BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL

SCREWTHEALLIANCE

The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu -- Chapter Eighteen
Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Johnny has an idea; Mal and Zoe are hostages -- and what about that armored column?


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The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Eighteen

“Would you like to explain why you are stealing a priceless Lei family heirloom?” the General asked as he came shoulder-to-shoulder with his uncle. “I might spare your lives, if the story is good enough.” “How good would it have to be?” Mal asked curiously. “Pretty gorram good,” the General conceded after a moment’s thought. “I’m more inclined to shoot you and leave your bodies for the condors, myself.” Mal thought a moment. “Anything come to mind, Zoe?” he asked after a moment. “Nothin’ I want to say in front of a clergyman,” she said, coolly. “Perhaps I might recommend the truth?” Master Lei offered. “It will save you the trouble of thinking up a clumsy lie, and it may well be entertaining enough to save you.” “Well, the truth,” Mal said, searching for words. “Let us start with who hired you to steal this thing?” “What thing?” Zoe asked, blankly. “The box,” supplied the monk. “The one in your husband’s coat.” “What box?” She looked over her shoulder at Mal. “You got a box?” “It was a present,” Mal said. “Thanks,” he said sullenly to Master Lei, “you ruined my surprise.” “Why’d you steal a box?” she demanded. “It was pretty. I thought you’d like it.” “They have a gift shop, you know.” “And pay those prices?” “As amusing as the banter is,” Master Lei said, smiling, “We all know that you have the box. And we all know that the box, itself, is worthless.” “You stole me a worthless box?” Zoe asked, disgusted. “It didn’t look worthless,” Mal grumbled. “I thought it was pretty.” “No one in the ‘verse would steal that box for sale on the black market,” General Lei said, “for the simple fact that only a handful of people in the ‘verse knows what it contains. A real criminal would have passed it up in favor of a dozen other items of far greater intrinsic worth.” “Hey,” Mal said, offended, “We are real criminals! We’re just . . . we’re more of the ‘armed robbery’ type. This shoplifting stuff is a little out o’ our usual repertoire.” “Obviously,” Master Lei said. “So we know that you must be working for someone. If you tell us now, then you will live. If you do—” “Kid named Johnny Lei, out of Epiphany, goes by his Tong name ‘the Prince’, about five nine, hundred eighty pounds, handsome of face and figure, and plays a mean game of catch,” Zoe said all in one breath. “No, honey, maybe we should tell them,” Mal said sarcastically. “Sorry, I panicked.” Zoe was as calm as ever. “Lei Chin Yi,” Master Lei said with a sigh. He turned to the General. “Wonders of the ‘verse. You were right after all.” “I usually am, old man,” the General grunted. “Now, why don’t you tell us where our honored nephew is, and what he wants with the box?” “I expect you already know what he wants with the box,” Mal answered. “As to where he is, for all I know he’s on his way here with a hundred trained killers.” “And a squadron of strikefighters, and a 500 megawatt laser battery, too, no doubt.” Mal shrugged. “Kid’s resourceful.” “Indeed,” the General said, relieving them of their pistols. He seemed to know just where they were hidden. “He managed to convince a couple of stooges to walk into the one place in the ‘verse he knew we would expect him and try to walk out with the box.” “To be truthful,” Zoe pointed out, “it was he who walked out with it. I was plannin’ on coming back tonight and stealing it the proper way.” “So noted,” the General grinned. “Still, I admire a man who seizes initiative – however stupidly.” “That’s me,” admitted Mal. “General, I was a Browncoat. So was she. We fought on the same side in the War. You wouldn’t want to honor an old ally –” “The Independents and the Imperials both fought against the Alliance. That is not quite the same thing as fighting on the same side. In any case, the War is long over, and long lost. We are all free agents, now.” “Then you can appreciate why we might take a job like this.” “I can and do. Which is why you are still alive. One of my men came after you on Epiphany, and you managed to kill all of the security he brought with him. While I was not pleased with his failure, your ability to survive such an assault was impressive.” “That was you?” Mal asked. “Actually, I did a lot of the killing,” Zoe admitted. “He was in the shower.” “Yes, I was tracking Chin Yi, and my man Campbell discovered his dodge at the space station. Most impressive. Worthy of a Lei,” he said with pride. “But that does not change your situation in any substantial way. I still want to know where he is. On your ship?” “My . . . ship?” “Yes, the ironically-named Serenity. Firefly class transport. Good ship, those. She’s moored in port right now. My men are watching her.” The General put his pistol away in his broad belt along with their guns, then pulled the box from Mal’s jacket. “Well, he might be there, then. He was last time I spoke to him.” “Then until we can reunite the family, perhaps you can indulge me with the nature of his plan.” “Easy enough. He got run off of Epiphany. Had one third of the treasure map. Thought he’d steal the other two parts, get rich, and marry the Princess of Londinium, have eighty kids.” “He has the Lei ambition, no doubt. And it seems a simple enough plan.” “If it were more complicated, don’t think I would have taken the job,” Mal agreed. “We ain’t exactly criminal masterminds.” “How much did he promise you?” “Twenty percent o’ whatever. Plus some money up front for fuel and sundries.” “Reasonable,” the General said. “Did he happen to mention the location of the third piece of the map?” “Said he had a pretty fair guess.” “I will save you the trouble. I have it. Not here, of course. Very far away, in fact. But I do have it, as Chiang Ling has possession of this one.” He held it up to the light, then tossed it back to Mal. “Keep it. Souvenier of your honeymoon.” “Huh?” Mal grunted, confused. “It is empty. Well, not quite. There is a sensor inside that alerted us to its movement and its position. But the map, that Chiang Ling removed when I arrived here with my men. For safekeeping. You see, we have been looking for Ching Yi’s portion of the map – his honorable father did not share our desire to restore the family to the throne during the war, and withheld his legacy. He was a stubborn old man.” “It’s genetic,” Master Lei said wryly. “But now his son possesses the third portion. With it, we can discover the great treasure and change our family’s fortune.” “Don’t you mean, ‘find it and steal it for ourselves’?” Zoe asked. “Not at all,” the General said. “The treasure is vast. There should be more than enough to satisfy us all.” “Sure, honor among thieves, and all that,” Mal added sarcastically. “Actually, it is a matter of family honor,” the General explained patiently. “That legacy was gifted to the family, all three lines, with the idea that all three would have to be in agreement in order to retrieve it. Chin Yi’s father chose not to release his portion of the map. Therefore, it would have been dishonorable of me to try to acquire it underhandedly. I respected his right to do so, and perhaps lost a war because of it. But my honor is intact, and my ancestors shall have no quarrel with my conduct. Perhaps Chin Yi – Johnny? Perhaps our young Prince will be more reasonable than his father. But you will find I am a man of honor, Captain Reynolds. As much as you – if not more so.” “I do appreciate y’all not killin’ us out of hand, General,” Mal said. “Speaks well o’ your character.” “Yeah, that sure was nice of you,” agreed Zoe. “Let me pass along my husband’s thanks as well.” “I thought he was your husband?” General Lei asked, confused. “No, we just work together,” explained Zoe before Mal could open his mouth. “I got better taste than that.” “You certainly act as if you’re married,” the monk said, smiling. “You fight like it.” “Oh, me an’ Zoe were in the war, together. We stayed together after Hera.” “You were on Hera?” the General asked with interest. “Yeah. Serenity Valley.” “I wasn’t aware anyone survived Serenity Valley.” “Not sure we did, General,” Zoe said. “But about a hundred and fifty Browncoats came outa there, after the terms were given.” “Remarkable,” the General said. “I was getting news in a POW camp at the time, of course. But I recall the Alliance being certain that they would be able to capture Independent Command in days. You people kept them out of there for a month.” “Six weeks, actually,” Zoe corrected. “And this idiot shoplifter behind me was the brains of keepin’ the purplebellies at bay.” General Lei looked impressed. “Now it is I who am grateful I didn’t kill you out of hand. I would be very interested in hearing your account.” “That implies you’re plannin’ on lettin’ us see the light of another day, Sir,” Mal said, simply. “More than likely,” agreed the General. “Lower your weapons. You good folks will understand that you remain my prisoner, and will do so until I can speak to our nephew.” “I think that can be arranged,” Mal agreed. “Hell, you can have him.” Before the General could reply, a large explosion shook the building, and everyone scattered – except Master Lei, who looked irritated. “This is a temple, not a go tsao de shooting range!” he said, angrily. A moment later one of the General’s men ran into the lobby to report the destruction of his shuttle, which had apparently been parked out front. “Well,” Lei said, his eyes squinting. “It looks as if we have attracted someone’s attention.” “Yes it does,” Mal said. “Sounded like a Freeman Skywinder missile.” “Good ear,” the General nodded, pulling his revolver out of his belt. “I agree. Of course, without my shuttle we are now stranded. But not without resources. Let us go see who would irritate me so. Bring them,” he added to his men, nodding towards Zoe and Mal. “Good job, Sir,” Zoe whispered, nodding towards the box Mal still held as the guards escorted them towards the main entrance. “Just like you planned. Walkin’ right out of the front door with it. Brilliant job. Really. Just brilliant.”

*

*

*

Lieutenant Hua looked over the sights of the missile battery with glee. “Shall I fire again, Captain?” he asked, eagerly. It was his first time behind such a big weapon, and Lo could appreciate the heady feeling of wielding such power. But there were limits. The first shot from the battery had permanently crippled the shuttle below them. “Negative, Lieutenant. We’re here to apprehend a fugitive, not start a war.” It would have been unjust to say the younger man pouted. “Now that we have cut off their means of escape, we can wait for the rest of our men and take them without further violence.” The command flyer hovered a few hundred yards from the museum; and the staff and villagers who served it were already scattering at the sound of explosions. The smoking shuttle was next to the building, a huge plume of black smoke rising towards the overcast heavens. For a moment, Lo had a flash of the War, and he tensed up. He shook it off – he was a cop, now, not a soldier. He was here to protect these people from the off-world menace. Not shoot them down. He relaxed. “Anyone inside that shuttle?” “Looks like it was empty,” one of the troopers said, surveying the damage with binoculars. “Could be wrong, though,” he admitted. “Well, they were probably guilty,” Lo said, trying not to think about it too hard. “Probably,” agreed Hua. “How long before our reinforcements get here?” “I’ll wave them now, Captain,” assured the trooper who was acting as his comm. officer. It wasn’t a good idea to move on him yet, not without back-up. He knew that much. That shuttle was large, a cargo lifter. He could have had twenty men with him – his war record was clear on the loyalty and devotion his men showed him. Still had that sidekick from the war, too. Stuck by him all this time. A cowardly man did not inspire that kind of loyalty. Nor a stupid man. Yes, waiting for reinforcements was a wise move. Besides, Lt. Hua was having fun. “Captain, message from the convoy,” the comm. trooper called. “How long until they get here? I’m anxious to get this over with.” “Uh, Captain? They . . . they might be late.” “Late? Unacceptable!” “Captain, they’ve run into some problems.” “Mechanical? Tell them to abandoned the damaged craft, squeeze everyone into the rest, and forge ahead. We don’t have fuel to hover here all day.” “Captain . . . it’s more complicated than that. Here,” the trooper said, handing the radio over to him. “They want to talk to you.”

*

*

*

“So what’s the plan?” Johnny asked Jayne as he banked. “I dunno – not really my fortay. Just need to keep it simple.” He thought for a moment, rubbing the unshaven expanse of his chin. “So, how would you stop an armored military convoy with an unarmed shuttle? Hypothetically, that is.” Johnny grinned. “You got any kind of ordinance on this thing?” “Just me,” Jayne admitted. “And I’m good – but even I ain’t that good.” “How ‘bout explosives?” “What I got hangin’ ‘round my neck.” “Nothing big and heavy we can drop on them?” “Just my wang.” “Great! I hate it when you have a lot of pesky options. How powerful is that Callahan?” “Vera? She’d make ‘em ring. Probably go through armor, you hit it just right. But she ain’t enough to really stop ‘em.” “All right. Let me think.” “Take your time,” Jayne said, agreeably. Johnny thought furiously. How did one stop an armored column when you didn’t have anything but the sky and the steppes and balls the size of baseballs? Divert them? Get them to change course? What would do that? Fire would. They could start a fire somewhere ahead of them. But upon further reflection he knew the sparse grasses would be hard to ignite. And impossible to control. It was a long-shot at best, and not a particularly attractive one. He just didn’t know enough about this world to make it a weapon. Back home, he would have crashed something into them, a cargo lift or a lorry or something. Here – just sky and steppes. And . . . Inspiration struck. “Jayne, what kind of grenades are those?” “Ain’t gonna work, boy. I got two frags, a firebomb, and the rest are flash-bangs. Need to stock up. But ain’t none of them gonna have the fortitude to punch through that armor. I already considered that particular option.” “Yeah, but you didn’t consider this!” he said, excitedly banking the craft into the wind. “Consider what?” “Got me an idea.” Jayne considered. “Good one?” “We’re going to find out.” “Shiny,” said Jayne, Relaxing. He looked relieved he didn’t have to think of a plan. Or be responsible when it went wrong.

*

*

*

The convoy moved across the steppes like a relentless column of powered ants. The two large personnel carriers, turrets bristling with guns, rumbled along on wide treads, while the three smaller light attack vehicles kept pace or raced ahead as their drivers explored the limits of their machines. These weren’t soldiers – though some of them had been during the War – they were cops. Cops with new toys. Instead of uniscooters or patrol cars, these were real Big Boy weapons, and they had every intention of using them as such. As cops they were used to pickpockets and petty thieves and thugs and the occasional gang-fight. Most hadn’t dealt with anything more dangerous than a drunk spacer at a bar. But this . . . this was the real stuff, the dangerous stuff. The suspect they were going to apprehend was considered armed and dangerous, a former rebel and current criminal, who likely had a gang of criminal gunmen around him. It was easily the most exciting thing to happen in the Department in five years. The drivers of the vehicles were so intent on their destination, which grew larger by the moment, that they didn’t notice the rumbling of the ground over their engines. Not until it was too late. One of the LAV’s got hit first. One moment it was gamely trying to jump an improvised mogul, the next it was crowded out by a wall of angry, panicked brown fur and flashing gray tusks. At least fifty mastodons were running scared toward the convoy, their massive feet pounding the chalky steppes even flatter as they ran. If their tiny yellow eyes saw the vehicle, it was only for an instant before one of the bulls ducked its shaggy head, and with a toss of its tusks sent the hovercraft far higher than it had ever been intended to go. It landed upside-down in front of another bull, who crushed it utterly as he made his way over it. The drivers in the other vehicles had just noticed something was amiss when the stampeding mastodons were already to close to avoid. One enterprising cop in the gun turret was able to turn the guns sideways and get off a few rounds of support fire from the twin guns – at least one hit, high and in the shoulder – but all that did was enrage the already panicked herd. By the third shot the wall of furry flesh was upon them. The carriers proved harder nuts to crack than the LAVs, of course, but their size and shape made them menacing to the animal minds of the herd, and their own bulls exercised their prerogative to defend the females and the young. The carriers were attacked as a bull invading the herd’s territory would be attacked. At least three or four bulls congregated around each carrier and slammed them repeatedly with their tusks, their huge trunks struggling to gain purchase. They did, and in seconds the state-of-the-art military hardware, designed to operate in the harshest post-nuclear environments or even in poisoned atmo, able to withstand direct hits from rockets and bullets and lasers on the battlefield, were reduced to badly scuffed shells by the brute force of an animal who had spent its last natural days on the arctic plains of a dead planet over ten thousand years ago. The men inside were shaken like eggs in bucket. None of them escaped injury, and some were able to jam their guns wildly through the loopholes of the vehicle and fire a few ineffective rounds at the legs of their berserk attackers. That only served to enrage them more, and shortly the bulls began to stand their forelegs on the overturned carriers and press their massive weight on it until the metal caved in. Only when nothing moved did they continue on their way, trumpeting their victory as they went to catch up with the herd. The other two LAVs turned to attack the stampede, their drivers confident in their firepower and speed to turn the tide of the wide wall of angry flesh. They fired their guns, large caliber machine-guns with armor piercing bullets, but they had little effect. The herd did not turn. The herd did not slow. The herd continued to advance, relentlessly, faster than a man could walk. Instead of turning away, one of the fast little cars sped around the flanks of the chaos in an effort to turn the stampede. A long muscular trunk lashed out, grabbing the roll bar at the top of the hover, and sent it careening behind the initial line of galloping madness. For a bare moment it looked as if they had escaped the brunt of the stampede – but then the half-dozen bulls who had finished with the carriers came along and crushed the hover into an unrecognizable tangle of metal and pulpy, mangled flesh. The last vehicle was driven by a local boy who knew a little about the dangers of a mastodon stampede. Ignoring his superior’s orders to turn and face the herd, in an effort to get a better firing position, he instead picked a course along a diagonal away from the direction of the stampede and gave the turbines full power. The machine was fast. It escaped a direct impact. The young rookie at the wheel had saved the lives of all aboard, including his blustering sergeant. His sergeant wasn’t as happy, though. Rookies shouldn’t disobey orders. He was still shouting obscenities at the kid when he was interrupted by the radio. Captain Lo, it seemed, wanted to know how long it would take for the convoy to arrive – he was anxious to proceed with the capture. With a sunken heart the sergeant picked up the radio and delivered the bad news as he watched the stampede recede towards the horizon, leaving in its well-beaten path nothing but dust, twisted machinery, mangled bodies, and a few shocked and wounded survivors.

*

“Ai ya!” Jayne said as he looked down at the carnage. “Never saw nothin’ like that before!” He turned to Johnny. “That was some inspired mayhem, young man.” “Thanks!” the former thug said, grinning. “Scratch one armored column. And it only took two flash-bangs to do it! Where to now?” Jayne nodded towards the museum in the distance. “Keep goin’ thataway. I thought I saw a gorram flyer a while ago. Let’s see if we can pick it up on the scope – maybe Vera can come out to play after all!”

*

*

*

“Gan ni lao shi!” Captain Lo spat into the mike at the poor sergeant who had the misfortune to inform him of the unanticipated – and completely novel – attack on the convoy. Was it a planned assault? Or merely hideously bad luck? There would be time for full analysis and appropriate recriminations later. Right now he had some decisions to make. Should he go in and try to bind the suspect without proper back-up? He had a short squad here with him, and the command flyer was armed. Lt. Hua was certainly eager to engage the criminals. But the loss of both of his tactical squads (not to mention their borrowed equipment) made him cautious. In the end, that borrowed equipment decided the matter. How was he going to appear before Magistrate Chou and justify the losses if he had no interplanetary criminal to show for his efforts? No, in order to save his career he had to take action. “Down,” he ordered the pilot. “On the front garden walk. Next to that shuttle.” “Is that wise, Captain?” the pilot asked even as he moved to carry out the order. “Perhaps,” murmured Lo. “Perhaps not. We shall see. Land, let us off, then hover to maintain a field of fire over the whole compound.” Skirting the plume of black smoke arising from the burning shuttle, the command flyer set down lightly. The squad emerged, weapons ready, Lt. Hua leading them to cover the main entrance to the museum. A quick glance at the shuttle showed a burned body on its ramp, blood running down the side. Lo hoped he was guilty of something. Two of the six troopers did a textbook-perfect forced entry into the museum, smashing the door and shouldering their way inside. They came back out again moments later in a hail of automatic weapons fire. “Ai ya!” Lo swore. “Hua! Defensive cover! Move!” As the young lieutenant gave the order Lo himself found cover behind a thick stone statue of a temple dog. He cocked his carbine and took aim at the door. As soon as his men were clear (one bleeding from an arm wound, but still spry) he toggled the radio switch on his tactical uniform, converting it into a bullhorn. “This is Captain Lo of the Huizhou Police! We have you surrounded! Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up!” A burst of gunfire answered him, not hitting anyone but clearly letting them know what their opinion on laying down arms was. “Fine, be that way,” Lo whispered to himself. He toggled the bullhorn again. “General Lei and Associates! You are bound by law and ordered to stand down your weapons! You will not be given any more warnings!” There was an extended pause, and then some activity. Lo’s men tensed as three civilians – two Anglics, a man and a woman, and an older Sinic man in a monk’s robe, appeared with their hands up, military carbines pointed at their heads. “Uh, the General would like to discuss terms!” the Anglic man said. “He has several hostages! Myself included!” He didn’t sound as afraid as one would suspect a civilian would. Lo considered. Hostages changed everything – but not necessarily for the worse. One could justify quite a bit to the Magistrate if one had a bunch of live and grateful hostages to show for one’s sacrifices. “Send out one of the hostages, we’ll talk!” The big man said something to his captors, and then was pushed forward. He lowered his hands as he marched across the flagstones toward his position. And he was grinning. Strange reaction – but stress sometimes brought out the strangeness in a person. “Ni how,” the man said as he came close enough to be heard without shouting. “The General wants to exchange six hostages for your flyer. Three now, three left when he departs.” “Unacceptable,” Lo said at once. “I cannot cede such a weapon to a known criminal.” “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain, but just what is the General accused of doing?” “He’s . . . he’s wanted by Interpol,” Lo said, realizing how lame that sounded. “I am unsure of the charges.” “But he ain’t done nothin’ on Wuhan?” “He led an insurrection,” the Captain stated. “And he’s wanted by Interpol.” “That was durin’ the War. War’s over. He lost. But what’s he done lately?” “Come again?” “Don’t you gotta charge him with some crime afore you can bind him by law? I ain’t a solicitor, but from what I seen on the CV, he got to commit some criminal act within your jurisdiction afore you can bind him.” The man was technically correct, of course – anyone with a penchant for crime drama knew that. In practical terms, however, the man had already fired upon his officers. He told the hostage as much. “Well, again, I ain’t no solicitor, but looks t’me like y’all blew up his shuttle first. Didn’t hear no warnin’. Coulda killed innocent folk,” he said, sounding indignant. “Look,” Lo said, loosing patience, “I don’t know what he told you or why you feel so sympathetic towards him, but the fact is I am not leaving this museum without his body. I don’t care much if it’s moving or not. But I have air superiority, and a crack tactical team, and reinforcements on the way. What does he have?” he demanded. “Oh, ‘bout twenty or thirty former Imperial Commandos. They all got carbines. A few got rifles. Lots of pistols. At least two rocket launchers. And I think I heard the man order his other shuttle in.” The big man looked skyward, then around at his men. “Now, I ain’t an expert, but seems to me like he got you outnumbered!” “I hold the high ground,” Lo insisted. “And I intend to keep it. You return to the General. Tell him that I’ll let six of his men go for all six hostages. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.” “Fair enough. Y’all wouldn’t want to loan me a gun, would you? All this ordanence around is makin’ me a might nervous. I’d feel better with an argument in my pocket.” “It’s against Departmental policy to arm civilians,” Lo said flatly. “Suit yourself,” the big man said. “But if I get my pecker shot off, my new bride over there, she ain’t gonna be pleased. I’m on my honeymoon,” he confided. “Just go,” Lo insisted. The big man shrugged and went. Civilians. Lo hated them. He was sworn to protect and serve them, and he did – but they mostly just got in the way. Ten minutes later the big man came back out, hands in the air. He walked confidently across the pavers and stopped just in front of the Captain. “General don’t think you got reinforcements,” the man said. “Well . . . I do!” Lo said defensively. “He ain’t convinced. Says he’ll wait here until they show up. Then he’ll re-open negotiations.” Lo cursed to himself. Lei was reputed to be one of the finest field commanders in the entire war, on either side, among any of the factions. By forcing Lo to wait for reinforcements – which were not coming – he had achieved the tactical advantage. Lo could order his men into the building, which was a good chance to get all the hostages killed and probably his men. He could order the flyer to blow up the museum entrance with missiles, to essentially the same effect. Or he could sit here and wait . . . and wait . . . until the non-existent reinforcements arrived. “So what are y’all gonna do?” the big man asked impatiently. “I’d like to know, ‘cause it’s been about three hours since me an the missus tore one off, and she’s gettin’ itchy, you know what I mean? She’s a screamer!” “You go back and tell the General I have air superiority, and I will use it if he forces me to. I don’t like seeing hostages killed, but if that happens it will be on his head, not mine!” Before the big man could answer, a shot rang out, and the steady whine from the flyer started oscillating wildly. Lo looked up and saw the thing descending rapidly, spinning in a lazy circle, as the port engine was on fire. As he turned back around he cursed, and saw a beat up shuttle – smaller than the one burning next to him – hovering over the museum, its hatch open, a big Anglic with a big weapon poking his head out. He also noticed the muzzle of a semiautomatic pistol – a .38, not a large weapon but terribly effective at this range – pointed at his forehead. “You shoulda given me a gun when you had the chance,” the big man said slowly. “Now I had to go and make another deal. I woulda walked away, given the chance. Now you done made me a criminal.” “You!” the Captain said, enraged, as the big man took his carbine from him and trained it on him. He slid the pistol into his waistband, and motioned for him to drop his weapons belt. “You tell your men to stand down, there won’t be no more blood spilt on this holy site,” he said, warningly. “What is your name?” Lo spat as he moved to do so. The man handled arms with enough familiarity to caution Lo against any heroic measures to regain control. “I’ll make sure its on every Interpol list in the ‘verse!” “Ain’t very friendly of you,” the man said, shaking his head. “’Specially since I’m on my honeymoon. But I don’t see why not, as I’m not due back on duty for a few weeks. Name’s Hauser. Lt. Abel Hauser, of the INS Cutlass. Go ahead, check it out. If the General leaves you alive, that is. Which he won’t, you don’t tell your men to drop their weapons . . . now!” Slowly, Captain Lo toggled his radio and ordered his men to stand down. Without turning around the big man made a sign, and suddenly the area was full of at least a dozen civilians with very military looking carbines, relieving his men of their own guns. The General approached them while Hauser told him to put his hands on his head. “Maybe next time, Captain,” Lei said as he came up to them. Hauser handed over the guns to him – except the pistol, he noted. “Last time I was here, it took two companies of purplebelly special forces to get me to lay down arms – and that was with a ship in orbit threatening to nuke the site. Your attempt was valiant, but doomed.” “I was doing my job,” Lo insisted. “That’s all. Nothing personal.” “As am I,” Lei said, nodding. “It is honorable work. But fraught with dangers.” “General, this square us up?” Hauser asked. “You gonna drop me an’ my lady at that cheap ass hotel, so we can shake the ‘verse a little more?” “We had a deal,” the General nodded. “As for you,” he said, nodding at Lo, “I am afraid you and your men will be bound and locked in a storeroom until your reinforcements arrive. And when you do finally get free – if you have a job, that is – you can come to get me on Xiao. There’s a bank there where I must make a withdrawal. Let’s see how fast your precious Interpol is in capturing me with that kind of a hint!” “Can’t very well leave him like this, General,” Hauser commented. “He’s like to know which way y’all went.” “Quite right,” Lei said. “Sorry,” he apologized, lifting the captured carbine and striking Lo in the temple with its butt, just as the Captain had begun a really vile curse.

COMMENTS

Thursday, October 13, 2005 12:06 AM

RELFEXIVE


Mastadon mayhem!

Shiny!

Thursday, October 13, 2005 12:55 AM

AMDOBELL


Very good and highly enjoyable. I really loved the interplay between Mal and Zoe and having Jayne come in with backup was just shiny. Best they get on with their gorram honeymoon! Ali D :~)
You can't taket he sky from me

Thursday, October 13, 2005 4:31 AM

CALLMESERENITY


How do you do it?

Thursday, October 13, 2005 7:39 AM

ARTSHIPS


And all this time I thought Lo was after our Mal. Neat twist, as was the confrontation between Mal/Zoe and the General, who hithertoo had been a very bad man. The whole feel of their interaction and the way it played-out was so Joss-like.

Thursday, October 13, 2005 12:19 PM

BALLAD


Ooooh, I dearly love your Mal. He's just so...Mal-y. Also, loving this General guy. Quite cool. Still like Kaylee's Lament better. ;)

Sunday, October 16, 2005 7:40 AM

BELLONA


mal gettin' horny, jayne bein' a hero, zoe kickin' mal's verbal butt...perfect!

b


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