Firefly - Carnival, page 14
part #6 of Firefly Series
“I had no reason not to trust you,” Inara said.
“No?”
“Absolutely none. If I’m going to be kidnapped, I’d like to know why.”
“Kidnapped?” Katarina gave a short, rather bitter laugh. “This isn’t a kidnapping.”
“No?” Inara swallowed down her fear. “I’m being taken somewhere under false pretenses, and—in case this wasn’t clear— entirely against my will. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that more or less the definition of kidnapping?”
“This isn’t a kidnapping. If this was a kidnapping, there’d be violence. Needles. You’d know for sure that you weren’t safe.”
Inara fell silent, considering her options. She was not, she thought, in immediate danger. Katarina seemed on edge, but Inara suspected this arose more from being beyond her comfort zone than anything else. This woman did not lead the kind of life that Mal and the others did. She was far more like Simon—like Inara herself had been, until recently—navigating her way around a new world and not entirely sure of the part she had to play. But why had Katarina decided that she, Inara, was a threat? Why did she want her out of the way?
“Is this to do with Simon?” Inara said, at last. She would have to word this carefully, she thought, if she was not to give the Tams away.
“With Simon?” Katarina gave her a puzzled look.
“The reason you’re… I hesitate to say ‘kidnapping’ again, since you’re so averse to the term, but it’s hard to think of another. Could we not simply talk—?”
“Do you really think I fell for his story about burnout?” said Katarina. “Simon excels at many things, but he’s a terrible liar. And he loves being a doctor.” She frowned. “He did look tired though.”
Inara, still and quiet, watched carefully. Any answer might give away information which Katarina did not have, and Inara was not going to make so simple a mistake. If Katarina knew that Simon was a wanted man, why had she not immediately called the authorities to arrest him? No, Inara was sure that this wasn’t about Simon. This was about something else. But what? Carefully, she observed the other woman: the tightness around the lips; the twisting of the bracelet. Body language fairly straightforward to read. She didn’t seem agitated, not yet, which meant that she was unlikely to do anything foolish or irreversible, but she was certainly angry, and certainly anxious.
“I know why they sent you, Inara,” Katarina said.
And what was that supposed to mean? “Nobody sent us. Nobody. I brought Simon to St. Freda’s because he needed to earn some money, and quickly. The story that he told you was… not entirely accurate, but that part at least was true.”
“I’m not talking about Simon!” Katarina shot back. “I don’t know what Simon’s up to, and I don’t particularly care. What I care about is what you’re up to.” Now she was getting agitated. “How do you sleep? Knowing what’s going on? Is it all about protecting the Guild’s reputation? Is that it? Is that really what it’s about? I just don’t understand!”
Inara adopted her most soothing tone. “You’re distressed. I seem to be contributing in some way and I’m sorry. But you’re mistaken about me. I came to St. Freda’s for no reason other than the one I gave you—to introduce Simon, to help him secure work. If there’s something else happening, I don’t know what that is. But if you could trust me, just a little, perhaps I can help—”
“You know, you’re not helping yourself,” said Katarina. “You might be better just keeping quiet.”
Inara tried another tactic. “You do know, don’t you, that harming or threatening to harm a registered companion is taken seriously? You’ll certainly lose your post at the hospital and quite possibly your license to practice medicine—”
“Yes, I know how the Guild works. I know how you stick together—”
“But this will only happen if you keep on this current course. We can turn the car back round now, go back to Neapolis, and forget this happened.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? I told you that I know why you’re here! You’ll cover this up like you cover everything else up. It makes me sick.”
“Dr. Neilsen,” Inara said, a little more urgently now, “I arrived on Bethel yesterday. I have never visited this world before, and I have very little knowledge of the politics of the place. I have clearly walked into some local trouble, but I promise you that I have no idea what that is. I have no idea what’s going on—”
“Local trouble!” Katarina shook her head. “That’s one way of brushing it under the carpet, I suppose.” She pushed out a breath. “How do you people sleep at night?”
They were well beyond the city limits now, well into the countryside, a sunburned yellow land of rocky scrub. Inara had by now lost all sense of direction. A small tendril of fear curled within her. She did not think she was in any immediate danger, but she nevertheless, for reasons as yet completely unclear, she had somehow allowed herself to be taken hostage. She thought about what Mal would say. She would never live this down. She reached for her purse—but Katarina was there first, opening the bag, and taking out the small device by which Inara could access the Cortex.
“Locater, hey?” said Katarina, as she altered the settings. “Were you anticipating trouble this evening?”
“It’s a precaution I always take,” said Inara, truthfully. Most clients didn’t dare run the risk of falling foul of Guild law, but one could never be too sure.
Katarina slipped the device into her pocket. “You’ll get this back later.” After about half-an-hour, the car began to reduce speed. The light was diminishing rapidly. Ahead, a line of pine trees stood out in the open fields, seeming to form the boundary of a property. They turned at these, coming onto a narrow road that ran alongside them and ended in a high wall with gates.
Katarina ran her fingers quickly across the control panel. “It’s me,” she said. “Let me through.” She glanced at Inara. “I have our guest with me.”
Slowly, the gates swung open. The car slipped quietly into the confines of the property. Ahead, in the purpling light, Inara saw the dark bulk of a square-fronted adobe house. Big windows with lights behind drawn curtains. A wooden verandah stood along the whole front with a lamp at one end set between a couple of rocking seats. On the left of the building, outside steps ran up to the upper story; on the right was a little porch which led to the entrance.
The car descended, and stopped, a little to one side of the front door.
“Get out,” said Katarina. “And don’t bother trying to call for help or run. We’re isolated here, and you’re not going to get far in those shoes.”
This was true, although Inara was considerably more adept at self-defense than perhaps Katarina realized. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “I want to understand what’s happening here—”
Katarina looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m starting to think you really don’t know—”
“I don’t,” said Inara. “I really don’t—”
“You’ll find out everything you need to know once you’re inside.”
The door to the house opened. Inara glanced around. Once she was inside, escape would become considerably more difficult. She looked back at the car. “You won’t get away that way,” said Katarina. “Just go inside. They’re expecting us. Please don’t try anything. There are children present.”
“Children?”
“Well, that shouldn’t be a surprise—”
“I’ll say again,” Inara replied. “I don’t know what’s happening. I mean you no harm, and perhaps, if you trusted me, I might be able to help.”
“Get inside.”
Inara stepped over the threshold and into the house. The hallway was plain, unadorned; while walls and wooden beams, but the place was clean and well lit. She could hardly describe it as welcoming, however, given the woman standing directly in front of her, holding a pistol. She looked coldly at Inara.
“This is going to complicate things, Kay,” she said. “Did you have to bring her here?”
“We can keep her here until we’ve moved everyone,” said Katarina. “When we’re gone, we’ll contact the Guild House. They can come and pick her up.”
Inara tried one last time. “Please listen,” she said. “I’ve had no contact with the local Guild House since I arrived on Bethel. If you think there’s a problem there, it’s possible that I can help—”
“She’s been denying she knows anything all the way over,” said Katarina.
“Well, she would, wouldn’t she?” said the other woman.
“Katarina told me she was investigating the Guild for corruption,” said Inara. “That isn’t acceptable. That isn’t how the Guild should work—”
“We know how the Guild works,” said Katarina.
“I have contacts back on Sihnon,” said Inara. “I can ask for a full investigation—”
“Ask for a cover-up, more like,” said the other woman. The conversation was interrupted by a door opening at the far end of the hall. A girl, no more than thirteen or fourteen, poked her head round. “Anna,” she said, “Izzy’s askin’ for you—”
“Quiet, sweetheart!” said the other woman, very quickly. “Tell her I’ll be there in just a minute!”
Inara sighed and lowered her head. She was fairly sure, now, that she understood what was happening. “Katarina,” she said, opening her hands. “I am not involved in this. I can help, if you let me—”
“You really think we’re going to let anyone from the Guild help?” said Katarina. “They’re all in it. All of them. The Guild, half of the sheriff’s office, just about anyone who’s anyone on Bethel.” She glanced at the other woman. “With some notable exceptions.”
“And we’re not having it,” said the other woman. What had the girl called her? Anna. “Not any more. Nobody’s going to lay a finger on any of these girls, any more. I’m making sure of that.” She gestured to Inara to move in front of her. “Come on,” she said. “Come through into the kitchen. I think someone from the Guild should come face-to-face with some of the consequences of their actions.”
* * *
Simon quickly settled into place at St. Freda’s. One of the other doctors, a very tired young man in his thirties named Mayhew, took one look at him and said, “Merciful Buddha, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve hardly had a break this week and tonight’s going to be appalling.” And that was that. Straight to work, as if he’d never been away, and Simon was quietly loving every second of being back where he was supposed to be.
The evening was unfolding more or less as predicted. A trickle of arrivals soon became a steady stream: drunks who had fallen over; gamblers who had gotten into fist fights; all straightforward enough. But a couple of hours into the shift, they got warning that a gunshot wound was heading their way. Priority patient too, no expense spared. Someone very important was covering the bill.
“I… wasn’t expecting many shootouts tonight,” said Simon.
“There’s always a few,” said Mayhew. “They can get the damn things out of the casinos but there’s no way of getting them off the streets.”
The ambulance arrived and suddenly, everything was much more like being on board Serenity. Mayhew moved forward and Simon let him take this one. He saw enough gunshot wounds these days. After a couple of minutes, though, he couldn’t resist taking a look. Peering over Mayhew’s shoulder at the patient, he saw a big man, broad, with bushy black beard, sweating and trembling. Breathing quick and shallow. Anxious? Didn’t like doctors? So many people didn’t… No, Simon knew, it was something more.
“You need to get a mask on this man,” said Simon to Mayhew.
“What?”
“Do it now.”
Fortunately for the patient, Mayhew wasn’t the kind of competitive prick from one of the hospitals back on Osiris, and he did what Simon said straight away. Which was a good job, since it turned that the leg wound, while messy and painful, wasn’t the real problem. The small puncture to the lung was.
“How?” muttered Mayhew. “How did he manage that?”
“Probably fell the wrong way when he went down,” said Simon. “Does it matter?”
“I guess not…” Mayhew shook his head. “How did I miss this…”
Because you’re tired, thought Simon, who knew how that felt, but there was something else too. Quickly, the man was moved out of emergency and was prepped for surgery. As Simon got ready, the thought occurred to him that the way he’d practiced medicine had changed. The past few months—seeing gunfights, participating in gunfights, patching up gunfights—he was different as a result. The way he went about his trade was different, as a result. Fights played out differently from how he’d imagined them. There was always something unexpected requiring your immediate and undivided attention.
Simon looked over at his patient. The mask, hiding away his beard, brought the upper half of his face more clearly into focus and, suddenly, Simon realized how young this man was. Nineteen, maybe, and very scared.
Simon put his hand upon the boy’s forehead. “You’re going to be fine,” he said. “Really. You’re in great hands.”
* * *
It was all very well to decide to dress up and go off to a casino, but there was, still, as Wash had pointed out, the small matter of the initial stake. The three of them rummaged round and brought out whatever cash they had to hand. When Jayne laid his portion down on the pile, River ran her hands over the notes and coins.
“Blood money,” she said.
“No, it ain’t,” said Jayne. “What would make you say a ruttin’ thing like that?”
River gave him one of those clear-eyed looks that made you think she saw more than you realized and probably saw more than anyone else around her could see. Wash shivered a little, turned away, and started counting.
“There is no money,” said River, “without blood. Without pain. Without lies.”
“I ain’t listening to that kinda crap any longer,” Jayne said. “How much we got?”
Wash said, “A little over one platinum.”
“’Spose it’s a start,” said Jayne. He eyed Wash. “That the best you can do?”
“What? What’s wrong? I wore this suit for this for my wedding—”
“And Zoë still married you?” Jayne sneered.
Wash looked down at his suit. All right, so it was creased, but it was a nice suit. All right, it wasn’t a nice suit, but it was a decent suit. All right, it wasn’t a decent suit, but it was a suit. Well, it was trousers and a jacket in more or less the same color. The shirt, admittedly, wasn’t so successful as the suit, and not particularly clean, but then he hadn’t expected to be going out tonight. “I’m not going to an interview,” he said, although he had over the years worn both suit and shirt for many unsuccessful interviews. “I’m going to make some money to save my wife’s life.”
“Just sayin’ you can do it in style,” said Jayne, tugging his shiny lapels. “Dǒng ma?”
Wash picked up the cash. River opened her little clasp bag, and he shoved the money inside. On balance, he thought, it was probably best simply to ignore the fact that he was now living in a ’verse in which Jayne was giving him fashion advice. Yes, much better to ignore that and instead concentrate on the fact that he was heading off into town in what was sure to be a wholly misguided attempt to win a fortune gambling at a casino with a gun-crazy ape-man and a troubled kid.
But the thing was, he thought, sitting in the car next to River as they left the docks behind, the kid didn’t look troubled right now. She looked about as happy as he had ever seen her. All smiles and quivering delight. That alone made this whole crazy excursion worthwhile. No doubt they’d lose the whole stake straight off the mark, but at least there had been a couple of hours in River’s day where she felt like a thousand platinum.
After a short drive, the car turned a corner and came out onto a wide boulevard. “Wā,” said Wash, looking down the length of the road. Lights, everywhere, shining, glittering, flashing; whole buildings, drenched in color, and big signs promising people big bucks. Promising them that the whole ’verse was right within their grasp. All they had to do was come inside and play a little. Just a little.
“Plat’num Mile,” said Jayne. “Huh. Ain’t this a sight for sore eyes?”
Suddenly, River gave a shriek and pointed out of the window. Looking out, Wash saw the front of a huge casino, lit up glitzily in yellow and white and gold. The name of the venue was spread out across the front: The Golden Balloon. There was a huge flashing display next to the name. A golden balloon, with a figure inside, throwing out coins for all and sundry. Come inside, the display seemed to be saying. Come inside and play a little!
“The ball!” cried River, clapping her hands together. “We’re going to the ball!”
“Oh…” said Wash, as enlightenment dawned. That was the thing with River. You thought she was coming out with nonsense, but it always paid off in the end. Other folks on Serenity— they just came out with nonsense. Wash not only included himself in this, he put himself top of the list.
“Here,” said River. “Right here. This is the place!”
The car pulled over. The three of them got out. River ran up the steps to the doorway, Wash and Jayne chasing to catch up with her. At the door, they were stopped, and checked for weapons, and, once they were allowed through, they swapped their platinum in cash for a single plastic slip. River seemed to know exactly where she was going. She moved with speed and agility past the smaller tables, the kind where amateur games of poker were played, and small wheels were spun, and the occasional good win was made, but nothing big. She came at last to a halt before the biggest wheel in the house, spinning round and round, the brass ball landing seemingly at random on red suns and black dragons. Wash came up beside her, Jayne right behind.
“What’s she doin’?” said Jayne, trying to get a good look over Wash’s shoulder.
“I think… she’s watching the wheel go round,” said Wash.
“Freaky moon-brained kid,” muttered Jayne. “She’s gonna get us thrown out. They ain’t gonna like her standin’ and starin’ like that. They’ll think somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on.”
