Steven Brust - My Own Kind of Freedom

“It’s nothing. Just the same faces every day for months gets sorta old.”

“Mmmm,” said Zoë.

Zoë glanced at the Captain, but he appeared to be lost in thought. Still, the operative word there was “appeared;” she’d known the Captain more than once to have picked up a subtlety that she’d thought he’d missed. And certainly he picked up on things that she had missed, and then put them together correctly. Much as he prided himself on his ability to form a good plan, it was this other skill, his way of seeing an odd little thing and knowing what it meant and reacting to it correctly, that had gotten them out of so many situations that they ought never to have escaped.

It was on this yongyuan bei ding wei laipigou de wanju world called Hera that he had noticed an overturned supply truck on a deserted road, and moved his command half a klick to the west and so outflanked what would have been an ugly, ugly ambush. And again and again, the same thing had happened. So she ought to trust him to pick up on Jayne’s oddity, and, not just pick up on it, but figure out what it meant. Which was more than she could do.

Except that the Captain just wasn’t himself these days, and that was cause for worry.

The “town” of Yuva began abruptly as the road split into two main streets, which ran parallel for about a mile before the southernmost (“South Street,” said a sign) left you at the top of a hill leading down to where the miners lived in what was effectively a different, larger, and much filthier town. North Street was half a mile longer, ending in the company security office. On South Street, a bright, clean-looking store stood on the right beneath a sign saying, “Company Store,” opposite a small park-like area, with a pond and a few scrubby trees.

Sakarya’s mansion (white, square, and imposing) was perched on a sort of hillock (artificial, and artificially green) just south of the store.

Zoë continued chewing over the problem, though she still scanned the empty street in a habit so deeply ingrained she could never shake it. Could she talk to her Wash about what was going on with the Captain? It got into tricky areas between them.

They continued up the street, past the long, walled and gated driveway leading up the hill. The effect was more absurd than imposing—why set the mansion back from a two-street little town?

To the north was a small, square brick building, that said in Chinese characters, “office.”

“I’d imagine,” said the Captain, “that this is it.”

“Good,” said Jayne. “Let’s get our ruttin’ money.”

“You may as well relax,” said the Captain. “We’re probably going to be stuck waiting for unloading instructions, and waiting longer to get paid.”

“ Wo taoyan dengyideng . For how long?”

“A few hours, most like. Maybe a day. Rich guys take time before they’re willing to part with money. You good with that, Zoë?”

“Of course, sir. Let’s go in.”

The Captain led the way.

She hated it that Kaylee was afraid of her, and so she didn’t go near the engine room any more than she had to. She understood why Kaylee feared her: it was because Kaylee, as much as she knew about engines, didn’t really see how anyone could be comfortable with fractal geometry. It had all been that one incident, the time months ago when Kaylee had seen her factor so many variables at one time, in the skyplex with all the shooting going on. Too many variables, and the equation solved too quickly, and Kaylee couldn’t comprehend it, and so she was afraid.

Once River had tried to explain that problems in fractal geometry were easier if you solved them from the inside, but the explanation had come out muddled.

Communication was so difficult, because you needed to access so many different parts of your brain to form a sentence and they all worked at different speeds, and the part that told the sentence to vocalize worked at yet a different speed; and then there were the ants inside your brain interfering with everything.

She had tried to explain that to Simon once, but had gotten that look that said he was being Patient and Concerned. She hated that look.

He had that look now, as he sat next to her bed in the infirmary and studied her insides on his charts that didn’t show the ants.

“I wish you could remember more,” he said. “I mean, about what they did to you. Did they ever explain what they were trying to make you into?”

“Yes,” she said. “They told me they weren’t really ants.”

“Ants?”

“Yes. In my brain. They aren’t really ants, I know that. I just call them ants because that’s what it feels like when they go walking around everywhere making it hard to see where everything is that I’m trying to get. I call them ants, but they aren’t.”

“All right.”

“They’re really termites.”

She sneaked a peek at him. He had the Look again.

“River—”

“If I were deeper than the bay, I’d be a tidal estuary. But that assumes I’m going somewhere. Only I’m staying here. And I think I’m going backward.”

“You aren’t going backward. I’m going to find out what they did to you, and undo it.”

“Not before he comes back.”

“Who, River?”

“Who?”

“Who is coming back?”

“Oh. No one. Anyone who’s gone that far away can never really come back. But the Captain doesn’t know that.”

“River, I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”

Of course he didn’t understand. How could he understand when he thought lines of probability only existed metaphorically? When all he had to understand with was himself? When he kept everything out? When he couldn’t see that the ghosts who had never died were the ones who could hurt you never had the ghost of a chances were that the right answers were always to the wrong question everything and be sure of nothing ever changes in a stasis—

“River?”

“I was thinking.”

“What about?”

“Nothing. Are you hungry? I can cook something.”

“When did you learn to cook?”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Simon smiled affectionately. “I’d like a snack. Should we ask Kaylee if she wants to join us?”

“No. She doesn’t like me.”

“Of course she does.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s been afraid of me ever since I solved that problem in fractal geometry.”

“Why would she be afraid of you for solving a geometry problem?”

“Some people are just afraid of numbers.”

Three hours later they left the office.

“Well,” said Mal, “that was the most fun I’ve ever had.”

“Yes, sir,” said Zoë. “I especially enjoyed where they didn’t have any chairs to sit in while we were waiting.”

“I liked the way they ignored us.”

“I still say it would have sped things up if you’d let me shoot one or two of the clerks,” said Jayne.

“I’m sure something would have happened fast,” said Mal. “Anyway, we have a few hours before they show up to unload us. Go get a drink if you want, Jayne.”

Jayne grunted, but continued walking with them. Mal felt Zoë looking at him.

What the hell was going on with his gorram crew? Kaylee was acting like every time she spoke to him she was afraid of what he’d say, Zoë and Wash were having whispered conversations and exchanging looks, and Jayne…

They went up the ramp into Serenity’s bowels. Kaylee was leaning on the rail above, with a “tell me how it went” look. Next to her was an empty space.