Firefly - Carnival, page 20
part #6 of Firefly Series
“Ren ci de fo zu, qing bao you wo men,” whispered Anna. “The girls… There were a dozen girls there!”
“Oh, now, that ain’t right,” said Jayne. “Didn’t you say some of ’em were kids, Mal? That ain’t right.”
“May the Good Lord protect them,” murmured Book.
“Hoping we can do considerably better than that, preacher,” said Mal. “Being here in the flesh and all, and not in the spirit.”
“The spirit guides each one of us,” said Book.
“A powerful desire for vengeance is guidin’ me at this moment, Shepherd, but this ain’t the time for that argument,” said Mal. “Zoë, you ready?”
“Always, sir.”
Mal dropped the car, very suddenly, almost to the ground. Zoë kicked her door open. Anna said, “What the hell are you doing?” but her voice was drowned out when Zoë started shooting. When shots were returned, Mal banked the flyer up again.
“Get a good look, Zoë?”
“I’d say about half-a-dozen of ’em, sir.”
“I like them odds,” said Jayne.
“I’d strap in if I were you,” said Book, to Anna. “Things are going to get a mite bumpy for a while.”
As befitted a man of the cloth, he was telling the truth. Mal took the flyer round overhead three more times. On each occasion, Zoë and Jayne strafed the ground below, and shots were sent back up. By the third time, however, these were more in the way of a token protest. “Think we got ’em on the run, sir,” said Zoë.
“For a while at least,” said Mal. “But they’ll be back.”
“We should take a closer look at the house,” said Book. “See if there are any…” He sighed. “See if anyone got out.”
Mal, in agreement with the Shepherd on this score at least, brought the flyer down as near to the house as he dared. The fire was now raging through the building. The air was thick and the stench was terrible. Sons of bitches, thought Mal, if a single one of those girls is still in there, I’ll hunt you down, Jacob Roberts, and I’ll see you burn…
“Sir.”
“Yes, Zoë.”
“I’d like take a look round. Maybe some of ’em got out in time.”
“Take a look,” he said, “but I ain’t hopeful.”
“I’ll come with you, Zoë,” said Book. “Got to keep hopin’ against hope, Mal.”
Anna, who knew the grounds, went with them. Mal turned back to the house, where the roof looked like it was on the verge of collapsing. Sad truth was that he couldn’t see anyone making it through this conflagration. First few minutes were what counted, getting folks out as quick as you could. He doubted those fellas would’ve let anyone get out. Shot them if they tried. Left them to the flames and the smoke if they didn’t… Kids, thought Mal. Kaylee weren’t much older than some of them. River the same age…
“Mal,” said Jayne. “We got incoming.”
“Those boys want more?” said Mal. “’Cause I got a barrel-load to give ’em—”
“Summat else,” said Jayne, pointing up. Mal saw lights in the sky—the bright beams of headlamps and the flashing beacons of about half-a-dozen official vehicles. They were moving at speed and, as they drew closer, sirens began to wail.
“Huh,” said Mal. “Seems like Sheriff Zhao has decided to show. Question is—which side he is on?”
* * *
Anna Liu led Zoë and Book toward the left-hand side of the house. “Where you takin’ us?” said Zoë, still a mite suspicious of the other woman.
“There’s steps round the back of the house from the upper story into the garden,” said Anna. “If Katarina knew the house was under attack, she’d have taken the girls that way.”
“Seems to make sense,” said Book. “Shall we go?”
Zoë nodded, although with some misgivings. Truth was, she knew little about Anna. Didn’t know whether she could hold her own in a fight, couldn’t tell whether she was amateur or professional. Sure, she’d got the better of Mal at the docks, but that weren’t always a good guide, and she’d planned for that. None of this, tonight, was planned.
They got as far away from the house as they could and made their way round the side of the property. The fire crackled behind, casting a grim light over them. They went down a wide, tiled passage filled with green shrubs and other dry weather plants, coming at the far end to a long wall. Three steps led down to an iron gate, which stood open. “Hopeful sign,” said Book.
“Either that, or someone’s ahead of us,” said Zoë, and clutched her pistol more firmly. Through the gate was a big garden of the kind found in these hot climes, mostly flagstones with beds set in them, homes to succulents and other hardy plants. In the center of the space was a big palm, hung with yellow lights. Everything was still and quiet.
“So what is there this way?” said Zoë. “Any place to hide?”
“There’s another gate in the far corner,” said Anna. “Beyond that, there’s a little swimming pool—”
“Nice place you’ve got here,” said Zoë.
“I’d like to think I’ve made good use of my fortune,” said Anna. “Near the pool there’s some changing rooms. Kay might have taken them there for cover.”
“Seems as good a place to try as any,” said Book. “Zoë?”
Zoë nodded her assent and gestured to Anna to lead the way. As they drew near the far side of the garden, a new sound began to fill the air.
“Sirens,” murmured Book. “Reckon that might be back-up?”
“Ain’t relyin’ on that bein’ so,” Zoë said.
“Might be wise,” he murmured, “given the sheriff.”
They passed silently through the gate to the pool area. Lights fixed into the walls and on the ground gave some illumination, of an uneasy kind, with many shadows. At the far side, the dark blocks of the changing rooms huddled together. Behind them, back toward the house, the sirens were getting louder. Kind of noise might make a man jumpy. “Stay here, will you, Shepherd?” murmured Zoë. “Keep an eye out for anyone unwelcome.”
Book nodded and took up position near the gate, one eye on the way they had just come. Zoë and Anna went round the pool, passing a couple of low lounge chairs and then round to the dark huts. Zoë tried the door to the first; it was locked. “Sauna,” muttered Anna. “Haven’t used it for a while.”
“Shame,” said Zoë. They moved on. The room behind the second door was empty. Between this hut and the next was a garden area, about six feet long, filled with clumps of potted cacti, some low on the ground, some loomin’ up with their long arms from the shadows. Suddenly, from the far side of the pool, Book yelled out, “Zoë! Behind you!”
Zoë swung round. Saw the dark figure of a man, pistol raised, heading toward them. Now where’d he come from? Side of the huts, maybe? “Stay still,” she ordered. “Lawmen’re here. Ain’t no use tryin’ anythin’—”
The man laughed. “Lawmen’re on our side,” he said. “You ain’t worked that out yet?”
“Maybe,” said Zoë. “Maybe not.” She started moving backward, very slowly, thinkin’ that one of the doors to the huts might come in useful as cover. Let her fire a few shots off. The man kept headin’ toward her. “You’re the one needs to stand still, lady,” he told her. From the corner of her eye, Zoë saw Book, soft-footed and hidden by shadows, start to make his move round the edge of the pool. This would be another good time, she thought, for him to forget all them scruples about usin’ a gun. But perhaps he was hopin’ this still could be brought to an end without any shots fired. Zoë kept moving back, every so slow, toward the next hut along.
The man came past the sauna, and past the first changing hut. “Lady,” he said, as he drew past the cactus garden, “stop movin’—”
He didn’t get another word out. Suddenly, someone came out of the shadows, and, with one well-aimed blow, smashed a potted cactus hard against the man’s head. He went down like a stone, the pistol tumbling from his hands. Zoë darted forward and kicked the pistol into the pool. She looked up into the frightened face of a young woman. She looked a lot like Simon Tam did when he found himself in the middle of a fight.
“Katarina Neilsen?” said Zoë.
“What?” said the woman. She stared wide-eyed at Zoë. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Zoë Alleyne,” said Zoë. “Came with Mal Reynolds. I’m here to kill anyone tries to hurt a single one of you.” She looked down at the man lying on the floor amidst pot shards and smashed-up cactus. “Though I have to say, you’re doing a mighty fine job of that already.”
* * *
The police vehicles landed. Mal counted maybe a dozen officers and, when a couple of those headed his way, pointing their pistols at him and Jayne, both men decided the sensible thing to do right now was to put down their weapons and put up their hands. The officers fanned out around the property. A few minutes later, Mal heard a series of rapid shots being fired. All the officers returned, this time with three men in their custody. These were shoved unceremoniously into the back of one of the vehicles. With the area secured, people from the fire department arrived, and started work putting out the fire. Not that much of the house would be left standing after this, thought Mal. Roberts’ men had done a thorough job there.
Mal heard voices behind him and turned to see Sheriff Zhao heading his way.
“Captain Reynolds,” Zhao said. “I recall that when we met the other day that I asked you to do your job smoothly, without any trouble, and please to leave no trace of your presence here on Bethel. How d’you think you’re doin’ on that score?”
Mal watched as part of the roof of the house fell in. “In all honesty, Sheriff, I would have to say that we’re doing badly.”
“So would I,” said Zhao. “You know, this ain’t the only thing on my mind. I heard there was a little trouble over at the Roberts residence last night.”
“Is that so?” said Mal.
“Yup,” said Zhao. “Word is a browncoat and preacher were seen leaving the place in a red car. A stolen red car.” He looked at the vehicle matching this description that was parked a little distance away. “You able to shed any light on that?”
“Not personally, Sheriff, no.”
“And you able to shed any light on all of this?” Zhao gestured round at the chaos.
“Well,” said Mal, “depends on what you want to know…”
At this moment, Book emerged from the shadows. “I think that I can tell you most of what you want to know, Sheriff,” he said. “But, if you don’t mind me sayin’, I’m fairly sure you know already the manner of man that we’re dealing with in Jacob Roberts. And I believe that when you hear some of what we have to say, and show you what we have to show you, you’ll be a mite better disposed toward us.”
“I ain’t a religious man,” said Zhao, “but out of respect for your position, Shepherd, I’ll hear what you have to say.”
“There’s a dozen girls here,” said Book. “Roberts had them taken from their families. Drugged them, and stored them in cryo-cases to sell off-world. And when someone tried to help them, Roberts came after the girls, and he ordered them burned alive rather than living and able to testify against him. Are you ready to hear more, Sheriff?”
“I am,” said Zhao. He looked around. “But not here. Back in the city.” He waved at a couple of his men to come over. “I sincerely hope, Captain Reynolds, that you and your people aren’t going to do anything foolish and end up getting shot resisting arrest.”
“Arrest?” said Mal. “What exactly have we done to deserve that kinda treatment?”
“For one thing, I’m lookin’ at a red car over there that ain’t yours,” said Zhao. “And for another thing—I still want to get to the bottom of what’s been happening over at the Roberts residence. A lot of important people at that party, gentlemen, and I’ve spent the time since listenin’ to them shoutin’. A lot of them askin’ what I’m doin’ about the fright they had. Word gets around that the city ain’t safe durin’ Carnival and folks round here stand to lose a great deal of money—”
“Marcus!” someone called out, and Zhao turned.
“Miss Liu,” he said, and his voice became oddly warm, like a fond father might address his daughter. “What’re you doin’ out here? These fellas here haven’t laid a finger on you, have they?”
“What, Zoë and her people?” said Anna, in surprise. “No—”
“Hey—!” said Mal.
“Hush, sir,” suggested Zoë.
“They’ve nothing to do with this,” said Anna. “Jake Roberts is behind this, Marcus, and you know he is—the same man that killed Mother and Father.”
Zhao was shaking his head. “Miss Liu, you know I weren’t ever able to prove that—”
“This time I think we have him, Marcus.” Anna’s mouth was set in a hard, straight line. “This time we’re going to put him behind bars.”
Which was fine by Mal Reynolds, as long as there wasn’t any chance that they were all going to be sharing a cell.
The roof of the house collapsed. “All right,” said Zhao. “I think we’d best take this back to base.”
* * *
Simon was still smiling at the thought of all the platinum when he arrived back at St. Freda’s. Mèi mèi, he thought, nobody has ever made me laugh the way you do… He found a room in the temporary accommodation set aside for the medical staff, lay down, and had three of the best hours sleep he’d had in months. He woke refreshed, alert, and ready for whatever the day might throw at him.
It was still early in the morning. Checking admissions, he found out that some people had been brought in suffering from smoke inhalation; Mayhew was already with them, so Simon didn’t need to worry. There was nothing else immediately pressing, so he took the opportunity to go and check on the patient from the night before. He was in a private room—paid for by his employer, Simon assumed. Was that employer Jacob Roberts? Book seemed to think that he might have had a hand in the young man’s injury, but Simon didn’t particularly care either way. What mattered was how well the operation had gone, and how quickly the patient was recovering.
The young man was awake, lying back against the pillows, still very pale behind his dark beard, but looking much better. Simon was struck again at how young he was when you looked closely. Young and miserable.
“Good morning,” said Simon. He picked up the patient’s chart. Read his name for the first time: Michael Doherty. He put down the chart and went over to the drip on the left-hand side of the bed. “How are you feeling today?”
“Are you the doc?” said Doherty. “You’re the doc from last night, aren’t you? The one who…” Water began to seep from his eyes. “Oh, mister,” he said, “I’m gonna shake your hand…” He grabbed Simon’s hand with his huge paw and made good on his promise.
This happened sometimes (not as often as you’d imagine), and Simon was embarrassed every single time. A grateful patient showered him with thanks and praise. Made a fuss of him. Named a hamster after him. But Simon was only doing his job, doing what he’d been trained to do and, until recently, been paid ridiculous amounts of money to do. And yet here was this big man, who was not a particularly nice piece of work if even a part of what Zoë and Book said was true, with tears rolling down his cheeks, speaking breathlessly as he pumped Simon’s hand and thanked him.
“Anything,” he rasped. “I’ll do anything for you, doc.”
“All you really need to do is rest up and get better,” said Simon, gently extracting his himself. He checked Doherty’s blood pressure and then checked his retinas.
“You know,” said Doherty, “I been lying here thinkin’ ever since I woke up.”
“Thinking?”
“Thinkin’ ’bout things, what I done, how I got here…”
Carefully, Simon sat down on the edge of the bed. This was something else that happened sometime too. People wanting to confide in you. It did no harm to listen for a while. Someone would come and get him if he was needed.
“How you got here?”
“I mean… Not last night… More’n that…” Tears started leaking out of his eyes. “I done some real bad things, doc.”
“I know,” said Simon.
“There’s these girls,” said Doherty. “Not much more’n kids, some of ’em…”
“I know,” said Simon.
“And I guess I didn’t think about ’em much…”
“How long have you been working for Jacob Roberts?”
“Three, mebbe four years?”
How old would that have made him when Roberts got his claws into him, wondered Simon. Fifteen? Sixteen? Just a kid himself…
“And now, I’m thinkin’… I made some bad choices…”
Simon sighed. He knew about that.
“You, Doc. You look like the kind of man makes good choices…”
You don’t know the half of it, thought Simon. “I’ve been lucky,” said Simon. “I had a lot of opportunities…”
Doherty reached out for his hand. “How do I put myself straight, Doc?”
“I think,” said Simon, “that you know the answer to that. It’s… it’s never too late.”
That seemed to do the trick. Doherty smiled up at him. “Guess you’re right, Doc. Never too late.”
Simon stood up. He was thinking, and these thoughts were very unwelcome, about Jayne Cobb, and what kinds of opportunities and choices made a man like that. Simon turned to go, but he didn’t get far. There was a man standing in the doorway, blocking the exit.
“I’m afraid it’s not visiting hours until later,” said Simon. “Even in the private rooms. He needs to rest now—”
“Shut up,” said the man. Simon took a closer look at him. Months on board Serenity meant he read situations differently these days. Looked for threats. Looked for the best way out. And he definitely couldn’t get past this guy. He was massive, and he was armed.
“You’re not touching this patient,” said Simon.
“Ain’t here for him,” the man said.
“Me?” said Simon. “What have I done—”
“You’re with Reynolds, ain’t you? On Serenity?”
“What? But—” Simon didn’t get further. The guy punched him in the face. Simon crumpled, falling heavily, the side of his head hitting the bed. The man advanced toward him. He was wearing a black T-shirt with a logo in the shape of a white dragon. River’s whispered words, Beware the white dragon, just before he left, came back in a flash. I hate my life, thought Simon. White Dragon kicked him, hard. Simon closed his eyes. River, he thought. I’m sorry. But why do you always have to be so… right?
