CHAPTER 7

Jayne collected three pistols, his knife, and a stack of rounds before climbing out of his bunk the next morning. He and Kaylee had stayed up half the night casting rounds with a blow torch. He didn’t figure Mattie would let him stock up on ammo and even so, didn’t trust her to know where all his metal was strapped. It was the kind of distrust Jayne was accustomed to giving and receiving from everyone in the ‘verse – except the crew of Serenity. Still, it was hard to feel like crap about the gou cao de situation with Kaylee sittin’ across from him all night, firing a blow torch, joking about a time she singed off her own eyebrows. Jayne felt sorry for Kaylee as she slept soundly, curled up in his chair, keeping quiet vigil lest the grief overtake him again. Carefully, he slid the bowie knife out of Kaylee’s protective hands and into the sheath tucked in his boot. He could still see the fading cuts on his hand, though Kaylee’s loving bandage had long since fallen off. She didn’t care that he slept next to the guns, but she didn’t trust him with the knife. Not in the evenings. Kaylee stirred when she felt him take the knife, her hazel eyes opening, her hand quickly reaching to still his arm. “It’s morning,” Jayne assured quietly, pulling a blanket over her as she relaxed again and closed her eyes. He didn’t need her there helpin’ him through the nights no more, coating his blankets with the smell of peach-scented lotion. Tonight, he’d tell her to sleep in her own bunk. Tonight. Jayne found Mattie in the galley, preparing breakfast as had become her habit, though today the food was quick and practical, her eyes constantly and nervously jumping about the room. Finding some bowls, Jayne took a helping of the tasteless gruel, giving only half-thought to the worry that this unsavory meal might be his last. “You don’t have to do this,” Jayne said quietly as she picked at the meal. Mattie’s soft blue eyes suddenly locked on his, hardening to steel, and she sneered. “Are you getting cold feet?” “Just givin’ you an out.” She smirked haughtily, sitting straighter and falling silent as the others filed in for the morning meal. River circled them, watching eerily as Simon pulled out some more bowls and ladled out the meal. “What’s this?” Mal asked disappointed by what he saw in the pot. “You’re out of spices,” Mattie said. “Hey, Moonbrain, away from the knives,” Jayne hollered, catching sight of River. Simon dropped the bowl he was holding, grabbing hold of River’s shoulders and steering her to the table. “Don’t let her go,” River requested of Simon and everyone ignored her. “I can buy some fresh spices,” Mattie volunteered and Mal cast an uneasy eye on her. “That’s awful kind, miss, but we’re plannin’ on leavin’ in less than an hour,” Mal answered evenly. “Soon as this is fixed.” “An hour seems optimistic, Captain,” she replied cuttingly. “But I can be back within that time if you wish.” “I imagine you can.” “I’ll go with ‘er,” Jayne volunteered. “You got business in town?” Jayne drew his gun. “I damaged the lug using handloads. Thought I might find a ‘smith with quick hands.” Mal looked hard at Jayne and Jayne could not for the life of him read the look. “Fine, don’t be too long,” Mal said and Mattie stood almost immediately. Jayne swallowed hard, determined to finish his food before he left, unable to shake the deep foreboding he felt, hoping his lie about the gun was transparent enough.

*~*

Inara stayed aloft in the catwalk as the crew bustled about doing whatever crazy thing Mal had in mind that was sure to delay their arrival on Boros indefinitely. Kaylee and River had stopped by yesterday to visit while she packed, Kaylee with a capture wanting to preserve the moment for posterity. When River had leaned until her nose was inches from the bed, Inara was certain the girl had noticed the damaged mattress underneath and could only pray she kept quiet. Inara wasn’t sure if everyone knew or if no one did, but she never wanted to tell any of them. She kept thinking of all the young women she’d counseled in similar situations, tried to give comfort to, and encouraged to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law. Easier said than done, she realized. Zoë was already gone, trailing Jayne and Mattie. Mal was gathering his weapons, getting ready to follow, and was giving last minute orders to Wash. Kaylee breezed through only briefly, tools in hand, trying to trace whatever problem had steered them so far off course. At the door of the bay, Mal turned back and caught her eye. Inara stood straight immediately. She hadn’t realized he knew she was watching. But then, he’d always seemed to have an uncanny knack of finding her in a room, crowded or clear. He nodded only slightly before heading out. “Hey, ‘Nara,” Wash called a moment later. “Can you come lock up behind me?” Furrowing her brow, Inara headed down the stairs as Wash started their new mule. “Where are you going?” “I’m the designated driver.”

*~*

The early morning sun burned through a layer of fog leaving only the swirling ash from local trash fires. Mattie kept her head ducked, the ash clinging to her hair like snow. The smoke burned Jayne’s lungs, but the forceful, autumn breeze carried it away with a few gusts. Jayne kept pace with his daughter, noticing she continually looked at a device shoved up her sleeve. Had she repaired her handheld? Had she… When had he started calling her daughter again? Had he ever stopped? “They’re gonna want somethin’ from us before they hand over the money,” Jayne said, diverting his attention to the matter at hand. “Half up front, half on delivery,” she said evenly. “You okay never seein’ that other half?” “I’ll get what I came for,” she assured, brushing her hair away from her face. When her jacket shifted, Jayne saw the gun concealed in her shoulder holster. Jayne remembered being cocky on his first job, but he also recalled a few more nervous reaches for his gun. Mattie was too sure, meaning she’d gotten a double dose of his arrogance, or she had someone else on world. She looked at the device concealed in her sleeve and Jayne felt his fingers nervously graze the butt of his own gun. He looked over his shoulder, squinting through the fog and smoke, unable to make out Serenity in the distance any more. Walking backwards, he kept his eye on the horizon, hoping to spot someone following him. He nearly tripped over Mattie when she stopped walking. “What is it?” Jayne asked her as he bowled over her, catching her elbow before she hit the dirt. “I could ask you the same question.” “I was – no one’s following us.” “You sound disappointed.” Jayne started to answer, but fell silent, following as Mattie continued walking. Occasionally he would glance over his shoulder or look to the sky – not because he was scared. It was possible Mal had written him off and would take off without him. Would be better anyway. Jayne could handle himself just fine and there was no sense him getting all protective over the crew when his own hide and his daughter’s was first on the line. Still … although he didn’t see Serenity flying away, he’d never felt more alone.

*~*

Mal covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve as a particularly thick plume of smoke blew by, bringing with it the scent of rotted food. A stray cat crossed the road and he found himself momentarily considering superstition and luck. Black cats were supposed to be bad luck, so was a gray cat mediocre? What was the scale? Mediocre luck wouldn’t be a far cry above normal and that’s about where he felt at the moment. Aside from the misfortune of being abducted by Jayne’s wayward child, everything was going according to plan. He could see Zoë before him and hear Wash behind him and at the moment, no one was pointing a gun. Not too shabby. “Sir,” Zoë’s voice came over the radio. “Go ahead.” “We’re coming to the edge of town. They either went into the Salty Dog or Charlie’s Pool Hall.” “You lost ‘em?” “They share a common door to the main street.” “Hold position. I’m right behind you.” Mal clipped the radio to his belt and started running. The trip from Serenity had been shorter than he expected, which had its pros and cons. Getting back would be easier, but so would having trouble follow.

*~*

Serenity was always quieter when the others were out on a job. It didn’t help, though, that this time they were expecting to be turned over to some unnamed adversary. Such betrayal seemed a Cobb specialty. Simon heard the sound of weeping down the hall and immediately worried for River. He was surprised when he turned the corner and found Kaylee, sitting by a stack of unlaundered placemats and dish rags, head buried in her hands. “Kaylee, what’s wrong?” Simon gushed, kneeling next to her, rubbing her arm consolingly. “She fixed it,” Kaylee sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes, motioning toward the washer with a wrench. “I didn’t even know it was broke.” Simon furrowed his brow, considering the machine wedged quietly in the corner. “It wasn’t really.” “No one fixes things like this that don’t know the original designs. Like she invented it or somethin’.” “You think she’s schooled?” Simon still didn’t understand why Kaylee was upset. “She’s done more in a week than I’ve done all year.” “Oh,” Simon said, putting a sympathetic arm around Kaylee’s shoulder. “Come on Kaylee, she’s just doing odd fixes. She hasn’t touched the engine and kept it in repair all year. And she’s not confined by Mal’s pitiful budget.” Kaylee’s head flopped on his shoulder and she gestured to some unseen workings behind the machine. “I never would’ve thought to do this.” Simon tried not to laugh at Kaylee’s distress. “You’re young, Kaylee. It’s okay to be a genius and have intuition and it’s saved us more than once. But you haven’t seen everything yet, and that’s okay. Now… you’ve seen this. And you’ll know to try it later.” “Easy for you to talk. Someone gets shot and you fix ‘em up right as rain every time.” “Well, yes,” Simon began slowly. “I’m trained as a trauma surgeon; that’s what I do. I can treat things that require surgery, but I can’t think of everything. I mean… with River, everything is experimental medicine and I’m always worried that there’s something obvious I’m not trying. Something a diagnostic specialist would think of right away.” “You’ll figure it out, Simon.” Simon leaned his head to the side to touch Kaylee’s, marveling how easy it was for her to encourage him when he’d been trying to encourage her. “All I’m saying is that maybe Mattie is specialized in repairing laundry machines.” “Or plumbing,” Kaylee nodded, lifting her head thoughtfully. Suddenly, she leaned over, gave him a swift kiss on the cheek then sprang to her feet. “Where are you going?” “I think I know what she did!” Stunned, Simon stayed on the floor of the laundry room as Kaylee bound happily away. With a soft sigh, he touched his cheek where she had kissed it.

*~*

Jayne followed Mattie into the bar and immediately wished they had time for a drink. The joint was deeper than it was wide, the bar on one wall, a few narrow tables on the other, the ceiling low enough to be claustrophobic. At the back was a spiral staircase leading upstairs, presumably to more tables. The walls were lined with mirrors, smeared with fingerprints and condiments. The smell rising from the floor was a mixture of beer, smoke, and dirty mop water. Loud music shrouded the voices of the patrons and the din of moving dishes. Mattie had been quiet most of the way here and he could read the conflict creeping into the corners of her eyes. Thoughts of his own mother’s death snipped threateningly at the edges of his calm. He had to keep his wits about him. Had to, or they could both die. But would that be so bad? “Why have you stopped?” Her voice snapped him back to reality. It wasn’t that icy, condescending voice she’d used earlier. She sounded … scared. “We can go back,” Jayne offered again. Mattie set her jaw, her chin quivering slightly, her eyes burning angrily for a brief moment before turning icy cold and expressionless. “I’m not sorry.” “Cobb,” a man shouted gruffly from the bottom stair. Both Jayne and Mattie turned sharply. By the way she squared her shoulders, Jayne surmised that Mattie recognized him. A beefy, black man with the sleeves cutoff his t-shirt, and an armful of tattoos to show off. Jayne immediately identified the location of every weapon on the man’s body: two guns, a knife, and something small concealed in the left boot. The way his muscles layered one top of the other, Jayne surmised that his bulk was chemically induced by some form of steroid – which didn’t really make him less strong unless he’d overused in some way. As they followed the man up the staircase, Jayne took one last opportunity to survey the room, and nearly convinced himself that he saw Book in the crowd. How desperate must he have been for a familiar face to see Book? The upstairs area was divided into two rooms – a parlor area with a few tables, mostly empty, and a private room. A posted sign said “employees only”, but the gruff man tipped open the door, permitted Jayne and Mattie entrance, then closed it behind them. Jayne heard a latch on the door snap. In the back room, they were completely cut off from the music floating up from the downstairs. Three men reclined by a bay window, one of them tapping ashes from his cigarette onto the street below. They all had the threads of businessmen, sleek and dispassionate, but with wear to say they were disreputable at best. The one on the left kept his money in his mouth, his leer painted gold. The one on the right calmly took a seat by the window, resting his elbow on a propped knee, surveying Jayne like a cow for slaughter. “What’s this? A sample?” gold-teeth sneered. “You got our money?” Jayne demanded as Mattie took a step back. “‘Our’?” Cigarette-man repeated, laughing. “Oh, this is priceless.” Jayne cast a backward glance at his daughter, a sinking feeling in his gut. He’d expected their betrayal and he’d expected hers, but not this early on, and certainly not in conspiracy. She smirked at him, taking his non-concealed gun, then stepping closer to the quiet one sitting by the window. “He’s all I promised. Now where is my coin?” Gold-teeth grabbed her by the hair and she yelped. “I’m thinkin’ a new deal,” the man seethed in her ear. Jayne drew his second gun from his boot, but the quiet one raised a hand and the commotion momentarily froze. Taking advantage of the pause, Mattie flipped Gold-teeth, then pointed Jayne’s first gun at him. “I believe we were discussing my money.”

*~*

Zoë radioed Wash where to wait for them as Mal jogged up beside her. They exchanged hardly a glance before entering the establishment, Zoë taking a quick left into the pool hall, Mal scoping out the bar to the right. The pool hall was noisy with the clacking of cues to balls, the thumps of heavy boots on the floor, and the leaking over of music from the neighboring establishment. The ceiling was double tall and a single door lead out the back of the building. On the upper level of the adjoining wall was a shaded window from which one could look in on the establishment. A bored looking attendant sat behind a low desk, monitoring the violence level in the room and renting out tables. He considered Zoë with disinterested eyes, and when she didn’t come immediately towards him, went back to reading his magazine. Bracing her ears, Zoë crossed the hall to the neighboring establishment, immediately spotting Mal leaning against the bar, drinking whisky out of a dirty glass. Zoë gave Mal a withering look, then came up beside him and surveyed the room. The space was dark, cramped, and dense with smoke. “Somethin’ for the lady?” the bartender asked – or nearly shouted to be heard over the noise. “Perhaps a quiet table upstairs,” Mal answered. The bartender curled his lips disgustingly and motioned toward the spiral staircase. The upstairs was appreciably quieter and Zoë fought the urge to touch her ringing ears. A few patrons sat down for quiet conversations and Mal led Zoë to a table offering her a chair before he sat. He was playing parts, and she played along. An overworked waitress rushed past and offered them menus before hurrying to another table to take a food order, then another to take money, then dashing off downstairs. “I didn’t see a back door to this place,” Mal remarked, taking a swig of his drink, then sliding the cup across the table to Zoë. She looked disdainfully at the dirty glass, trying to weigh the merit of the present drink against the probable dysentery later. “You hear that, sir?” She tensed suddenly at the muffled… it was hard to describe the sound, but it didn’t seem to belong with the noise of a bar. Zoë wondered if Mal tensed in response to her or because he’d heard it too. “Can’t hear much of anything,” Mal remarked, wiggling his finger in his ear to clear it. Zoë screwed her face and stood, pressing her ear against a door to a back room. “Excuse me, ma’am, this area’s for staff only,” a gruff, tattooed man told her, coming bodily between her and the door, forcing her back. Zoë could easily see his concealed gun and knew in a moment that through the door was where they wanted to be. Mal came behind her and they presented the two-to-one intimidation stance, but the tattooed man was suddenly joined by three others. Nodding politely, Mal touched Zoë’s elbow and summoned her back, as if that’s what he’d been planning all along. “I think you should leave,” the man ordered. Zoë turned quickly, heading downstairs and Mal followed without a word. They’d find another way in.

*~*

He thought he’d warned her. Why did Mattie look so surprised when things went to hell in a hand basket? He’d let Mattie take his first gun, just to see if that got them out any easier, but when Cigarette-man started frisking him, he’d decked the guy and reclaimed his favorite pistol. Which in turn led to more hitting and shooting and brawlish behavior. Gold-teeth joined in angrily and briefly, both men were turned on Jayne. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mattie standing by the window next to Quiet Man, who still hadn’t moved. She glared at him disdainfully, but he’d be damned before leaving this place without her. He lunged toward her and was stopped by a jab in his back. Grabbing the first chair within reach, he swung around, catching Gold-teeth in the jaw, dislodging one of the glittering canines. Mattie connected with a roundhouse punch and Jayne saw stars, trying to stay upright. The floor teased and beckoned, but he did not yield, even as Cigarette jumped on his back and two other men slipped into the room to join the fight. Now it was four men against him, plus Mattie. Quiet Man stayed thankfully still, but Jayne spared as many glances toward him as possible, knowing he was most likely to fire the killing shot. The melee took a downward turn when a bullet shattered the glass window behind the desk. Instinctively, Jayne hit the deck and grabbed his weapon. All bets were off. He tugged at Mattie’s ankles and she finally came toward him. He rolled and kicked Gold-teeth as he stood, pulling Mattie toward the door, but stopped when she yelped and her hand jerked out of his. Quiet Man had finally stood, getting Mattie in a choke-hold, pressing a gun to her head. The distraction allowed Gold-teeth to snap Jayne in the ribs and the two fell. Mattie flipped Quiet Man over her shoulder and he landed hard on top of Jayne, forcing a grunt, but already rolling the three quickly righted and fought for dominance. Zoë sprang in through the shattered window, cutting her hands on the broken glass, but all business, with her Mare’s leg pointed at the men. She shot Cigarette in the head as Jayne pummeled Gold-teeth. Mattie ran for the door, but three more men burst through, led by the gruff, tattooed fellow. They launched on Jayne, Mattie, and Zoë like a pack of wolves. At some point, Mal appeared through the broken window and joined the fight. Jayne shot two of the new assailants, trying to figure a way out. The way Zoë was moving, she wasn’t expecting to leave the way she came. The battle carried out into the restaurant area, sending patrons flying to the ground. Jayne gave only briefest consideration to the bystanders, keeping his eye on his daughter and his mind on that narrow staircase that was their only means of escape. Mattie fought for all she was worth, and if he hadn’t been so busy trying to keep himself upright, he’d have admired her skill and felt some fatherly pride. The tattooed man charged her with a knife and Jayne launched toward her without thinking. The only reason she could yelp when the blade penetrated was because it went through Jayne’s lung instead. Gasp. Cry. Soundless. Red. Black. Red. Spots. Gun shots over loud music. Screaming bystanders. Jayne fell heavily on Mattie and she was so surprised that they tumbled to the ground. Her face white with shock, she found his gun and shot the assailant. Breathing was not so great an option. Jayne could feel the blade piercing through his body with surreal depth. “Get out,” he gasped heavily, unable to lift himself off her. Red. Black. Red. Conscious by sheer will, Jayne looked on her face. Just like her mother, except she was confused. Surprised. Probably feeling the same things Jayne had felt when that mudder took a bullet for him. He didn’t have the breath to repeat his request, but the way she was shifting, she planned to move. Using him as a human shield, Mattie dragged Jayne behind a sink, toward a freight elevator. How had she known it was there? He felt a bullet graze his calf and she buckled underneath him as it penetrated her leg. Red. Black. Red. The burning sun blinded Jayne as he came to. They were outside. He could only see the dirt on the ground, but he felt strong arms pulling him up, off Mattie’s shoulders. Red. Black. Red. On his side, in the hover mule. Breeze blowing across his face. Wash looking fuzzy. Mal. Zoë. Mattie! How had he gotten here? He vaguely recalled the morning when he faced the day anticipating abandonment and eminent betrayal. “What are y’all doin’ here?” Jayne choked, barely able to get wind past his vocal chords. There was a strange pain in his lung. “Watching your back,” Wash answered calmly.

*~*

Chapter 8