They kissed, and it was long, lingering, and over too soon.
Then Jinny turned away from him and walked off, her head a little bowed, her step a little faltering, as though it was taking everything she had not to turn around and run back to his arms.
“May I speak?” Mal said. “I think it’s my turn now. I’m owed the right of response.”
“Hear, hear,” said someone in the crowd. Mal wasn’t sure but it sounded a lot like Stuart Deakins.
“Very well,” said Toby, with a great show of magnanimousness.
“That homing beacon wasn’t anything to do with the Alliance,” Mal said. “Don’t even know how you could think it might have been.”
“I had a tech expert look over it. No question, it was designed to send out a location signal. You knew Jinny was guarding the arms cache twenty-four seven. You gave her the beacon to lead the Alliance right to it. You might as well have painted crosshairs on her back.”
“And why in hell would I do that, Toby? What would I get out of it? Jinny was my friend. My good friend. You saw me after we found the body. You saw how I was a gorramn mess. For about a week after, I could barely speak. Came close to blowin’ my own brains out several times. That’s how bad her death screwed me up.”
“Oh, it was a fine display of grief you put on, that’s for sure,” Toby said. “The rest of us were feeling it genuinely and showed it in our different ways, but no one could rival Mal Reynolds when it came to the histrionics.”
“I ain’t that good an actor.”
“I’m not saying you were acting, Mal. I’m saying you just went over the top with it. You were torn up about Jinny, no question, but maybe you were so torn up because you knew you were the one responsible.”
“Well, how am I supposed to argue against that kinda logic?” Mal said, exasperated. “Can’t win either way. If I hadn’t been upset, you’d be accusing me of not caring because I was her killer. Since I was upset, you’re sayin’ it’s because I had a guilty conscience. Anyways, it was Sheriff Bundy who told the Alliance about the arms cache. Everybody thought so.”
“It was a rumor,” said Toby. “A rumor you yourself, Mal, did a great deal to spread about.”
“Bundy hated us: you, me, Jamie, and Jinny. We’d pissed him off dozens of times, and I’d maybe pushed it too far by wounding him with a bullet that time he tried to hang Jamie, not that he didn’t have it coming. He was looking at ways to hit back at us, and he knew what’d hurt me, you, and Jamie more than anything would be killing Jinny. She was the glue that held the four of us together. If he wanted to destroy us, her death’d do it. But he wasn’t going to carry out the deed himself. Man was too cunning for that. If he could get the Alliance to do his dirty work for him, though, then his hands would be clean. Plus he’d be ingratiating himself with Shadow’s soon-to-be overlords. And it worked, didn’t it? Soon as Alliance troops stepped foot on Shadow, some of ’em came down Seven Pines Pass way, and next thing, the county governor had been executed on some spurious pretext and Sheriff Bundy was appointed in his stead. It was almost like his fee. For services rendered.”
“Circumstantial. A theory,” Toby said. “You didn’t have any proof that that was what happened. All it was, was what you wanted everyone to believe was the case. If it was true, why didn’t you go after Bundy?”
“Believe me, I was tempted. If I’d had hard evidence he was to blame, instead of just a strong suspicion, I’d have blown the bastard clean out of his socks. Before I could go about accumulating that evidence, however, High Command gave us our marching orders. And you know what? I was right glad to get the hell off of Shadow. Stayin’ there a moment longer might’ve killed me. I’ve got a question for you, Toby Finn. How come you have that beacon at all? Wasn’t it buried with Jinny?”
“I found it when I helped ferry her to the town morgue,” Toby replied. “You weren’t much use in that regard. You were too busy wailing and tearing your hair out and drenching yourself in misery so’s everyone could see. Me and Jamie, we got on with the business of making sure Jinny got a decent burial. Once the ground around the cowshed had cooled enough for us to pick up the body, that’s what we did. And while we were moving her, I spied that locket and I got curious about it. Wasn’t something I’d given her, her parents neither. I asked ’em later, and even they didn’t know how she’d come by it. So I took it off her body when no one was looking. Opened it up when I got home. Saw what was inside. I didn’t know she’d got it from you, not then. All’s I knew was that someone had planted a beacon on Jinny without her knowing and had used her as a living target, and I vowed that when I found out who it was, nothing’d stop me from exacting vengeance upon that individual. And at last, the day has come. A day I’ve been waiting for, looking forward to, dreaming of, for more years than I care to think.”
“And how can you be so sure it was me that did it?” Mal said. “I didn’t have evidence pointing the finger at Sheriff Bundy, and you don’t have none pointing it at me.”
“Are you so sure, Mal?” Toby sneered. “I think you’ll find I have plenty of evidence.”
“But that beacon isn’t what you think it was. Like I said, it wasn’t anything to do with the Alliance. It was—”
Before Mal could finish the sentence, there was a sudden ripple of activity amongst the assembled Browncoats. Heads were turning. People were murmuring to one another.
Somebody had just entered the cavern.
Not just anyone, either, but Hunter Covington, complete with cobra-head cane. Accompanying him was a person Mal also recognized, the man from Taggart’s, the guy in the mustard-yellow duster who’d sent him outside to get bushwhacked by Covington and his goons.
“A very good evening to you all,” said Covington. “Actually, that should be ‘morning.’ Day’s dawning out there, in case you hadn’t realized. Sky was brightening just as we came in to land. Looking like a peach of a day. And there is Mr. Malcolm Reynolds, all trussed up and set to swing. Seems we arrived just in time, wouldn’t you say, Harlow?”
Yellow Duster — Harlow — nodded agreement.
“You are indeed just in time, gentlemen,” Toby said. “Just in time to watch one of the vilest men in Browncoat history get his comeuppance.”
33
Serenity swung into orbit around Hades. It was a smooth ball of rock a couple of hundred thousand miles from Persephone, rolling in a slow, lazy ellipse around its mother planet. There were a few mountain ranges, a few craters, but apart from those it was featureless.
Terraforming had been attempted, but all Hades had to show for it was atmosphere. Vegetation had failed. There had been no release of water from its frozen poles. Colonization had therefore been impossible, and the moon had been abandoned as a failed project, left to carry on along its way more or less unmolested.
Since then, prospectors had sniffed around, digging down in the search for valuable minerals such as iridium, palladium, manganese and molybdenum, not to mention platinum and gold. Yet again, however, Hades had proved disappointing, yielding nothing more valuable than iolite and ametrine, semi-precious gemstones whose retail price was not high enough to justify the cost of their extraction.
“Nothing,” Zoë said, surveying the moon’s surface on the scanning screen. “Nothing but wasteland.” There was a note of despair in her voice.