Back to Chapter Four

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They sat in silence for the next hour, watching the light outside fade. Simon passed the weight of the pistol from palm to palm. He’d handled a gun before, he thought somewhat petulantly. Fired it voluntarily, and in defense of the man who sat 20 feet away, judging him. The fact that he didn’t choose to carry a weapon didn’t make him less of a man. Just because he didn’t have a twisted perception of a gun being a natural extension of himself,didn’t derive pleasure from threatening others with it, the way some seemed to… Maybe he’d stroll over and remind the fei hun sheng ji sheng wu of a captain of how he’d taken up arms with the rest of the crew to storm a heavily-manned skyplex and save him from a mad torturer.

Mal tapped his shoulder and Simon failed miserably at not jumping.

“Take off your vest, Doc.”

“My...what?”

Mal was shrugging out of his long coat. “Your vest. We’re goin’ back among folk, be best not to wear what they’re like to identify us by.”

“Oh.” Simon unbuttoned his bright madras vest and handed it to Mal, who rolled it up inside his own coat, and stuffed both garments into one of the lifesaver niches.

“Fit the gun here.” Mal tucked the pistol in the back of Simon’s belt and eyed him critically. “Can’t do much about the rest of you, but… muss your hair up some. Fella on the “Wanted” capture’s got neat hair.”

Simon numbly rubbed his hair back and forth in a method that reminded him of every condescending adult he’d ever know. Yes, a brilliant plan, disheveling his hair to avoid the Alliance. He’d look properly unkempt when they were surrounded by troops. Suit his criminal image.

“Haven’t heard any Air Search,” Mal continued, “could be that’s not a problem. But we move quick, and if you’re coming, you keep your head down, and you listen to what I tell you, dong le ma? Should be some form of Alliance transport close by, ought to have a Cortex connection. See if we can’t find out if you’re still today’s most wanted.”

Wanted. And now armed and dangerous. The pistol felt heavy in his belt and he worried about it dropping.

“Doc? You with me? I need you focused here. We got no room for wool gathering.”

“Right,” Simon answered, but his thoughts were now above ground, trying to count how many guns might be trained on the entrance, waiting patiently in the dark for them to show themselves. “Right.” Mal turned and started up the rungs. Simon instinctively stepped back as the captain eased open the overhead hatch, fully expecting to hear the whir of rifles brought to bear.

“Clear. Come on up.”

Simon let loose his breath, and, with one last glance at the sealed tunnel door, clambered up and out of the manhole and into the fresh night air, crouching as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. They were on the edge of a treeline, the manhole seated in a square of cement that seemed out of place in the surrounding grass and shrubs. It was a clear night with a slight breeze that, incongruous as it was, made him smile. Before them the terrain sloped slightly down to a darkened basin. The buildings Mal had mentioned rose starkly ahead, their white facades visible in the dim light of the distant moon, accompanied by a few crazily tilted trees visible against the night sky. All in all it seemed a deserted spot, the lights of the port town glowing on the southeast horizon.

“Now where is his transport?” Mal was muttered to himself as he, too, scanned the area. He moved off toward the trees and Simon followed. Not too far into the woods, they found their objective.

“What the gui piece of crap is this?”

Simon would have laughed at Mal’s indignant whine had he not shared his despair. The captain was circling a standard patrol hovercraft; lightweight, single passenger- nothing that would hold the two of them. In short, nothing that would do anyone any good on the Rim.

“All right,” Mal squared his shoulders. “So this ain’t our chariot. But it’s got somethin’ we need.” His fingers traced over the small Cortex screen. “Let’s check on those headlines.” He produced the dead engineer’s ident card and swiped it to activate the connection. “Keep an eye around us.”

Simon glanced at the shapes of trees and shrubs surrounding them, wondering how he might tell a hostile shadow from a benign one, while Mal concentrated on the screen.

“OK, here you are." He read the report aloud.

‘Level three bulletin for one Simon Tam, fugitive. Sighted, Kingstown market, approximately 1500, fled, shots exchanged. Roadblocks in place, air search terminated at 1700.’

Well, that’s something.

‘Citizen tips report sightings at… ’ heh,” Mal laughed.

“We do get around, we been seen in half a dozen different places the last few hours. Seems they’ve tagged you but no one can place my pretty face. I’m listed as ‘rebel element, armed’. Catchy.

‘Tam last known to have taken transport on a Firefly class ship’ --- Tzao gao!” Mal struck the screen with the heel of his hand.

“Port’s in lockdown, monitoring and searching every ship comes in and out of atmo. Gui. That rules out Serenity, Zoe can’t even bring her into orbit without running a risk of being searched. ”

“They can’t – River.”

“Zoe’ll know. Won’t bring her in. But we’re gonna have to cook up some ride outta here, and soon.” Mal continued scanning the military dispatches. “They may’ve powered down to a level three tonight, but I guarantee you there won’t be a speck of dirt leaving this planet without an uncomfortably thorough once-over after…” he scrolled the data on the screen “… six AM tomorrow.” He closed the screen “We’re off this rock before then, or we ain’t leaving for a good long while.”

“That’s when the next engineer shows up?”

“That’s it, Level Three.”

Simon's nerves forced a laugh. “Level three. I don’t know if I should be relieved or insulted not to rate a level four.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Doc.” Mal’s response was devoid of humor. “ Moment they open that tunnel, you’ll be well beyond a level four.”

Chapter Six