Firefly--Life Signs

by James Lovegrove

  “They’ll know we’ve left orbit. They don’t have to know the reason.”

  “The fewer people aware of your mistake, the better, huh?”

  “It won’t be a mistake once I’ve caught the Firefly.”

  “And you don’t think it’s sensible to have Walton and Goldsmith keep an eye on our quadrants in our absence?”

  “There’s every chance we’re not going to be gone that long. Besides, you said it yourself: traffic isn’t heavy round these parts.”

  “Fair enough,” said Ransome. “And condition two?

  “Two: I take the lead. We look for the Firefly together, but it’s mine to deal with when it’s found.”

  “Because this is personal? Because that ship didn’t only put a dent in your ship but in your pride as well?”

  “No. Not at all,” Levine replied stiffly. “It’s called responsibility. A word that you, Commander Ransome, may not be familiar with. The Firefly got away from us, and I aim to redress that state of affairs. What has happened is not ideal, and it’s down to me to make it good again.”

  Ransome rewarded her with a crooked smile. “If you say so, Commander.”

  “I gorramn well do.”

  She cut the communication so that she didn’t have to look at Ransome’s smug, insinuating leer one second longer.

  Of course it was personal. Ransome had hit that particular nail right on the head. The situation with the Firefly was an embarrassment. It spoke to ineptitude and poor decision-making on Levine’s part. It was a blot on her otherwise unblemished record, and she was determined to erase it before it became an indelible stain.

  Which was going to be somewhat harder with Ransome and Freedom to Choose in tow, but she would just have to cope.

  “As I was saying,” Levine resumed, addressing everyone on the bridge again, “let’s go looking for that Firefly. Those good-for-nothings got lucky once. They won’t a second time.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” chorused the crew.

  Constant Vigilance thrummed into life.

  The hunt was on.

  37

  Simon followed Mal, Zoë and Jayne as they padded through Correctional Unit #23, single file, amid crimson-hued gloom.

  All around them, inmates snored, grunted, rolled over in their bunks, farted, sleep-babbled, moaned—the subdued cacophony of the night.

  Zoë looked somewhat worse for wear. After only a couple of hours’ sleep, the firewater hadn’t yet worked its way out of her system. Her eyes were bloodshot, and from the grayness of her complexion Simon judged that she was feeling a tad queasy. She may not have drunk that much, but the booze was evidently pernicious stuff. He knew she would be okay, though. Zoë could handle anything, even a bellyful of gut rot.

  Mal, he wasn’t so sure about. The man was moving stiffly, hunched over, shuffling, as though he had aged about fifty years. His injured ribs in particular seemed to be giving him grief. In fact, when Mal had woken them up a short while earlier, Simon had taken one look at him and said, “You really need more rest. You’re in no shape even to be standing up, let alone heading outdoors into wintry conditions.”

  To that, Mal had responded, “I’m always ready to follow your advice, Doc, but remind me how me sittin’ on my ass is gonna help Inara.”

  The remark told Simon a great deal about Mal’s state of mind, none of it good.

  Eventually the foursome reached the garage where the Slugger was housed. Mal got to work gassing up the vehicle while Zoë began loading spare canisters of fuel onto the flatbed of the trailer. Meanwhile, Simon and Jayne were entrusted with going to the kitchen to fetch food.

  In the kitchen, Jayne found a four-wheel pushcart dolly in a supply closet, and they began stacking cans and protein bars from a storeroom onto this. Soon the dolly was heaped high with provisions. Simon then rummaged around and rustled up a can opener—the basic butterfly type with two hinged arms and a key that turned a serrated wheel. Nothing worse than to have all these rations and not be able to use a significant proportion of them. He also grabbed an igniter wand to make starting campfires easier and a large saucepan so that they could melt snow for water. Preparation was key. If he’d learned anything from being a surgeon, it was that.

  Jayne grasped the dolly’s handle with both hands, bent forward from the waist and started rolling. It was heavy, and he grimaced with effort. The rubber wheels trundled more or less silently along the floor, although the axle of one squeaked ever so slightly.

  They were in a broad corridor, halfway back to the Slugger garage, when a figure loomed ahead.

  As one, Simon and Jayne froze.

  The figure was in silhouette, a black outline amid the dim red illumination, but they could tell from the person’s startled posture that he or she had spotted them. Simon and Jayne could not pretend that they were doing anything other than what they were doing, namely pilfering a whole heap of food from the kitchen.

  Simon knew Jayne was thinking the same thing he was. Was this a Regulator? If not, the person might still raise the alarm; and if it was, they would definitely raise the alarm.

  Only one thing for it. Whoever this was, he or she had to be subdued immediately.

  Jayne stepped round the dolly and broke into a loping run. Simon, for his part, snatched up one of the larger, weightier cans—three dozen hotdogs in brine—and followed. Out of the two of them, Jayne was obviously better suited for bringing the person down, but if need be Simon could always deliver a decisive blow to the head with the can.

  “Wait. Wait!” said the figure, palms held out defensively.

  Simon recognized the voice. “Jayne!” he hissed. “Don’t!”

  Jayne, within springing distance of the person, paused. “What do you mean, don’t?”

  Simon overtook him, handing him the can. “Meadowlark?” he said.

  “Simon?” said Meadowlark Deane. “Sheesh. You guys gave me a fright. What are you doing?”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “Can’t sleep. My cellmate’s snoring again. I’m going to my burrow. What’s your excuse?” Her eye fell on the dolly. “Wait. Is that food? Why are you carting a whole bunch of food around in the middle of the night, Simon? Because that’s in no way suspicious or anything.”

  “Want me to flatten her with this?” Jayne said, brandishing the can.

  “No,” Simon said.

  “Then why’d you give it me?”

  “To hang on to. For safekeeping. To show Meadowlark I’m not a threat.”

  “I know you’re not a threat, Simon,” said Meadowlark mildly.

  “And neither is Jayne,” Simon said. “You surprised us, is all. We didn’t know it was you.”

  “I didn’t know it was you either. And now I’m going to ask again, and I expect an answer. What are you doing with all that food?” Her tone of voice became shrewd. “Are you going somewhere? Are you sneaking out of Hellfreeze?”

  Simon tried to think of alternative justifications for their nocturnal activity, and came up with none. None that would be convincing, anyway.

  “And if we are?” he said.

  “I knew it,” said Meadowlark with a note of triumph. “I knew there was something funny going on with you people.”

  “Why are we standing around yakkin’?” said Jayne to Simon. “We gotta get going.”

  “Just a minute, Jayne. Meadowlark, listen. There isn’t time to go into the ins and outs of it. All you need to know is that, yes, we are leaving Hellfreeze, and it’d be really great if you didn’t tell anyone. Especially not Mr. O’Bannon. I’m not asking you to lie. I know how you feel about that. I’m just asking you to… keep quiet.”

  Meadowlark folded her arms. “No. Not good enough. Where in heck are you off to? Back to #22?” Comprehension dawned in her eyes. “Is that what this has been about? You came here to steal food off of us, because you haven’t got enough of your own at #22 after the storm blew off your roof?”

  Simon wished he had had the presence of mind to come
up with this explanation himself. “Yes. That’s precisely it. You’ve rumbled us.”

  “That’s why you were hanging around the depot after the supply drop-off. You were planning to break in and grab the delivery, but we showed up before you were able to, so you had to think of another way of getting ahold of it.”

  “Rumbled us again,” Simon said.

  Meadowlark shook her head. “Nah. I don’t buy it. You haven’t got enough there to feed an entire correctional unit for even a day.”

  “There’s only so much Jayne and I can carry at any one time. We’ll be going back for further loads.”

  “Also, the other guy, your friend, the troublemaker—why’d he get mixed up in that fight in the refectory if you’re here to steal stuff? It doesn’t make sense. The last thing you want to do, surely, if you’ve got some ulterior motive, is make a nuisance of yourselves. You want to keep things on the down low.”

  “Um, it was a distraction tactic? Or maybe he—”

  “Simon,” Meadowlark said forthrightly, speaking over him, “I won’t be treated like a fool. Honesty at all times, remember? Come clean with me.”

  “Doc, just let me clobber her,” Jayne said, hefting the can. “One good knock to the noggin, and we can be on our way.”

  “‘Doc.’” Meadowlark nodded to herself. “He called you ‘Doc,’ Simon. And the way you talked, back in your cell, about your friend when he got hurt… ‘Full trauma survey.’ ‘Prognosis.’ You’re no embezzler. Who the hell are you?”

  “Meadowlark…” Simon made a move towards her.

  Meadowlark backed away a couple of steps, hands held out in a warding-off gesture.

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t you dare. Touch me, and I’ll scream. I’ll scream so loud, it’ll wake everyone in the building. You’ll have Regulators all over you in seconds.”

  “Meadowlark, please, I beg you. I realize there’s a lot to take in here. Please just trust me. We’re not bad people. Nor are we taking all of Hellfreeze’s food. If you’d simply, you know, look the other way a moment, we’ll be gone and there’ll be an end of it.”

  “Gone where, though? Back to #22? I don’t think you even are from #22.”

  “Just… gone.”

  Meadowlark’s expression abruptly changed. The mix of confusion and indignation vanished, to be replaced by resolve.

  “Take me with you,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Wherever you’re going, I want to come.”

  Simon was flustered. “But… No, Meadowlark. You can’t. It isn’t…”

  “Isn’t what? Safe?”

  “Well, yes. That and we aren’t going anywhere you think we might be.”

  “I don’t care. I want out of here. If what I’m beginning to suspect about you people is right, then you aren’t even inmates. You’re something else. You’ve got some way to get off Atata. That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “No…”

  She was piecing it all together. Simon could see it in her eyes. “The fight. You being a doctor. Asking me those questions about Dr. Weng. It’s him. It’s all about Dr. Weng, isn’t it? You’ve come to Atata to spring him. Yeah! And you’ve figured out that he isn’t in Hellfreeze any longer. He left a while back, so you’re going outside into the snow to look for him. Hence the food. I’m right. I know I’m right. I can see it in your faces. Yours especially, Simon. You really aren’t that good of a liar.”

  Simon looked haplessly at Jayne. Jayne, in turn, looked at the can, then at Meadowlark.

  Simon was starting to warm to the idea of Jayne hitting her with it. Meadowlark had seen right through him. Her threat about screaming the house down was sincere. What was he supposed to do about her now?

  “Take me with you,” Meadowlark said again, her eyebrows rising in the middle to form a plaintive, circumflex shape. “I promise I’ll be no trouble. I can even help. You’re going to take the Slugger, right? You’d be stupid not to. Well, I’ll tell you, that machine is as cranky as all get-out. Ignition’s faulty. Almost never starts from cold unless you know what you’re doing. There’s a trick to it, see, works every time, and I’ll show you—but only on condition that I come with.”

  She spread out her hands.

  “It’s as simple as that, fellas. Either I’m in, or you don’t get out.”

  38

  “No,” said Mal. “No way. Nuh-uh. Not happening. Not in a million years. How many other ways can I put it? Nada. Nope. A big, fat negatory.”

  “Mal,” said Simon, “I don’t think we have a choice.”

  “I have a choice, and I’ve made it.”

  “Meadowlark says she can help with the Slugger.”

  “I can drive a Slugger. Controls ain’t so different from a Mule’s.”

  “This one’s temperamental, apparently. Needs finessing to get it going.”

  “Don’t they all,” Mal said. “Still, we can’t afford an extra body. Bad enough you and Jayne had the misfortune to bump into her in the first place. Now she has to tag along?”

  “It can’t do any harm, can it?”

  “Can’t do any good, either.”

  “Come on, Mal. Have a heart.”

  “I refer you back to my previous negatives, Simon.”

  Jayne joined in. “I shoulda knocked her out when I had the chance. Still could, if you like.”

  “No one is knocking Meadowlark out, Jayne,” said Simon. “And even if you do, she won’t stay knocked out forever. Soon as she comes round, she goes to see Mr. O’Bannon, and then we’ll have Regulators on our tail before we’ve hardly gone any distance.”

  “Tie her up, gag her. Or else,” Jayne added, lowering his voice, “I can silence her more permanent-like.”

  “Or,” said Simon long-sufferingly, “in the version of reality where we don’t contemplate casual, cold-blooded murder, we let her come with us.”

  “Excuse me?” Meadowlark piped up. “I’m standing right here. Am I allowed to have my say?”

  “Not really,” said Mal.

  “You need me.”

  “But just go on talking anyway,” Mal muttered under his breath. “Don’t mind me.”

  “You have to believe me about the Slugger,” Meadowlark continued. “It’s tricky as hell. Not only that, but you start it up in here, you’ll wake up half the building. You’re going to have to roll it out a ways, by hand. Get it to the forest, then the trees will muffle the engine noise.”

  “I’d already thought of that,” Mal said, although it sounded like he hadn’t.

  “A fifth person pushing could make all the difference, and I’m stronger than I look.”

  “Mal,” said Zoë, “every minute we stand around discussing this means one more minute someone might stumble across us. A Regulator, even.”

  “You’re thinking we should take her?”

  “I’m thinking it’s not desirable but it’s not the end of the world either.”

  “The girl’s a total stranger,” said Jayne. “We have no idea who she is. She could be a gorramn serial killer, all we know.”

  “Meadowlark was imprisoned for sedition,” Simon said. “Daubing anti-Alliance slogans on public buildings. She hates the Feds almost as much as we do.”

  “More than you do,” Meadowlark declared.

  “That’d be hard,” said Mal. “Look, Simon, I can see she’s turned your head. She’s got a fetchin’ little face and she’s into you. Congratulations. But she’s also gonna be an extra mouth to feed, someone else we got to look out for…”

  “I’ll look out for her,” Simon said. “Meadowlark will be my responsibility. For what it’s worth, I don’t reckon she belongs on Atata.”

  Mal’s good eye widened in disbelief. “So now we’re taking her off-planet with us, too?”

  “All she did to earn her sentence was piss off the Alliance, and if that’s a crime, well, Mal, hands up who here isn’t guilty of it?”

  “Ain’t a crime if it’s the right thing to do,” Mal said.

&nbs
p; “So, when the time comes, why not let Meadowlark leave Atata with us? We can drop her off at the first world we come to. That way, even if we don’t locate Weng, at least we’ll have done some good.”

  Mal threw his hands in the air. “This a doctor thing? You can’t help yourself, you just got to save people the whole time?”

  “It’s a decent-human-being thing.”

  “Meaning I’m not a decent human being?”

  “Are you?” said Simon.

  Mal mulled it over.

  “Mal?” said Zoë, expectantly.

  “Mal?” said Jayne, grimly.

  “Mal?” said Simon, hopefully.

  Meadowlark looked at Mal, her eyes big, her hands clasped together beneath her chin. The pose was as appealing as a cartoon character’s, and she seemed to know it.

  Mal raised his shoulders to his ears, then dropped them in resignation, with a loud huff.

  “Okay. She comes.”

  “Thank you!” said Meadowlark.

  She launched herself at Mal, arms wide to hug him, but he fended her off. “No offense, girl, but if you think my face looks bad, my ribs feel ten times worse.”

  “Okay. Didn’t know about that. Sorry.”

  Mal turned to Simon. “There’s a ‘but’ here, though.”

  “Of course there is,” Simon sighed.

  “She drags us down, holds us up, makes a pesterance of herself in any way, it’s on you. You’ll have to deal with it.”

  “Understood.”

  “We clear about that?”

  “Crystal.”

  “Good,” said Mal. “Now come on. Zoë, grab an extra one of those thermal outfits hanging up over there. Jayne? Open the outer door. Slow and quiet as can be. Then everyone put a shoulder to the Slugger. This is gonna be hard work.”

  39

  The door rolled open on its track with a muted rumble. Mal engaged neutral gear on the Slugger, then stepped off and joined the others in pushing.

  The Slugger budged. Slowly, reluctantly, it allowed itself to be heaved out of the garage in reverse. The plates of the caterpillar tracks clacked on the concrete floor one after another, and then were silent, deadened by snow.