My Own Kind of Freedom, Steven Brust [android based ebook reader TXT] 📗

went behind the bar, and closed the flap that completed it. He dropped the keys next to the register, and turned around, moving slowly as if he had weapons trained on him. Mal and Zoë had kept their weapons holstered, but Mark clearly hadn’t forgotten.

“Okay,” he said. “What’s your pleasure?”

“Just a question or two.”

His eyes narrowed. “All right, ask.”

“There was a fellow in here last night. Big, heavy drinker, stranger. You asked if we were with him—”

“I know who you mean.”

“We’re looking for him.”

“He should be easy to find.”

Mal felt Zoë looking at him. Although she probably didn’t realize it, that look meant the bartender was safe; she’d never have taken her eyes off him otherwise. “Care to explain what you mean?”

“He’s either at the aid station or the lockdown. I think the lockdown; he didn’t seem to be hurt too bad.”

“What happened?”

The other shrugged. “He got drunk, took a swing at me, started beating on customers. I had to call the Locals. If he was a friend of yours, I’m sorry. I didn’t have any choice. He should have had his drink down the hill, with the miners, if he wanted to cut loose. He was busting up—”

“No,” said Mal. “He’s no friend. But I would like to talk to him. Any idea what the charges will be?”

“Drunk and disorderly, I suppose.”

“Okay. I should see about the fine.”

The bartender shifted on his feet, and looked down at the bar. “Uh, Mal … .”

“Mmm?”

“That isn’t how things work here.”

Mal studied him, then looked at Zoë, and then back. “Okay. Maybe you’d best go ahead and explain how things do work here.”

_Yuva: Town jail_

He managed to reach the aluminum toilet before his stomach emptied itself. He straightened up, reached the aluminum sink, and rinsed out his mouth. The taste of the water made it only barely an improvement. He made it back to the aluminum bench and stretched.

He closed his eyes, opened them, and cursed long and creatively. He took an inventory of his pains, and nothing hurt too much; the worst were the knuckles of his right hand, where he’d clocked that fat lüzi de jiba.

There was a rattle, a pause, and the door swung out. They were good—they looked before opening the door—but they unlocked it first, so they weren’t all that good.

But he wasn’t about to try anything now; he wasn’t in shape for it, and didn’t know enough.

When the door opened, there was an unarmed guard there. He swung to his feet, and saw an armed guard a few paces behind him. Okay, so they knew their business.

“Jayne Cobb?” said the guard.

Jayne waited.

“Is your name Jayne Cobb?”

He continued waiting. The guard shrugged. “You’re charged with two counts of battery and one charge of public drunkenness. Anything to say? If you aren’t Jayne Cobb, now’s the time to say so, except I was on duty last night when you were hauled in, so it doesn’t much matter.”

“Anything to say? What, you’re my judge?”

The guard nodded. “We handle minor administrative matters at this level. If you’d killed someone, we’d have to—”

“Do I get a—”

“No.”

Jayne glared at him. “Well, you just do what you do.”

The guard nodded, and read from a clipboard. “Jayne Cobb, you are hereby sentenced to five weeks of indenture to Heracorp—”

“Indenture?” Jayne rose to his feet. The second guard took a step forward and swung his shotgun so it was a bit closer to pointing toward Jayne.

He estimated his chances. He didn’t like them. He shrugged. Five weeks in the mines wouldn’t be any fun, but he’d lived through worse. “All right,” he said. “Maybe we’ll have a talk when I get out.”

The guard smirked.

Jayne wasn’t always the best at reading people, but he knew what a smirk meant. He glared at the guard.

“All right, how does it work?”

“How does what wo—”

“Hump that fayu. How do they do it?”

Yuva: Canteen

“It varies,” said Mark, “but there’s always something. Maybe you show up five minutes late for work, that’s another six months. Maybe you leave for lunch a minute early, that’s another six. Pushing another worker, two months; pushing at a guard, another year. Obscenity—”

“Okay,” said Mal. “How do they get away with that?”

“Who’s going to stop him?”

“What, does he have an army backing him?”

“Call it a large security force.”

“Huh.”

The bartender reached under the counter, but emerged with nothing more than a damp cloth, with which he absently attacked some of the splotches on the stainless steel counter in front of him. “What about you?” he said.

“Hmmm?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Delivering cut maple.”

“Ahh.” The bartender smiled.

“You know what it’s for?”

“It’s for me. I’ve been wanting a new place, and he’s been promising me one for most of a year now. A real saloon, made of good wood. Know what I mean? And I want swinging doors, holo windows, a dart board, a flyball booth, maybe a couple of pool tables. So, what was that ruckus about last night? Those two guys you picked on were on Mister Sakarya’s private security staff.”

Mal felt a quick glance from Zoë, and checked his tongue, then said, “A personal matter.”

“For your sake, I hope it stays personal.”

“I’m like to feel the same way. Where is the lockdown?”

“Back of the security office, just down the street.”

“The security office for the company?”

“That’s right.”

“They house the lockdown for the Locals?”

The bartender nodded.

“Well. You have to like it that they make no effort to hide it.”

Mark stared down at the rag in his hand.

Mal shrugged, nodded to Zoë, and they made their way out the door.

“Sir—”

“I need to talk to Jayne.”

“Sir, tell me you aren’t thinking about breaking Jayne out of a lockdown.”

“I just need to talk to him.”

“And when they don’t let us see him, which they won’t?”

“We’ll think of something.”

“Think of something, sir?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Well. Smear me with engine grease and call me Kaylee. I’m just full of optimism.”

“There it is; that’s the security office. Are we supposed to knock?”

“Couldn’t say, sir.”

They went in. Two men sat behind desks, facing each other. Both looked up as they entered.

“Good afternoon,” said Mal. “Can you tell me where to find the lockdown?”

The bigger of the two said, “You want to be put in jail?”

“Not exactly,” said Mal. “There’s someone you have here. How do I arrange to visit him?”

The two security officers looked at each other.

Two minutes later, they walked out again.

“Don’t say it, Zoë.”

“I have to, sir.”

Mal sighed. “All right. Say it.”

“Now is when you need to think of something.”

“Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you, sir.”

He stopped when they got back to the street, not sure which way to turn.

“He has an army, sir.”

“A small one, sure.”

“To pull a jailbreak would be suicide.”

“Did you see that place? You and I could walk in there and walk out with him.”

“Then what? They have an army, sir.”

“Well, I suppose they do, kind of.”

“You don’t owe Jayne anything.”

“It isn’t about owing Jayne, it’s about needing to ask him some questions.”

“Sir, what makes you think he’ll answer?”

“If we break him out of jail, he’ll answer.”

“Would you mind telling me what you want to ask him?”

“I’d like to find out what he might have done that set all this off.”

“I think it’s safe to say he tried to call in the Alliance to get the reward on River and Simon.”

“I’m sure he did, Zoë. Then what happened?”

“You think he’d know?”

“All right, Zoë. How would you suggest we find out?”

“I’d suggest, sir, that we don’t. That we get back to Serenity and get off this gorram world.”

“Can’t do that, Zoë.”

“Anzhao yi tou bei yange de liniu de shuzui xiwang why not?”

He closed his eyes. “Let’s go back to the canteen and have a beer while I think about this.”

“Yes, sir. I’m good with two out of three.”

Yuva

She matched paces with the Captain as they headed the short block toward the canteen. Her eyes never stopped moving, and her mind never stopped working.

She was, by now, very much aware that there was more than one thing going on. Yes, the Captain had been behaving oddly ever since Inara had left; but that wasn’t all of it. There was something else, and it was something that could get the Captain killed—not to mention Wash, herself, and the rest of the crew.

She was also very much aware that she was closer to the Captain than anyone else: she knew him better, and he’d accept things from her that he wouldn’t from anyone else. But there were lines that she’d never crossed, and he had put those lines there for a reason. She knew why the walls were there; she had her own walls that permitted her to live in Serenity Valley. It had taken a long series of accidents and tremendous effort to let Wash inside as far as he was. And Wash understood enough of those barriers and lines to respect them, and to love her anyway; that was how they survived.

The Captain didn’t have anyone; had consistently pushed away Inara when she’d come too close to them.

And now, it seemed, she was going to have to break those lines, or jump right over them, or none of them would get out of this.

She wasn’t sure she could do it.

The Captain opened the door, and they entered the Canteen.

Yuva: Town jail

The cell door shut with a clang. They’d be back in a while, after “processing” him, and then it was off to the mines. Was he going to have better chances of making a break here, or from the mine itself? Well, making the attempt here didn’t mean he couldn’t try later. And getting off the world, or at least off the continent, was going to be a problem in any case.

If he had the chance, he should stop by the public lockers and pick up his bags; he wanted his guns, and the cash from selling that ginseng might make the difference. Good thing he’d nabbed it.

Out of habit, he looked around the cell for anything that might become a weapon. The chair, the bed, the toilet, and the sink were all one piece and built in. The drain in the floor was welded.

He was wearing a one-piece, light blue coverall that closed with velcro.

On the positive side, he knew the procedure they used when opening his cell. He had a pretty good chance of taking them both out, if he was fast. Then he’d be armed. After that … .

How many were there? And what gorram direction did he need to go? Maybe, from the hall, he could see. The building wasn’t all that big; how hard could it be?

He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and tried to think.

This sort of thing just never was his strength; that’s why he’d always hooked up with someone else to do the planning, to do the figuring. That’s why it had worked so well with this last crew, up until Mal had decided to be a ru aixiao de zacao de chui xia yinjing about the gorram ginseng.

No point in thinking about that now. No point in thinking about what he wasn’t good at, he had to concentrate on what he was going to do.

The door rattled, clunked, and opened.

His idea of a