The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Thirty Nine

Fox was having a hell of a time. He grinned to himself as he tromped towards the village. This town – this whole gorram island – was filled with women. Helpless, defenseless women. Sure, some of them were a fair bit on the manly side, but there were plenty of nubile little pretties out here. If he had known about this place years ago, he would have settled in, taken over, and had the nicest little harem this side of the ‘verse. Hell, even keep the rougher looking ones around – plenty of work to be done. Nearest constabulary station was eighty miles away. Over water. With the proper handling, this could be a right proper little kingdom. Too bad he would be burning it down. They had started with the little cottage the shuttle had landed in front of. They didn’t burn the shuttle, of course, just screwed with the fuel intake enough to keep it from lifting – always give your prey an obvious and completely false means of retreat. He had learned that on Boros, during the War. But the cottage, the little sickening sweet and cozy little bitch-shack, with all the flowers and birdhouses, that he took relish in torching. As soon as he had ascertained that his prey was not within, he had chucked an explosive incendiary inside and watched it burn. Then he turned and spelled out the plan with Micah and Tonk. It was simple: Tonk would conceal himself near the shuttle, while he and Micah would swing around the other third points and come at the town from those directions. They didn’t know who they were looking for, of course, but who ever it was would flee the town and head for the shuttle to escape. Tonk was to let them get in, start her up. When she didn’t fly, they’d likely send a wave to that Firefly, and that he could track. In the meantime, they got to take a pleasant evening stroll and burn down a bunch of stuff. He had ordered both of his lackeys not to kill anyone, unless they had to, and not to hurt them too bad if they could help it. And no ‘extracurricular activities’ until the work was done – plenty of time to slake their lust before Reynolds and whoever else was with him showed up. He didn’t plan on being in this jurisdiction long enough for charges to be filed, but best to keep the list of felonies down to a manageable size. He had only gotten fifty feet away when he heard the whine of another shuttle. Surprised, he looked up, saw the running lights. Too soon for Reynolds, not unless that Firefly was nearby. And he doubted that. It wasn’t a Fed shuttle, which would be bad, nor a constabulary flyer – it was spaceworthy. A Sesson 220, and as beat-up as they come. As it slowed down and swung around the fire, he swore loudly and thoroughly – he recognized that logo. Turning on his heel he strode quickly back to the cottage and fired up his Thunderbolt. A lot of Rimworlders eschewed laser weapons because of their cost, their unreliability, and their effete nature. Not Fox. Fox liked them. The Thunderbolt SSR-4 was technically a light infantry support weapon, but absent the tripod and with a little creative rigging it made one hell of a personal weapon. Sure, he had about six more guns about his person, but that Thunderbolt was intimidating. Properly used he could have brought that damn Sesson down . . . with the chou wang ba dan that were in it. He was tempted – he knew what they wanted. But when contemplating a truly heinous amount of mayhem, a convenient potential scapegoat could be handy. Best to hear them out. It took ten minutes for the gorram thing to make a gingerly landing and open the hatch. He would have had his boys hidden to snipe against them, but the Womack Retrieval Company had decent sensors. They were under cover, though. Fox kept the Thunderbolt casually trained at the hatch until the inhabitants emerged. Earl Womack ran a low-end bounty-hunting business, among other disreputable trade. His ship, the Star Angel, was a decrepit old scow that barely made it across the Black. Womack’s bread-and-butter was running down petty outlaws, usually with bounties under a grand – stuff no one reputable would touch. He sidelined in a little smuggling and a little slaving, often indenturing anyone who was caught ‘aiding and abetting’ his capture. He looked just like the outlaws he chased. So did his boys, four of them in all. One brother, one son, and two lackeys. All dressed like spacer scum and carried a wide variety of mismatched weapons. Amateurs. “Well, lookee here!” Earl called, his rifle cradled unthreateningly in his arms. “Mr. Fox! And I s’pect Micah and Tonk is hidin’ in the bushes, too. What brings y’all to my little neck o’ the ‘verse?” “What?” Fox asked, confounded. “This is my turf, Foxy. We run the Rings, up above. Have since my Daddy came here in th’War, God Rest His Soul. You didn’t know?” the unshaven wretched asked, toothlessly. “I guess every turd gotta float somewheres,” admitted Fox after consideration. “Forgive me if I don’t think you’re makin’ a social call.” “’Tain’t,” agreed Earl. “I always say you the best tracker in the Black, Fox, y’know that? An’ when I heard the Hammers were lookin’ for help, well, I figgered it was out o’ our range. Hate to leave the Rings during touristy season. So I was gorram shocked when I saw you come in-system. An’ I got to thinkin’ – y’know, if Foxy’s on the trail, they gotta be hot. He don’t mess with small stuff.” “That sign up ahead says you’re lost or close to a point,” Fox called impatiently. “I figgered you a great tracker. Figgered me an’ my boys could . . . help out, maybe, in return for a nominal renumeration.” “Fe hua. You were plannin’ on jumpin’ me an’ giggin’ me outa a capture,” accused Fox. “Well, if I could, no doubt. Up to me, I don’t mind to see you spill your life’s blood, long as there’s profit in it for myself an’ my family. What ever you got goin’, well, I wanna piece. Whole piece if I can, li’l piece if I can’t.” “You can’t,” assured Fox. “Now hold on, now, Foxy, never said I would. All the same t’ you, I’d druther get me a li’l piece o’ somethin’ than a whole lotta nothin’ – touristy season ain’t grand, this year, no sir. So instead o’ hangin’ around watching space turn black, thought we’d see what the fuss was about. Jus’ bein’ neighborly.” Fox had no illusion about Earl’s altruism; the man wouldn’t mind killing him, any more than he would stepping on that patch of lilies. But he was, he thought, intimidated by Fox and his crew. Earl didn’t fight in the war. He was a coward. He was only happy in a fight if his prey was in a helpless position – even with the extra numbers, he wasn’t necessarily in a superior position, here. He’d do as he was told, as long as he got paid, and wait for a chance at treachery. You could count on Earl that way. When he did, Fox wouldn’t hesitate to end him. He had no more love for Earl than likewise. “Tell you what,” Fox said, after consideration. “Couple more hands might be helpful, here. You and yours, you give us a hand, we’ll give you some consideration.” “How much consideration?” Pig in a poke time. Fox didn’t rightly know just how much the prey – whomever that might be – was worth. Consequently he didn’t know what he should sub even a small part of the job out for. Best to chose a round figure, low, that these yahoos might snort and walk away at. “Forty apiece,” he said. “Couple hours work. Pay for your fuel, ammo, and a little beer money. Any loot you pick up, I ain’t gonna say anything. But you do as I say, and at the first sign of treachery I put a nice li’l cauterized hole in you just north o’ your nose. Dong ma?” “You pay me fifty,” insisted Earl. “I’m the gorram leader. They get forty. Then we gotta deal.” “What’s ten credits between friends?” Fox asked, shrugging. “Deal. But don’t cross me, Earl, or I’ll hang your balls from my viewport as a trophy. How’s Kate?” “Oh, none too bad,” Earl admitted. Kate was his shrewish wife, pilot of his scow. “Leg’s botherin’ her a mite. She never fully recovered after she got shot in the knee last year.” “Sorry to hear that. Give her my best, will you?” “Sure ‘nuff. She’d like that. How’s this gonna work?” Fox didn’t alter the original plan much. He had Earl leave his brother to wait with Tonk, and the rest of them would work around the town and move in, burning as they went, to flush . . . whoever it was . . . out of hiding and towards the shuttle. He had each of the Womacks cut a club from the tree in the garden – these gals could be herded like cattle, didn’t need to shoot anyone – and they set off. This was going to be fun.

*

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Inara stared aghast at the plume of flame reaching into the night. There was no mistake: it was Brenda’s home burning. Someone had the foresight to ring the alarm bell and the volunteer fire department began assembling at the tiny hall where the equipment was stashed. “Did I leave the stove on?” Debra asked, clearly upset. “Goddess, I hope I . . .” “At least you weren’t home,” consoled Inara. “That was an explosion. It would have killed you. No warning. Maybe the gas . . .” “Maybe,” the older woman said, worriedly. “But I haven’t used the stove in two days!” “Maybe it was . . .” before she could come up with a plausible scenario, there was another explosion, this one a little further north of town. “Liao tien bu – that wasn’t your stove!” Inara said in a harsh, intense whisper. “That was . . . an attack?” “Attack? Who would attack this place?” “Reavers?” Inara whimpered. “We’re light years from Reaver territory,” Debra dismissed. “But some of the ring pirates make raids in remote places, sometimes. But they tend to hit places with more portable wealth. This is an artists colony.” They skirted the edges of the buildings to get a better view of the house. That’s when the gunfire began. Single shots, mostly, and only scattered, but it came from a few different directions. The other women in the street shouted in surprise, and a few ran back to their homes to fetch firearms of their own. Very few, Inara noticed – not many weapons in New Lesbos. It was an artists colony. She suddenly felt naked. Inara had a pistol herself, but it was safely locked in her shuttle, and heading there unarmed seemed like a poor idea at the moment. But something in her memory nagged at her until she remembered. “Debra, remember that little art gallery we passed on the way to the café?” “Hypatia’s Garden? Yes, they sell teas and herbs, too. It’s where I get my Rooboos.” “Exactly. Hypatia was the Amazon queen. Take me there.” Debra did so, even as she doubted the wisdom of it. “You really think now is the time for a soothing eucalyptus scrub?” she asked, as the third explosion sounded, a little more to the west. They were there in minutes. The lights were on but the front door was open, as the proprietor was on the fire squad. Inara went straight behind the counter and mounted a chair, reaching up to the decorative display above the register. There she took down a bow and a quiver of arrows, all done in a faux Greek style. There was a hoplite helmet there too, but she was looking for something offensive. “You plan to shoot at them with that?” Debra asked doubtfully. “Companions spend years practicing archery,” inara explained as she strapped the quiver around her waist. “It’s a valuable meditation tool. Teaches proper timing and patience, among other things.” “The whole ‘amazon’ motif here is just a merchandising gimmick, you understand,” Debra warned. “There’s no guarantee that the bow is even real.” Inara strung it in one fluid motion, nocked an arrow after sighting it for straightness, and gave an experimental draw. “It’s cheap, little more than a toy. But a dangerous toy,” she said grimly. “My mother said those things could put an eye out,” Debra said lightly, apparently in shock. “What do you plan on doing?” “Getting back to my shuttle. Calling for help.” “Bao bei, the nearest sheriff station is over on the mainland, at least eight miles away. There’s one old cop. He sleeps a lot. This . . . I think you’re going to need to call in to Acropolis. Get some real Feds out here.” “Take too long. I think I can get my . . . some friends here faster. But they’re locked down, off the network right now. I’ll have to reach them by radio.” “Inara, this really isn’t your type of thing,” Debra said weakly. “Nonsense! I’ve been on the Rim for a year, now. Do this sort of thing all the time.” “What should I do?” “I’d advise that you find someplace to hide. But you may come with me if you must.” “I feel safer with you,” she admitted. Inara smiled. “I get that a lot. Come on.” Hugging the sides of buildings and slinking through the shadows they took a circuitous route back to the burning cottage and shuttle. Or shuttles, actually, because there were now two more not far from the remains of Debra’s home. More explosions occurred on the other side of town, and they could hear screams of surprise and dismay as they moved. When they got within fifty feet of the ship Inara noticed the first man – a tall, lanky mercenary with a floppy hat and a shotgun. He was clearly wearing armor under his coat. She studied him for a while, cautioning Debra to be silent, until she caught him looking consistently over to where a second man was hiding. It took Inara several minutes to maneuver around so that she had a clear shot at both. When she did, she took three arrows out and stuck them loosely point-down into the dirt. Debra watched in horrid fascination as Inara stood, drew the bow, and rapidly sent all four arrows at the men. The first man, the one with the hat, grew two feathered quills from his neck in quick order. The second man’s armor caught the first arrow sent his way. It did cause him to turn to face her, though – and she put the last arrow through his left eyesocket. He went down screaming. No one else came to his aid. “Looks like momma was right,” admitted Debra, her face ashen. “Come on!” Inara urged, slinging the bow and pulling the older woman to her feet. She stopped briefly by the man who was quickly bleeding to death out of his neck – one of the arrows had neatly punctured his carotid artery – and pulled a revolver from his belt and checked the load. She briefly considered the shotgun, a rusty 12 gauge pistol-grip, but decided against it. Shotguns kicked fiercely and she simply didn’t have the mass to resist a powerful recoil. Silently she tagged her shuttle door open, checked inside, and immediately started preflight. “Aren’t you going to call?” Debra asked, a note of panic in her voice. “Inara – you just killed two men,” she said suddenly, the enormity of the idea hitting her. “With a bow and arrow,” she added. “I’d rather call from the air where it’s safe,” Inara insisted – just as her pre-flight sequence dumped. A briskly flashing light told her that there was a problem with the fuel intake. She let out a long stream of profanity in English, French, Chinese, and Arabic that caused Debra to blush with its explicit nature. “Looks like I am calling, now,” she admitted, reaching for the mike.

*

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“Mal! Mal, come in!” the little radio on her belt buzzed. Zoe groaned into Wash’s ear – it was her turn to carry the thing. “Just let it go, honey,” Wash urged. “She’ll be fine! Watch, she will have broken a nail, or need a specific kind of incense or something like that,” he assured. They had been in the hot and throbbing throes of foreplay, huddled on one of the soft couches that surrounded the pool under a cloak and under the spectacular skyscape. Wash really didn’t want to leave. He was just getting to the good part. “Mal! Come in! I’m under attack! At least . . . at least a half-dozen, armed, and burning everything in sight! People are dying, Mal!” Inara begged. “It was just a theory!” Wash said defensively as Zoe gave him a Look and grabbed the radio. “This is Zoe, Ambassador: what’s your location?” “Zoe! Thank God! A town on an island in that sea we crossed over – just follow the shuttle’s beacon. Whoever it was sabotaged the shuttle. I think it’s bounty hunters or pirates or bandits. They have their own shuttles. But they are burning everything!” “When you disconnect, get away from the shuttle,” Zoe advised. “They are probably watching it.” “They were,” agreed Inara calmly. “I used some feminine wiles on them. But there are more. I’ll ditch the shuttle – not a problem – but you should bring Kaylee to put it right.” “I’ll bring everyone I can. Is there any prominent feature where we can find you?” “There’s a temple in the center of town. They seem to be avoiding it – or at least they were – and concentrating on the residences. Like they’re looking for someone.” “They might be. Go to ground, hole up, and we’ll come for you!” “Bless you, Zoe!” The signal ceased. “Get the shuttle warmed up,” Zoe ordered Wash. “It would take too long to prep Serenity. I’ll get the Captain and the others ready. I want to lift in six minutes. Go!” He leaned up and kissed her on the nose. “God, I love it when you get all commandy!” he said, sliding off the couch. To his credit he was running by the time he got to the edge of the pool. “Captain!” she yelled out across the garden. People were still lying in huddles where they had crashed after the prodigious feast. She had to hand it to Mr. Universe: despite his many, many other faults, the man knew how to hire a caterer. “What’s wrong?” Johnny asked, disentangling himself from a young hostess who seemed glued to him. “One of our lambs has strayed,” explained Zoe. “Inara’s in trouble. Wanna help?” “Sex or violence, sex or violence . . . let’s go with violence this time, come back for sex later!” he said, rising. “You’ll wait?” he asked the girl, who nodded, her eyes wide. “Shiny. Find Jayne, Doc, and Kaylee, get ‘em to Serenity. We’re taking the other shuttle. And get your new toys.” Before she could turn away, Mal appeared, looking a little bizarre in his toga. “What’s the situation?” he asked briskly. “Inara’s in trouble. Some bandit gang is beating the bushes for her, I think. If ‘bandit’ is the appropriate word.” “Bounty hunters?” “That’s my thinkin’,” agreed Zoe. “So this is a trap?” “Looks like. We gonna spring it?” “Of course!” Mal said instantly, straightening the toga and pulling the laurel wreath off his head. He had been hesitant about it, considering the last time he had worn a wreath like that he’d gotten married. He was already starting towards the landing field. “Let me just grab my coat and a few party favors . . .”

*

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Inara had retrieved her shiny little ladies pistol and its ammo, stuck an equally ornate (but deadly nonetheless) dagger in her belt, and led Debra back towards town where now no less than a dozen buildings lit the night sky. On the way they passed the body of one of Debra’s neighbors, a hole blown through her head and a gardening implement in her hand. They had to wait a while for Debra to finish throwing up before they could continue. Inara was feeling a little queasy herself. What she did to those men . . . she had threatened to use violence before, but to actually take a life, even in defense, that would be the cause of considerable soul-searching, she knew. But later. Right now there were people in trouble. She had done what she could to call for help. Now she had to help directly. She handed her lady-like gun to Debra and kept the revolver for herself, and they skulked back towards the chaotic center of town. She was content to keep both of them hidden in a storehouse behind a restaurant for twenty minutes while they listened to screams and gunshots ringing out. It was a horrific experience, one that would have left her half-paralyzed if she had been alone. As it was she focused her attention on keeping Debra from panicking, grateful for the distraction. She figured it would take at least half-an-hour for Wash to get here from where they were. When the anticipated time approached she stole out of their sanctuary and moved quietly into town, proper. There were three armed men standing in the center of town, in front of the temple. About a score of women had been herded into a group there, and a few bodies lying here and there in the light of the flaming structures. A quick look around revealed another man on the roof of the two-story town hall building with a rifle, and doubtless there were others. She was about to bolt when the radio came to life. “Inara!” she heard the welcome sound of Wash’s voice. “Inara, come in!” “Right here,” she said quietly. “I’m at the edge of town. There’s at least four, probably more. Sniper on the roof of the tall building. One of them has . . . it looks like a big laser. He’s still torching buildings with it. Be careful!” “Hang tight, we’re about five minutes out and coming in fast!” “I won’t move from this—” her heart sank when she heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being pumped. “—spot.” “Y’all just turn around right slow,” the man’s voice said, full of hate and contempt. “I’ll take those,” he finished, plucking their guns from them and throwing her radio into the bushes. As an afterthought he drew a switchblade and cut the bowstring that was still around Inara’s shoulder. The bow fell away with a clatter. “Now get to steppin’! With the others, girls. We gonna have us a cozy li’l shindig, here tonight!” Groaning to herself she complied. Debra did likewise, stumbling a little as the man pushed her with the butt of his gun. As they came into the light cast by the burning buildings he stopped them again. “My, my, my,” he said in awe. “Lookee here! Ain’t you the prettiest li’l whore that ever spread!” he said with a leer. Inara considered knocking his hand away when he caressed her cheek, but decided that drawing his wrath might not be the best move – not when she knew help was but minutes away. “Granny ain’t so bad, neither! Might could get a piece o’ that, after Pa’s had his fill. He likes a little now and again when Ma’s feelin’ poorly.” “What do you want?” asked Inara in a low voice. “Don’t rightly know. I ain’t the one in charge,” the boy said conversationally. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. “Word is, Mr. Fox is lookin’ for someone. Someone connected with a . . . a Firefly?” Inara’s heart sank even further. All of this death and destruction and suffering was to find . . . her. “What’s a firefly?” she asked instantly. “A bug? Hell, I don’t know. Just do as I’m told.” He pushed them into the crowd of the other women, and they watched as the big man with the laser – was that Mr. Fox? – paced slowly across the steps of the temple. “More guests!” he said with a leer. “And purty ones, too! Come on, ladies, plenty o’ room. I’m lookin’ for the one who came in that shuttle, yonder. From that Firefly. I wanna word with the Captain of it. I don’t mind killin’ an’ rapin’ my way through the lot o’ you, understand, so impedin’ my investigation might not be in y’all’s best interests. Nor would gettin’ all heroic – heroinic? – whatever, don’t try nothin’. We done killed half-a-dozen o’ you uppity ones already. Tell you what: since I’m pressed for time, we’re gonna expedite matters a mite. Get ‘em inside!” he yelled, and his cronies pushed them forward up the steps to the temple. As soon as they were inside, he pulled one younger woman out and pushed her at the boy who had captured her. “I’m fair certain this one don’t know squat about what I’m after,” he decided. “So she’s gonna get a workout in front of y’all so you’ll have a proper incentive to be forthcoming.” “No!” screamed several of the women, many who were clinging to each other for comfort. “She hasn’t done anything! She’s innocent!” one of the older women begged. “Innocent? Ain’t seen a teen girl yet who was properly ‘innocent’,” observed Fox. “But this young ‘un here, he ain’t rightly had a proper virgin afore. So we’re gonna give him a li’l treat while we wait for you ladies to ‘fess up. And, as a special way of sayin’ how impatient I’m like to be,” he said, raising the laser into the air, “we’re gonna put a time limit on your willin’ cooperation.” With that he activated the laser, which scored the white marble with its blast and set the wooden superstructure of the temple on fire. He swept it back and forth a few times until the roof of the temple began to blaze. “Now, go ahead with the entertainment, Master Womack,” he said with exaggerated politeness. The boy leered evilly, and pulled the poor girls shirt apart, sending buttons everywhere. Debra shouted and emphatic ‘No!’ and sprang forward. One of the other men saw her and put a pistol round into her shoulder, which caused the group to scream and blood to pool on the marble floor. Inara screamed and knelt, immediately ripping off a section of her skirt and applying direct pressure to the wound. “It’s going to be fine, bao bei,” she soothed. “Help is on the way, I promise!” “When I said I could die happy today,” the older woman said through clenched teeth, “I hope you understand I was using hyperbole.” “Yes, I figured as much,” Inara said, trying to laugh at the joke. “Just stay quiet. Things should start to get –” Suddenly the whine of shuttle turbines was heard, and a swift shape swooped over the town hall. The shuttle was flying low, wings extended, and in its haste it cut the sniper in half with the starboard wing. All the men whirled around, guns cocked. The shuttle made a long lazy spiral around town and each of the men tried to bring it down with small arms. Even Fox employed his laser at them. But nothing hit. “Gorram it! Who the hell is that?” he shrieked. Before he could train his gun anywhere else it exploded with what Inara guessed was a round from Jayne’s biggest gun, Vera. Unlike firearms, laser weapons were extremely vulnerable. The next few minutes were chaotic. Gun muzzles flared from various points around the Temple, but the location of the new attackers was concealed from easy view. The bandits were firing blindly. Not so the Serenity crew. Jayne began picking at the bad guys with pinpoint accuracy. One of the men on the perimeter screamed and went down with a fist-sized hole in his chest – and Zoe stepped up behind him just as Mal waded in, a shotgun in one hand, his pistol in the other, and began to shoot from an oblique angle that decreased the likelihood of accidentally shooting the hostages. Johnny came in from yet another angle, his new rifle spitting automatic fire, and soon the only one that was left alive was the boy on the steps who had been preparing to rape the girl. He had her pressed in front of him like a shield against the newcomers. Mal continued walking towards him – was he wearing a toga? – reloading his pistol calmly. “Just put it down, son,” he said commandingly. “Seen enough bloodshed here tonight.” “Shut up! You killed my Pa! Ni jen tai hei le! You asswipes!” he screamed, tears rolling down his cheeks. “What was all this to you? Cao ni zou zong shi ba dai! We weren’t doin’ nothin’! You come one step closer an’ I swear to you I’ll part this pretty’s hair with this weapon!” “Ain’t me you oughta be concerned with, son,” Mal said gently. “Look behind you.” “I ain’t a-fallin’ for that one! Ni juede wo hen ben ma? My Pa raised me smarter’n that!” he said. He should have looked. The women assembled in the temple – artisans and artists and shopkeepers all – had pressed forward out of the burning temple and had come up behind him in a mob. There was a low, wordless growl that accompanied them. By the time he realized they were there, it was too late. One of the women leapt on his gun hand, tearing it away from the frightened girl’s head and bit viciously into his knuckles until he dropped it. Another spirited away his hostage. The others descended upon him like a storm of avenging furies, and literally tore him to shreds on the spot with their bare hands while tendrils of smoke curled around them. As the women of the town were taking their revenge, Inara called out. “Mal! Get Simon! We got wounded in here!” she yelled. “Won’t be long now, bao bei, Simon’s the best trauma surgeon on the Rim. Does this kind of thing all the time. Don’t worry!” “I’m not,” Debra croaked. Her eyes were dancing in the light of flames. Mal holstered his pistol – yes, that was a toga! – and had taken the steps two at a time until he reached the top. Inara went to him, embraced him gratefully, and despite herself grabbed his head and thoroughly kissed him. His lips were warm and firm and tasted of wine. Realizing what she had done, she pulled back . . . some. “Sorry, got carried away by the moment,” she explained weakly. “ ‘My hero’.” “Happens to everyone sometimes,” he assured. “I ain’t gonna tell no one.” He looked sheepish. “Might need to straighten out my toga some, though. Simon’s on his way. This your friend?” “Yes. Thank you for coming.” “Not a problem. You got my shuttle,” he demurred. “Need the rent money.” Despite his gruff words he did not pull away, and for three glorious minutes they held each other while the temple burned around them. They moved away only when Jayne escorted Simon up the stairs. Both men were also wearing togas. “Where the hell were you?” Inara asked, wrinkling her brow at the sight of Jayne in a sheet. Simon saw Debra and took out his bag to immediately start treating her. Jayne looked out at the knot of women who were still lingering on the steps. He grinned. “Well, ladies, if any one o’ y’all feel grateful enough to express yourself sexually, I’m right here . . . and easily accessible!” he said, lifting the hem of his toga to demonstrate. “I done it about an hour ago, but hell, all this excitement done rejuvenated me – so come an’ get it! More the merrier!” Blank stares met him. His grin faded. “Anyone?” he asked, confused. “Big hunk o’ heroic manflesh here. Any takers?” Inara burst out in hysterical laughter, and didn’t really quit giggling until she fell asleep that night back aboard Serenity.