as the turn of the worlds, book two, part three
Title: As the Turn of the Worlds; Book Two: Still Flying
Chapter Title: the Train Job
Rating: High T/Low M
Genre: Action/Adventure, Space Western
Characters/Pairings: Ensemble; Mai/Jet, Zuko/Katara (est. relationship), Smellerbee/Longshot (est. relationship), Toph/Haru, Suki/Sokka
Summary: Aang never woke up from the iceberg, and the world went on without him, and without the Avatar. Over the next three thousand years, technology advanced astronomically -- literally, the people of the overcrowded world taking to the stars, colonizing a whole new solar system with dozens of planets and hundreds of moons. Now, the Avatar is a barely-remembered myth, bending is regarded as a relic of a rightfully-dead past, and only two of the original four countries still exist: the Fire Nation, one of the most powerful forces in the Union of Allied Planets, and the Water Tribe, clinging to life on the Outer Rim, still fighting desperately for the dream of independence. The latest civil war ended seven years ago, in a landslide victory for the Alliance -- but that doesn't mean the fight for independence is over.
Book Two: Still Flying: Azula isn't the only one on the hunt for the Avatar -- the Parliament, untrusting of the Fire Lord and looking to help Azula supplant him, has sent out their own man, an Operative who works with a small strike force of powerful, secretive men. Meanwhile, a woman from both Sokka's and Jet's pasts has a job offer they can't afford to refuse, Katara must learn to heal as soon as possible, and the specter of a recent Reaver attack hangs heavy over the whole crew...
Chapter Summary: In which the crew must resort to desperate measures to save Toph.
(at blue sun outpost 6519 on lilac)
"Jet, don't you think this is a little... morbid?" Pipsqueak asked, and he sighed.
"Look, I don't want to do this, but we can't afford to go back empty-handed," he replied, rifling through the storage room. They'd come back at night, after hiding out in a canyon until they were sure the Reavers had gone. Initially, the plan had been to hit the outpost during Sunday Mass so it wouldn't be crowded -- and it had been working great until Toph's communicator had spelled trouble -- but now that that had gone south, they were returning to finish the job in the dead of night. He'd contacted Fanty and Mingo earlier with the news that they'd been hit by Reavers but no one was dead and they'd still get the job done.
That was Jet's reputation: Jet got the job done, period.
It was harder to get in without Toph's genius with locks, so they had brought in the next best thing: the little Avatar, who supposedly would be able to learn earthbending. He had insisted that he didn't know how Toph did any of the things she did, but Jet figured that if all else failed, the kid would work wonders at getting them out of trouble: after all, he had a grin that could melt even Mai's cold, hard heart, so the authorities would be putty in his hands.
He hadn't been worth much in breaking the locks, so Jet had decided to just forget about subtlety and shoot them off. That had alerted the one security guard on duty -- apparently his coworkers had all gone to their families after the Reaver attack -- but a quick dose of morphine they had snatched from the Infirmary (administered by Bee) had knocked him flat on his back.
And now they were getting the cargo and getting gone. Do the job, he thought. Never mind that one of his crew was laid up with a hole going straight through her, never mind that he still had the top bits of a Reaver ship lurking in his cargo bay, never mind that none of them had any sleep, never mind that the Avatar didn't know the elements, never mind that the Alliance was hunting for him, never mind that all they had left to eat were three protein bars and a box of raisins, never mind -- never mind.
Do the job.
Jet got the job done, period.
--
(on freedom)
"How is she?" Mai asked, slipping into the door like a ghost. Jet looked up.
"Same, mostly," he replied, sighing. "Ship's falling apart and my mechanic had to go and get herself -- " he cut himself off. He wanted to be mad at Toph, because if he wasn't mad then he would have to face the fact that he was scared, and Jet didn't get scared over his caustic mechanic. Mai, like always, saw through him.
"She's strong," she said quietly, leaning against the counter beside him. This close, he could tell that she had been trying to sleep but failed -- she wasn't wearing any makeup (although he often wondered why she wore any at all) and her hair was just the slightest bit messy. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he checked on the rest of his crew, he'd find them in similar predicaments. Toph's situation was hanging heavy over all of them -- even the perpetually cheerful Aang was more subdued and antsy than usual.
"Takes more'n strong to survive a javelin to the stomach," he growled, running a hand through his hair. "Doc says she needs stronger antibiotics than what we've got."
"And?" she asked, guessing there was more. He sighed.
"Fanty and Mingo paid a quarter up front for the Lilac job," he explained, "which only gets us enough fuel to get there and back. I can't buy meds for Toph and get back to Beaumonde."
"But if she goes septic," Mai continued for him, "she'll die, no matter what Haru does."
"And I can't just let her die," he finished. "Even if she wasn't one o' my crew -- Toph's all that keeps this ship runnin' most days."
"I know," she said sardonically, "she complains about it enough." Jet smirked.
"Yeah, but you know the secret?" he asked, leaning in conspiratorially. "She actually likes it that way. Makes her feel important, gives her somethin' to be proud of." The smirk fell off his face as he watched Toph, laying still and silent on the bed -- it wasn't that long ago that it was Bee laying like that, and he was surprised to find that he felt almost the same emotions now as he did then; the same anger and helplessness and fear. Perhaps not as strongly as he did when it was Bee, and perhaps with a little more anger and a little less fear, but... Toph was one of his crew, and he made it a point to look out for his crew.
But what could he do for her now? She needed the medication -- and quickly, before sepsis set in -- but he didn't have the money to get it.
Well, that left one option: get more money, and get it fast.
"What are you going to do?" Mai asked, in that almost-challenging tone that Bee used sometimes, to snap him out of whatever emotion was gripping him, to bring him back down to reality. Trust Mai to use that tone.
"Ezra's not far from here -- the way the systems are right now, it's closer'n Beaumonde," he replied, sighing again. "I've heard of a lady that operates out of Ezra's sky, she's always got some job opening."
"What's the catch?"
He shot her a wry smile -- always the ever-cynical Mai. In this part of the black, her cynicism and pragmatism were two of her greatest strengths. "She ain't exactly known for being overly friendly, or 'specially sane."
"I'm sure her gold glitters just the same as all the others," Mai said, and he leaned heavily against the counter.
"And it's for Toph," he muttered, and then glanced at her. "What about you? You still owe us for springin' Katara."
Mai scowled, and stepped forward, smoothing Toph's hair, probably more to occupy her hands than anything else. He noticed that she was shaking, and it surprised him -- did Mai really care for Toph that much? "My accounts are frozen," she replied, and only the slightest change in tone told him that she was pissed about that. "I should have emptied them when I had the chance. When I can, I'll get you the payment."
He shrugged. "I know you're good for it. Just don't wanna forget."
"I won't," she replied, and they stood together in the silence, watching Toph's ragged, shallow breathing.
--
(orbiting the planet ezra)
Jet was all kinds of unhappy about this. The only way to get into the skyplex was through shuttle, since Hama Sila was a paranoid old woman and would shoot ships right out of the black if they were anything larger than a standard short-range; that meant for him that he could only bring a couple of people on board with him, since shuttles weren't technically supposed to hold more than four. Bee was a shoo-in, and he really wanted Toph coming in with him to ensure that Hama didn't lie or try to stiff them, but with her... out of commission, it fell to the next best thing: Longshot, who was usually good at picking up on subtle tells. He didn't dare bring more than them; who knew what Hama might do if he brought more than two people into her lair?
He had heard rumors -- everyone had -- of the kinds of things that Hama did if someone wronged her, tales of brutality and impossible tortures, and those were the kinds of rumors that left him on-edge as he walked through the halls, flanked by Bee and Longshot, all three of them with guns at their backs.
The door to Hama's office opened and Jet found himself staring into a tattoo -- which he belatedly realized was attached to a face on a man so big he dwarfed Pipsqueak. He only just managed to keep himself from screaming like a little girl.
"Crow, let them in," a woman's voice said, and the giant man stepped aside. He was dressed like an old-timey gladiator, and now that the initial shock had passed, Jet found the whole situation hilarious -- this beast of a man dressed in a little cape and no shirt with the big, scary tattoo. He wondered what horribly embarrassing secret the man was hiding under all that masculinity. Maybe he played with dolls in his spare time. "Crow likes to stand at the door," Hama explained, lounging in her chair and carving up a fruit with a little paring knife (and altogether too much gusto), "and say boo! Don't worry about him."
She stood up then and walked around the desk, peering at them intently, and then she held out a wedge of the orange fruit. "Mango?" she asked politely, and he swallowed hard.
"Heard you had a job," he said firmly, and she nodded.
"Yes, I do. A train job," she told him, biting into the mango wedge that she'd offered -- Jet caught a glimpse of nearly black teeth. "There is cargo on the train that I want. I will pay you half today, and half when you deliver my cargo to Crow. Can we deal?"
"Of course," he replied quickly, lusting over the mango. He'd had nothing but rationed protein for two months; the thought of fresh fruit made his insides ache.
"You're not asking what the cargo is?" she asked, watching him carefully. He shook his head, and she smiled tightly. "I've heard good things about you, Captain Reynolds," she said, and then nodded at Crow, who opened a section of the wall to reveal a two-way mirror with a white-haired woman strung up by her wrists. Hama waved her hand towards the woman, who screamed and convulsed like she'd been struck by lightning. "Now, you can see what will happen to you if you fail me," she said sharply. The woman's muffled screams broke down into sobs.
He clenched his jaw tight to hold back the tide of righteous fury threatening to rise up within him -- now was not the time for it.
"What?" she asked, walking over and peering up at him. "You don't want me to kill her?"
"I'm sure she's a very bad woman," he replied tightly, and Hama smiled.
"That remains to be seen," she answered ominously, and then motioned them closer to her desk where she had a video sheet with a map of a nearby moon, Regina. She zoomed in on a particular section. "The train runs from Hancock to Paradiso," she explained, showing them the train line running through two points. "You get on the train at Hancock, and have the cargo off the train by the time it reaches Paradiso. Simple, yes?"
"Sure," Jet replied, unable to get the image of himself hanging by his wrists in Hama's torture room out of his head. "This a civilian train, right?"
"Correct," she answered, and Longshot shifted in his peripheral vision -- lie. "Here are your tickets," she continued, handing over an envelope, "one for you and one other passenger. I suggest you come up with a viable reason to be on that train, in case something goes wrong. If you are captured, I will not protect you. Crow will see to it that you receive the first half of the pay. That is all," she said finally, and nodded to Crow, who led them out. He glanced at Longshot, who shrugged ever-so-slightly, and at Bee, who was peering at a bookshelf intently -- if either of them had something to say to Hama, they were keeping it locked up tight.
"Sounds like a plan," he replied, feeling vaguely sick to his stomach.
--
(on freedom)
Aang shuffled into the cargo bay to see the Duke tinkering with a remote, and the bottom of the cargo bay lifted up. "What are you doing?" he asked, and the young mercenary shrugged.
"Crime," he replied. Aang raised an eyebrow.
"Crime," he repeated, and the Duke nodded.
"Yup," he said, like it was nothing, "a train job. They have trains where you come from?" he asked, and then answered his own question. "Probably not. They're sorta like these ships," he explained, indicating to Freedom, "'cept they're stuck to the ground and don't move as fast. Jet and Bee are already on."
"Is this going to... hurt anyone?" he asked hesitantly. He'd known that Jet didn't exactly have a clean record, but hearing the Duke's matter-of-fact explanation still threw him off.
"Nah," he replied, waving a hand, "we're just takin' some cargo off."
"Oh," he said, and pursed his lips, "that's good, then."
"What, you got a problem with us bein' bad guys?" he asked, sounding almost offended, and then shrugged. "Out here, there ain't so many legal jobs left. We do what we have to so we can eat. S'okay, Jet don't usually pick up jobs that are supposed to hurt nobody. Sometimes, things get hairy and you just can't help it," he added, shrugging again, "but usually we're just stealin' some shiny or transportin' some cargo under the Alliance's noses. Once, we had to transport a whole herd of cows," he said, wincing. "That was fun."
"Why?" he asked, perching on an empty box. "What did they want with the cows?"
The Duke made a face. "I think they were for dairy -- most of 'em were girls, not, uh... steers? Hey, Pipsqueak," he asked, as the mercenary came in, dressed in a harness and a pair of goggles, "what d'you call boy cows?"
"Bulls," Pipsqueak replied, and the Duke nodded.
"Right," he said. "Bulls're mostly used for meat, but the girl cows are kept for dairy and breeding. The man shipping 'em just didn't want the Alliance reporting on every little detail, so he got us to move 'em from his planet to another one."
"'Girl cows' is redundant," Pipsqueak mumbled, a hat stuffed between his teeth, as he tightened the harness. Aang tilted his head.
"What's your job in the... crime?" he asked, wincing at the word. Even with the Duke's assurance, it sounded an awful lot like they were doing something bad. Pipsqueak glanced at him.
"I get to jump onto the moving train," he answered tensely. The Duke grinned.
"He gets the fun job," he explained, and then pressed a few buttons so that the bottom of the ship opened up and Aang could see the ground rushing by underneath them. He stared at it in awe, but wished he could be more cheerful about the wind -- although the rush of his element did help to lift his spirits somewhat, he couldn't get past his friend in the Infirmary, laying near death. "Cap'n and Bee are in the train, and they'll open up the top o' the compartment with the cargo in it, Pipsqueak jumps down onto the train and into the compartment, then we haul all the cargo, plus the Cap'n and Bee, right back up here. Easy."
"Have you ever done this before?" Aang asked absently as the Duke hooked Pipsqueak up to a metal cable running into the roof of the cargo bay, more concerned with the rushing wind beneath them -- it sang to him soothingly, and he longed for his glider, to take to the skies and fly until the weight on his shoulders lessened.
"Nope," the Duke replied matter-of-factly, "but it should work."
"Speak for yourself," Pipsqueak said, and then appeared to be praying for a moment. He looked at them. "Wish me luck," he said.
"Good luck!" Aang called as Pipsqueak jumped onto the train.
--
"Scrolls?" Jet asked, glancing at Bee, who nodded. "What kinda scrolls?"
"I don't know, sir," she replied, looking up and down the train car. "They were old, that's for sure. All stacked up nice an' pretty on the shelf."
"Huh," he grunted, thinking hard about that -- why would Hama keep a bunch of ancient scrolls in her office? But now wasn't the time to worry about that, now was time to get moving on the job. "Well, we'll figure it out later," he said quietly, "Longshot said he'd be pulling over the train at -- " he paused as someone passed them, coughing violently, " -- at 1545 on the nose, we're running low on time. Let's get started."
"Yes, sir," Bee replied, and stood up, shouldering the bag of weapons, smoke bombs, and rope they had packed to take with them. She followed him to the end of the car (there were an awful lot of people coughing, he noted) and into the next one -- where they both froze. The next car was filled with Alliance soldiers.
Jet blinked. "Hey," he said jovially, smiling and mentally preparing a speech about this isn't where I parked my car, when the other side opened and a small family shuffled through, so they took a leaf out of the (coughing) family's book and just passed straight through the compartment. Once on the other side, into the compartment they were supposed to find the cargo in, he looked at Bee. "Guess that's the lie Longshot picked up on," he muttered, and she gave him her patented Death Glare (version three-point-oh; she had spent years perfecting her glares, and this was undoubtedly her meanest yet).
"Sir, you're not even a little worried about the car full of Alliance men?" she asked, and he shrugged.
"Are you kidding?" he replied, while they set a smoke bomb to go off if the door opened. "Look, we're robbing a train -- you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that? Jesse James was my hero when I was a kid. And! We get to do it while makin' the Alliance look like a buncha bumblin' fools! This is the best job ever," he said, grinning, vaguely aware that he was trying a little too hard to be cheerful but incapable of stopping himself. "Hell, I'd do it for free."
"Wonderful," Bee said, checking for the right cargo while he began unscrewing the top of the compartment. "I'll have your share, then."
"You're hilarious," he drawled, catching a screw and throwing it at her. "A real bucket o' laughs."
"You said you'd do it for free," she muttered absently, pulling aside a tarp that covered a set of boxes. "Here's the cargo."
"Shiny," he replied. "Help me get this -- " he grunted as the top of the train car fell into his hands and he almost fell over under the sudden weight. Bee rushed over and helped him move it aside, and not three seconds later, Pipsqueak rolled into the train car, breathing heavily and glaring at them for no readily apparent reason. He unhooked the harness from Pipsqueak's back and hooked it to the rope that Bee was tying around the cargo, and then all three of them leaped onto it as it began rising again -- and then the smoke bomb went off. "Tā māde!" he hissed, but they were already in the air and moving away.
Back in the ship, they unhooked the cargo and Bee caught him by the arm. "You think that fed ID-ed us?" she asked seriously, and he shrugged.
"Don't know," he replied, and then turned to the Duke and a surprisingly cheerful Aang. "Get this ready on the mule. Longshot," he said into the comm, "we're on, take us to the meeting point."
"What did we steal?" Aang asked, hopping off a box and bouncing over. Jet shrugged.
"I didn't ask," he answered, and then caught his hand as he reached out to touch it. "Paws off, xiao hóuzi," he said, using Toph's affectionate nickname (it was just so apt) and pushing him in front of him as he made his way back up to the bridge. "I want you stayin' outta sight, dong ma? Hama Sila ain't known for being nice, and she'd love to kidnap you and sell you off to them that want you dead."
"I can take care of myself," Aang said, scowling, and Jet rolled his eyes.
"You're still a kid," Jet told him, arms crossed. "And when you're on my ship, you're my responsibility. You don't like it, you can find another ship to fly with."
"Maybe I will," Aang replied, but he was smiling thinly. "I'll get my own ship," he continued. "And fly around the 'Verse helping people."
"Yeah, and you'll starve to death," he countered, and received a glare. "Quiet, little monkey," he said, holding up a hand, "I don't wanna hear it. Longshot, let 'em know we've got the goods and we'll be there posthaste. Aang, go hide out in Katara's shuttle while we're doing this job. Don't want Hama to hear you're on the ship."
Aang sighed, but went without any vocal protest.
Once they had landed, he and Longshot went down to the cargo bay, but Bee met them halfway, her face clouded. "Sir, we have a problem," she said seriously.
"What?" he asked. "Don't tell me we got the wrong cargo."
"No," she replied, walking him into the cargo bay, where Haru was standing with Pipsqueak and the Duke. "The cargo -- it's medicine, sir," she told him quietly. "Pascaline-D," she explained, "Haru looked it up on the Cortex -- the people on this planet all suffer from Bowden's Malady, that's why they... all the coughing," she said desperately, pleadingly. He knew where she was going with this, and he closed his eyes. "Hama's going to sell it on the black market. These people need this medicine."
Jet opened his eyes and stared hard at the medicine, but shook his head. "We can't back down on the deal. Bee, we can't," he hissed, as she started to protest. "We're already at the meeting point -- that big tattooed freak'll be walking through the doors any second now. It's too late. 'Sides, you tellin' me you want to be on Hama's bad side?"
"No, but these people -- "
"Will live," he cut her off, and turned away. He didn't like doing this, but he and his crew hadn't eaten a proper meal in two months, Toph needed real medication in the worst way, and he didn't have an overabundance of options. This job would pay for food, fuel, and medicine for Toph, all of which they were too desperately in need of -- if they didn't get paid today, they couldn't make it to a civilized place to get what they needed; they'd be drifting, and Toph would be dead.
He didn't like leaving people to a terrible fate, he really didn't, but he'd rather them than his crew.
"Jet," Bee started, but he shook his head and turned as the door opened and Crow walked in.
"The goods are intact?" he asked, and Jet took a deep breath.
"Yeah, they're in perfect condition," he replied, and ignored his conscience.
Chapter Title: the Train Job
Rating: High T/Low M
Genre: Action/Adventure, Space Western
Characters/Pairings: Ensemble; Mai/Jet, Zuko/Katara (est. relationship), Smellerbee/Longshot (est. relationship), Toph/Haru, Suki/Sokka
Summary: Aang never woke up from the iceberg, and the world went on without him, and without the Avatar. Over the next three thousand years, technology advanced astronomically -- literally, the people of the overcrowded world taking to the stars, colonizing a whole new solar system with dozens of planets and hundreds of moons. Now, the Avatar is a barely-remembered myth, bending is regarded as a relic of a rightfully-dead past, and only two of the original four countries still exist: the Fire Nation, one of the most powerful forces in the Union of Allied Planets, and the Water Tribe, clinging to life on the Outer Rim, still fighting desperately for the dream of independence. The latest civil war ended seven years ago, in a landslide victory for the Alliance -- but that doesn't mean the fight for independence is over.
Book Two: Still Flying: Azula isn't the only one on the hunt for the Avatar -- the Parliament, untrusting of the Fire Lord and looking to help Azula supplant him, has sent out their own man, an Operative who works with a small strike force of powerful, secretive men. Meanwhile, a woman from both Sokka's and Jet's pasts has a job offer they can't afford to refuse, Katara must learn to heal as soon as possible, and the specter of a recent Reaver attack hangs heavy over the whole crew...
Chapter Summary: In which the crew must resort to desperate measures to save Toph.
(at blue sun outpost 6519 on lilac)
"Jet, don't you think this is a little... morbid?" Pipsqueak asked, and he sighed.
"Look, I don't want to do this, but we can't afford to go back empty-handed," he replied, rifling through the storage room. They'd come back at night, after hiding out in a canyon until they were sure the Reavers had gone. Initially, the plan had been to hit the outpost during Sunday Mass so it wouldn't be crowded -- and it had been working great until Toph's communicator had spelled trouble -- but now that that had gone south, they were returning to finish the job in the dead of night. He'd contacted Fanty and Mingo earlier with the news that they'd been hit by Reavers but no one was dead and they'd still get the job done.
That was Jet's reputation: Jet got the job done, period.
It was harder to get in without Toph's genius with locks, so they had brought in the next best thing: the little Avatar, who supposedly would be able to learn earthbending. He had insisted that he didn't know how Toph did any of the things she did, but Jet figured that if all else failed, the kid would work wonders at getting them out of trouble: after all, he had a grin that could melt even Mai's cold, hard heart, so the authorities would be putty in his hands.
He hadn't been worth much in breaking the locks, so Jet had decided to just forget about subtlety and shoot them off. That had alerted the one security guard on duty -- apparently his coworkers had all gone to their families after the Reaver attack -- but a quick dose of morphine they had snatched from the Infirmary (administered by Bee) had knocked him flat on his back.
And now they were getting the cargo and getting gone. Do the job, he thought. Never mind that one of his crew was laid up with a hole going straight through her, never mind that he still had the top bits of a Reaver ship lurking in his cargo bay, never mind that none of them had any sleep, never mind that the Avatar didn't know the elements, never mind that the Alliance was hunting for him, never mind that all they had left to eat were three protein bars and a box of raisins, never mind -- never mind.
Do the job.
Jet got the job done, period.
--
(on freedom)
"How is she?" Mai asked, slipping into the door like a ghost. Jet looked up.
"Same, mostly," he replied, sighing. "Ship's falling apart and my mechanic had to go and get herself -- " he cut himself off. He wanted to be mad at Toph, because if he wasn't mad then he would have to face the fact that he was scared, and Jet didn't get scared over his caustic mechanic. Mai, like always, saw through him.
"She's strong," she said quietly, leaning against the counter beside him. This close, he could tell that she had been trying to sleep but failed -- she wasn't wearing any makeup (although he often wondered why she wore any at all) and her hair was just the slightest bit messy. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he checked on the rest of his crew, he'd find them in similar predicaments. Toph's situation was hanging heavy over all of them -- even the perpetually cheerful Aang was more subdued and antsy than usual.
"Takes more'n strong to survive a javelin to the stomach," he growled, running a hand through his hair. "Doc says she needs stronger antibiotics than what we've got."
"And?" she asked, guessing there was more. He sighed.
"Fanty and Mingo paid a quarter up front for the Lilac job," he explained, "which only gets us enough fuel to get there and back. I can't buy meds for Toph and get back to Beaumonde."
"But if she goes septic," Mai continued for him, "she'll die, no matter what Haru does."
"And I can't just let her die," he finished. "Even if she wasn't one o' my crew -- Toph's all that keeps this ship runnin' most days."
"I know," she said sardonically, "she complains about it enough." Jet smirked.
"Yeah, but you know the secret?" he asked, leaning in conspiratorially. "She actually likes it that way. Makes her feel important, gives her somethin' to be proud of." The smirk fell off his face as he watched Toph, laying still and silent on the bed -- it wasn't that long ago that it was Bee laying like that, and he was surprised to find that he felt almost the same emotions now as he did then; the same anger and helplessness and fear. Perhaps not as strongly as he did when it was Bee, and perhaps with a little more anger and a little less fear, but... Toph was one of his crew, and he made it a point to look out for his crew.
But what could he do for her now? She needed the medication -- and quickly, before sepsis set in -- but he didn't have the money to get it.
Well, that left one option: get more money, and get it fast.
"What are you going to do?" Mai asked, in that almost-challenging tone that Bee used sometimes, to snap him out of whatever emotion was gripping him, to bring him back down to reality. Trust Mai to use that tone.
"Ezra's not far from here -- the way the systems are right now, it's closer'n Beaumonde," he replied, sighing again. "I've heard of a lady that operates out of Ezra's sky, she's always got some job opening."
"What's the catch?"
He shot her a wry smile -- always the ever-cynical Mai. In this part of the black, her cynicism and pragmatism were two of her greatest strengths. "She ain't exactly known for being overly friendly, or 'specially sane."
"I'm sure her gold glitters just the same as all the others," Mai said, and he leaned heavily against the counter.
"And it's for Toph," he muttered, and then glanced at her. "What about you? You still owe us for springin' Katara."
Mai scowled, and stepped forward, smoothing Toph's hair, probably more to occupy her hands than anything else. He noticed that she was shaking, and it surprised him -- did Mai really care for Toph that much? "My accounts are frozen," she replied, and only the slightest change in tone told him that she was pissed about that. "I should have emptied them when I had the chance. When I can, I'll get you the payment."
He shrugged. "I know you're good for it. Just don't wanna forget."
"I won't," she replied, and they stood together in the silence, watching Toph's ragged, shallow breathing.
--
(orbiting the planet ezra)
Jet was all kinds of unhappy about this. The only way to get into the skyplex was through shuttle, since Hama Sila was a paranoid old woman and would shoot ships right out of the black if they were anything larger than a standard short-range; that meant for him that he could only bring a couple of people on board with him, since shuttles weren't technically supposed to hold more than four. Bee was a shoo-in, and he really wanted Toph coming in with him to ensure that Hama didn't lie or try to stiff them, but with her... out of commission, it fell to the next best thing: Longshot, who was usually good at picking up on subtle tells. He didn't dare bring more than them; who knew what Hama might do if he brought more than two people into her lair?
He had heard rumors -- everyone had -- of the kinds of things that Hama did if someone wronged her, tales of brutality and impossible tortures, and those were the kinds of rumors that left him on-edge as he walked through the halls, flanked by Bee and Longshot, all three of them with guns at their backs.
The door to Hama's office opened and Jet found himself staring into a tattoo -- which he belatedly realized was attached to a face on a man so big he dwarfed Pipsqueak. He only just managed to keep himself from screaming like a little girl.
"Crow, let them in," a woman's voice said, and the giant man stepped aside. He was dressed like an old-timey gladiator, and now that the initial shock had passed, Jet found the whole situation hilarious -- this beast of a man dressed in a little cape and no shirt with the big, scary tattoo. He wondered what horribly embarrassing secret the man was hiding under all that masculinity. Maybe he played with dolls in his spare time. "Crow likes to stand at the door," Hama explained, lounging in her chair and carving up a fruit with a little paring knife (and altogether too much gusto), "and say boo! Don't worry about him."
She stood up then and walked around the desk, peering at them intently, and then she held out a wedge of the orange fruit. "Mango?" she asked politely, and he swallowed hard.
"Heard you had a job," he said firmly, and she nodded.
"Yes, I do. A train job," she told him, biting into the mango wedge that she'd offered -- Jet caught a glimpse of nearly black teeth. "There is cargo on the train that I want. I will pay you half today, and half when you deliver my cargo to Crow. Can we deal?"
"Of course," he replied quickly, lusting over the mango. He'd had nothing but rationed protein for two months; the thought of fresh fruit made his insides ache.
"You're not asking what the cargo is?" she asked, watching him carefully. He shook his head, and she smiled tightly. "I've heard good things about you, Captain Reynolds," she said, and then nodded at Crow, who opened a section of the wall to reveal a two-way mirror with a white-haired woman strung up by her wrists. Hama waved her hand towards the woman, who screamed and convulsed like she'd been struck by lightning. "Now, you can see what will happen to you if you fail me," she said sharply. The woman's muffled screams broke down into sobs.
He clenched his jaw tight to hold back the tide of righteous fury threatening to rise up within him -- now was not the time for it.
"What?" she asked, walking over and peering up at him. "You don't want me to kill her?"
"I'm sure she's a very bad woman," he replied tightly, and Hama smiled.
"That remains to be seen," she answered ominously, and then motioned them closer to her desk where she had a video sheet with a map of a nearby moon, Regina. She zoomed in on a particular section. "The train runs from Hancock to Paradiso," she explained, showing them the train line running through two points. "You get on the train at Hancock, and have the cargo off the train by the time it reaches Paradiso. Simple, yes?"
"Sure," Jet replied, unable to get the image of himself hanging by his wrists in Hama's torture room out of his head. "This a civilian train, right?"
"Correct," she answered, and Longshot shifted in his peripheral vision -- lie. "Here are your tickets," she continued, handing over an envelope, "one for you and one other passenger. I suggest you come up with a viable reason to be on that train, in case something goes wrong. If you are captured, I will not protect you. Crow will see to it that you receive the first half of the pay. That is all," she said finally, and nodded to Crow, who led them out. He glanced at Longshot, who shrugged ever-so-slightly, and at Bee, who was peering at a bookshelf intently -- if either of them had something to say to Hama, they were keeping it locked up tight.
"Sounds like a plan," he replied, feeling vaguely sick to his stomach.
--
(on freedom)
Aang shuffled into the cargo bay to see the Duke tinkering with a remote, and the bottom of the cargo bay lifted up. "What are you doing?" he asked, and the young mercenary shrugged.
"Crime," he replied. Aang raised an eyebrow.
"Crime," he repeated, and the Duke nodded.
"Yup," he said, like it was nothing, "a train job. They have trains where you come from?" he asked, and then answered his own question. "Probably not. They're sorta like these ships," he explained, indicating to Freedom, "'cept they're stuck to the ground and don't move as fast. Jet and Bee are already on."
"Is this going to... hurt anyone?" he asked hesitantly. He'd known that Jet didn't exactly have a clean record, but hearing the Duke's matter-of-fact explanation still threw him off.
"Nah," he replied, waving a hand, "we're just takin' some cargo off."
"Oh," he said, and pursed his lips, "that's good, then."
"What, you got a problem with us bein' bad guys?" he asked, sounding almost offended, and then shrugged. "Out here, there ain't so many legal jobs left. We do what we have to so we can eat. S'okay, Jet don't usually pick up jobs that are supposed to hurt nobody. Sometimes, things get hairy and you just can't help it," he added, shrugging again, "but usually we're just stealin' some shiny or transportin' some cargo under the Alliance's noses. Once, we had to transport a whole herd of cows," he said, wincing. "That was fun."
"Why?" he asked, perching on an empty box. "What did they want with the cows?"
The Duke made a face. "I think they were for dairy -- most of 'em were girls, not, uh... steers? Hey, Pipsqueak," he asked, as the mercenary came in, dressed in a harness and a pair of goggles, "what d'you call boy cows?"
"Bulls," Pipsqueak replied, and the Duke nodded.
"Right," he said. "Bulls're mostly used for meat, but the girl cows are kept for dairy and breeding. The man shipping 'em just didn't want the Alliance reporting on every little detail, so he got us to move 'em from his planet to another one."
"'Girl cows' is redundant," Pipsqueak mumbled, a hat stuffed between his teeth, as he tightened the harness. Aang tilted his head.
"What's your job in the... crime?" he asked, wincing at the word. Even with the Duke's assurance, it sounded an awful lot like they were doing something bad. Pipsqueak glanced at him.
"I get to jump onto the moving train," he answered tensely. The Duke grinned.
"He gets the fun job," he explained, and then pressed a few buttons so that the bottom of the ship opened up and Aang could see the ground rushing by underneath them. He stared at it in awe, but wished he could be more cheerful about the wind -- although the rush of his element did help to lift his spirits somewhat, he couldn't get past his friend in the Infirmary, laying near death. "Cap'n and Bee are in the train, and they'll open up the top o' the compartment with the cargo in it, Pipsqueak jumps down onto the train and into the compartment, then we haul all the cargo, plus the Cap'n and Bee, right back up here. Easy."
"Have you ever done this before?" Aang asked absently as the Duke hooked Pipsqueak up to a metal cable running into the roof of the cargo bay, more concerned with the rushing wind beneath them -- it sang to him soothingly, and he longed for his glider, to take to the skies and fly until the weight on his shoulders lessened.
"Nope," the Duke replied matter-of-factly, "but it should work."
"Speak for yourself," Pipsqueak said, and then appeared to be praying for a moment. He looked at them. "Wish me luck," he said.
"Good luck!" Aang called as Pipsqueak jumped onto the train.
--
"Scrolls?" Jet asked, glancing at Bee, who nodded. "What kinda scrolls?"
"I don't know, sir," she replied, looking up and down the train car. "They were old, that's for sure. All stacked up nice an' pretty on the shelf."
"Huh," he grunted, thinking hard about that -- why would Hama keep a bunch of ancient scrolls in her office? But now wasn't the time to worry about that, now was time to get moving on the job. "Well, we'll figure it out later," he said quietly, "Longshot said he'd be pulling over the train at -- " he paused as someone passed them, coughing violently, " -- at 1545 on the nose, we're running low on time. Let's get started."
"Yes, sir," Bee replied, and stood up, shouldering the bag of weapons, smoke bombs, and rope they had packed to take with them. She followed him to the end of the car (there were an awful lot of people coughing, he noted) and into the next one -- where they both froze. The next car was filled with Alliance soldiers.
Jet blinked. "Hey," he said jovially, smiling and mentally preparing a speech about this isn't where I parked my car, when the other side opened and a small family shuffled through, so they took a leaf out of the (coughing) family's book and just passed straight through the compartment. Once on the other side, into the compartment they were supposed to find the cargo in, he looked at Bee. "Guess that's the lie Longshot picked up on," he muttered, and she gave him her patented Death Glare (version three-point-oh; she had spent years perfecting her glares, and this was undoubtedly her meanest yet).
"Sir, you're not even a little worried about the car full of Alliance men?" she asked, and he shrugged.
"Are you kidding?" he replied, while they set a smoke bomb to go off if the door opened. "Look, we're robbing a train -- you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that? Jesse James was my hero when I was a kid. And! We get to do it while makin' the Alliance look like a buncha bumblin' fools! This is the best job ever," he said, grinning, vaguely aware that he was trying a little too hard to be cheerful but incapable of stopping himself. "Hell, I'd do it for free."
"Wonderful," Bee said, checking for the right cargo while he began unscrewing the top of the compartment. "I'll have your share, then."
"You're hilarious," he drawled, catching a screw and throwing it at her. "A real bucket o' laughs."
"You said you'd do it for free," she muttered absently, pulling aside a tarp that covered a set of boxes. "Here's the cargo."
"Shiny," he replied. "Help me get this -- " he grunted as the top of the train car fell into his hands and he almost fell over under the sudden weight. Bee rushed over and helped him move it aside, and not three seconds later, Pipsqueak rolled into the train car, breathing heavily and glaring at them for no readily apparent reason. He unhooked the harness from Pipsqueak's back and hooked it to the rope that Bee was tying around the cargo, and then all three of them leaped onto it as it began rising again -- and then the smoke bomb went off. "Tā māde!" he hissed, but they were already in the air and moving away.
Back in the ship, they unhooked the cargo and Bee caught him by the arm. "You think that fed ID-ed us?" she asked seriously, and he shrugged.
"Don't know," he replied, and then turned to the Duke and a surprisingly cheerful Aang. "Get this ready on the mule. Longshot," he said into the comm, "we're on, take us to the meeting point."
"What did we steal?" Aang asked, hopping off a box and bouncing over. Jet shrugged.
"I didn't ask," he answered, and then caught his hand as he reached out to touch it. "Paws off, xiao hóuzi," he said, using Toph's affectionate nickname (it was just so apt) and pushing him in front of him as he made his way back up to the bridge. "I want you stayin' outta sight, dong ma? Hama Sila ain't known for being nice, and she'd love to kidnap you and sell you off to them that want you dead."
"I can take care of myself," Aang said, scowling, and Jet rolled his eyes.
"You're still a kid," Jet told him, arms crossed. "And when you're on my ship, you're my responsibility. You don't like it, you can find another ship to fly with."
"Maybe I will," Aang replied, but he was smiling thinly. "I'll get my own ship," he continued. "And fly around the 'Verse helping people."
"Yeah, and you'll starve to death," he countered, and received a glare. "Quiet, little monkey," he said, holding up a hand, "I don't wanna hear it. Longshot, let 'em know we've got the goods and we'll be there posthaste. Aang, go hide out in Katara's shuttle while we're doing this job. Don't want Hama to hear you're on the ship."
Aang sighed, but went without any vocal protest.
Once they had landed, he and Longshot went down to the cargo bay, but Bee met them halfway, her face clouded. "Sir, we have a problem," she said seriously.
"What?" he asked. "Don't tell me we got the wrong cargo."
"No," she replied, walking him into the cargo bay, where Haru was standing with Pipsqueak and the Duke. "The cargo -- it's medicine, sir," she told him quietly. "Pascaline-D," she explained, "Haru looked it up on the Cortex -- the people on this planet all suffer from Bowden's Malady, that's why they... all the coughing," she said desperately, pleadingly. He knew where she was going with this, and he closed his eyes. "Hama's going to sell it on the black market. These people need this medicine."
Jet opened his eyes and stared hard at the medicine, but shook his head. "We can't back down on the deal. Bee, we can't," he hissed, as she started to protest. "We're already at the meeting point -- that big tattooed freak'll be walking through the doors any second now. It's too late. 'Sides, you tellin' me you want to be on Hama's bad side?"
"No, but these people -- "
"Will live," he cut her off, and turned away. He didn't like doing this, but he and his crew hadn't eaten a proper meal in two months, Toph needed real medication in the worst way, and he didn't have an overabundance of options. This job would pay for food, fuel, and medicine for Toph, all of which they were too desperately in need of -- if they didn't get paid today, they couldn't make it to a civilized place to get what they needed; they'd be drifting, and Toph would be dead.
He didn't like leaving people to a terrible fate, he really didn't, but he'd rather them than his crew.
"Jet," Bee started, but he shook his head and turned as the door opened and Crow walked in.
"The goods are intact?" he asked, and Jet took a deep breath.
"Yeah, they're in perfect condition," he replied, and ignored his conscience.