Steven Brust - My Own Kind of Freedom

“Right.”

“Then I have another question.”

“What’s that?”

“Any objection if I hunt down Jayne and blow his head off?”

“He’s off the crew.”

“So?”

“Can’t blame a snake for slithering, Zoë.”

“No, sir. But if you blow its head off, you’ll slow it down some.”

He sat in the canteen, nursing his beer, and tried to work it out. Having decided to stick around and go for the gold, he really had to know what was going on.

Okay, what exactly were the events, in order?

First, he’d made contact with the Alliance, and been told that an agent would be meeting him in the Canteen. This was the only canteen in town. The other place, down the hill, was just called, “The bar.” So, he was in the right place.

Second, he’d come here, and waited about half an hour in a place that was completely empty except for the bartender. If the bartender was a fed, which didn’t seem likely to begin with, why hadn’t he said something?

Third, two guys had come in. They could have been feds—they were armed, and certainly looked like they were there for business. But why two of them? He hadn’t been told there would be two of them. That’s why he’d put his hand on his pistol the second they’d come in. But they’d ignored him completely, instead watching the door.

Fourth, Mal and Zoë had come in. He’d damn near opened fire when they’d walked through the door, figuring they’d found out what he was up to and wanted to stop him. But they’d pretended he wasn’t even there.

Fifth, the other guy came in, the one in the fancy clothes. He could have been a fed. But then those two other guys made their move, like they were going to kill him, and Mal and Zoë had saved him. No way Mal and Zoë were going to rescue a fed.

It didn’t make sense.

None of it made sense.

But he had to figure it out, because he couldn’t go into a high-risk operation like this without any idea of who was on which side, or even what the sides were.

Well, okay. Let’s just think this through.

Could Mal showing up there be coincidence? Well, sure; if they were stuck waiting for something, like payment for the job, how many other places were there? But what about that guy they saved? Mal and Zoë saved him, so no way he was a fed; that much he could count on.

So, if he wasn’t a fed, who was he? And who wanted to kill him, and why?

Why hadn’t the fed shown up, anyway? Whatever their attitude toward him, Jayne, he knew they wanted the doctor and his sister; they wanted them bad. So why didn’t they show?

He leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer, nursing it.

They were nearly back to the shuttle Mal had flown.

“Okay, sir, now we know.”

“Yeah.”

“At least, we might know some of it.”

“Right.”

“So, do we do anything about it?”

“Yeah. We’ve been paid, so I fly you back to Shuttle One, we get back to Serenity and get off this world.”

“Good plan, sir.”

“Glad you approve.”

“Only one problem with it. Do you really intend to do it?”

The shuttle was there, and appeared undisturbed.

“Yeah,” he said. “This is none of our concern.”

“That’s what you said before, sir.”

“And I was right, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mal punched the combination and the door opened. They went in. Mal sat down in the pilot’s chair, flipped on the comm, and found the channel for Serenity.

“Wash?”

“Right here, Mal.”

“We got paid, and we’re on the way home.”

“Uh…”

Zoë looked at Mal, who said, “Wash? Is there a problem?”

“Not a problem, exactly.”

“Talk to me, Wash.”

“Well, for one thing, Zoë went down after you.”

“I know. She’s with me now.”

“Oh, good. All right then.”

“What else?”

“Else?”

“You said for one thing.”

“Oh. Right. Well, that’s a little hard to explain.”

“Wash.”

“Sir,” said Zoë. “We might want to hold off on this.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I just caught a glimpse of something metallic out there.”

“Wash, I’ll call you back.”

He disconnected and drew his weapon; hers was already in her hand, though she had no memory of pulling it.

“You only saw one?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. One glint. Shouldn’t we get out of here?”

“Yes, unless there’s a weapon trained on the door, waiting for us to go over there and close it.”

“You want to find out?”

“Not especially.”

“Should we just stand here forever?”

“Not such a good idea either.”

“We should have closed the door when we came in, sir.”

“Good thinking.”

Zoë shrugged and knelt down by the side of the door. Mal stood behind her.

“Ready, sir? I’ll get it.”

“I’ll get it.”

“No, sir. I can—”

Mal lunged across the threshold, rolling and coming up on the other side of the door.

With a small part of her brain that wasn’t otherwise occupied, she thought, You never get used to the way bullets kick into things around you so much sooner than you hear the report.

There was no need to speak. There were at least three of them, the weapons were semi-auto, and they were firing at three different levels. No way were they going out there.

The door swung closed.

“You good, sir?”

“Didn’t even feel a breeze.”

“Good, then.”

“I’ll fire it up,” said Mal.

“Let me, sir.”

“All right.”

She slid herself into the pilot’s seat. Bullets continued striking the side of the shuttle. She disengaged the guidance lock, engaged the power, and armed the controls. It wasn’t as smooth as Wash would have done it, but it didn’t take a lot longer.

She put her hand on the throttle, kicked in the grav boot, and said, “Well, now what?”

“Uh, now we get out of here?”

“Not going to happen, sir.”

“Uh…”

Zoë got up and briefly inspected the area opposite the hatch, nodded, and sat back down. “One of those shots that came in through the hatch knocked out the g-line. We’re not going anywhere, sir.”

“Ah. Well. And just when I thought everything was perfect.”

An occasional bullet hit the hull, with a sound like a hammer hitting an anvil through a pillow.

Mal frowned. “I wonder how long we can stay in here and just let them shoot at us.”

“Until they realize that we’re just going to sit here, and go and get explosives.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Or, depending on who they are, they could just bring up artillery.”

“You’re full of good cheer.”

“Well, they aren’t asking us to surrender, so we don’t have to worry about whether they’re going to trick us.”

“Now that’s a good cheery way to look at things, Zoë.”

She squinted through the window. Was that… ? “I think they’re getting reinforced.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’d hate to think we weren’t outnumbered.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we.”

“If we knew where they were coming from, and who they were,” said Mal, “we might be able to guess how soon they’ll be able to get explosives.”

“Yes sir. And something else bothers me.”

“You mean, who it is trying to kill us?”

“Yes, sir. If it was Sakarya, he wouldn’t have paid us.”

“Yep.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“We could use a new plan.”

“We could at that,” he said.

The conversation with the captain and his first mate ought to have given him a lot more information than it did. He stared at the comm gear.