“Chui lei fo, ni jiu shi! Kaylee, get your pressure suit on!”
“I know that, Wash. I will.”
“First!”
“All right. Give me a minute to get suited, then I’ll work on the AT lines.”
“Hurry.”
No question about it. Wash was scared. Kaylee would have been too, only there was no time.
“Okay, Zoë. We ready to do this thing?”
“Ready.”
On the table in front of him were the notes from Wash about the layout of the security office, and the lockdown behind it. He gave the notes a last look, folded them up and put them in a pocket, then stood up. Zoë was with him.
They exchanged nods with Mark on the way out of the canteen.
They reached North Street; there wasn’t a great deal of activity. As they approached the security office, Zoë said, “That wasn’t there before, was it?”
“Nope.”
“Looks like the sort of thing you’d transport a prisoner in, doesn’t it, sir?”
“Yep.”
“We might be too late.”
“It’s possible.”
They were within fifty feet of the hovercraft when the office door opened, and there was Jayne: shackled, fettered, with a guard in front and one at each side.
“Or we could have come at just the right time,” said Mal.
“We changing plans sir?”
“Don’t we always?”
“Pretty much.”
“What do you think about taking the hovercraft?”
“Should work.”
“You get the driver.”
As it went down, Mal decided, it played out far smoother, and even slicker than it had any right to: the security guards loaded Jayne into the back of the ’craft, by which time Zoë had secured the driver. The security guards locked the door and found Mal’s weapon pointing at them. A few words were exchanged, and the three security officers were on the ground with their hands clasped behind their necks.
Mal stopped long enough to remove a set of keys from one of them, hoping they were the right ones but not caring too much, then he climbed into the passenger seat, and they were out of there before he had time to close the door.
Then he flipped on his comm and said, “Wash, get her warmed up.”
His only response was static.
He boosted the signal and tried again. Then boosted it still more, and then maxed it.
Wash’s voice, when it came through, was very faint.
“Yeah, Mal. Well, there have been some developments.”
“Wash, where are you?”
“About seven clicks from your position.”
“All right.”
“Straight up.”
He pulled himself to his feet, muttering generalized curses toward the driver of the ’craft. They’d taken off before he’d even had time to sit, knocking him onto the floor. He made it to one of the opposing sets of built-in steel benches, and sat down.
He needed to relax, to be ready, from the minute the door opened, to note where he was, what the conditions were, and to begin planning his escape.
Why didn’t I just tell them what they wanted to know? he asked himself for perhaps the fiftieth time in as many minutes. It isn’t like I owe the captain anything.
No, there was no point in thinking about that. He needed to be at his best, to get the information, to formulate a plan.
Except that formulating plans was never his best game.
No, now was not the time to think about that, either.
Be ready, Jayne. You need all your gorram wits about you from the instant that door opens.
It was sooner than he thought. The abrupt stop almost knocked him to the floor again, but he kept his seat.
The back opened, and the light struck his eyes.
“Okay, Jayne,” said Mal. “Let’s see if any of these keys fit. It’ll make running easier.”
She kept an eye out for their pursuers, who couldn’t be all that far behind, and, as Mal unlocked Jayne, she tried to spare half an eye for him, as well.
“Running?” he said. “Why don’t we take—”
“Okay, Zoë…we’re good.”
“What about the hardware?”
“Good idea.”
Mal gathered up the chains and restraints and set them in the vehicle, then closed the rear door and nodded to her. She leaned into the hovercraft, set it, strapped down the throttle and jumped back. The ’craft took off down the road, wobbling a bit from the open door.
“They have a trace-lock on it,” said Mal. “Into the woods now, and let’s run.”
Before they had gone fifty meters, two patrol vehicles came humming up the road; fortunately, they continued after the ’craft without even slowing down.
“I hear horses,” said Mal.
Zoë nodded, and they continued running.
“Anyone got a spare gun?” said Jayne.
“Let’s just run for now.”
“I like running more when I got a gun in my hand.”
A few minutes later they stopped and listened.
“Nothing yet,” said Mal.
Jayne said, “About that gun…”
She looked at the Captain. As far as she was concerned, Jayne unarmed was much better company than Jayne armed.
“Yeah,” said Mal. “Let’s talk about that.”
“Don’t need no ruttin’ talk,” said Jayne. “I need a ruttin’ weapon.”
“We’ll see.”
“If you weren’t planning to give me a weapon, why’d you bust me out of there?”
“For your mind,” said Mal. “We need all kinds of your wisdom.”
“What the gorram hell are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain later. Right now, I want more distance. Let’s run.”
“A gun—”
“I’ll give you a gun uguo ta ka zai ni de gangmen zhong er ni hai neng pao de hua, Jayne.”
The big man scowled, and they ran some more.
Good call, Captain.
Half an hour later they stopped and listened again. Still nothing. Mal found his comm link. “Wash? You there?”
Crackle and hiss and, “Just barely, Mal.”
“Can you get a fix on us?”
“Mal, if I let go of these controls long enough to do that, we’re going down hard.”
“All right. If you get the chance, we’re staying here for a bit.”
“Copy, that.”
“All right, Jayne,” said the Captain. “Let’s talk.”
Zoë folded her arms, her fingers brushing the butt of the backup pistol under her left arm; she kept a close eye on Jayne.
“I’m not sure what’s going on, mei-mei,” said her brother, “but I don’t think it’s anything we can help with.”
“She’s been shot,” said River.
“Who?”
“Serenity.”
“Oh. Yes, I felt that. But we managed to take off, and now I’m not sure—”
“The others are waiting for us, and we can’t get there.”
“I don’t—”
“The hole is too big, and the repairs are too slow. We can’t land in time.”
“Mei-mei, there’s nothing we can do.”
Every once in a while, in all the conflicting rhymes and rhythms and colors and equations and smells that made the criss-crossing interference patterns that were her thoughts, something came through clear and clean, almost painful in its sharp contrast to everything else. It was never a sight, an image; sometimes it was a chord progression, sometimes it was tactile. This time, it was like becoming a sine wave with the tide of battle coming in, and there were moments trying to float in on her. She was as aware of them as one could be aware of a single match in a room of pure darkness.