The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Thirty Four

When humankind made the leap from the confines of Earth That Was to the larger horizons of the ancient Solar System, it was with fairly simple reaction rockets: big, chemical things that broke out of the gravity well by pure brute force. Though Ion Drives and other exotic forms of propulsion were experimented with, the cheapest and most efficient thing to use was the Latex/Nitrous Oxide engines that had been the workhorse of aerospace since the early 21st century. It was cheap, safe, efficient . . . and slow. A trip to the nearest planet took years and cost immense amounts of money. This made interplanetary travel expensive and difficult and interstellar travel virtually impossible. It wasn’t until late in the 21st century, in the aftermath of WWIII, when a young Hungarian physicist named Dr. Emil Laszlo in exile in England sat down in a Manchester café with three colleagues and a half-dozen croissants one crisp autumn day and came up with the magical Grand Unification Theory, uniting the Four Forces paradigm that had held sway over physics for nearly two centuries. Laszlo and his friends had been doing experiments and making observations about the mysterious substance known as Dark Matter, the six-dimensional stuff that seemed to be responsible for the bulk of the mass in the universe. While the math involved was arcane, the predictions that Laszlo made about the Dark Matter were brilliant: within a generation, the rare and precious material and its trans-nuclear derivatives had been used to conquer gravity, provide cheap and efficient H3 fusion power, and surmount the light-speed barrier for data transmission. But as much as the Gravity Drive, the Tamed H3 Fusion Engine, and the Telephotonic Data Ansible had improved the technology of humanity, it still left it chained to Sol. It wasn’t until the early in the 22nd century that an intellectual descendent of Lazlo, Dr. Ho Minh Huei in the Great Chinese Republic, had used a particularly rare derivative to drive a stake through the heart of Professor Einstein’s relativistic universe, making it possible to explore worlds under distant suns. The Ho Drive was simple and elegant, a classic of engineering efficiency. By using the Ho Drive not only was interstellar travel possible, but the horrible relativistic penalties theoretically involved in such speeds were overcome. The closer planets were only days away from Earth – the closest star was explored for the first time using a Ho 2 Drive, and took only six weeks to complete the journey. This opened up a whole new age of exploration and adventure that would have been the capstone of humanity’s sophisticated technological achievement . . . had not Earth That Was been falling apart rather badly. Instead, it became the means by which the lifeboats that brought humanity out of peril and into the ‘verse were propelled. The Exodus Ships which transported the survivors of Earth That Was were miraculous combinations of Laszlo-derived technology. But you needed the transnuclear derivatives of Dark Matter to do it all. And it wasn’t easy stuff to collect. Dark Matter eschewed strong gravitational and electromagnetic fields, and so harvesting it within a solar system was difficult, if not impossible. There were a few iterations that could be gleaned, atom by atom, at great expense. But the Good Stuff, the more valuable iterations, was found thickest in the voids between the stars. In the loneliest reaches of the Black were built gigantic refineries that swung four-kilometer-long booms festooned with a brush of charged carbon tubules that swept up Dark Matter like brooms sweeping up dust on a kitchen floor. The attached refineries separated out the iterations, transformed some into useful derivatives, and stockpiled it for use back in more civilized parts. You needed lots of derivatives. Every terraformed planet or moon in the ‘verse needed metric tons of the stuff to build the great solid-state gravity machines that held an atmo envelope artificially close to the new world and permitted an Earth-like existence. Every interstellar ship used hundreds of kilos of various derivatives to push the Helium 3 neutrons through a derivative-based mesh, to produce the fusion power it needed to break the Ho Minimum and leave Einstein in the dust. Others were needed hold the crew into their seats, and still others to connect them to the interstellar navsats that kept everyone from running off course, plus, of course, the ones needed to string the data cortex through the ether between worlds. The transnuclear market was huge. So were the deep-space stations that supplied the market. Gargantuan things, miles across with crews of thousands, the isolated islands in the Black were lonesome ports that were rarely called on by passing ships. This made them ideal places to stash political exiles. When the Emperor surrendered the Imperial Faction to the Alliance forces on Wuhan, a condition of armistice was the removal of the bulk of the Imperial High Command and its officer corps forever from the worlds of the Old Empire. Unlike the previous band of pro-Empire factionists (who had been indentured and sold en toto to the Epiphany terraformers) the Imperial Faction leadership was predicted to be intractable as bondsmen. Too much discipline, too much history – such a remedy would invite an armed insurrection on any world that received them. Instead they were removed to the remotest spot then existent: the Tsang Chow Transnuclear Processing Facility, previously owned by Chow Han Energy and Resources, Ltd., in which the Imperial Family and Imperial Army held non-controlling financial interests. About the same time the Independents were watching their dreams crumble at Serenity Valley on Hera, over ten thousand Imperials and their families were being shipped off to a deep-space complex that was designed to quarter no more than half that number. There, they could do no harm, it was theorized. Tsang Chow was already an older station, and after the Alliance officially claimed it they had done little more than graft a dozen extra residence units onto the bottom of the spindle to accommodate the influx of population. Other “improvements” were made to bring the station up to basic human-rights spec: they added four new phytotrons, a new bank of protein sequencers, as well as improving the water reclamation facilities. They also instituted an Alliance-controlled school curriculum for the children of the Thousand Families, with emphasis on assimilation and a rejection of dangerous militarism. An Alliance-approved local administration was put in place, with a retired Alliance General installed as “administrator” – though he was more a warden than an executive. All subsequent contact and trade would occur every six standard months, when the huge corporate freighter that retrieved the derivatives made the long voyage from Salisbury, docked, and exchanged food, water, and a few other supplies for the transnuclear materials. No materials, no food. That was how the Alliance had planned to control the group. Leading psychologists had insisted that the community would be under such internal stress as to cause a social revolution within a few years. The theory ran that the unhappy and unwilling colonists would blame their former Imperial leadership for their poor situation. After a few tumultuous years with scant resources, it was theorized that the shortages would break the social inertia of the Thousand Families, encourage the rank-and file to confront their leaders and overthrow them, and eventually form a new, more democratic social order with the ability to re-integrate back into greater Alliance society without the taint of Imperial militarism. That wasn’t quite what happened. The Thousand Families were well organized as a community, with strong internal ties of fealty and familial piety, in addition to a deep tradition of military service to the Empire binding them together. Unlike the Epiphany exiles from two generations before, the trials of the journey and subsequent hardships of settlement at Tsang Chow had not ruptured the social fabric: it had strengthened it. The Alliance administration tried to take a high-handed approach, treating the exiles as paroled prisoners who should have been ashamed of their uprising against the Alliance. That tactic lasted no more than six months while the Families got re-organized – and took control. The Imperials turned the complex into a de facto military camp. The Alliance “school” was taken over, the teachers relieved of duty, and a pro-Imperial curriculum was established. The intensity of the classes, the universal enforcement of discipline and the lack of real distractions made the school one of the better military academies in the ‘verse – and attendance was compulsory. The system of representational government that was supposed to subvert the militaristic nature of Imperial society was co-opted, with prominent families of trusted and proven military officers being “elected” into positions of leadership. The various residential “wards” were re-defined with the names and insignia of prominent Imperial military units. Cooperation between wards and competition for scarce resources was handled through a supreme council that worked suspiciously like a military command staff. The working schedule for operation of the collection booms and processing plants was likewise co-opted, which initially alarmed the Alliance administrator who was nominally in charge. He backed off his protests when it was pointed out to him that the ten security officers he had on staff were outnumbered five hundred to one, there was little hope for timely reinforcements, and that the new regime had actually improved operating efficiency at the plants. Faced with such a thinly veiled threat, he contented himself with filing reports and collecting his pension. He was a retired General who had no intention of fighting another war. Besides, General Lei seemed to have things well in hand. At first Lei concentrated on making the transition to Tsang Chow as easy as possible for his loyal people. Then he lapsed into a king-maker role. He established his wishes for the disposition of the highly limited Tsang Chow government (as the last surviving member of the Imperial House he was accorded tremendous respect; as the highest-ranking military officer of the exile, he was given god-like authority by the Thousand Families), naming trusted officers to the Council and in key positions of responsibility. Once he had seen to his people’s safety, security, and welfare (by effectively taking over every important aspect of administration from the Alliance puppets) he turned his attention beyond the lonely space station. Lei did not plan on a quiet exile lapsing into obscurity. He was isolated and alienated. But he was not without resources. General Lei had summoned one of the few un-surrendered Imperial commerce raiders that still haunted deep space, and with a hand-picked cadre of former Imperial Guardsmen and a compliment of Imperial Intelligence officers (including his prize, Colonel Campbell) he escaped back to civilized parts, where he promptly entered a life of crime. Using the old Imperial spy network and hidden assets managed by the Imperial intelligence community, he quickly rebuilt an organization to do his bidding – starting with piracy directed at Alliance-owned craft. A year after he left he had brought back the Emperor’s Revenge to Tsang Chow, full of illicit booty and useful loot. It didn’t take much, threat-wise, to convince the Alliance administrator to keep quiet about his presence and the violation of his terms of surrender – the man knew what a precarious position he was in. General Lei since used the station as a base for piracy and criminal enterprise. It was ideal – few Feds were even aware of the existence, much less the location, of the station, and that allowed Lei to prosper there under the Yellow Sash Tong’s gold and red banner – the same colors, of course, as the Faction’s Amber Phoenix banner. For half a decade now he had been expanding his domination of the part of space around Salisbury, the closest inhabited world, and made connections to Tongs throughout the ‘verse. His group was small, but highly trained and motivated. Slowly their coffers filled. To the Imperials the acquisition of wealth was not an end unto itself, but a means to restoring the Empire. When Serenity finally docked at Tsang Chow, the ship found a very clean, well-organized, and highly educated community devoted to that one ideal: being the loyal back-bone for a future Imperial Army. And their leader, General Lei of the Imperial Line, was hailed as a conquering hero. *

*

*

In preparation for the docking the General’s men dressed in their unofficial uniforms (black pants, white shirt, yellow silk sashes and caps) and stood rigidly at attention until the doors opened. Most of them had families waiting, families who hadn’t seen their sons, husbands, and fathers for over a year. Colonel Campbell marched them out of the lock in formation, called the role, and then dismissed them for leave, to the jubilant shouts from the crowd. At least a thousand or so people had crowded the cargo dock in front of Serenity’s lock, some waving banners or poles with lanterns on them. When General Lei came out, the crowd went wild. A microphone was thrust at him by someone and he was forced to make an impromptu speech, in which he introduced Heavenly Master Lei (to thunderous applause – the Imperials were heavily Tao Chiang Taoists with a sprinkling of Buddhist, Christian, and Shinto) and Lei Chin Yi, of the Imperial Line, known as the Prince. The uproar over this young, virile and attractive man was considerable – the Thousand Families had been prosecuting their hopes of Imperial glory on the aging General, and having a more youthful contender for adoration was refreshing – especially to the young girls in the audience. Mal was very impressed (and not a little disquieted) by the attention – usually when he was conducting a blatantly criminal rendezvous there wasn’t a band playing a tuneful welcome. But the General was as much politician as crime lord and warlord; he knew the morale of his people needed constant refreshment. After a spontaneous celebration he was able to get them escorted to his own private residence. Only Jayne and River remained on Serenity: River because he wanted to keep her under wraps and out of bad craziness, and Jayne because he was Jayne, and didn’t look likely to change that any time soon. The General’s quarters were cozy by any objective standards, but roomy when compared to the other living quarters on the station. His wife, Lang Ping, graciously welcomed them and offered tea and refreshment. She was a beautiful middle-aged woman who dressed and acted as the consummate hostess, perfectly complimenting her husband’s gruff demeanor. Her smile was warm and genuine, and it wasn’t a stretch for Mal to believe Inara’s whispered story of Lang Ping as a famous Yuanese socialite. Despite her rough surroundings, Madame Lei appeared as at ease here as she would have been in an Imperial palace. She welcomed Chin Yi with a sincere embrace – Inara reported that she had been unable to conceive an heir for the General, and despite this tragedy had continued to serve him faithfully. Apparently this new-found nephew was sufficient to fulfill some of her lost hopes of continuing the line. She doted on him from the moment he entered the small front room, and insisted on finding him quarters nearby. Heavenly Master Lei she greeted with the deference and respect due a family elder and a holy man. The crew of Serenity she was slightly more hesitant of, until Inara worked her own charm and introduced them so eloquently that Madame Lei had no choice but to treat them as honored guests. “Nicely turned, Ambassador,” Mal whispered when she was done. “You almost made us seem respectable.” “I’m really, really good,” agreed Inara smugly. “With Jayne out of the picture, what’s not to love? You and Zoe I can play off as war heroes, play up your tragic devotion to a lost cause, which is automatically romantic – especially to this crowd. Book brings respect for his Orders, Simon for his medical degree and snappy dress, and Kaylee is just too cute to resist.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” Mal nodded. “I take it they don’t object to you bein’ a popular whore?” “Not at all,” Inara assured, eyes flashing. “In fact, the Imperial tradition puts a high value on the arts of love and sex. They respect the position of a courtesan, and accord a Companion high status. Much more than they accord, for example, to a small-time shabby-looking petty crook,” she added, sweetly. “You forgot, ‘ruggedly handsome petty crook’,” Mal corrected. “And you forgot ‘stunningly beautiful popular whore’,” She shot back icily. “I stand corrected.” “As do I.” Once the introductions and pleasantries were dispensed with, the time for the three pieces of the map to be joined was at hand. With great ceremony all three Lei’s produced their legacy boxes, (the General finding his in his private quarters) and withdrew the datachips within. With a little assistance from a technician on his staff, the three units were plugged into an appropriate computer, which churned the three datasets around and announced that the complete program would be re-integrated within five hours. “That seems like an awful long time,” Kaylee said, doubtfully. “It isn’t a simple data-reintegration,” explained the technician. “They called it a ‘map’, but it is far, far more complex than that. There are . . . well, very complex holographic elements to it. It is a very sophisticated program built at the height of the Old Empire, and it is fraught with security.” “I guess that makes sense,” Kaylee admitted. “Ain’t much of a map if just anybody could read it.” “My friends, would you consent to dine with us in the meantime?” asked Madame Lei in a lilting, musical voice. “I’ve had a meal prepared for my honored husband’s homecoming. Several of his local staff are eager to make a report. And I would dearly love to hear about what is happening in civilization – the cortex is helpful, of course, but I prefer the personal perspective.” “We would be honored, Madame,” Inara said, bowing gracefully.

*

*

* After an incredibly good meal, lasting three hours or so as course after course was brought forth, rice beer and plum wine was served to the guests by fresh-faced young girls from the school, all wearing the yellow-sash uniform. Chin Yi brought out the box of cigars he had purchased on Salisbury and passed them around, earning a disapproving look from his aunt and nods of decadent satisfaction from the others. As the chamber began to fill up with smoke, the technician finally returned with the display unit. “We are ready, Masters!” he said, gleefully. “Very few problems. The entire program should be working, now.” “Excellent!” Johnny said, rubbing his hands together. “Indeed, I’ve been waiting forty years to see this message,” agreed the General, eagerly. “I wonder if it’s on Wuhan,” Master Lei said. “That would be ironic – I’ve lived there all this time. Watch it be in the monastery – that’s the kind of humor the ‘verse hold for us!” “We shall know in a moment,” the technician said, agreeably as he set up the holo emitter. “Honorable gentlemen, Ladies, I present . . . His Royal Majesty Lei Fong Wu, Emperor of Yuan, T’ien, Wuhan, and the Far Territories, Son of Heaven and Master of Worlds!” There was a hush in the room as someone turned the lights down, and for the first time in over a century the ghostly form of Emperor Lei Fong Wu appeared. He was a middle-aged man, about sixty, with a face that had already lived lifetimes. He was in a long cloth-of-gold robe and wore a small red cap-of-maintenance. He had eyes that were at the same time kindly and resolute. An imposing man, physically, and in good shape at the time the map was made. He had a silky beard that hung from his chin to his chest and a fringe of gray hair that resembled Master Lei’s. For a moment the image was frozen. Then it bowed, slowly and gracefully. “My greetings to my honorable descendents,” the image said, speaking in a clear voice. “May the light of Heaven shine upon you. The fact that you are witnessing this display means that the House of Lei has come upon difficult times. Three of the branches of the House must have agreed to this, and re-assembled this device in order to find the Lei family legacy.” The image flickered a moment as the program changed. “Please tell me your names and your lineage, so that this program can tell who it is speaking with. Start with the oldest among you.” The technician nodded at Master Lei’s silent inquiry. The old monk stood, made a respectful bow towards the image, and said, “I am Heavenly Master Lei Chiang Ling, son of Lei Guan Dong, descended from the Third Line of Succession.” The image made a graceful bow in return. Master Lei nodded toward the General and sat back down. “I am General Lei Lu Bai, son of General Lei Sen Yan, descended of the First Line of Succession.” He nodded to Johnny, as his ancestor was bowing to him. The boy stood and bowed, then nervously gave his name and lineage. “I am Lei Chin Yi, of the . . . Second Line? My father was Lei Peng Yu.” The image wavered again, just for a moment. “I am delighted. All three lines are present, and all are in agreement. This program has accessed the cortex and received what vital information it has available on each of you. Thank you. And welcome to this great adventure.” He continued. “For there is a treasure, a mighty treasure, a dangerous treasure that is now your birthright. Yet I caution you to consider carefully before you seek it. Bringing it to light may disturb the entire Empire, and perhaps all of human society. “Ominous, you think my warning is? Indeed. For this is no ordinary horde of valuables. “When I first ascended the Amber Phoenix Throne it was after I deposed the Tyrant Shan Yu, a despicable man that I nonetheless swore to serve to my dying breath. When his madness was so great and complete as to imperil the Empire, myself and a few others of his staff made the decision to overthrow his despotic rule and try to make right his abuses. For the most part, we were successful, and re-established the Empire with our noble House at its head. As Emperor, I was heir to much of the Tyrant’s riches. I gave back that which was stolen to those whom I could. But much wealth remained. Nor was riches the only legacy our House inherited: there are dark secrets, details of many of the crimes and horrific plans the Tyrant indulged in. Shan Yu was a despicable genius, and he used the vast resources of Yuan to seek unspeakable knowledge. This, too, I have included in this trove, among the riches. “The treasure will make you rich. I pray it also makes you wise. “Along with that glory comes a grave responsibility: the legacy I have hidden away for you is not mere wealth and power, but the essence of our House’s duty to the Empire. By retrieving the treasure, you are invoking that duty – do not do so lightly. Gaining this legacy shall not be easy, and while you may curse me along the way for my stubbornness and high ideals, I have reasons for how I did what I did. It shall be a test of your wisdom and your fortitude, as I have decided that the true heirs to this fortune shall be first proven worthy. “Anything less than the most noble of hearts will succumb to temptation and condemn themselves to losing the treasure, or even death. Those who are worthy will prove themselves such, and will profit accordingly. There is great danger, and great reward. No one man may reclaim it alone. “Be not bitter. Yes, I have stacked the game against you, and have done so on purpose. Understand that our family rules with the Mandate of Heaven, and as such we must earn our position time and again. The day we fail, that is the day that we will lose our temporal power. But the House of Lei has strength and cunning, attributes which do not depend upon a throne or on armies. You must demonstrate that strength and cunning – and since I cannot be there to take your measure in person, I have devised these tests to do so in my place. It is my prerogative as your honored ancestor. “A true Lei shall not fail. I will say more on this as you near your goal. I will give you a series of three clues leading to the treasure, and it shall be up to you to decipher them and follow them. There can be no short-cuts. There can be no cheating. The best minds of the ‘verse have been put to this task. And this map shall not give you the next clue until the proper data is put in from the last clue. The first one is simple – you may know it already, in which case you may go on to the next. “Within the Imperial Palace on Yuan, in the North Wing, there is a shrine in a chamber on the south side, a chamber known as the Black Currant Chamber. Tell me what divinity that shrine is devoted to, and I shall reveal the next clue.” The image stood there serenely, as if it was prepared to wait an eternity for them to answer. “I know that one,” Master Lei said, squinting with recollection. “I remember it from my youth . . . the old Empress, she used to visit that shrine often . . . it was . . . Kuan Yin! I’m positive! Kuan Yin!” “The bodhisattva?” asked Inara. Master Lei made a sour face. “She was the Mother Goddess of China long before Buddhism crossed the Himalayas,” he said, a note of disgust in his voice. “They made Her a bodhisattva. For no good reason, except to subvert the Chinese from their devotion to Her and encourage them to support the monks, instead!” He returned to the image of Lei Fong Wu. “But I am positive, it was She. A large bronze statue, with brightly enameled accoutrements. Beautiful! It was said to have come from Earth That Was.” He approached the image. “Honorable ancestor,” he said, humbly, “The divinity was She Who Brings Children, Kuan Yin.” The image flickered and smiled. “Excellent. Your first hurdle is past. Your next clue shall be found in the Imperial Archives: Tell to me the name of the agent who betrayed Shan Yu to me, and allowed our House to ascend the Amber Phoenix Throne!” There was a room full of blank stares. “Imperial Archives?” the General said, slowly. “The Yuanese Imperial Archives?” “I’m guessin’ that’s the Empire he’s talkin’ of,” agreed Mal. “That shall be a difficult question to answer,” Master Lei said, shaking his head sadly. “For we do not have them any longer.” “Why not?” Madame Lei asked, confused. “Are they not still on Yuan?” The General shook his head as well. “No. When the Alliance helped overthrow the Empire, they took control of all state facilities – including the Archives. They were once controlled by the Imperial Censorate, but when the Purplebellies came in – that bun tien-shung duh ee duay-ro Dortmunder – they seized every record of the Empire under the auspices of Alliance Security. They claimed Imperial Intelligence files held the names of undercover Alliance agents and detailed covert operations that were potentially damaging to the security of the Alliance. Damn right, too. We knew where a lot of their sneaks were. “The entire Archive was downloaded to the secure Alliance computers and erased. The only copy remaining lies buried somewhere in the most secure library system in the ‘verse,” he admitted. “Oh, that’s not good,” observed Mal. “Certainly not,” agreed Johnny. “You would not, perhaps, have any contacts deep within Alliance Security, Uncles?” “A few minor informants,” dismissed Colonel Campbell. “No one who has access to that level of classified files.” “You’re talkin’ the Alliance Central Security Authority, right?” Kaylee asked, a note of awe in her voice. “The one on Londinium? The one in all the video programs?” “The one with the impossible-to-bypass security?” Zoe asked, skeptically. “The one in the Citadel, surrounded by Feds and armored brigades and laser artillery and a fleet of interceptors and other bad nastiness?” “Yeah,” Mal said, quietly. “I believe that’s the one.” “We’re humped!” moaned Johnny. “It would take an army to break into there,” conceded the General. “And a bigger and better equipped army than I have.” “Or a hack,” pointed out Madame Lei. “A good hack could slice through, couldn’t they?” “Yeah! A hack! What about that guy we used back on Set?” Kaylee asked. “The data security is the toughest there is,” Campell said, discouraged. “No ordinary technician will be able to surmount it.” “He was decent at cutting into the cortex,” Zoe said to the engineer, “but that’s like knockin’ over a grocery store. Hackin’ this – that’s like . . . I’m searching for a superlative, here . . .” “It’s impossible!” Johnny insisted. “You’d have to be a gorram mad genius to hack into that!” “We do have access to a mad genius,” pointed out Zoe. “Doc? You think River could handle this?” Simon pursed his lips in thought. “It isn’t really her area of expertise – I think,” he said, finally. “Of course I have no idea just what they poured into her head at that school, and she has surprised me before, but somehow I don’t think so.” “So we’re humped,” Johnny insisted. “Unless you got an army, a fleet, or the best gorram hack in the ‘verse,” agreed the General. “Our people tried to get into that system a few times, back in the War. No luck. Not with the Citadel’s computers.” “We can’t give up on this,” Kaylee said. “We’ve come too far – y’all have worked too hard – there’s got to be a way!” “Are you sure there aren’t any copies?” asked Simon. “Something that important . . . maybe your Imperial Security stashed one someplace?” “Didn’t happen,” Campbell said, shaking his head. “And the identity of the betrayer of Shan Yu has long been a mystery. You will not find it reported in any history books. It is said that Lei Fong Wu took that secret to his grave. But apparently it was hidden in the archives, too. The General was right: an army capable of defeating the security at the Citadel, or a hack good enough to do the same.” Everyone was silent for a moment, staring at the faintly glowing holographic ancestor. Finally, Wash stirred, started to speak, thought better of it, and then cleared his throat. “Um, I got a suggestion,” he ventured cautiously. “You have a private army?” Master Lei asked, kindly. “No, the other one. The other thing that can get us in.” “What, the greatest hack in the ‘verse? You’re him?” “No,” Wash said, seriously. “But . . . well, I know him.” “You what?” Zoe asked, surprised. “I think I can get us in,” Wash affirmed. “I mean, if it’ll save the . . . caper? Mission? Treasure hunt? Whatever it is we’re doing. I think I can get us in. Worth a shot, anyway. But I can get us in, I think.” “You can get us into the most secure chunk o’ data in the ‘verse? How?” Mal asked, intrigued. “Well,” Wash said, slowly, “Back in flight school, I knew this guy . . .”