve seen his record. Heroic,” he said with a sneer. “All balls, no brains. But crafty. Able to improvise, and willing to take chances.” “Immaterial,” his partner said, shaking his head the slightest he could and still claim it was an expression. “He leaves a trail. He has a reputation. He’s a smuggler. There are plenty of ways to get to him. Perhaps a team less suited to tactical issues and one more involved with the criminal element. Or increased use of law enforcement.” He shook his head, nearly imperceptivity. “That may not be possible. I’ve received a wave from Headquarters.” “And?” his partner asked, freezing all movements and giving him his undivided attention. “Things are moving very quickly on other fronts. More quickly than we anticipated. Events may overtake our pursuit.” “What events?” “The Suri Madron, for one. The Board is concerned that they may not be able to keep control of the situation too much longer. The pressure to resolve it is growing. Resolve it permanently,” he finished unnecessarily. His partner knew how that would happen. “Why should that concern us?” “If we cannot apprehend the Tams, and they discover anything about the , the consequences would be . . . unpleasant.” “That’s not a Company operation any more, strictly speaking,” his partner observed. “Responsibility for that was assumed by Parliament.” “Which is why it is critical, now, that we find the Tams. The Company has invested a substantial amount to ensure that the right members are in the right committees in Parliament. Exposure of the Suri Madron would risk political upheaval, which endangers the Company’s interests. Then there are the legal ramifications . . .” “I would be more concerned about the social consequences,” his partner pointed out. “Many people would be unhappy with that project. Many.” “Which was the purpose of that project to begin with. The Board is getting nervous. The last projections were . . . less than optimistic. Civil unrest within a decade. War within two. The Alliance could shatter. Worse, the Company would lose out substantially without adequate supplies from the Rim and adequate markets for the Core.” “The instability can be managed. We are not as poorly organized as we were during the last war. Nor are we unaware of how things will develop. Still, an untimely revelation could prove disastrous. The Board’s contingency plan will not be ready for at least a decade. With River Tam loose, and the Suri Madron causing problems, events could well overtake the Company.” “I don’t see why they didn’t eliminate that risk when the Miranda Project failed.” “They’ve considered it. They were trying to correct the problem, and hoped that the issue would resolve in a favorable manner.” “But surely that is someone else’s responsibility? Not ours?” “The Company is not in charge of the operation, but it is still involved. The fallout would be significant. We have a responsibility. More to the point, Headquarters has ordered us to redouble our efforts to avoid just such an unpleasant occurrence. They cannot keep the situation in control much longer. They say they may have weeks . . . a month or two at the most. One more failure, it seems, and Parliament will intervene. They will put an Operative on the case, Tam’s file will go Black, and the Project will be closed down. She will be eliminated as an asset, not recovered. The Company cannot allow that to happen. We cannot allow that to happen. Of all the subjects, she was the closest one to our goal. Recovering her would save us years of work.” “The Project may need to reconfigure, anyway,” his partner stated after reflection. “Dr. Mathias has outlived his usefulness. With three of his star subjects escaped, he has little to show for the millions we’ve invested. Perhaps he should bear the brunt of the Parliament’s ire.” “And end the Project?” he asked, skeptically. “Not end it. Reconfigure it. A new location, a new crop of students . . . a new director. Perhaps some fresh blood will energize the results.” “It bears consideration,” he admitted. “We should put the proposal in front of the Board for discussion.” “I concur. Though it pains me to do so for the sake of the Miranda Project. I thought that was a mistake from the start.” “It was a joint venture,” he reminded. “And the results would have been highly beneficial. The idea, at least, has merit.” “Perhaps. But failure on that scale . . . unacceptable.” “I agree. It was poorly executed. But then, the same could be said of our own Project.” “The Project suffered from poor management,” his partner said evenly. “And bad security. Our only failure was trusting those in which we vested those responsibilities. As a result, three subjects escaped. Among them River Tam. It didn’t kill thirty million people. By comparison, you could say it was an unqualified success.” “I don’t think Parliament would agree,” he said. “In point of fact, they don’t. Tam’s escape has endangered the cloak of secrecy around Miranda. For that, alone, the Parliament has held the Company to account. We must rectify the situation with all speed. Or else, an Operative. And an end to the Project . . . for the time being.” “So let us not fail. You have thoughts on the matter?” “I do,” he conceded. “If Tam is so protected by Reynolds, then we need to remove Reynolds from the equation.” “More bounty hunters?” his partner asked. “No. The Hammer Group proved that mercenaries are not motivated sufficiently. No, if we set a dog on Reynolds, it should be . . . personal. A man in Reynolds’ profession must accumulate enemies. It should not be too difficult to find a man who holds a grudge against him.” “You know . . . I think I know just the man. If he’s still alive.” “I thought you might. How far are we away from the Relentless?” He checked the console. “About ten thousand kilometers. Why?” “Because I discovered that Martel had interviewed all of the prisoners before he carelessly let them escape.” “I see. You have plan?” “Martel himself gave it to me. I think we should go another two thousand, though.” “Affirmative.” “So what’s going on with the Suri Madron?” “General unrest. Some suicides. An outbreak or two. The local station chief has requested more security, but Parliament isn’t ready to extend that kind of investment to a project that’s going to be ending soon. They’ve increased the pressure on the Principal Investigator . . . significantly. If he doesn’t produce a useable solution, then . . .” “As it should be. And all the more reason we need to recover that asset. If we can get to River before the Parliament has time to act, we may well just save the Project. If not . . . an Operative.” “One thing at a time. We’re clear.” “Good,” his partner said, taking an antiquated, beat-up radio. “This should still work at that range. You may want to hold on to something.” “Why?” With a flick of his blue latex thumb he activated the device. Behind them, the Relentless had turned into a bright white ball of gas and dust, as the atomic explosion that would have formed a mushroom cloud planetside here, in the depths of the Black, formed instead a solid white sphere. “Martel should have been more careful with his atomics. And his prisoners. Brace for the shockwave . . .”