The Treasure of Lei Fong Wu

Chapter Eighty One

Sinclair watched anxiously as the shuttle’s ramp slowly whined its way open in the docking bay. No one would ever guess he was anxious – he had studiously cultivated an expression of dispassionate objectivity over his career, and he wasn’t about to let that slip away now. But he really didn’t start breathing again until the ramp clanged to a stop, and Julian exited. He looked uninjured, if tired – his face had the same rumpled look as his worn fatigue pants. But he strode out of the shuttle like a conquering hero, head high, his expression resolute, and his weapon slung jauntily over one shoulder. A line of men just as tired but with a more subdued air, streamed out behind him. “Get the prisoners secured,” he ordered, “and see that everyone who needs medical attention gets to the infirmary.” As one of his lieutenants started shouting orders to that effect, he handed his submachine gun to Drake, who had accompanied Sinclair, and began walking. “Report,” he said, curtly. “Main reactor is on-line, but only at about 30% -- it will take a day or two to spin it back up, and the Chief is going to need the time to put the containment shields back into place for full power. We can make about quarter speed right now, but that should go up as the reactors come back.” Sinclair spoke smoothly, but he was worried he was babbling. It had been a long couple of days, he decided. A little babbling was understandable, if not justified. “Damage?” “None worth mentioning.” “What about that . . . carbon scoring on the hull?” “That . . . was a . . . well, the Sun Tzu launched a fighter, an ancient Marauder, actually, against our drones.” “How many did we lose?” Julian asked, concerned, as he stripped off his sweaty tactical vest and handed it to Drake. Sinclair knew why. Drones, even crappy war-surplus models, were expensive and hard to come by. “All of them.” “Q’in gue jeh de!” he swore bitterly. “But we got the bastard – the last drone he only disabled. We got control and smashed it into his engines while he was vandalizing our ship. He slipped around the horizon of the Sun Tzu and exploded.” “Damn,” Julian said, quietly. “What? That’s a bad thing?” “The pilot you scratched? Hoban Washburn?” “The asshole? Yeah?” “His wife is one of our prisoners.” “Oh.” “Yes. I don’t relish the idea of telling her she’s a widow. She’s a very capable woman, and I can see how she might hold a grudge. And I’ve told enough wives they were widows. It’s never pleasant.” Sinclair shrugged. “C’est le guerre,” he remarked. “Would you be so cavalier if it was me in a box?” “But it isn’t. You made it back,” Sinclair said simply. “Orders?” “Set course for . . . I guess the nearest place would be the Madras outpost. Do we have comm yet?” “No, until we get full power we won’t be able to penetrate this wacky system’s interference. Well, we can get something out on low E band, but we’re a ways away from a cortex connection.” “Let me know the moment we do. In the meantime, send a dispatch to . . . the Dort is too far away, likely, for this sector it would be . . . the Sandobar. Let them know our position, and have them come in and take care of that monster. Tell them to ensure at least two cruisers are in the fight, with plenty of marines, and nukes. Lots of nukes..” “That seems a little excessive,” commented Sinclair. “It isn’t. They’ve restored full power. If you had seen what I saw . . . nukes, a whole arsenal of them. Likely bioweapons and chemical agents, too. More fighters, armor, munitions and infantry than the whole Shadow Campaign during the War. God knows what other weapons systems. And they’ve woken up a mess of old-style Imperial soldiers – crack troops, likely fanatics. It will take them a while to get their systems up and running, but when they do, then they’ll have access to the big laser array, and then they could take on half the fleet with impunity. So two cruisers, minimum. If they move with purpose they can probably make it here in time.” “I’ll take care of it,” assured Sinclair. “Great. I’m gonna grab a shower and some chow, then nap for thirty. When I wake up I want to start interrogating the prisoners. Make sure they’ve been fed, allowed relief, and are ready to go.” “Which one should I start with?” Sinclair asked. “With Simon Tam. I’ve got some questions for that young man. And I aim to get some answers,” he growled menacingly. Sinclair knew that tone. When he heard it, heads rolled. To Sinclair it was like music. For the last two days he had been in charge, making decisions and issuing orders, and while he was comfortable with that it was nice to have the responsibility for the big picture fall on his partner’s shoulders. Daddy’s home, he thought with a sigh as Julian hustled off to his quarters.

*

*

*

“So you are the infamous Dr. Tam,” Julian asked with a certain degree of relish as he slapped down the flexi on the table. They were both seated at a steel table inside a tiny room that Julian used for interrogations. The walls were bare and stark, and the traditional single light hung from the ceiling over the table. Simon sat shackled to his chair, looking confident, if impotent. “I think ‘infamous’ overstates it a bit, but yes, I’m Simon Tam. Doctor Simon Tam.” “Oh, Doctor, you sell yourself short. Such a heavy reward on your wanted poster . . . your parents must be very proud.” “Actually, they’ve always had aspirations that I make Interpol’s ten most wanted. I’m a bit of a disappointment.” Julian had to chuckle at the crack. “No, really, Doctor. You have quite an impressive array of crimes listed here: impersonating an Alliance official, misappropriation of Alliance property, bribery, improperly accessing a secure facility, improperly viewing restricted security files, assault on an Alliance employee – several counts of that – evading Alliance customs, health and immigration personnel through use of a fabricated identity, forged documents, theft of Alliance property—” “In point of fact, my sister is not Alliance property,” Simon stated calmly. “That brings us to the kidnapping charge, and a couple of dozen related offenses. And that was just one week.” “I had a full schedule. Tried to cram it all in before the holidays.” “So it seems. You’ve been very naughty, Dr. Tam, and you seem to have gotten naughtier by the day since then. What have you to say for yourself?” “I . . . had a troubled childhood? Affluence, wealth and privilege turned me into a spoiled, scheming maniac with a sense of entitlement?” Simon rolled his eyes. “Honestly, what do you want me to say?” “I want to know every detail of your little plan,” Julian said, all trace of jovialty utterly gone from his face and voice. “I want to know every bit of minutia, every element, every aspect. I want to know what the hell you are up to.” “Very well,” Simon said, closing his eyes. “If you really want to know . . . It all started when my sister was about fourteen,” he began. For the next forty-five minutes Simon told a long, convoluted tale of intrigue and skullduggery, highlighting his growing hatred of the Alliance and his determination to bring the government to its knees. He told of how he had hired a decrepit freighter as his base and how he had contacted the Imperials to implement a plan of mult-world conquest, using the Sun Tzu as a staging ground for launching raids on the outer Rim and gradually working his way into the inner Core, with side references to plans for using Reavers as terror troops and disaffected Browncoats as clandestine agents throughout the ‘verse. He talked about the doomsday weapons he and his sister had developed, and how he had used her to steal highly classified secrets from the Alliance military and intelligence communities. His master plan would culminate with him seizing the throne of Londinium and the Great Hall of Sihnon and establish a glorious empire based on sound scientific principals, eschewing forever the blight of representative democracy. “And I would have done it, too, if it hadn’t been for you meddling bounty hunters,” he finished. There was a moment of silence while he stared at Julian. It was Julian’s turn to sigh. “I don’t believe a word of it,” he said, tiredly. “What?” Simon asked. “It’s . . . it’s my evil plan. You wanted to know, I told you. What, you want to torture me now?” “No, no, it’s a crock of go se, and we both know it. Dr. Tam – may I call you Simon?” “Please,” Simon said. “I feel like we’ve really bonded.” “Simon, I was a cop for years before I got into this business. I’ve interrogated upwards of two thousand people. Man gets a feel for things, after the first thousand. By now I can tell when a man is lying nineteen times out of twenty. And that was one long convoluted and not particularly inspired line of bullshit. You had me going for about, say, ten minutes. After twenty minutes I had my doubts. When you brought up that long part about the inevitability of the destruction of the Alliance due to its implicit moral corruption – well, I remember that speech, almost line for line, from an old CV serial villain from during the War. Suman’s Heroes, I think it was.” “Oh. You saw that?” “My sister’s kids loved that damn show.” “Pity. I thought it was a good addition.” “It would have been, had I been half my age. No, Simon, your story doesn’t add up on a number of levels. And I have a . . . sinking feeling that there is more going on here – and less going on here – than I originally imagined.” “Well, wouldn’t that be a shock,” Simon said with enough sarcasm to kill a small mammal. “As a matter of fact, I think you are concealing your true purpose and intentions behind this wall of go se. What is the real truth, here?” Simon stared at him. “You really want to know?” “I really do.” “You’re going to be disappointed,” he said, shaking his head. “Try me.” “Okay. I will. But I’m a little disappointed myself – I’ve been practicing this evil laugh, and wanted to try it out.” “Get on with it.” “Fine. Why do you think the Alliance wants me so badly?” “Because . . . you’ve stolen something valuable to the intelligence community, it seems. Some sort of weapons system, or something. It’s classified.” “I rescued my sister. That’s it.” “Rescued her? From a research facility? What, did she not like the retirement package?” “She wasn’t an employee, Martel. She was an experimental subject.” “A kid as bright as her? I can’t see it.” “It was precisely because she was so bright that they wanted her so badly. She’s a super-genius. Her intellect dwarfs the sum IQ of this entire ship. That’s why she was . . . recruited. Oh, they said it was an academy, one so special that it didn’t even have a name, and they showed us curricula, schedules, activities – every kind of tasty brain candy they knew my sister would bite on. She was fourteen years old, and smarter than you or I will ever be – but she was fourteen. Not mature enough to smell a rat. My parents . . . I think they could have found out, had they been suspicious. Truth was, my father was proud that his girl had rated such a high status placement, and my mother was just happy to see her too-smart daughter banished from polite Osirin society. Me? I was still a kid myself. I didn’t know any better than she.” “So what did they want your sister for?” “I told you, she’s a super-genius. She fit a profile they created for the kind of subject they needed to proceed with an experiment. You ever hear of the Daikini Project?” “Can’t say I have,” admitted Sinclair. “It’s been an on-again, off-again project that just about every major government has taken up since before the Exodus. It’s . . . well, you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s one of those pie-in-the-sky, nearly magical intelligence projects that they talk about in sci-fi shows because no one in the real world would ever believe that such a thing is possible.” “Try me.” Simon sighed. “Fine. They were surgically and psychologically altering River’s mind to make it . . . to make her telepathic.” “That’s . . . stretching the bonds of credulity, I think.” “I warned you,” Simon shrugged. “But it’s true. It’s River that they want, not me. Oh, they’re plenty pissed at Dr. Simon Tam for stealing away their prize experiment. And they’d love to use me as bait to get her back. But I’m nothing to them, without her.” “I find that hard to believe,” Julian said, skeptically. “Try me. Call your superiors. Let them know that you have ‘the infamous Dr. Tam’ in custody, and see if they cheer. I’ll bet you . . . a complimentary bullet removal that they don’t.” “I’m sure they’ll be pleased.” Simon shook his head. “Don’t count on it. River knows things. She knows things they don’t want her to know, and she knows things that they would kill to keep from getting out. She’s a walking, talking, babbling security breech in their impregnable system, and they will stop at nothing to get her back – or see her dead.” “That’s a pretty wild tale, Simon.” “You’re telling me? Two years or so ago, I was a highly respected surgeon on a Core planet making more money annually than you probably do. But when my baby sister, my mei mei, wrote me in code and begged me for help . . . well, you said you have a sister. What would you do?” “I’d try to work through proper channels,” admitted Julian stiffly. “Don’t be an idiot,” Simon warned. “You think I could spring River from a facility so secret it doesn’t officially exist by waving my MP? By writing scalding letters to the Memphis Gazette? No, Mr. Martel, I could not. Nor could you. If your sister wrote you begging, pleading letters that she was being hurt every day, would you casually go on with your life? Or would you take action?” “I damn sure wouldn’t go on a three-planet rampage of fraud and bribery to get her out,” Julian said. Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He would have gone after his sis like a lighting bolt, and damn the consequences. “So how did you do it? Get her out, I mean.” “I met some . . . people. People who had relatives in the same facility. They couldn’t get any closer than I could, but I had a huge credit account and the willingness to give up my life of affluence to break her out.” “Care to name any of these people?” Julian asked, casually. “I don’t think that would be in anyone’s interest. Besides, everyone used an alias, and I was very careful not to look too closely.” “And this under funded, motley band of erstwhile amateur rescuers was able to break into a Class B secure facility, overcome three levels of security, break out River Tam, and escape off-world without being detected,” Julian said skeptically. “They were very talented amateurs. And I didn’t say there weren’t any problems. I had to stash River in a cryochamber and have her shipped like cargo to Persephone. I went by a more circuitous route, but I met them there and got her away on Serenity.” “So if she’s such a bad-ass – and I know she is, after the bloodbath she pulled off on that space station – then why did she need your help to get away?” “The Alliance had her nice and tucked away where she couldn’t escape on her own. They had her drugged: metathorazine and calamydothene, mostly, and some anti-psychotics— Wait! What bloodbath on what space station?” he asked, looking anxious for the first time since the interrogation began. “Surely you knew about it,” Julian said, surprised. “She killed half a dozen security guards on a depot in the Vajra system? I think that’s right. Took them out in less than the time to say it. Only weapon was a pair of chopsticks.” Simon sagged. “River. Poor, demented River.” “You really didn’t know about it, did you?” “She was only supposed to distract them.” “She did. Did she ever! How about the casualties on Epiphany? Three or four thugs working for the local tong.” “I thought . . . well, never mind. If they were criminals, she may well have felt justified. Or if they were threatening her friends. Or me.” “You think she’s likely to come after us?” “Why, you worried?” “I have cause to be. I’m not so naïve myself as to think that a big warship like this, full of highly trained security professionals, could be compromised by her. I have a great respect for her abilities. A cute little girl like that – she could sneak in under our systems, I have no doubt. But I figured she would have to have your guidance to plan out an operation like that. We were under the impression that she was acting under your orders.” Simon stared at him, incredulous. Then he laughed. “I can’t order her to take a gorram aspirin if she doesn’t want to! No one tells River what to do. You can persuade her, sometimes, but even then it’s dicey, after what she’s been through. I had no idea.” “After what she’s been through?” “She suffers from a laundry list of mental illnesses, including post traumatic stress, induced schizophrenia, manic depression, catalepsy, delusions, hallucinations, and good old fashioned full blown violent psychosis. That’s in addition to the usual trauma associated with being a teenage girl.” “Jesus. Did they . . . torture her?” he asked, knowing full well that the clandestine services did use extreme measures more often than anyone was really comfortable with. “You could call it that. They invaded her skull over a hundred times – a hundred times! Even severely impaired patients rarely see a therapeutic cranial breech more than twice in their lives. River endured more than a hundred within three years. They cut out . . . they cut out a vital part of her, and used smoke and mirrors and holograms and post-hypnotic suggestions and God knows what else to screw with her mind until she did what they wanted.” “To what end? Telepathy?” scoffed Julian. “For a start,” agreed Simon. “But that was just a task on the way to the final goal. They wanted a spy, Martel. A spy and an assassin.” “This is more fantastical than the first story,” Julian said, rolling his eyes. “Believe it. What would you do with a telepath, Martel? If you were in power? Imagine having the perfect spy, someone able to lift intelligence from their targets mind without them even knowing. Someone you control by means of a carefully scripted fantasy that compels them to act in your interests. That would be powerful enough by itself – but what if she could efficiently eliminate the target afterwards so that no one else possessed that data? That’s what they were shooting for. They scraped away River’s childhood, neuron by neuron, and filled the space with more tactical information than an infantry squad. They took River’s natural genius and used it, and her, and abused her naiveté. They gave her knowledge like no one has ever known, spycraft, mechanics, chemistry, ballistics, politics, sociology . . . the list goes on.” “And she’s also a master at martial arts,” Julian added. “They exploited all of her natural talents. River loves to dance. You’ve never seen her dance –” “—Actually, I have. It’s how we got on to your trail. A dancing video game on Epiphany. She was very good,” Julian admitted. “Then you understand what a small leap it is from dancing to martial arts. And firearms – my sister hates guns. Hates them with a passion. But a few months back, our ship was under attack, and she picked up a pistol and killed three men. With her eyes closed.” “That sounds improbable.” “Not when she can hear their thoughts. Who needs eyes? And that other bounty hunter, Jubal Early. She took him out, too. Because she could read his thoughts, she understood highly technical issues about his ship – something rarely taught to seventeen year olds – and she has a devious and highly creative sense of humor.” “So that’s what happened to Early. I suppose I should add murder to the list,” he remarked. “Not so fast: that was self defense. He invaded our home and threatened our crewmates. Bastard shot me in the leg when I was unarmed. Threatened to rape our engineer.” “That’s Early, all right,” agreed Julian. “Miserable human being. She shoot him?” “She arranged for him to take an extended EVA. Unfortunately, his suit was not equipped with thrusters, so he, alas, didn’t return from the Black. Bastard froze to death or died of hypoxia, I don’t know which one he deserved more. But River set it up.” “No one here will shed a tear. Man gave me the willies.” “And this telepathy, it was also responsible for what happened to my man back on Salisbury? The one you chucked into the frozen pond?” “That’s River,” Simon agreed. “Mal had the brilliant idea that he could fake having a mind reading device, and your guy bought it.” “That’s a handy talent to have.” “My point, Martel, is that River is perhaps the most dangerous woman alive. And those in power will do whatever it takes, use whoever necessary – you, me, a fleet of Alliance ships, a planet full of people – to keep her from telling what she knows. If they thought they could eliminate her by using an atomic weapon in a crowded metropolis, they wouldn’t hesitate. They would kill millions of people – because if River’s knowledge about any number of secrets were to come to light, the lives of billions would be effected. In a way, I’ve done their job for them. By staying on the run I’ve managed to keep her from revealing anything major – which senator is banging his secretary, who is spying on seditious groups, who is behind the drops trade – you name it.” “That’s a pretty wild story there, Simon.” “I lead a pretty wild life, Martel. I couldn’t make this go se up.” “And why should I believe you one bit?” “Because you’ve done more than two thousand interrogations and you know when someone is lying and when they’re being straight with you. Think about it: what part of my story have I lied to you about?” Julian didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Simon may have been a mediocre liar – and he was, compared to most criminals – but he was completely sincere this last half-hour. He might be wrong about what he said, but he believed every word of it with absolute sincerity. “So, what do you plan on doing with us?” Julian sniffed. “The moment our ansible connection is back, I’m going to turn you in to my employers and collect my gorram bounty. We’ve lost a lot of money on you, Tam, and we need to make good on some of our losses.” “What about my crewmates?” “We got a single warrant on Cobb from Higgen’s Moon, and while nothing concrete has popped up about Ms. Washburn I can’t imagine that her hands are clean. We’ll find something.” “I’d like for you to release them,” Simon said. “And I’d like to have a thirteen inch pecker. Looks like we’re both gonna have to live with disappointment.” “I’m serious. Keep me, if you must – I’m willing to take my chances with the authorities. But those two are harmless, in the big picture. A couple of small time crooks who got mixed up in something too big for them to deal with.” “I’m not in the business of letting captives go free. I told you, we lost a lot of cash going after you and your sib. Those two small fry won’t bring much, but every little bit helps.” “You don’t understand. If you keep them – especially Zoe – Malcolm Reynolds will dog your steps until she’s free again.” “Oh, I’m terrified.” “Mal Reynolds is psychotic in his own right. I don’t much like the man, but I respect him. He is low-brow, unsophisticated, and lacking in refinement in ways that only Jayne Cobb can surpass. But he is utterly tenacious. You’ve got to know about his war record: he and Zoe were the only survivors from his platoon at Serenity Valley. Eight weeks of brutal fighting, division after Alliance division, and Mal Reynolds and Zoe Washburn survived it all. He will keep coming, and with River egging him on he will catch up with you. You ditch Zoe and Jayne now, well, he won’t have a compelling reason to, then. River might come after you on her own, but she doesn’t have a ship or money or any support. He won’t come after me, alone – doesn’t really . . . like me all that much. But Zoe . . . he’d cross every Earth spinning to find her, and lay them all to waste to get her back. He’s . . . he’s just that way.” “I remain unconvinced. Your sister, she kind of scares me. Unpredictable. The telepathy thing, that’s worrying. But Reynolds? He’s an old disaffected Browncoat turned to crime, is all. I’ve seen hundreds like him. He’s got a steel jaw and a belly full of spite, but he can’t touch us. I’m not afraid of Reynolds.” “Really?” Simon asked. “Then . . . why is your ship not at full power?” Julian started. The young snot had a point. While they couldn’t pin down exactly how, they knew that somehow the Sanchez gang on Madonna had sabotaged the Relentless, and likely under his orders. “I’ll take it under advisement. But to be honest, tossing out your comrades in a life pod could well condemn them to a slow death, if Reynolds doesn’t come. Even if he does, waste of a good lifepod. Worth more than their two bounties combined. Now, while you’ve been more helpful than I expected, I have to go arrange for your transfer and my payout.” “You’re making a mistake. Reynolds will come for you, Martel,” Simon insisted. “They both will. Mark me, they will.” “Won’t that be a fun party? Guards, take Dr. Tam back to the holding cell. Then bring in Washburn. I’ll be back to debrief her after I see to some things on the Bridge.”

*

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*

“Great news,” Julian said into the optical pickup with a sincere smile. “I’ve got Tam,” he pronounced. The image of the man on the monitor was wavering and pixilated, the result of a tenuous connection and massive system interference. It would clear up as soon as the reactors spun up, or they cleared the system, or some combination of the two, but as it was Julian could make out the impassive, remarkably unremarkable face of his nameless contact. There was no mistaking his one identifying characteristic, however: the blue latex gloves. “You have made me a very happy man,” he said without visible emotion. “When and where can we meet? Is she in good condition? Is she operational?” he asked, the barest hint of concern entering his voice. “No, no, not the sister. We have the brains: Simon Tam.” Julian held his breath as he said it – this would test Tam’s theory. If he reacted negatively, then he would know that the doctor was speaking the truth, all evidence to the contrary. “Simon . . . Tam?” the blue handed man asked. “You don’t have the girl?” “No, she evaded us. But we have him secured. And a couple of his accessories.” “Idiot,” the man almost spat. “He is inconsequential. He might be useful leverage, but it is she that we seek.” “Hold on now,” Julian said, throwing up his hands. “I just lost two dozen good men and spent a small fortune just tracking and capturing him. I need to get paid. Then we can work on the sister. But you need to tell me why she’s the prize, and not him.” “I need tell you nothing,” the nameless man said decisively. “All you need know is that we desire her, and we will pay . . . dearly for her.” “And all you need to know is that I have her brother, two other accomplices, and a balance sheet that’s bleeding red all over my retirement. So if you want Tam – even if he isn’t the Tam you need – I had better start hearing some positive reinforcement in the form of a whole lot of zeros.” “We’ll pay for him,” the man conceded. “Well now, like I said, I incurred considerable expense on this one. Worst chase I’ve ever had. I’ll need . . . at least a couple of million for him.” “That’s outrageous and unacceptable,” the blue handed man said without emotion. “Simon Tam’s reward is established.” “Simon Tam’s reward is open to negotiation, or Simon Tam will walk out of my ship a free man,” warned Julian. “The girl is the prize,” insisted the man. “Not her brother.” “Better the Tam you have,” quipped Julian. “Two million. In platinum. And hope I don’t change my mind on the way.” “You realize that you may imperil future contracts with this attitude,” the man said flatly. “There won’t be any future contracts if the Hammer Group is in receivership. I have expenses, and if I don’t pay them then my services . . . including my well-known reputation for discretion – will no longer be available to you and your collegues.” “The girl . . . you have an idea where she is?” “I know exactly where she is, but I can’t get to her. It’s a long story, but she is protected beyond my capabilities to extract her.” “But . . . don’t you have a warship?” “Well, as a point of fact, so does she at the moment.” “I . . . see,” the man said. “She still resides with Reynolds, on the Firefly?” “She does,” agreed Julian. “Then give me her location, and Simon Tam, and you will have your two million – with prejudice.” “What about the other two?” “Space them,” the man said instantly. “Under no circumstances are you to debrief them, nor should you have prolonged contact with Tam.” “Now wait a gorram minute,” Julian said. “I’m not a gorram vigilante, I’m a bounty hunter. I bring ‘em back alive, if possible – and I only kill when I have to. Never in cold blood.” “There was that matter of the children on Hera,” reminded the man with the blue hands. “That was a gorram mistake, and you know it!” “Dispose of them, give us River Tam’s coordinates, give us Simon Tam, and I will increase your bounty to three million.” “Meet us at Madras in . . . three days. You’ll get Tam. But you’d better have the money.” “We have an agreement. A pleasure doing business with you.” Julian signed off before he spoke. “In a rat’s ass,” he agreed.