Kaylee’s Lament

Part Twenty-Five

Prospect Station was a sleepy little commercial space station orbiting around the only appreciable planet left around a red star. The planet was a mottled brown terrestrial world that had a thin carbon-dioxide atmosphere and virtually no water of any sort. When it was first discovered, the exploitation rights were sold to a speculative terraforming corporation interested in developing the world. The poor condition of the sun, and the near total lack of an Oort system to provide cometary ice, made it a weak candidate for terraforming. Life could not exist without air and water, and it was too gorram expensive to import from other systems. So the idea of terraforming the 11,000 mile wide rock was abandoned, and the company that owned the rights converted their exploration facility into a small fueling and supply depot for surveyors and colonists headed for the further reaches of the Rim. During the War, Prospect got an economic shot in the arm when the Alliance used it as a supply dump for Operation Onslaught, a punishing push into the Rim worlds that ended in disaster for the Alliance at the Battle of Riker’s Field. While Prospect was built up in preparation for a second major push, the Battle of Serenity Valley effectively ended the War , and with it most of the potential for Prospect Station to become more than a quiet little fueling station. Today that was just what it was. Only a hundred and fifty or so souls inhabited the station that had, at one point during the war, held a hundred times that many for a few short, miserable, cramped and uncomfortable weeks. Now more than eighty percent of the station was deserted and depressurized. No one came to Prospect unless they were headed somewhere else. And even that was getting rarer. Which made Prospect an ideal, out-of-the-way place for Serenity to refuel. It was a little out of their way. It added an additional twelve hours to their journey, but it still put them in Trinity with plenty of time before the Sky Hawk was scheduled to show up. Prospect had another advantage, too. It had an Alliance fueling station contracted here, just in case there was another war or a cruiser showed up and needed some fuel. And Mal had a fill-up-your-tank-free voucher he wasn’t about to walk away from. Fueling would take a few hours. There was no one else in port. Mal authorized brief shore leave to sample Prospect’s dubious fleshpots. Only Simon and Inara took him up on it, declaring a desire to stretch their legs a little. They grabbed a bite of “real food” at one of the station’s two restaurants, and Simon used the time to fill the Companion in on his daring rescue, while she in turn relayed further details of the heroic struggle to recapture Serenity. As for Mal, he checked on the news. Not the press wire stuff that came in over the cortex, but the gossip that spacer bar owners everywhere were privy to. Having never been to Prospect before, it took him all of ten minutes to locate the only real bar on the station and probe its proprietor for unusual current events. The only news he had that he found relevant was the recent Alliance capture of Milo Morgan and the now infamous Arachne’s Revenge, the authors of a notorious attempted piracy of an Alliance-contracted vessel and (it was whispered) the mastermind behind a bloody and vicious massacre of station security personnel, using a woman as bait. Morgan had turned himself in by flying directly to an Alliance base – almost into an Alliance base, as it turned out, for he had unexplainably set the controls for a collision course and then fused them, so that it was impossible to change course. Only a well-aimed shot by an Alliance fighter stopped the Arachne’s Revenge from colliding. Morgan himself was in custody, awaiting charges. The whole thing seemed a little farfetched, the bartender acknowledged. He’d met Morgan once when the Arachne’s Revenge broke down at Prospect for a few days. It was his well-considered opinion that the man couldn’t organize a dog wash on a rainy day, much less a major heist like piracy or mass murder. Satisfied that his heist had gone, as yet, unnoticed by the Alliance, he thanked the man, paid for his drink, and left without giving his name or once drawing his gun or hitting anyone. It helped that he was the bar’s sole patron.

*

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After four hours at Prospect, Serenity took flight once more toward the rendezvous with the MacKlintocks at Trinity. Simon was preoccupied with checking the massive medical inventory, raiding it liberally to replenish and upgrade his stores in the infirmary. The rest, he admitted, was worth several hundred thousand credits even in the Core. Most was stuff that was rare or impossible to find on border worlds, things like hand-held CAT scanners, portable blood-chemical labs, prenatal care equipment, neural inducers, dermal regenerators, even things like basic pulse-ox monitors. The store of drugs was mind-boggling, easily five times the haul from Ariel. Included were plenty of antibiotics, anti-toxins, antivirals, and a hundred other types of rare and precious pharmaceuticals. Two whole crates he had Jayne carry back to his stateroom – stuff he had ordered to assist with River’s recovery, including an exhaustive interactive text on brain surgery and some advanced scanning equipment. But the major score was the TR-10 Compounder. It came in three sections. The actual compounding section was the smallest (about the size of two mules), and had been packed in the safest interior location due to its delicate nature. The analyzer/quantifier section was the next largest, about the size of a two-horse wagon. And the heaviest and largest piece was the six-ton masticator, a block of steel, ceramic, and plastic that chewed up raw materials before passing them on to the analyzer. The whole apparatus was an impressive feat of engineering. Originally designed for military field hospitals, where a large number of wounded at once could strip through your drug supply before you could get re-stocked, the TR-10 was a versatile, multi-purpose machine. You put poppies in the masticator, for example, and you got out morphine and any other opiate derivative you cared to ask for. Put in willow bark, you got out aspirin. Or you could use the pre-packaged supply packs and have a life-time supply of Core-world grade medicines with virtually no impurities. New, fresh from the factory on Yuan, a TR-10 would cost a million and a half credits, easily. A surplus machine like this was still worth at least a million. With the Thomasites willing to pay twenty percent, which meant Serenity would walk away with Two-hundred thousand – roughly the price that was currently on his and River’s heads. Add in what they could get for the other supplies, and the take should be close to half a million. That was a fortune by anyone’s standards. The rest of the crew was busy putting Serenity back in order. All the ugliness that they had invented, all the posted signs and strategically placed rubbish was removed and collected in the airlock, along with the bodies. Jayne had thoroughly policed them while Book gave them last rights. Not much came of it, just a few guns, a little cash, and some personal effects. Anything useful was sorted out, everything else was destined for the cleansing power of the Black. By the time the last of the ARSE uniforms were added to the pile, it was pretty substantial. Everyone spent some time recovering from the caper, mostly by catching up on sleep. If Wash and Zoe spent too much time in their bunk, no one commented about it. Kaylee spent half a day in Inara’s shuttle, but what they discussed stayed between the two of them. There was much speculation about it among the crew – well, among Jayne – but everyone was respectful of their privacy. With only a day and a half to go before they arrived, things were almost back to normal. There was still a fair amount of grime to be cleaned, but Mal was content to wait until they could set down for a spell near enough water to wash the whole ship out – after they unloaded it. He was anxious to do just that. With this much stolen goods on board he wouldn’t feel right about resting until it was safely disposed of, and he was safely paid. He couldn’t relax until that happened and they were on the other side of the Rim, far, far away from the scene of the crime.

*

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Inara poured tea into two cups and offered one to Kaylee. Freshly scrubbed and freshly dressed, the engineer looked more like her old self and less like the “Rowan Tchanwah” persona she had adopted. She would have said that it was the same ol’ cheerful Kaylee had she not known what had happened to her. But you could see it in her eyes. “Don’t you think Book would be better at this sort of thing than me?” Inara asked as she sat back with her own cup. Kaylee shook her head slowly. “Don’t rightly know if you’re the proper authority or not, but I know you’re the one I want to talk with.” “I suppose this is about your . . . captivity?” “My kidnappin’ and subsequent molestation, yeah,” Kaylee said. “I don’t know, ‘Nara, it all seems so weird now that we’re back here. Like it never really happened or somethin’.” “That’s understandable, considering what you went through. And what you could have gone through.” “It was . . . Inara, it was nasty. He had his hands on me. Under my clothes. I’m not no blushin’ virgin or anything;The way he made me feel. Like I was . . . a thing, not a person.” “He was going to rape you, Kaylee. To him, you weren’t a person, but an object for revenge. He was an evil man. You handled yourself admirably in that situation.” “Then why do I feel so weak? So scared of my own shadow? Why do I feel like it’s my own gorram fault?” Inara considered. “We train for the possibility of rape at the Academy,” she admitted. “And one of the very first things the priestess tells you is that there is no way to prepare, nor any certain way to recover from such a violation.” “It happens to Companions?” Kaylee asked, horrified. “It has been known to,” she confessed. “Not often. The Mother House does not let such things happen lightly. Often the Companion is brought back to the House for healing, and taken off of service for as long as a year before she feels ready. We don’t rush it. We give them counseling, we give them support.” She hesitated before revealing the rest. “And we hire someone to kill the rapist.” “Huh?” Kaylee looked stunned. “We kill the rapist. It’s self-defense, after the fact. And it’s good business practice. If you can rape a Companion lightly, then more will be raped. We punish such crimes so severely that they remain very, very rare.” “Ain’t that kinda complicated on them more civilized places?” Inara smiled sadly. “There are evil men on every world. The Mother House has connections to them, and in such a case we aren’t concerned with the technical legality of it as much as we are the spirit of justice.” “I just never thought . . . such a thing . . . could happen to a Companion. Maybe someone of no account like me, but—” “That’s quite enough of that!” Inara insisted angrily. “Kaywinnet Lee Frye, you have every bit as much value in the ‘verse as any Companion! As any woman, for that matter, as much as any Core-lord lady with a billion credits to her name! No woman deserves such treatment – it’s an offence to all of us when it happens.” “You’re sweet to say so—” Kaylee looked guilty for having elicited such a passionate response. “I’m not just saying so, Kaylee. I’ve known the great men and women of the ‘verse, and I’ve known the . . . less great. It isn’t the size of your credit account that makes you special. It isn’t how powerful you are, or how important you are, or how pretty you are. In the end, it is the content of your soul that shines like a star in the Black. And in all my travels, among all the people I’ve met and known – intimately – you, Kaylee, have a soulshine that is brighter and warmer than most.” Kaylee was silent for a few moments as she tried to come to terms with that. Inara took her quiet as permission to continue. She sat closer, and put her hand on the engineer’s shoulder, then caressed her hair. “Kaylee, rape is a crime of violence. When a man rapes a woman he is projecting his power and trying to steal from her by force what he cannot achieve by other means: her dignity. If he cannot have her respect and love, then he imposes his will, robs her of her volition, and violates her own sense of herself. That man may not have actually done the crime – but he would have, had circumstances been different. So don’t let him reap the reward. You still have your dignity, and I pray that you don’t let him snuff out that brightest, warmest of lights, for the ‘verse would be a much colder and less happy place for that. And I, personally, will be pissed.” Kaylee couldn’t help but laugh at that. Bitterness was not a natural refuge for her, and Inara was thrilled to see her smile. But the smile faltered as a thought occurred. “Inara, there is one thing that I want you t’know,” she said, carefully. “When we were back at Sophia, and that man called me a whore, I want you to know that even though I took offense at it and kinda busted out his front teeth an’ all, I don’t have any problem – hell, I purly respect what you do. Ain’t no shame in it at all. You are a very, very special person. Fact is, I’m a tiny bit jealous of you, bein’ all pretty and fine and gracious and glamorous. I only wish I was . . . that I had . . . that I could do what you do, and do it as good as you do it.” Inara laughed softly. “Mei mei, few women are cut out for my work. I am not only a Professional woman, I am a professional Woman. It takes a deep and profound vocation, an intense desire for the work, and years and years of specialized training to do what I do, and do it well. Don’t feel as if you are somehow less of a woman because you don’t do my job.” She blinked. “I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to do yours.” Kaylee laughed again, a welcome sight to Inara. She rose and poured more tea. “It’s common for other women to dislike Companions, for a variety of reasons. We sell what should be earned, they say, we reduce love to a commodity. Or they see us as threats, supposing that our concentrated sexuality is designed to lure away whatever pathetic specimen of manhood they’ve managed to coerce into a relationship. They see us as either some kind of sexual predator, or an unrealistic ideal of what a woman should be. “Truthfully, we are none of those things. We are merely women, but women who use our womanhood to influence and direct. We use our sexuality, true. It’s one of our tools. So does every woman. We use our ‘wiles’, as Ma—the Captain calls them, to cause change in the ‘verse. It isn’t a power of evil or good. It isn’t inherently sinful, nor is it always blessed. It is Power, pure and simple, and for millennia it has often been the only power that women – all women – have had. That and the power that comes from having children. But sex is the root of it. It can be used for good or ill just as any power can be. And it can be stolen, just as any power can be. “When that man called you a whore, he was trying to steal your power. He was trying to demean your sexuality into a pathetic parody of the gift it truly is. You were right to knock out his teeth, not because you aren’t a whore, or because being a whore is disdainful, but because regardless of whether you are a whore or not, you are a woman, first, and letting him try to take that power from you like that was a wrongness not to be borne.” Kaylee was staring agape. “Power? I ain’t ever seen it as power. ‘Less it was t’get aboard a ship to get a peek at the engine room,” she said, guiltily biting her lip. “Remember that dear boy in Wisdom City? Buck?” Kaylee’s eyes immediately went dreamy. “Buck,” she said, fondly. “You have forever changed his life with your gift. Of all the ways and of all the people to whom he could have lost his virginity, it was with you. You made it a good, positive experience, not one burdened with guilt, self-loathing, or disgust. Because of that, he will likely keep that special romantic notion he has about love, and some woman in the future will likely benefit from your gift. What you did, it might be a small thing to you, but you had a positive effect in the ‘verse. You had Power, and you used it to benefit both yourself and Buck, and perhaps some future very lucky farm wife. That has value, no matter how the ignorant and the profane try to pervert it.” “Hard t’see how a good boy like Buck an’ that lisping bun tyen-shung duh ee-dway-ro are even the same type o’ animal. Makes you wonder, sometimes.” “Actually, I wonder all the time. Men are . . . complicated. But simple. But complicated.” They both had a laugh at that. “Actually, I find them fascinating. And precisely for that reason. They come in many varieties. And they often combine the complexities of intellectual and social interplay with the more . . . base emotions. I’ve had some of the most powerful men in the ‘verse at my absolute whim, because they become enchanted with my allure – without realizing that I don’t possess much else than what every woman does. The difference is that I recognize this power for what it is, I am not encumbered by standard social conventions, and I have been taught to ply it with great subtlety.” “But what makes them that way? A beast like . . . well, like Jayne, one minute and then a pure gentleman like . . .” “Like Simon?” She supplied, and collected a blush as payment. “Well, yeah, like Simon. Or someone all heroical like the Cap’n.” “Don’t forget that the whole idea of being a gentleman – of chivalry, which is what defines our terms of what a gentleman is – was created as a means of ‘taming’ the beast within man. It was originally a warrior’s code, a thin veneer of civility that prettied up an otherwise bloody and uncivilized business. It put a polite face on it, gave it terms like honor and respect and the very concept of genteelness, but it never eliminated what was at the core. The beast always lurks there, wild and untamed. It is the beast who is capable of crimes like rape, and worse. And do you know why chivalry was invented?” “Uh, not really. Ain’t hardly my . . .” “ ‘For-tay?’ I wish I had never told him about that. Well, as a Companion, the study of history was considered important, and the study of this particular part of history was considered crucial to understanding male motives and sexuality. And our place within. For the roots of chivalry, and civility itself, go back to the very beginnings of human civilization on Earth That Was.” “I ain’t never heard that. ‘Course, I ain’t exactly the most bookish body in the ‘verse,” Kaylee admitted. “But I do love stories,” she added. “It’s an interesting myth, and one of great importance to my vocation. It was written in a place called Sumeria. In one of the oldest known books. A hero-king, Gilgamesh, was a great builder and warrior, and he protected and fortified his city, Uruk, from invaders. But he was also a tyrant, using his power and position as an excuse to take the young women of the city, willing or not, to his bed. His lusts grew so prolific, and his demands grew so great, that the people went to the priestess of the city and demanded the gods intervene. She prayed to the goddess Ishtar and begged for deliverance from this wicked man. “Ishtar heard her plea, and sent her a vision. The Goddess arranged for there to be a great, wild warrior, a giant called Enkidu, to come near to Uruk, and then made certain that Gilgamesh, who considered himself the greatest warrior, to hear tell of him. “Intrigued by this warrior, Gilgamesh called for the priestess and asked for her to fetch him. Afraid for her safety, but also afraid for the welfare of the women of the city, she made a bargain with Gligamesh: she would do this thing if he would quit his rapacious ways and focus his attention instead on defeating this wild man. Gilgamesh tried to command her, but the power is not to be compelled, and even a king knew better than to assault a priestess of the Goddess. The priestess insisted. Gilgamesh offered her presents – jewelry, no doubt – but she would only do it if the king agreed to her terms.

“Tormented in his dreams by Ishtar, he relented and agreed. The priestess set out into the wilderness, and found this wild man. Using the power of her womanhood, she seduced him, and introduced him to the sophisticated culture she brought from the city. She used her ‘wiles’ to bring him out of the wilderness and into civilization. Gilgamesh fought and defeated him, but was so impressed by his strength and character that the two became fast friends and left the city in pursuit of some silly quest, leaving the wise priestess in charge of Uruk. Our legend says she was the first Companion, the first of many, many women in history who used their power to influence and direct the course of events. “The point of the myth is this: it is our power that transforms the beast into the gentleman. In doing so, we transform our species from animals to their fullest potential as human beings. But the beast remains, just under the surface, and it will rise without us. Men, on their own, without our power and influence, would be little better than Reavers. They would be . . . like that thug who molested you. But ever must we be on guard against those who would take the power of our dignity and pride in our womanhood away from us.” “Wow,” Kaylee said. “An’ here I thought that all there was to bein’ a Companion was screwin’ and lookin’ purty.” “Well,” admitted Inara with a slight blush, “there is a lot of that, too. But that’s part of the power. Such a simple thing as the right perfume, the right smile, the right caress can change a man. And a woman who can change a man can change the course of history. Only in childbirth do we wield more power, and then not near so directly.” Kaylee heaved a big sigh. “I came to you ‘cause I was feelin’ bad ‘bout gettin’ felt up like that. I was startin’ to wonder if I hated men. Wasn’t ready for a history lesson. But you did me a kindness, Inara. I guess I don’t hate men as much as I feel bad for ‘em. To have the beast there – it must be there all the time, just behind their . . . well, somewhere. I wonder if ol’ one-eye woulda turned out decent if he’d had the right woman?” “Mayhap,” admitted Inara. “The important thing is to recognize that you, Kaylee, neither deserved what happened to you, nor were you at fault. It was his beast, not your failing, that brought you to that.” She looked off into space for a moment. “And if I ever catch the son-of-a-bitch, I’m going to cut his testicles off and use them as billiard balls.” She caught herself. “Oops! Did I say that out loud?” “Not very ladylike,” Kaylee agreed. “Yes, that’s a bit . . . uncivilized.” They laughed until they couldn’t breathe. It was a good, healthy, cleansing laugh, the kind that women only venture within each other’s company. For that was part of their power too, Inara reflected: women heal.

*

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Things were starting to settle down into their normal pattern again. The residue of their crime was scraped away and readied for disposal. The phantom transponder was removed (which was easier than removing the original – knowing it was a temporary measure, Kaylee had put it into place with quick removal in mind) and added to the garbage load. One final issue was resolved when Zoe and Wash made a reprise performance, one last time, to record a distress call from the Golden Pear Blossom that spoke of pirates or Reavers tracking them. They broadcast it in a loop for about ten minutes, then shut it off. Afterwards, they piled all the costumes in the airlock with the rest of the garbage. Wash, in deference to Kaylee’s recent experience, reluctantly added his eyepatch to the pile. “We had some good times,” he lamented, “but I think my eyes are too pretty to cover up. Don’t you agree Jayne?” “Nah. Yer a two-bagger,” he said with a grunt. “You got designs on my husband, Jayne, you better talk t’me!” Zoe said warningly. Jayne just shook his head. “Not even in prison. Face like mine, I could do better’n that.” “I don’t think I’ve ever been so utterly insulted,” Wash whined. “Enough foreplay, Travelers,” Mal said, clapping his hands together. “Wash, back to your post – we should be comin’ up on our meet-up point—” “Rondey vew,” corrected Jayne. “It’s French,” he added, knowingly. “We’re gonna hafta talk about that,” Mal said to him, concernedly. “People are startin’ to complain. But later. Right now, we gotta get our asses movin’. We got loot to sell, coin to collect, and vacation plans to make. I was thinkin’ ‘bout someplace warm, but rustic. Tropical, maybe . . .” Mal said dreamily. “Mmmmm,” Wash said as he started up the stairs, “vacation. I like the sound o’ that.” “A little hotel sex would be nice,” admitted Zoe following behind him. “A whole lotta hotel sex would be nicer, and just as inexpensive,” Wash corrected. “I got some special libations for the occasion.” “Screw the libations!” Jayne yelled, “I’m gonna want a drink!” “And I got plenty of hotel sex supplies,” added Zoe softly. Wash raised his eyebrows appreciatively, glancing over his shoulder. “Supplies?” he asked with interest. “Yeah,” Zoe said seductively. “I got enough bags to get us through a solid week!” “Oh,” Wash said, his face falling. “You know, with my face, I could do better,” he insisted. A single brutal look later he corrected. “You know, in prison.”

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It was Book’s turn to cook – much to the crew’s relief – and he splurged with the spices. It made the protein paste he was working with taste a lot more like real food. It was a simple matter, really, and it didn’t take much. It was a detail. And he knew that God was in the details. This was technically lunch, according to the ship’s clock. It was also a hurried meal, just something quick to wolf down before they docked with the Sky Hawk in preparation for their final destination, the Thomasite monastery on Trinity. There they would unload the bulk of the equipment, and collect their fee. He had already waved ahead, in an agreed-upon code utilizing Bible verses, to let the monks know that the caper had been a success. There would be a lot more medicine out on the Rim worlds now, and a lot less suffering. Book hated suffering. It may be a part of life – a defining characteristic, as his Buddhist counterparts said, or a natural consequence of sin, as some of his coreligionists contended – but to his mind suffering was the real great enemy, and one that could be fought, if never defeated. All his study of the scriptures, all of his meditation and prayer, all of his ministry had shown him that. Suffering was the eternal lot of man. And fighting suffering was man’s eternal quest, doomed to fail as it was. That didn’t mean you stopped trying. After the suffering he had seen in his long life, he was more determined now, as he neared life’s end, than he had been when he first took up the Bible. He put the big dish of rice-flavored protein on the table and emptied the wok’s spicy contents into another dish, then announced the arrival of the meal on the intercom. One by one, the heathens came in. They were good folk. Mostly. Better than most, in his opinion, despite their individual weaknesses and sinful natures. They knew from suffering, each in their way. Zoe and the Captain, of course, had seen the worst of man’s suffering at Serenity Valley. Jayne, he suffered from ignorance and evil thoughts, and struggled daily with the seed of something that might someday become the kernel of a conscience. Inara suffered from her love – Book was not so blind as to see her dilemma, loving a man who despised what she did but loved who she was; to leave was to reject love, to stay was to, ultimately, reject her vocation. She suffered. Wash suffered and hid it under a thick layer of humor and an abiding passion for both flight and his wife – Book wondered if he could somehow make the transition from husband, which he was just mastering, to father, which was a different order of suffering entirely. Simon suffered for his lost life, and River was a walking, talking, crazy ball of suffering. And Kaylee . . . Just weeks ago, he would have said that Kaylee alone, of all the Travelers on board, was immune from suffering. Her bright, warm and cheerful nature seemed adequate to combat any amount of clouds in the sky. Oh, her infatuation with Simon had caused a bit of suffering, but that kind of pain, the kind born from lust and intrigue, that was every man’s and woman’s birthright. He had worried for her after the incident with the bounty hunter, but she seemed to rebound fine from that. The last few weeks though – since that disastrous night in Wisdom City, well, the poor girl had been put through the ringer, and he knew it would be a struggle to come back to her normal cheerful self. But he also knew that it was from such struggles that wisdom was made. He relaxed into the playful banter that filled the kitchen at mealtimes, as hurried as it was. Wash fairly bolted his food before returning to the bridge to prepare for docking and landing. But the others took their time, sharing jokes and rude comments and all the other hallmarks of . . . well, if not family, then close enough ‘till something else better came along. He caught himself musing about that, about the times in his life when he had had that sense of belonging. They were few and far between. Something, though, something was bothering him . . . He caught River staring blankly at him, as if he were naked. “All will be well for the next ten seconds,” she muttered to him. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” He puzzled at the cryptic words – no doubt she was using that gorram psychic empathy on him again. There were no secrets from River. And no surprises. Ten seconds after she finished her sentence, and two seconds after he decided she was merely raving again, Wash hurtled into the room. “Cap, got the MacKlintock’s on the wireless. They’re right where they’re supposed to be.” “Yeah, so?” Mal said, wiping his mouth. “Problem is, they ain’t alone. They got here and found a big ass junky cruiser waiting for them. Armed.” “Reavers?” asked Zoe in a hushed voice. “Almost as bad,” answered Wash, a worried look on his face. “Pirates. Slavers. The Red Rock Tong. They knew they would be here, somehow, and now they’re chasing them around Trinity like a headless chicken. And according to Duncan, they’re gonna catch them – soon!”