Search [Thursday evening]
Feb. 24th, 2005 12:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flybywashMal glared with narrowed eyes at the Alliance cruiser, its looming shape growing ever bigger and uncomfortably nearer, and reached up to thumb the comm. "Kaylee. We had to land due to engine trouble. You wanna make that happen? Quick as you can."
"Okay, cap'n."
He released the button, stepped back a little. "Zoe. You grab Inara and Book. Start on the doc's quarters, put Inara on his sister's. Take Jayne if you have to, but you'll have to watch he don't steal anything. Clean out their personal effects, redistribute 'em around. Doc died a month or so back; she was a passenger we put down back on... Persephone. Pick names, I don't care, but tell me what before the ship's crawling with Alliance. And spread it round. We're all going to have to answer a fair passel of questions nice and polite-like, so we'd best get our stories straight."
"Yes sir." She strode out the door, saving questions for later as always.
"Wash. Our friendly neighborhood fugitives gone now?"
"Should be."
"Okay." He leaned over Wash's shoulder, and wiped off the comm-camera lens with a thumb. "Scramble this a touch. Not too much -- mite of mechanical trouble, is all."
Wash nodded, flipped a switch, nudged two dials. "Done. You're shiny."
Mal pressed the button to transmit. "Alliance cruiser, this is Firefly transport Serenity, requesting assistance. Repeat, this is Firefly transport Serenity, requesting assistance." He let go of the button, and smiled, just a little. "That oughta confound 'em some."
The words had hardly left his mouth when the wavescreen crackled. A commanding woman in full Alliance uniform wavered to life, reciting in a firm, authortative voice: "Unidentified Firefly transport, you are ordered to stand -- "
And stopped mid-sentence. "...I'm sorry, Firefly transport, we did not copy your last message. Could you say that again?"
Wash rolled his chair out of the way to give Mal free rein of the equipment. For his part, the captain put on an expression of studious sincerity that any honest, upfront citizen of the Allied Planets would be proud to wear. "This is Firefly transport Serenity," he repeated, slow and helpful. "Seems we've run into a spot of engine trouble, ma'am. Forced to touch down to suss it out. And are we ever glad to see you folks, let me tell you," he added, eyes wide and earnest. "Fallin' into a blackout zone, of all things! Been worried sick. It ain't safe in a place like this."
"Yes, we're well aware of that, mister...?" The skepticism never left her face.
"Reynolds," Mal supplied with an easy smile, ignoring the way Wash's chair squeaked as he spun around to face him, eyes wide with shock. "Captain Malcolm Reynolds."
"Captain Reynolds," she echoed. "What sort of engine trouble?"
"Don't rightly know, ma'am. Got my mechanic back there checkin' it out as we speak; hopefully she'll find the cause so's we can get ourselves going again. 'Til then...." An apologetic shrug. "I'm afraid we're good and stuck."
"I see." The officer glanced up, as if listening to someone just beyond their line of sight, then gave a terse nod and returned her attention to Mal. "If your...mechanical troubles...continue to persist," the words were loaded with as much sarcasm as she could get away with in her capacity, "we will tow your ship back to the IAV Galahad for repairs. In the meantime, standard protocol calls dor a search of your ship and all crew. I'm sure you understand."
"Of course." The genial smile never left Mal's face. It was only half a decade under his command that let Wash catch the way his eyes hardened, just a little. "Only doing your job. We'll be waitin'."
Another nod, and the picture fizzled into static. As soon as Mal switched off the comm-camera, Wash burst out, "Mal, what the hell are you -- "
"Bìzuĭ. We got exactly no time until they're swarming my boat, and the only chance we got of gettin' out of here is if we play nice." The smile was long gone. Spinning on his heel to stalk out of the cockpit, "Get yourself ready and meet us down in the cargo hold."
=====
" -- and the sooner the better," Zoe finished. "And Jayne, these things are going to be returned, so nothing valuable goes in your bunk." She pinned him with a Look and raised one eyebrow slightly.
Jayne blinked and muttered unconvincingly, "Thought never crossed my mind."
She eyed him with faint amusement. "Good." The amusement faded as quickly as it had come, back into brisk command. "Let's get to it, people."
-----
Kaylee shoved back the casing surrounding Serenity's engine and hopped onto the ledge, eyes flicking from one gear or tube or wire to the next as she examined her options. There lay her girl's heart, beating sure and steady as ever even as her brain got itself confused....
"Sorry, sweetie," she whispered with genuine guilt. "I'll promise I'll fix you back up right as rain soon as we're done, okay?"
And her hand darted into the engine, twisting a wire there, yanking a coil there, spinning two gears counterclockwise to jar the guts just enough to --
There was a drooping hum as the engine slid into silence. Biting her lip, Kaylee jumped off of the ledge and wormed her way underneath. "Promise," she said again, and crossed two final wires, arranging them as if a jury-rigged repair had finally frayed through, before crawling out and sprinting for the cargo bay.
-----
Book snapped the red medkit shut and handed it to Jayne. "This can stay in the sickbay. Have we got everything else?"
"Looks like," Jayne said sourly. "Don't know where we're gonna stash the ruttin' diary."
"Leave that to me." Book threw one sharp glance around Simon's room, stripped of any identifying personal items, and stepped out into the hall.
-----
Inara gave the room one last look as she finished folding River's scant wardrobe. Her mouth twisted sadly; it had only taken a few minutes to make the room look unused, and there hadn't been much to "redistribute." With a small sigh, she slid the door closed, and headed for Kaylee's room to deposit River's clothes and colored pencils with the other girl's belongings.
-----
"Wash, I'd rest easier with a little more assurance that Alliance won't find 'em soon's they open up a bit of panelling."
Wash clattered down the cargo bay stairs after the captain. "Swear to God, Mal, they won't."
"So how's about you tell me where they are, then." Mal wheeled round the corner and hit the button of the ship's comm with the heel of his hand. "Hurry it up, people. We got less than no time."
"Love to, but it's complicated. You said it yourself, we don't have the time. Just trust me, Mal."
A moment, while Mal eyed him flatly over the comm box and Kaylee and Inara hurried in -- Zoe was there already, silent and watching -- and then Mal muttered a curse and capitulated. "Qīngwā cào de liúmáng... Hăo ba. But you'd best have a damn good explanation."
Jayne and Book strode in, then, Jayne muttering something about only looking at it, and looking wasn't stealing, and Mal turned to the gathered group. "Okay. You all know the plan. We've done this before -- keep it simple, and keep it short. No sense saying things they'll take notice of. Truthful as you can without getting us in trouble -- lies mean discrepencies mean Alliance poking their noses where we don't want 'em. Zoe, you got those names made up?"
"We could call 'em Mr. and Mrs. Pain-in-the-ass," Jayne muttered. "That'd suit 'em."
"Not helping, Jayne," snapped Mal.
"The doctor's name was Jonathan Chang," Zoe reported. "Middle-aged, carrying about thirty extra pounds, liked opera. The passenger was Gwenifer Bishop. Uppity, kept to herself, didn't like to eat with the crew; we never knew much else about her and never much cared to."
Mal gave a curt nod. "We all got that?"
"Jonathan Chang, overweight, Gwenifer Bishop, uptight. Got it," Wash said, as Kaylee, Book, and Inara nodded their own assent. Jayne frowned in concentration, lips moving silently as he mouthed the names to himself.
"Jayne?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it, Mal."
And on cue, the airlock door buzzed loudly. With one last look at his crew, Mal slammed a hand on the button to open it.
Ten Alliance officers, armed and clothed in full riot gear, stepped onto the unfolding hatch. The third one made several sharp gestures to the other nine and said, "Three here, three to the quarters, three to the galley." To Mal, "Captain Reynolds?"
"Yes, sir." Mal bobbed his head in acknowledgement, the bland, friendly smile returning.
"Your papers, please."
Mal fished a leather sheaf of loosely-bound digital paper out of his coat and presented it without hesitation. The officer snatched it from his hands and flipped it open.
"I think you'll find everything's in order," Mal said. "Should be, at any rate."
"We'll decide that for ourselves." The officer snapped the sheaf closed and continued, "You're the same Malcolm Reynolds the Dortmunder brought in some months back?"
There was only the briefest flicker before Mal smoothly countered, "Won't deny it."
"Mmm." The officer raised his voice to address the others: "Give this ship the most thorough search you can. Take days if necessary. The rest of you," and he gave the crew a pointed look, "come with me."
"Okay, cap'n."
He released the button, stepped back a little. "Zoe. You grab Inara and Book. Start on the doc's quarters, put Inara on his sister's. Take Jayne if you have to, but you'll have to watch he don't steal anything. Clean out their personal effects, redistribute 'em around. Doc died a month or so back; she was a passenger we put down back on... Persephone. Pick names, I don't care, but tell me what before the ship's crawling with Alliance. And spread it round. We're all going to have to answer a fair passel of questions nice and polite-like, so we'd best get our stories straight."
"Yes sir." She strode out the door, saving questions for later as always.
"Wash. Our friendly neighborhood fugitives gone now?"
"Should be."
"Okay." He leaned over Wash's shoulder, and wiped off the comm-camera lens with a thumb. "Scramble this a touch. Not too much -- mite of mechanical trouble, is all."
Wash nodded, flipped a switch, nudged two dials. "Done. You're shiny."
Mal pressed the button to transmit. "Alliance cruiser, this is Firefly transport Serenity, requesting assistance. Repeat, this is Firefly transport Serenity, requesting assistance." He let go of the button, and smiled, just a little. "That oughta confound 'em some."
The words had hardly left his mouth when the wavescreen crackled. A commanding woman in full Alliance uniform wavered to life, reciting in a firm, authortative voice: "Unidentified Firefly transport, you are ordered to stand -- "
And stopped mid-sentence. "...I'm sorry, Firefly transport, we did not copy your last message. Could you say that again?"
Wash rolled his chair out of the way to give Mal free rein of the equipment. For his part, the captain put on an expression of studious sincerity that any honest, upfront citizen of the Allied Planets would be proud to wear. "This is Firefly transport Serenity," he repeated, slow and helpful. "Seems we've run into a spot of engine trouble, ma'am. Forced to touch down to suss it out. And are we ever glad to see you folks, let me tell you," he added, eyes wide and earnest. "Fallin' into a blackout zone, of all things! Been worried sick. It ain't safe in a place like this."
"Yes, we're well aware of that, mister...?" The skepticism never left her face.
"Reynolds," Mal supplied with an easy smile, ignoring the way Wash's chair squeaked as he spun around to face him, eyes wide with shock. "Captain Malcolm Reynolds."
"Captain Reynolds," she echoed. "What sort of engine trouble?"
"Don't rightly know, ma'am. Got my mechanic back there checkin' it out as we speak; hopefully she'll find the cause so's we can get ourselves going again. 'Til then...." An apologetic shrug. "I'm afraid we're good and stuck."
"I see." The officer glanced up, as if listening to someone just beyond their line of sight, then gave a terse nod and returned her attention to Mal. "If your...mechanical troubles...continue to persist," the words were loaded with as much sarcasm as she could get away with in her capacity, "we will tow your ship back to the IAV Galahad for repairs. In the meantime, standard protocol calls dor a search of your ship and all crew. I'm sure you understand."
"Of course." The genial smile never left Mal's face. It was only half a decade under his command that let Wash catch the way his eyes hardened, just a little. "Only doing your job. We'll be waitin'."
Another nod, and the picture fizzled into static. As soon as Mal switched off the comm-camera, Wash burst out, "Mal, what the hell are you -- "
"Bìzuĭ. We got exactly no time until they're swarming my boat, and the only chance we got of gettin' out of here is if we play nice." The smile was long gone. Spinning on his heel to stalk out of the cockpit, "Get yourself ready and meet us down in the cargo hold."
=====
" -- and the sooner the better," Zoe finished. "And Jayne, these things are going to be returned, so nothing valuable goes in your bunk." She pinned him with a Look and raised one eyebrow slightly.
Jayne blinked and muttered unconvincingly, "Thought never crossed my mind."
She eyed him with faint amusement. "Good." The amusement faded as quickly as it had come, back into brisk command. "Let's get to it, people."
-----
Kaylee shoved back the casing surrounding Serenity's engine and hopped onto the ledge, eyes flicking from one gear or tube or wire to the next as she examined her options. There lay her girl's heart, beating sure and steady as ever even as her brain got itself confused....
"Sorry, sweetie," she whispered with genuine guilt. "I'll promise I'll fix you back up right as rain soon as we're done, okay?"
And her hand darted into the engine, twisting a wire there, yanking a coil there, spinning two gears counterclockwise to jar the guts just enough to --
There was a drooping hum as the engine slid into silence. Biting her lip, Kaylee jumped off of the ledge and wormed her way underneath. "Promise," she said again, and crossed two final wires, arranging them as if a jury-rigged repair had finally frayed through, before crawling out and sprinting for the cargo bay.
-----
Book snapped the red medkit shut and handed it to Jayne. "This can stay in the sickbay. Have we got everything else?"
"Looks like," Jayne said sourly. "Don't know where we're gonna stash the ruttin' diary."
"Leave that to me." Book threw one sharp glance around Simon's room, stripped of any identifying personal items, and stepped out into the hall.
-----
Inara gave the room one last look as she finished folding River's scant wardrobe. Her mouth twisted sadly; it had only taken a few minutes to make the room look unused, and there hadn't been much to "redistribute." With a small sigh, she slid the door closed, and headed for Kaylee's room to deposit River's clothes and colored pencils with the other girl's belongings.
-----
"Wash, I'd rest easier with a little more assurance that Alliance won't find 'em soon's they open up a bit of panelling."
Wash clattered down the cargo bay stairs after the captain. "Swear to God, Mal, they won't."
"So how's about you tell me where they are, then." Mal wheeled round the corner and hit the button of the ship's comm with the heel of his hand. "Hurry it up, people. We got less than no time."
"Love to, but it's complicated. You said it yourself, we don't have the time. Just trust me, Mal."
A moment, while Mal eyed him flatly over the comm box and Kaylee and Inara hurried in -- Zoe was there already, silent and watching -- and then Mal muttered a curse and capitulated. "Qīngwā cào de liúmáng... Hăo ba. But you'd best have a damn good explanation."
Jayne and Book strode in, then, Jayne muttering something about only looking at it, and looking wasn't stealing, and Mal turned to the gathered group. "Okay. You all know the plan. We've done this before -- keep it simple, and keep it short. No sense saying things they'll take notice of. Truthful as you can without getting us in trouble -- lies mean discrepencies mean Alliance poking their noses where we don't want 'em. Zoe, you got those names made up?"
"We could call 'em Mr. and Mrs. Pain-in-the-ass," Jayne muttered. "That'd suit 'em."
"Not helping, Jayne," snapped Mal.
"The doctor's name was Jonathan Chang," Zoe reported. "Middle-aged, carrying about thirty extra pounds, liked opera. The passenger was Gwenifer Bishop. Uppity, kept to herself, didn't like to eat with the crew; we never knew much else about her and never much cared to."
Mal gave a curt nod. "We all got that?"
"Jonathan Chang, overweight, Gwenifer Bishop, uptight. Got it," Wash said, as Kaylee, Book, and Inara nodded their own assent. Jayne frowned in concentration, lips moving silently as he mouthed the names to himself.
"Jayne?"
"Yeah, yeah, I got it, Mal."
And on cue, the airlock door buzzed loudly. With one last look at his crew, Mal slammed a hand on the button to open it.
Ten Alliance officers, armed and clothed in full riot gear, stepped onto the unfolding hatch. The third one made several sharp gestures to the other nine and said, "Three here, three to the quarters, three to the galley." To Mal, "Captain Reynolds?"
"Yes, sir." Mal bobbed his head in acknowledgement, the bland, friendly smile returning.
"Your papers, please."
Mal fished a leather sheaf of loosely-bound digital paper out of his coat and presented it without hesitation. The officer snatched it from his hands and flipped it open.
"I think you'll find everything's in order," Mal said. "Should be, at any rate."
"We'll decide that for ourselves." The officer snapped the sheaf closed and continued, "You're the same Malcolm Reynolds the Dortmunder brought in some months back?"
There was only the briefest flicker before Mal smoothly countered, "Won't deny it."
"Mmm." The officer raised his voice to address the others: "Give this ship the most thorough search you can. Take days if necessary. The rest of you," and he gave the crew a pointed look, "come with me."
