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BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - GENERAL
Everything on the Blue Sun Job is progressing smoothly--give or take a bit of Fed trouble.
CATEGORY: FICTION TIMES READ: 2945 RATING: 9 SERIES: FIREFLY
Blue Sun Job, Part 3: Going Smooth
Sequel to the Truthsome series (link is to part 1)Blue Sun Job, Part 1: Plans and SchemesBlue Sun Job, Part 2: Into the Lion’s Den
Monty stared at Mal fixedly. Mal could see the gears clicking. Monty’s eyes darted around the bar.
“Maybe this isn’t the right place to have this conversation,” Mal said.
“No, no. We’re fine,” Monty said, a titch more nervous sounding than Mal’d heard in quite some time. The big guy was generally nothing if not cool and self-assured. “Just don’t use that word out loud in here again.” Alliance. He paused, reconsidering. “Leastwise, not unless you got some powerful cuss words attached to it.”
Monty’s love of the Alliance rivaled Mal’s and Zoe’s... save for that one exception. “Gorram it, Mal,” Monty hissed, leaning over the table toward them. “ ‘Sides the two of you, ain’t but two on my own crew know I got..” he mouthed the words, “an Alliance connection.. It’s not a card I’ll play lightly. 懂吗?”
“Yes. I appreciate that. The score’s worth it, in my estimation. And he’d be taking a minimal risk, give or take. So... Think your boy’d be willing? And...” he held Monty’s eye, “...trustworthy?”
Leaning back, Monty clasped his hands over his broad chest, twiddling his thumbs thoughtfully. “I’m thinking ‘yes’ He owes me. Hell, he owes you. Our prison camps weren’t no more of a treat to be stuck in than theirs were. But no way he’d get in to,” he cleared his throat, “that place.. Background checks there got to be fearsome. Anyone get to digging too deep in his shiny” mouthed “—Fed—” out loud “background, they run into me.”
Mal nodded. “Don’t need him to. There’s a warehouse nearby that...” He stopped in mid-sentence, looking up. The light over their table flickered briefly. Mal saw Monty tense. “What is it?”
“Raid,” Monty said. Other table lights also flickered. A couple people stood up, hurrying toward the back exit.
All three, Mal, Zoe, and Monty brought their hands up to the tabletop, resting them in plain sight. As the door to the bar opened and six well-armed Alliance police strode in, Mal gave Jayne a small ‘do nothing’ hand signal. The chatter in the bar ceased. One bold—or foolhardy—soul made a snide comment about the Feds’ ancestry and sexual habits in a stage whisper. The head cop scowled and crossed over to the man, demanding to see his I.D. Mal figured that fella for a decoy, giving some others time to get out and away. The man did produce a shiny ident card that seemed to pass muster.
A low, seething undercurrent of hatred in the bar, a fair bit of it his own, crept over Mal like a Chinese dragon snaking down a crowded street, twining amongst the people, waiting to breath fire. He gripped his drink, tight, with his right hand—the one itching to pull his piece and blow the 他妈的 Feds to the hot place. Mal didn’t need to look at Zoe to read her expression. He could hear her breathing, carefully measured and controlled.
The Feds were here just for a shakedown, for harassment, trying to bait someone into taking a swing, or a shot at one of them so they’d have an excuse to kill or arrest the lot of them. Did the Feds know this place was an underground site? Once he realized what was going on, Mal spotted a good half dozen who were probably in the underground. How deep in was Monty? Didn’t know. Wouldn’t ask. Didn’t want to know. The connections could be useful, but damned dangerous, too. Now was an especially bad time to get marked by the Feds for such associations. They had suspicions enough tied to them.
Finishing the persecution of their first victim, the head of the Fed squad scanned about the room. Though overtly ignored, Mal noted, everyone keenly tracked each move the cops made. Mal knew the instant their table was selected as the next target. Monty clenched his teeth, but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. Zoe’s breathing became more deliberate. Mal stared down at his glass, shifting it slightly to better track the Feds in the reflections on the surface.
The head cop came to stand by the table, flanked by two of his goons. The other three were ranged around the bar, fingers on triggers.
“I.D.,” he demanded of Mal.
Not looking up, Mal answered lightly, “Darn. Must have left it in my other trousers.” He raised his eyes to meet the Fed’s with just a hint of challenge. Sometimes he just couldn’t help it.
A nasty smile flickered across the Fed’s face. “Get up,” he ordered.
Carefully, Mal stood, keeping his hands flat on the table. “Trouble, officer?” he asked pleasantly, while he glared death at the Fed. Zoe slowly and subtly brought her feet further back under her, ready to move if the play called for it. Mal felt her eyes on him, set to back any action he chose. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jayne easing into a better position. Violence was inches away. Half the others in the bar would back them just for the hell of it.
Though he ached for a good fight, and to wipe the 他妈的 Fed’s smile off his face, Mal held it in. Years of painful training had taught him to take what he had to take, like it or not. He raised his hands when ordered, submitting without a twitch to a pat-down. The cop pulled Mal’s pistol from his holster, unloaded it and set it on the table, same with another piece Mal had in a left-hand position, and his small hold-out. Confirming that the intent was just general harassment, the cop ignored several other objects—wallet and such—he clearly felt. The cop stepped back.
“All right,” the Fed in charge said distractedly, looking about the bar. Already disinterested in Mal, having failed to incite any resistance, they moved on to their next targets.
Mal sat down slowly, not touching any of his weapons arrayed on the table top. Focusing on reining in anger, he glanced at Zoe, wondering what Wash would make of the look in her eye just now. Probably be an even split between backing away from her slowly and dragging her off to their bunk.
“You know,” Monty commented mildly when the Feds finally left, one cuffed victim in tow, “this might not be the right place to talk after all.”
“Ya think?” Mal snorted.
Sunday, May 16, 2004 3:32 AM
Sunday, May 16, 2004 8:02 AM
Sunday, May 16, 2004 6:58 PM
Friday, May 28, 2004 3:25 AM
Thursday, September 29, 2011 7:29 PM
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