The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Nineteen

“Wash?” Kaylee called over the intercom. She could have shouted from the engine room, and assuming all of the hatches were open, Wash could hear her in the cockpit – a Firefly was that small. But she preferred the comm. for technical issues, and this was an important one. “Y’there?” “What do you need, monkeywrench?” He had that fake-cheerful tone in his voice he got whenever Zoe was out on an operation. He really loved her, and Kaylee thought that was wonderful. “I been getting’ her ready to lift, like Commander Moronical said, and I was checkin’ over the upper and lower regulating capacitors, and I found something funny.” “I take it this doesn’t involve a banana peel.” “Not that kinda funny,” she agreed. “Those caps are burning hot.” “They always burn hot. Or so you tell me.” “Yeah, but there’s hot and then there’s hot.” “I take it this is the latter sort.” “I’m thinkin’.” “Well,” Wash said, slowly, “What does that mean?” “What does it mean?” asked Kaylee, exasperated? “What d’you mean, what does it mean?” “I mean that I’m in charge of the front end of the ship, you’re in charge of the back end. That’s the deal. I tell you what I mean when I need to, and you tell me what you mean when I need to. Dong ma?” “It means that we got about a fifty-fifty shot at blowin’ a cap and losin’ power in a crunch. I got one spare cap – just one – and both o’ these tootsies are hot enough to fry an egg on.” “Why’s it happening? We aren’t even in the sky, yet.” “That’s what’s got me concerned. Blowin’ a cap ain’t no big deal if we got a box of ‘em. We replace one, on our merry. But they don’t blow just for giggles. See, the main an’ auxillary power trains meet at the outtake manifold, which builds up charge on account o’ the amount o’ power it’s carryin’, and it spills that charge into the upper and lower regulatin’ capacitors, where they sit there all nice an’ happy suckin’ in all that juice. When they reach three quarters’ capacity, they’re rigged to discharge in alternatin’ cycles into the auxiliary power supply’s primaries – that’s primary power distributor – which balances the load on the primary power train when it passes through the initiator for the main part of the grav drive – that’s that big square one. But every now an’ again the caps charge to one hundred percent – maybe more – and that erodes their contacts, builds up heat, and decreases efficiency, which in turn breaks down it’s load carrying capacity; so it shunts the excess off to the other one, which should be runnin’ normal an’ be able to handle the load, but if it’s all crapped up too then all it can do is run to hotter, carry one-hundred percent, and then they both discharge faster than the primaries can absorb it. So after about two thousand cycles o’ this the primary will short out and suddenly we’re in free fall for about ten seconds until the auxiliaries kick in, and of course that’s gonna create some gravitational drag the engines weren’t countin’ on. O’course, them caps is built so they’re supposed to fail afore that can happen, on account o’ they only cost about two hundred or so – cheaper if you get ‘em rebuilt – an’ the primaries cost about two thousand and are a right handful to pull and replace. But now we got both o’ the caps sizzlin’ an’ we ain’t even off the ground and we ain’t even goin’ full, an’ that can only mean one thing, which is the reactor is pushin’ too much load up the pipe – which is good for you, ‘cause we fly faster – but bad for the caps and in the end bad for us ‘cause we’ll actually lose power by about sixty percent – maybe more, maybe less – when it happens, an’ if they burn out hot I might hafta pull ‘em hot and clean out the contacts before I replace one. And if I do that, we gotta shut down main power for at least an hour, and I know how much you hate it when I gotta do that, but if I don’t then the charge in the manifold’s gonna build up and BAM! discharge against the wall o’ the power train an’ either blow us up, leave us dead in the Black, or die a slow, suffocating death.” “God, it turns me on when you talk dirty!” Wash said. “Wash!” Kaylee said, blushing. “You’re a married man! An’ I’m a desperately horny woman whose potential sweetie’s out in the Black somewheres doin’ God knows what. Don’t tease me like that!” “Honey, I’m just amazed all that crap fits inside a package as pretty as you, is all. What you’re saying is we need some new capacitors.” “I’m thinkin’ we might.” “Can we get ‘em here?” “Maybe . . . But I checked on the cortex here, an’ there ain’t no regular ship fitters, ‘cept that Alliance airbase. I don’t think they’re the generous sort, do you?” “How ‘bout a junk man?” “I’ll check. But I ain’t real hopeful.” “Well . . . can you keep her in the air until we can get to a shipyard? Or at least a decent junkyard?” Kaylee bit her lip. “I might could. Let me check my magic book an’ see what the spirits have to say.” “You do that,” Wash said. “I’m getting a wave, looks like Zoe.” “Goodie! They’re back!” she said, grinning broadly. She took one last look at the capacitors before she slammed the cover back over them. There was one more, a brand new one, but only one, in her spare parts stash. If there was a dodge around it, though, the Books would have it. She slipped into her hammock and pulled one off the shelf and started turning pages. When she passed ‘Cam Shaft, insertion of,” she read it accidentally as “Tam Shaft, insertion of,” and that got her thinking in a whole new direction. She was still thinking about that when Wash called out over the intercom. “Good afternoon, Travelers! Our stunningly gorgeous first officer just waved. The mission had some . . . slight complications. Everyone is fine, but she has informed me that we should prepare for an early departure – and that she is bringing home guests.” Kaylee perked up at that. Guests? Was that a good thing or bad thing? She was still musing on that when a pain in her stomach interrupted her train of thought. It had been that way ever since she had tried that wretched tea.

*

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*

Book was sitting on the ramp of the cargo door, just people watching. He enjoyed that. One of the things he had missed at the Abbey, in all those years of contemplation, had been the sight of the broad swath of humanity just going about their business. He never tired of it. People were fascinating, and you could tell a lot about them if you watched closely enough. Everyone who passed by the hatch had a story, and they often wore it like a coat if you had eyes enough to see proper. There were paupers and farmers, herders and mechanics. There were old women and young men, girls just thinking about womanhood and steely-faced middle-aged men and children not three years old. Men of honor, men of cunning, and men of iron practicality. Merchants, beggars, lawyers and cops. Pickpockets and whores. Sinners and saints. All passed by not ten feet in front of him. He was contemplating, today. This was what he had wanted. To walk the world and see its sins, to smell its earthy aromas and hear its tortured cries. Life in the abbey had been . . . enlightening. He had explored the murky depths of his own soul while there. He had used meditation, prayer, and intense introspection as tools to see just who he was . . . and in the process, changed who he was. There had come a day when the doors to the abbey seemed less like the front door of your home and more like the front door to a cage. His time there had been valuable – a man needs a place to heal, and time to do it in – but here was where he belonged . . . for now. He could sense something else happening. He had traveled on Serenity for nigh a year, now, and seen more of the world than he had ever imagined he could. He had jumped from the serene complacency of the abbey into the comfortable chaos of Serenity. It had been an eventful year. He had been shot – not something that he ever would have imagined would happen, once he took holy orders. He had picked up arms again. Something else he had never planned on doing. He had lived out an exciting life in the space of that year. But a man his age had to start thinking about the last few hours of his life. As good a life as this was, as this could be, he couldn’t do it forever. Time waits for no man, and it was getting a might impatient where he was concerned. Soon – he didn’t know when, but soon – he would have to pick a spot to light upon. Some out-of-the-way village on some Godforsaken rock, someplace he could make a difference in people’s lives. Someplace he could spend the next decade or so, if he had that long, building a community and watching children grow. Someplace where he could be of use. He had already started searching for that spot, unbeknownst to the others. Before long he would find it, and take his leave. In the mean time . . . Book didn’t move as he heard the unmistakable sound of a revolver from behind him, from the side of the ramp. Without saying a word – or even startling – he held up the wallet he had taken. “Though you might be back for this,” he said in a friendly tone of voice. “I seem to have dropped it,” the low voice said. “Clumsy of me. I take it all the money fell out?” “It’s all there. I ain’t what you call a thief.” “Surprising to hear, from someone who lifted my wallet without me knowing. That was impressive. I haven’t been prey to that in . . . years. So if it wasn’t money . . .” “We just saw you watching us, wanted an idea who might be so curious,” explained Book. “Funny way of satisfying your curiosity.” “It worked. We got a fair idea of who you are.” “And who am I, then? This might prove interesting.” “You, sir, are former military intelligence – Imperial faction, unless I’m gravely mistaken. You were raised in the Core on a Sinic planet – I’m guessing T’ien, though it might be Yuan or Xiao – and you have spent considerable time on the Rim since the War. You are at least a Captain, possibly a Major, and you have tremendous skill in your trade. You tracked us here from Epiphany, which can only mean that you are aware of our young passenger and what he carries, are aware of the broader implications of it, and have some familiarity with one of the other parts to that particular puzzle. While you have adequate, if not ample resources – derived, I believe, from organized crime – you are not technically a free agent. You serve a higher cause. You, sir, have purpose.” “And you, sir, are a very astute judge of details.” “I get that a lot.” “So what shall we do now? I can hardly let such a violation of my person go unpunished.” “You got your property back. Apart from some small embarrassment, you have lost nothing.” “On the contrary: by your acute observations you know that I am most effective when I remain covert. By exposing me, you have endangered my mission.” “I suspect your mission is flexible. And subject to change with the whims of circumstance.” “You may be correct. But still . . .” “Son, put that fool thing away. If I was gonna hurt you, I would have already dropped you by now. Don’t think I ain’t capable.” Book heard a chuckle, and then heard the pistol being put away. “Now why don’t you sit down here and we can have a chat. Maybe have some tea. Discuss the ways of the world.” “I’d like that, old man, but I do have a pressing mission. And yes, it does concern your young passenger.” “Well, he ain’t here. I expect you’ve been ordered to keep a watch on us, on him. And he an’ our . . . public relations officer went off for a spell. Now, you can wait for him over there staring at that same gorram ugly rug all day, or you can wait here and be comfortable.” “I elect to remain here,” the man said, moving gracefully around Book. He wore a long leather poncho (perfect for concealing his hands) and a broad-brimmed hat. Clean shaven, about thirty five, maybe forty, though his eyes looked much older. “Grab a chair; there’s a couple of folding chairs just inside there.” “Thank you, sir,” the man said, taking a seat and unfolding it. “Your name?” “Book. Shepherd Book.” “You got a mighty light touch for a Shepherd.” “Yeah, that’s been said.” “You aren’t merely a Shepherd.” “That’s been said, too. But I don’t consider my calling ‘mere’.” “Of course. A man’s life can’t be defined by a title.” “Forget titles. Useless things, mostly. What’s your name, son? The one you want me to call you by, not the ghosts in your wallet.” “You may call me Colonel Campbell. Your conjectures about my history are fairly accurate.” “So you’re an Imperial.” “Was, Shepherd. The War has been over a while.” “So it has. Yet you still call yourself ‘Colonel'.” “Correct,” the man grinned, tightly. “I still serve my old master. The Imperial House of Yuan. My family has been in Imperial service for generations. I saw no reason to depart. A man such as I must find employment somewhere, and with the current domination of the Alliance, a career as a criminal seemed the best option.” “I don’t hold it against you. A soldier must soldier.” “Exactly. It matters little where I serve, as long as I serve. Without such purpose I would be little more than a highly skilled bandit.” “For truth, I’ve had experience with such men. The Captain of Serenity is one. Browncoat. A soldier without a country, a warrior who believes in nothing since his cause was taken away. It is sad.” “The Alliance has much to answer for,” Campbell growled. “The Alliance was never meant to be this way,” observed Book. “It was once a place of peace, a way for the endless squabbles between the worlds to be settled without recourse to violence.” “Yes, and see how it turned out.” “As an Imperial, you should be quite aware of how the best of institutions can be subverted by the evil of men.” “The Tyrant,” Campbell acknowledged. “I am well aware. But to use him as an excuse to subvert the Empire – flawed though it might have been – was a travesty of the Alliance. Look at our once-great Empire: it is becoming nothing more than a homogenous bureaucracy without culture and life. Did not Master K’ung Fu Tse say, ‘better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without’?” “Indeed,” Book agreed. “And he also said ‘when substance overshadows refinement, men become course.’ You see this happening to the Alliance?” “How can it not? It happens more with every passing day. ‘Bread and Circuses.’ The Parliament and their lackeys keep the ‘verse on a leash with cheap goods and petty entertainments. The day will come when the people will tire of both, and then the Empire may come again.” “That may well be,” agreed Book. “This is not the Alliance I . . . have known. The War. It . . . changed things.” “Evil men come to power in such times. Evil corporations, too. When the Empire fell, the mercantile interests within were unrestrained. They devour us all through the teeth of the Alliance,” he spat, bitterly. “Well, sir,” Book said, thinking of Captain Reynolds, “they may well find some prove more . . . digestible than others.”

*

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*

The shuttle locked into place, and the hatch swung open immediately, there being no vacuum to struggle against. Mal popped his head out and saw Kaylee. “Li’l Mouse! Get everyone inside and button up!” “We leavin’ the world, Cap’n?” “Not yet. We got an hour, maybe two. But we need a quick chin-wag in the Kitchen. So bar the door and put the kettle on. We got company.” As Kaylee scurried off to do his bidding, Mal escorted the General and the Abbot from the shuttle, followed by Zoe and Johnny. Jayne and three of the General’s men followed behind. The small nature of the shuttle made it impossible to carry all of them, of course, and once they had secured the police inside the museum the General had waved his ship in orbit to send a second shuttle to retrieve them – and police the area. But he and Heavenly Master Lei had insisted on accompanying them, so they might meet their nephew (many times removed) and discuss the future. Mal had graciously offered the facilities on Serenity to do so, as it was unlikely the police had tied his ship into any of the shenanigans at the museum. That was a temporary thing, of course, but it gave them a few hours, at least, to figure their next move – and discuss an alliance. It had become clear on the journey in the shuttle that the General had no hard feelings about Johnny’s attempt on the box – indeed, he praised the boy’s cunning, called it a tribute to the Lei family ingenuity. As possessor of the third box, the General already had great leverage in the situation. He also had resources. But he was a fugitive, and no longer was he able to hide his presence in Wuhan. Nor his ship, the Emperor’s Revenge. Technically a heavy freighter – Zukov class, a terraformer’s barge – it had been extensively renovated . . . and armed. The General assured Mal that it had all the legal paperwork necessary for a cursory inspection by the Alliance, but agreed that it may have become too noticeable after the shoot-out at the museum. Kaylee’s eyes went wide when she saw the number of guests, but she remained silent except for pouring tea – real, black honeyed tea without butter or salt or other revulsions. The General’s men stood by, behind them, and while their hands were not on their weapons, they weren’t far from them, either. Jane and Zoe also stood, their hands in much the same condition. Mal and the three Lei’s sat at the table with Wash, who seemed tickled and worried by the whole situation. Johnny Lei seemed bewildered. Kaylee was just finishing pouring the tea when Book walked in with another stranger – though Wash and Jayne recognized him right away. Jayne went so far as to start to draw his weapon, but with so many excitable folk of new acquaintance with automatic carbines in such a small space, he thought better of it. Book nodded to him, indicating all was well, and Jayne was even more surprised when the spy bowed low to the General, and even lower to the monk. “General . . . Heavenly Master . . . May I ask how is it you have come to be here?” the man said. “Captain Campbell,” Master Lei said, bowing from his neck. “Good to see you again. You have been well?” “I cannot complain, Heavenly Master.” “Nor would you, even if you had cause. The mark of a gentleman,” he said, approvingly. “How . . . ?” Jayne asked. “Colonel Campbell is one of my most trusted lieutenants,” explained the General. “His father served with me as a boy, and he was my aide de camp throughout the last days of the War. He followed me into exile, and has never wavered in his commitment to our cause.” “Wait,” Jayne said, confused. “How can he be a lieutenant if he’s a colonel?” “Later, Jayne,” Book said gently. “I believe that there is to be a discussion occurring.” “More a family reunion,” Mal said. “Indeed,” the General said. “And I appreciate the use of your ship for the purpose.” “Well, technically we’re still under contract to the Prince,” Mal admitted. “So if he wants to do it here, we do it here.” “Here’s fine,” Johnny said, absently. “Uncles? I apologize if I gave any offense by my actions. I was given to believe that the lines which held the other two boxes were . . . moribund.” “You mean ‘extinct’?” Master Lei said, smiling. “Not yet. But I am, indeed, the last of mine. My wife and daughter died years ago, and I never remarried.” “I have a wife, but no children,” the General commented. “So you, Chin Yi, are the noble future of our House. We take no offense at your actions. Your father was a man of great cunning, and it is telling that you have that talent. Now that we have overcome the misunderstandings, I believe we can proceed. Let me begin by asking if it is, indeed, your intention to retrieve the Treasure?” “It is, Uncle,” Johnny nodded. “I am in exile myself, now. I have nothing but my clothes, my guns, and my baseball bat. And the box. If our line is not in true need now, I know not what cause would make it so.” “I concur,” the General agreed. “I would have made the attempt a decade ago, or more, but your father would have none of it. It is good that you have a more enlightened view.” “My father had a wife and family, and a business,” admitted Chin Yi. “I think he was content with his little garden, and did not covet the fields.” “Yes,” the General said, clearly respectful of his cousin’s intransigence, but regretful of it as well. “I would not compel it from him. It would dishonor the memory of our ancestors to do so.” “But what of you, Uncle?” Johnny asked Master Lei. “Do you agree? Shall we retrieve our legacy?” “My boy, you are my legacy,” the old monk said, kindly. “I am of the Way. Money has no meaning for me. But if it will raise your fortunes, and on the condition that you provide me with many descendents to honor me, I consent.” “We are agreed, then,” the General said, smiling broadly. “I shall have my shuttle return to pick us up, and we can proceed to my lair to assemble the map.” “Nope,” Mal said, in a friendly sort of way. “I beg your pardon?” the General said, raising his eyebrows. He was apparently unaccustomed to defiance. His men shifted uneasily. Colonel Campbell did not move, but there was little doubt he wasn't unprepared for a confrontation. “I mean, folks, that Johnny here convinced me to truck him all the way here and commit, oh, at least a few felonies on his behalf. Now he paid me for my fuel, and overhead – I ain’t arguin’ about that. But we had an understanding regarding this Treasure o’ his – o’ yours, I should say. Twenty percent, if I recall the figure correct.” “Captain,” the General said, “while I respect your desire for adequate payment, the Lei legacy is ours, alone.” “That wasn’t the deal,” Mal insisted. “The deal was twenty percent.” “I will keep my bargain,” Johnny said, holding up his hand before his uncle could get more adamant. “Whatever my share, I will pay you twenty percent of that.” “An’ what’s to keep y’all from goin’ to . . . well, far away and livin’ it up while we are starvin’ in the wilderness?” demanded Jayne. “A Lei’s word of honor,” Master Lei said. “It is sufficient. And I so witness it.” “That sounds mighty fine there, ‘Heavenly Master’, but if I had coin for every time I heard that kinda feh hua, I’d . . . we’ll, I’d have a lot of coin!” Jayne shot back. “We don’t know about no ‘Lei’s honor’. Honor’s just a word. So is ‘paid in full’.” “Actually, that’s three words,” Wash pointed out. “There is no assurance that the Treasure will be money at all,” the monk pointed out. “Indeed, there is no record of what it is.” “I’m bettin’ it’s money, an’ y’all just want to—” “Jayne, bide,” Mal said, not looking at him. Jayne shut up. He wasn’t good for a lot, but sometimes he knew enough to shut the hell up. “Gentlefolk,” Mal continued, “we ain’t askin’ for a lot. But we took a flyer on this caper, on account it might have a big payoff and I took a likin’ to the kid. Seems to me that we just wanna protect our investment.” “We have already offered to compensate you for your trouble,” Master Lei said indignantly. “And I have already said we ain’t interested in that. We wanna see this through. We wanna make sure our employer, the kid, is taken care of.” “Uncles,” Johnny said, hesitantly, “I do not mean to be . . . disrespectful, but these people have proven themselves to be loyal and helpful associates. You, General, have your brave men . . . Master, you have the Way. I have little enough to bring to the table. I would like to include them, as we have agreed. It is a matter of . . . of my honor.” That took the two older Lei’s a moment to chew through. They couldn’t very well stand on their own honor and deny Chin Yi his. Finally, the monk sighed. “Nephew,” he said to the General, “your shuttle will be traced back to your ship. Within a day the Alliance will know of its whereabouts, and it will not be safe. Perhaps you can send it on – perhaps feint towards Xiao – and meet with it later on?” “I would be honored to play the hare,” Colonel Campbell said, bowing. “I will lead them on such a chase . . . and meet you at the usual place when all is safe.” “But . . . my men!” the General said, clearly unwilling to part from his forces so soon after combat. The old monk laughed. “We aren’t going into battle yet, Nephew. You have no need of armies just yet. You have three here – I assume that they will be welcomed?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Mal. “Don’t see why not. Might have to scrunch up a bit on the accommodations, but we got the room at the moment. Have to put on more provisions, but we got an hour or two afore things get volcanic.” He eyed the largest of the men, who stood a span taller than Mal. “A lot more provisions.” “And this will be an excellent opportunity to get to know our nephew,” admitted the General. “I would hear of his exploits. The last time I saw him, he was but nine years old.” “And I have never seen him, and wish to get to know the last of our House,” agreed Master Lei. “Purchase your provisions, Captain. Colonel Campbell, I assume you can make your way back to the ship?” “Of course,” bowed Campbell. “Though I admit, I will miss the opportunity to further discourse with the Shepherd. Attend him carefully, Master, for he is a scholar and a philosopher. Among other things.” “Book?” Jayne asked, confused. “You’re talkin’ ‘bout Book? I thought he was a Shepherd.” “And Kaylee said she might have to scrounge some parts. Might not be what she needs here, but she should look,” Wash added. “And I want to buy somethin’ with the profits of the tack an’ harness,” Kaylee said. “I kinda liked the sellin’. An’ we made a decent profit. Be nice to take back somethin’ to Duncan when we meet up. Maybe some ivory. Heard it’s cheap here.” Master Lei looked at the young engineer with a slight smile. “My dear, if you want to make a profit, then forget ivory. A conceit of the rich, it is, and hard to sell on the Rim. But there is another commodity that only Wuhan grows, which has a high demand nearly everywhere. And I believe I can fetch you a decent quantity at a fair price.” “What would that be?” she asked, intrigued. When the old master told her, the look on her face was enough to have Wash, Jayne, Mal and Zoe rolling on the floor. Kaylee’s blush was bright enough to light up the kitchen. “You mean . . . they . . . they . . .” “Yes they do, my dear,” Book said, chuckling despite himself at the girl’s expression. “And it is, indeed, a very valuable and rarely traded commodity in some circles.” “Well I’ll be damned,” she said softly. “And here I thought I’d heard everythin’!” “It is, technically, illegal, however,” the Master admitted. “You wouldn’t happen to have someplace that might get overlooked during an inspection?” Mal looked at the monk with amusement. “Well, a place might be found. We’ve been known to be lax on our declaration reports now and again.” “That only leaves one big question, then,” Wash added after he quit laughing. “Where to next?” “We get the Ambassador. Then to our rendezvous with Duncan to pick up our strays,” Mal decided. “And then?” he asked, looking at the General. “Then on to Salisbury,” the old warrior said grimly, as if making a heavy decision about how much to entrust to Serenity’s crew. “Uh, ain’t that like on the edge of the whole ruttin’ ‘verse?” Wash asked. “Oh yes,” the General said pleasantly. “Barely inhabited. As raw a world as you could wish. Not more than a hundred thousand people on the whole ruttin’ moon. My ship will meet us there. It has proved a worthy base in the past. But that isn’t our final stop.” “Uh, General, there ain’t anything beyond Salisbury,” Mal said, uneasily. “Which makes it an excellent place to hide, don’t you think?” “Ain’t there gonna be Reavers out there? I don’t hold with Reavers,” Jayne said fervently. “Not in that quadrant. In that quadrant my little Tong rules the Black. What there is to rule. But there hasn’t been an Alliance ship out there in four years, and not likely to be one any time soon. Nearest Alliance base is a fueling depot and research station on Fortune. That’s eight days away.” “Well,” Mal said, slowly, “I suppose I’m just gonna have to trust your judgment, now ain’t I?” “Trustworthiness is the hallmark of a gentleman,” Master Lei said, nodding approvingly. “That’s what makes me nervous,” murmured Mal. “A criminal, I know what to expect. Deception and treachery, that I can handle. Kinda my stock-in-trade, if you take my meanin’. But men of honor – they scare me. They can be right cussed, they get riled.” “Relax, Captain,” the General said smiling. “I give my parole. As do my men. It might be nice to enjoy a few stress-free days in repose, getting to know my nephew on your fine little ship. I anticipate it to be quite relaxing.” Mal looked at him, an expression of concern in his eyes. “General, you consider a week on Serenity to be . . . relaxin’, then I’d hate to hear how your week typically runs.”