Firefly--Life Signs

by James Lovegrove

  “Maybe, but if that’s what it comes down to, that’s what we’re gonna have to do.”

  “I realize that, but still. How primitive.”

  Zoë cast a glance around Weng’s cave home. “And this isn’t?”

  “A good point, well made,” Weng conceded.

  As Mal began scouting around the cave for loose rocks, Zoë set to work fashioning shivs. She stomped one of the empty food cans underfoot, then flexed the flattened piece of steel back and forth down the middle until it snapped in two, generating a pair of narrow but strong metal rectangles. After that it was a case of taking one of these rectangles, binding up one end of it in a strip of material torn from her shirt so as to create a handle, then scraping the other end against the cave wall until it developed a sharp edge.

  The result was far from pretty but looked crudely effective nonetheless. Zoë tested the “blade” on the ball of her thumb and drew blood.

  Then she set about repeating the whole process with the remaining half of the can so that Mal might have a shiv too.

  All the while, Dr. Weng squatted at the cave entrance, keeping lookout. The snow was coming down thicker and faster. Small flurries of it whipped in around his feet.

  Meadowlark sidled up to Simon, who was examining the sleeping Jayne.

  “Why’re you looking him over like that?” she asked.

  Simon felt Jayne’s pulse. “I’m checking for early signs of infection and fever. He was savaged by a wolf. Those things have a ton of bacteria lurking in their mouths.”

  “Oh. Okay. So, do you people often find yourselves in situations like this?”

  Simon nodded wearily. “More often than I care to think.”

  “And you come out of them unscathed?”

  “Mostly.”

  “That’s reassuring,” Meadowlark said, sounding far from reassured. “Simon, I just want to say something. This Kaylee girl. I need to know what she means to you. It makes all the difference.”

  “Now’s not the time, Meadowlark.”

  “I think it is. There’s a chance, maybe a good one, that we’re not going to make it through this.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “And I could really do with knowing the truth.”

  “Listen, Meadowlark, seriously, let’s table this conversation for later.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. What if there is no later?”

  He laid a hand on her arm. “There will be. I’m sure of it.”

  Meadowlark looked at the hand, then at Simon, and slowly nodded.

  “Everyone,” said Weng in a soft, urgent hiss. “I think I see movement outside.”

  64

  Mal joined Weng at the cavemouth and peered out.

  “You sure, Doc?” he said. “All’s I see moving is the snow.”

  “No. Over yonder. Just inside the treeline.”

  Mal followed the direction of Weng’s pointing finger. “Nope, I don’t… Wait.” He peered harder through the screen of fat, tumbling snowflakes. “Yup. That’s movement all right. People kind of movement.”

  Zoë crouched down beside him. “How many, you reckon?”

  Mal eyed the figures flitting furtively between the tree trunks, some thirty yards distant. “Hard to say. Five at least. Could be six. Could be more.”

  “They know we’re here?”

  “Way they’re skulking around, I’d say definitely. Must’ve gotten here before the snow started buryin’ our tracks. From the looks of it, they’re dividing into two groups. Suggests they’re gonna attack from two sides at once.”

  “This is it, then.” Zoë passed him the second shiv she had fashioned. “Ain’t had time to hone it as sharp as I’d like, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

  “Thanks. How’s this gonna go down, Zoë? We just gonna leave ’em to come at us?”

  “Only way I can see it working. We charge out to fight them, we lose our one advantage. Let them make the running. They want us, they’ll have to winkle us out of here. No more’n two of them can get through this hole at a time. It’s a pinch point, and we can use it to whittle their numbers down.”

  “Us against superior forces,” Mal said. “Just like old times.”

  “Not everything is a rerun of Serenity Valley, Mal.”

  “Not to you, maybe. Doc?”

  “Yes?” said Weng.

  “No, the other Doc.”

  “Yes?” said Simon.

  “What’s the status with Jayne?”

  “Still out cold.”

  “Any chance you can bring him round? We could do with an extra pair of hands right now.”

  “I’m reluctant to try. And even if I do, he won’t be a pair of hands. His right arm’s pretty much useless.”

  Mal worked his jaw from side to side, weighing things up. “Okay. He can stay as he is for now. If things start to get hairy, though, I want him up on his feet and swinging. Even a one-armed Jayne Cobb is worth havin’ on your side in a scrap. Doc?”

  “Yes?” said Simon.

  “No, the other Doc.”

  “Yes?” said Weng.

  “My advice is you step back from the entrance. We’re in shadow, with firelight behind us. Chances are the Regulators haven’t spotted that you’re you, but it won’t be good if they do. Far as they know, there’s no one in this cave but us folks who caused ructions at Hellfreeze and stole their Slugger. They realize none other’n the fugitive Dr. Weng is hiding out here too, that’ll change everything. They’ll be more desperate than ever to get in, ’cause Mr. O’Bannon wants you bad.”

  Nodding, Weng retreated into the cave.

  Zoë was still beside Mal. He lowered his voice confidentially. “Zoë, we’re gettin’ Weng to Inara, come what may. After all we’ve gone through findin’ him, I don’t aim to let him slip through my fingers now.”

  “You mean whatever it takes, we do.”

  “I mean exactly that. Are we on the same page?”

  “We are.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Tense minutes passed, with no further activity visible outside. The Regulators were entrenched, in position. The next move was theirs.

  Then a voice sounded from the forest, somewhat muffled by the falling snow.

  “You in there!”

  “That’s Ornery Annie,” Zoë said to Mal. “Bet you anything Mr. O’Bannon’s put her in charge of the Regulator posse. I would have. Out of all of them I’ve met, she’s the smartest by a country mile.”

  “I know you’re all hunkered down in that there cave,” Annie called. “I’m gonna give you one chance. Come on out now, hands in the air, and we’ll see if we can settle this without resortin’ to violence.”

  “And how do you propose doin’ that?” Mal called back. “If you’re after the Slugger we took, I’m guessin’ you’ve already found it back in the woods. If you’re after the food we took, mosta that’s in the same place. Way I see it, there’s only one reason you’ve kept on following us, and that’s to kill us.”

  There was a brief silence from Annie, and then she said, “Okay, you got me there, pal. It was worth a shot.”

  “Yeah. So really there’s only one thing I can say to you, and don’t take this the wrong way, but screw you.”

  “Well now,” said Annie, “that’s plain uncivil.”

  “Ain’t it just. Now, are you gonna stand around jawing, or are you gonna attack? I’m gettin’ bored already.”

  “You tryin’ to irk me? Get me to do something rash and stupid?”

  “Maybe. It working?”

  “Not as such.”

  “Thing is, Annie, at the moment it’s pretty clear we have a standoff,” Mal said. “We can’t come out, you people can’t come in. It’d be suicide for whichever of us tried to. So unless something happens to break the standoff, we’re all gonna be stuck like this for the rest of the day and long into the night. Now, for us that’s not a problem. We’re sittin’ pretty. We have shelter. We have a fire. We’re toasty warm. For you guys in the co
ld and the snow, though, it’s a very different story. How much longer do you reckon you can last? I’m talking to all of you out there. Your hands have got to be starting to seize up, haven’t they? Fingers won’t be able to hold a weapon soon. And your feet—you’re startin’ to lose the feeling in your toes, right? And dark’s comin’, meaning it’s only gonna get worse. I were you, right now I’d be askin’ myself if this is worth it.”

  He paused, waiting for a response. From Ornery Annie. From any of the Regulators.

  None came, so he continued, “Maybe your best tactic is to say enough’s enough, go back to Hellfreeze and tell Mr. O’Bannon you couldn’t find us. You can retrieve the Slugger later, providing you can rustle up some fresh sparkplugs for it. That way, you’ll have achieved pretty much everything you set out to achieve. Wouldn’t be so bad, would it? If I were in your position, that’s what I’d do.”

  More silence.

  Then there was a sudden disturbance.

  Feet shuffling.

  A scuffle.

  A cry.

  But the commotion wasn’t coming from among the trees.

  It was coming from behind Mal, in the cave.

  65

  Ornery Annie knew that she was speaking with the man she and Otis had turned away outside the Regulators’ private quarters in CU #23, the same man she’d later beaten up in the refectory.

  She also knew that he had a point. She’d studied the lie of the land. There was no approach to the cave except from the front, and a frontal assault would be pretty much futile. As soon as any Regulators poked their heads through the cave’s restricted entrance, the people inside could just pick them off. Zoë and her pals were holding all the aces, dammit.

  But Annie couldn’t simply leave them alone. Her life depended on capturing them—some of them, at least—and killing the rest.

  The only solution was an all-out attack. She and the other Regulators would have to rush the cavemouth in unison, force their way through, and hope they didn’t take too many casualties in the process. Once inside, the playing field would be leveled.

  Moreover, to judge by the bloodstained snow back in the forest, one of their opponents was injured. Maybe quite badly. If it came to a straight fight, that tipped the odds a little further in the Regulators’ favor.

  In short, it was all or nothing. Do or die.

  For the Regulators to have the best chance of success, however, they would have to wait until nightfall. Darkness and the falling snow would afford some cover as they crossed the open terrain between the forest and the cave. The people in the cave wouldn’t see them coming until the last moment.

  The daylight was now a grim, gloomy gray, and the grayness was deepening with every passing minute. Sundown would be arriving in a little under an hour’s time. Annie and the other Regulators could wait until then, easy.

  Annie was standing with Otis, Michael Pale Horse and Cleavon. The remaining Regulators—Pops and the Hobhouse twins—were positioned a couple of dozen yards away in a second group. She whispered her plan to the three beside her. The guy in the cave was still addressing her, going on about how cold it was and other stuff, but she ignored him. Pale Horse then crept across the gap to relay Annie’s plan to the rest.

  Just as Pale Horse was sneaking back, there was a ruckus from the cave. A female voice could be heard. She was calling Annie’s name.

  “Annie? Can you hear me, Annie? It’s Meadowlark Deane.”

  “Huh?” said Otis. “Meadowlark Deane? What’s she doing with them?”

  “No idea,” said Annie. “Didn’t even know she wasn’t in Hellfreeze anymore.”

  “Must’ve been her had the fifth thermal suit.”

  “Must’ve.”

  “I’ve got ahold of one of them,” Meadowlark said. “He’s my hostage, and I’m going to kill him if they don’t let you guys in.”

  Annie scowled. She couldn’t believe it. Was it possible? Meadowlark Deane, of all people, was presenting them with a way out of the deadlock?

  “And get this, Annie,” Meadowlark went on. “Dr. Weng is here.”

  Now Annie was sure her ears were playing tricks on her.

  “No word of a lie,” said Meadowlark. “He’s right here. Dr. Esau Weng, in the flesh. And he’s all yours. Come get him.”

  A ruse. Some kind of trap. Had to be. And if it was, then there could be no juicier bait than Esau Weng. No name was guaranteed to provoke a reaction from Annie, or most any Hellfreezer, quite like that one.

  Weng was dead. Annie was sure of it. He couldn’t still be alive, not after all this time.

  Could he?

  “Come on, Annie,” Meadowlark said. “You’re never going to get a better chance than this.”

  66

  Ninety seconds earlier

  “Simon,” Meadowlark said, “mind if I take a look-see at that can opener?”

  Mal, in the meantime, was still conducting his shouted dialog with Ornery Annie.

  “What for?” said Simon. “You don’t seriously think it’ll make a viable weapon?”

  “Just give it to me.”

  With a shrug, Simon took the opener from his pocket and passed it to her.

  Meadowlark studied the implement for several seconds. She parted the hinged arms fully to expose the serrated wheel.

  “Oh yeah, I think you could easily hurt someone with this,” she said at last. “Kill them, even.”

  “How?” Simon asked.

  “Like so.”

  Suddenly the serrated wheel was pressed against Simon’s throat. Meadowlark was pinching the key between thumb and forefinger so that the wheel could not revolve.

  “Stand up, Simon,” she said.

  Simon gaped at her. “Meadowlark, what is this? What are you doing?”

  “What I do to all liars. What I’ve always done.” Her voice was no longer bright and breezy. It was in deadly earnest, and her face was twisted into a sneer. “Now do as I say and stand up, or I’ll open a vein.”

  Simon was incredulous. This was some kind of bizarre aberration, that was all. The pressure of the situation had got to Meadowlark, and she had snapped. She surely couldn’t be serious about her threat to kill him. Not her.

  Meadowlark dug the serrated wheel into his skin, hard enough to break it. Simon felt a tiny trickle of warm wet liquid run down his neck.

  She was serious.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “I’m standing.”

  Simon got to his feet, Meadowlark rising with him. He knew he had to act fast, before things went any further. The months he’d spent with the crew of Serenity had taught him that in a tight spot, it was better to be unpredictable. Meadowlark would be expecting him to talk, to try and negotiate his way out of the situation. She wouldn’t be expecting sudden, violent resistance.

  He tensed, shifted his weight onto one foot, then rammed himself against her, shoulder first.

  He had been hoping to knock her off-balance, but apparently Meadowlark had foreseen this. She stepped smartly aside. Simon stumbled. Next thing he knew, Meadowlark was chastising him—“Nuh-uh-uh!”—and holding the can opener firmly at his throat once more.

  Mal, Zoë and Dr. Weng all turned round, startled.

  “What in hell—?” Mal said.

  Meadowlark took up a position behind Simon, placing him between her and everyone else. She had one hand on his arm, gripping tight. The can opener quivered, poised over his Adam’s apple.

  “I will kill him,” she said, with eerie calmness. “Any of you try anything, I will slit his throat.”

  “Meadowlark,” Zoë said, “put the… Is that the can opener?”

  Meadowlark nodded.

  “Well, girl, put it down.”

  “No, I don’t think so. It may be just a can opener, but it’s drawn blood, as you can see. It can do a whole lot worse, too, if I so wish. And I do wish.”

  “Okay,” said Zoë. “I don’t understand what you want with Simon, what you’re hoping to achieve by all this. But trust me whe
n I say, you harm my friend, and you’ll have me to answer to.”

  “Oh, I know that, Zoë,” Meadowlark said. “I’m not an idiot. It’s just, I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. I’ve been waiting for the right moment, and it’s come along. This way, I also make sure the Regulators don’t kill me for associating with you guys. They’ll know I’m on their side, not yours. Speaking of which…”

  Meadowlark raised her voice.

  “Annie? Can you hear me, Annie? It’s Meadowlark Deane. I’ve got ahold of one of them. He’s my hostage, and I’m going to kill him if they don’t let you guys in.”

  “Meadowlark, don’t,” Zoë said. “You think you can strike a bargain with her? You think that’ll work?”

  “And get this, Annie,” Meadowlark continued, oblivious. “Dr. Weng is here.”

  “Gū yang zhōng de gū yang,” Mal hissed.

  “No word of a lie,” said Meadowlark to Annie. “He’s right here. Dr. Esau Weng, in the flesh. And he’s all yours. Come get him.”

  “Meadowlark…” Simon pleaded.

  “Come on, Annie,” Meadowlark said. “You’re never going to get a better chance than this.”

  67

  Zoë rose into a crouch, with her tin-can shiv held forward. Her weight was on her back foot. She was ready to pounce.

  “Uh-uh, Zoë,” said Meadowlark, shaking her head. She pushed the can opener harder against Simon’s neck. “Don’t. Don’t move. Don’t so much as blink.”

  Simon fixed Zoë with an imploring look: Get me out of this.

  “Why, Meadowlark?” Zoë said. She was doing her best to keep her voice calm, unmenacing. “You say you’ve been meaning to do this for a while. What has Simon done to you that’s so bad, he has to die?”

  “Hmm. Let’s see. Lied.” From the sound of it, it was the most obvious thing ever. “Simon is a liar. You all are, with your whole fake-convicts thing. But Simon’s the worst because he played nice with me, tried to make out he wanted to be friends. Friends and more.”

  “I never—” Simon began, but Meadowlark pushed the can opener up under his jaw, closing his mouth.

  “First of all, Simon, shut up. And second of all, really, shut up. I’m talking. Don’t know if Simon told you this, Zoë, but I have a thing about honesty. I prize it above all else. And by the same token, I hate liars. Hate ’em with a vengeance. Always have. I’ve spent years searching for an honest person, one truly honest person in this whole damn lousy ’verse. Know how many I’ve found in all that time? None. Not a one.”