Last Voyage of Delilah, Episode 206: Jail/Break

As usual, I'm more behind than I'd like but the rest of the episode is coming soon!—Maer

Tuesday, 10 Jul 2525
Patience, Whitefall
Georgia (Huang Long) system
Late evening

We're still in Patience and we've just found out that the person we need to bust out of jail is sentenced to 100 lashes come noon the next day. 100 lashes is tantamount to a death sentence.

Our timetable has just been jacked up.

We go back to our ship, put our heads together, and hash out a plan. After coming up with and discarding several ideas, we decide that if we can fake the prisoner's death, we can get her out of in a box with no one the wiser. Poco suggests posing as people her family have hired to transport her body home. The fact the prisoner's been locked up for some time will explain how her family found out and arranged for pick up. That will take care of the business of looking legitimate.

As for other business, we still have to offload the bull to our client. We will need to stick around until the night after the scheduled whipping to deliver it.

Poco and Vikki will gin up the fake papers from Mary Crow Dog's family while Rachel finds the town's doctor (a gentleman named Pierson) and chat him up, keeping him busy so Tian can go examine the prisoner (and slip her the drugs that will allow her to fake her death).

Plan in place, we get to it.

~Rachel~

She returns to the town's sole bar and gives it a good sweep with her "graydar". Sure enough, she spies the town's Elders: some older folks sitting together at a table off to the side. It's obvious it's an Old Boys' club (sorta) and this is where the power of the town sits. She moseys on over and inserts herself easily into their company, saying she's looking for a quiet table and they look like the very thing. One of the older men speaks up and says that the night before a punishment is usually rowdy as people get wound up for the event. She's welcome to join them if she's looking for quiet. She thanks them and sits down.

Despite the description of "Elder" the men aren't actually all that old. Townsfolk defer to them due to their class and standing in the town. It's not long before she brings up the topic of the public spectacle of the whipping. What's the story behind that?

Well, sir, the culprit was caught on Magistrate Patience's property tryin' to steal something. If you're lookin' to steal anything on this planet, the Magistrate's the likeliest to have something worth stealing. There isn't much on Patience to go around. Everyone's hurting and stealing is a serious crime.

Elder: Of course, she needs to be punished, but …

The Elders around the table trade looks.

Elder: (very quietly) but … perhaps, this is a bit harsh.
Rachel: Well, they're just gonna whip her once or twice like a horse thief.
Elder: You saw the signs. It's 100 lashes.
Rachel: I thought my eyes were wrong. I thought at worst it was "10".
Elder: Is it possible she could survive, Doc?

Everyone looks at another man at the table and Rachel's found her mark: Doc Pierson. His voice is prim and a touch reedy. He sits stiffly upright as if even off-hours he maintains strict propriety.

Pierson: Well, I've seen cases where people have survived. A woman of her stature? Hmmm … (thinks, shakes head) … I think it unlikely that she would survive.
Rachel: How old is she?
Pierson: I'd say in her thirties.
Rachel: That poor youngun. Seems a bit rough. I agree with ya. (checks the room: coast clear) Didn't she have a lawyer to plead for mercy before they did the punishment?
Pierson: Yes, um … Unfortunately, we don't have any volunteer barristers in this town, or advocates.
Rachel: Well, that's a shame. She din't actually steal nothin' did she?
Pierson: She was caught on the grounds and confessed to stealing. Or attempted stealing, anyway. She's lucky she wasn't shot on sight … I suppose "lucky" is not the right word for it, but ....
Rachel: Bein' shot ain't fun, lemme tell ya. So … you said you're a doctor?
Pierson: Yes I am.
Rachel: Well, when you're able, Doc, seein' as it's gettin' late an' such, I have a gunshot that I wouldn't mind somebody lookin' at. I don't heal like I use'ta.
Pierson: (alarmed) You've been shot?
Rachel: Well, you seem them rapscallions over there? Lookit them.

She points to our table, but we've already left and it stands empty.

Rachel: (miffed) See? They done left me. Useless! Nobody respects old people no more, no how, anyway.
Pierson: (primly) But of course. I can do that right now if you wish.

Gotcha!' Rachel smiles sweetly at Pierson and allows a little hesitation to color her expression.

Rachel: Is there a place to be private?
Pierson: (catching her meaning) Of course! I've got an office. I'm not going to examine you in … in a saloon.
Rachel: Thank God, Doctor. I was beginnin' to get the vapors. (fans herself) It was just too much.
Pierson: Let me see if I can find my assistant. It's not appropriate for me to examine you alone, what with you being a woman.
Rachel: (charmed!) Darlin', I ain't got nothin' you ain't seen before. It's okay.
Pierson: Oh, no. Of course. But it's propriety. Especially with a stranger. Let me see if I can find her … (scans room) … No, I asked her not to visit this establishment. It's one reason I come here.

The rest of the men at the table chuckle.

Pierson: I'll go round to her place. If you wish to wait here, I can return with her and pick you up. It's not far to my offices. Or if you wish, you could wait in front of my office. I should be there shortly. It's the fifth house down the—
Rachel: Well, I hate to have you go. I can bring on'a those roustabouts. I'm sure they're here somewhere.
Pierson: (rising) I'll go find my assistant.
Rachel: All right, then.

He excuses himself and leaves. The banker (or so Rachel's pegged him) leans closer to Rachel.

Banker: So … where'd you get shot?
Rachel: You're a naughty thing. (winks) Got it in my leg.
Banker: Oh yeah?
Rachel: Uh-huh.
Banker: I have a couple of wounds I could show you.
Rachel: Lemme get finished with the doctor an' make sure I'm healthy an' I might come back and talk.
Banker: I wouldn't mind comparing … scars. This is good. He can be a bit rough. Bartender! (waves) Get this young lady another drink!

~Valentine~

While Rachel moseys on back to town, Valentine realizes that we must have a different way to slip Mary Crow Dog the drugs that will allow her to fake her death. Of course, Tian can't just waltz in there and see the prisoner. There's nothing currently wrong with the prisoner and if the woman drops dead after Tian's visit, that would raise all manner of suspicions. Especially with that guy out there who we know is watching our ship.

Which we don't want.

So how does someone get inside a jail and make it look natural?

You get arrested, of course.

Valentine decides getting thrown into the hoosegow on a drunk and disorderly would be entirely fitting, given the time and the place. Poco's all for it, as he'd started drinking on the ship before we even came into town, so he's already halfway lubed up for a fight. Leaving the ship to find more booze wouldn't look out of character, so he and Valentine go back to the saloon. Once there, Poco has a few drinks and then staggers up from his chair and yells at Valentine.

Poco: Like hell you paid me right for the last trip! You half-cut my wages, you sonuva hóuzi tā mā de dòu nóng zhuāng de húndàn—!
Valentine: You did half work, so I gave you half wages. Simple as that. Plus you keep trying to steal from me!
Poco: It was just that one time! And after that—
Valentine: The one time that I've seen!
Poco: Well … maybe one and a half times …

Valentine staggers up from his chair in turn and yells right back.

Valentine: If you say one and a half, you mean five! And you're constantly undercutting me! Why can't you just listen to what I say and do it?!
Poco: I'm jus' doin' what Rachel does—I mean, Mama Bear. She's settin' the tone.
Valentine: I don't like her doin' it either!
Poco: Well, I don't much like your face!

Valentine comes right around the table and stands nose to nose with Poco.

Valentine: And I don't like the way you go around naked without your pants all the time!
Poco: It's a perfectly natural way to be!
Valentine: You know what would make you look better?
Poco: A punch in the face.
Valentine: See?‼ Why are you constantly undercutting me?‼
Poco: Cuz you ain't got the stones to do nuthin' about it.

WHAM!

Valentine hauls off and slams him one. Poco staggers back, blood pouring from his nose. He rocks on his heels and shakes his head clear and then glares daggers at Valentine.

Poco: A sucker punch—?!
Valentine: Yeah. Cuz I wanted to.

Valentine charges into Poco with a roar and in a flash they're a rollin' cussin' catty-wumpus on the floor, just carrying on like trash. The rest of the saloon hoots and cheers and maybe money changes hands before the law steps in. The crowd parts like the Red Sea before Moses. The two men are pulled off each other. Valentine is yanked to his feet, fists swinging blindly.

Valentine: (hoarsely) I should'a thrown you off the ship! I'd be better off if I just tossed you off the ship like a box!

Valentine is quickly judged the aggressor in this altercation—and Poco's bloody broken nose lends considerable weight in favor of that judgment—and Valentine is promptly hauled off to jail.

Right where he wants to be.

~Vikki~

She tries her hand at forging the documents but though she may be a wiz at inventing stuff, the craft gods aren't in charity tonight. Her efforts fall short of what we need.

~Poco~

Poco runs back to the ship. His nose is broken and he needs to get it set. He finds Tian in short order.

~Valentine~

Valentine might be drunk(ish) but he manages to keep himself on mission. Of course, the Deputy on night shift has to frisk him for weapons. Valentine retains just enough of his sleight of hand skills to keep the drugs he's smuggling to the prisoner from being discovered. Snarky banter helps misdirect the Deputy …

Valentine: Hey, hey! If you want that, you have to pay for it.

Did Valentine just do a little bump and grind?

Valentine: Well …Maybe not that much.
Deputy: Sleep it off!

Squicked, the Deputy throws Valentine in the cell next to Mary Crow Dog's. She's sitting on her bunk on the other side of the bars. She's not old as Valentine originally thought but is an attractive woman in her thirties with long chocolate- and caramel-colored hair and an Asian cast to her features and skin. Valentine doesn't have much time to note more than that before he starts retching in a bucket in the corner of his cell. He's not entirely acting—between the adrenaline of the fight and the amount of alcohol he's drunk, he's feeling a little queasy. As he heaves, he hears the Deputy talk to the woman in the cell next to his.

Deputy: So … you know this is your last night alive, probably. You have any second thoughts to a final go 'round?
Mary Crow Dog: (dry) Could you add a couple of lashes to the sentence?

Valentine rather likes her sass. He keeps his head in the bucket and heaves some more, waiting for the Deputy to leave.

Deputy: It's your funeral.

The Deputy makes a great show of jingling the keys as he locks Valentine in and walks out. Valentine gives a couple heaves before straightening up and looks at Mary Crow Dog. She looks right back at him and none too friendly-like, neither.

Valentine: (quietly) I'm assuming that unless they're bringing someone else in for a hundred lashes that you're Mary Crow Dog. (off her glower) Cuz … I'm lookin' to get you out.
Mary Crow Dog: (narrowly) Who sent you?
Valentine: We got some need to talk to your people and to be honest, it's whole levels of wrong to be lashing somebody a hundred times for theft.
Mary Crow Dog: To be entirely honest, theft wasn't my … mission.
Valentine: To be honest with you, it still it ain't right lashin' somebody a hundred times. If you're gonna kill 'em, just kill 'em. But either way, if you're interested in getting' out. I'm lookin' to help you get out.
Mary Crow Dog: It's possible that the vid of me gettin' lashed a hundred times may do much good.
Valentine: (slowly) …. Might. But it might not. That's assuming it gets out. Assuming the vid doesn't get suppressed and I'll be honest with you on that, too. I find that nine times out of ten—
Mary Crow Dog: You can't stop the signal.
Valentine: Nine times out of ten, I'd rather have a live person on my side than a dead martyr.

And he's nailed it. She does have that fatalistic martyr's gleam in her eye.

Valentine: It might work if you—
Mary Crow Dog: If you weren't slurring every other word, I might have more confidence in you.
Valentine: Sorry. I had to sell it. I don't drink a lot. So I probably drank a little too much. M'name's Val. Valentine Quick. And … like I said, if you're willin', I think I can get you out of here. But it's gonna require a bit of play actin' from you. And a willingness to … take what's in here.

He pulls the tiny square of folded paper he's managed to conceal from the Deputy and holds it between his fingertips through the bars. Mary Crow Dog looks at it suspiciously and makes no move to take it.

Mary Crow Dog: What's in it?
Valentine: It's a syringe. (Off her look) Well … it looks like a syringe in a certain light.

That's cuz he's drunk. Tian's actually packed a pill in there. Valentine can tell he's got to sell it. Being drunk makes it hard but he tries anyway. He starts over.

Valentine: My doctor … Her son. His life's potentially at risk for this. Your folks are potentially the key to … getting him out. But I treat my crew like family. And I'm going to help her do it. And I need you to come along with me on this.
Mary Crow Dog: (flinty) Explain to me what you mean. How can I help your doctor's son? How does this … (takes the paper packet) … help your doctor's son?

How indeed? Mary Crow Dog is an insurgent against the government. How sympathetic will she be if Valentine tells her that Tian's son is Alliance Navy? That he's special ops? He's good at reading people and good at handling them. He tries sussing it out from her position. If this were one of her own people, how far would she go to save one of her own? Valentine decides that honesty would serve best.

Valentine: He got himself captured behind enemy lines, so to speak.
Mary Crow Dog: Enemy of who?
Valentine: Well, that's the question, isn't it? He's Alliance. The question of what they'd consider the enemy is another story. What we consider to be the enemy is a completely different affair.
Mary Crow Dog: Prisoner exchange?
Valentine: Yeah. Kinda-sorta. … (reconsiders) … No, no. This … We're … I'm setting you free because—Poco forgive me—because it's the right thing to do. With the idea that … that … if I do what's right and get you out of this hundred lashes, that you might be willing to … to … help us out on the other side. No direct … I'm not … Not making a direct ask.

Mary Crow Dog eases back in her bunk and eyes him.

Mary Crow Dog: If you were planning to kidnap me from the Sheriff to use me as a bargaining chip, that's probably the sort of thing you would say.
Valentine: I would be. But … But I'm also, if you haven't noticed, fairly drunk. And that kind of Level Two thinking? … (holds his hand out face down) … I'm thinking more like Level … (sinks hand) … Level Point-Five, right now. All I can tell you is that … It's not how I do business.
Mary Crow Dog: All right … (gusts sigh) … So, I should take this now?

She holds up the folded paper.

Valentine: Yup. It's going to produce some relatively harmless but … gaudy … symptoms. Um … and … then I'm gonna be yellin' out that you are … sick with some sorta plague that I'm going to think the name of in a couple'a seconds. And … our doctor's gonna come in and get you quarantined and we're gonna get you out of this.

He taps the bars of her cell for emphasis.

Mary Crow Dog: All right.

She rises and does a few graceful stretches, then swallows the pill dry. She manages to choke it down. Tian chose a drug to produce hives, cause the small capillaries on the surface of the eyes to spot-hemorrhage, and make the patient nauseous and have difficulty breathing. It would look Gawd-awful dire but not actually be anything damaging.

It works like a charm.

Valentine gives the symptoms a few moments to settle in and then starts yelling his head off.

Valentine: Help! Hey, help!? Hey! Asshole! Get in here! We got a … a totally sick person! I don't wanna die! Help! Somebody! Asshole?!
Deputy: (through the door) Shut up! (bangs door)
Valentine: You shut up!
Deputy: I'm tryin' to watch my porn!

Cuz the Cortex is for porn, don't cha know.

Valentine: Get in here‼
Deputy: It's two in the morning. Shaddup! Decent people're tryin' to sleep.

So they are. And the Deputy's … wait for it …

Valentine: And you're watchin' porn! So get in here! You get in here right now! Don't force me to describe what's—
Deputy: Don't make me come in there and kick your ass!
Valentine: You wish!

The door opens and the Deputy fills it. His fly's zipped, thank goodness. His lips aren't, however, and he angrily vents.

Deputy: What's your problem?!?
Valentine: (points) She's my problem‼!
Deputy: (blinks) What the hell's wrong with her?
Valentine: Hell if I know! Whadda I look like? A doctor?! I … wait … I got one'a those …
Deputy: (grudgingly) Hold on… I'll call our doctor.
Valentine: I dunno. This looks like … You seen the plague before?
Deputy: Yeah. I seen it. They're all kinda … (mimes deformity) … weak …
Valentine: No, no. Not that plague. Not the plague. The other plague.
Deputy: You seen plague like this before?
Valentine: Yeah. I have. Well … My doctor has seen, anyway.

Mary Crow Dog rasps and chokes and thrashes on the floor. She does look a mite frightful. The Deputy backs away from the bars and Valentine does the same. The Deputy slaps his handkerchief to his face.

Valentine: Yeah, do I get one of those?
Deputy: Yeah, sure. (Not!)
Valentine: I don't want to get any closer to her than I have to. You're a moral individual … you gotta get me outa here. It's not … It's not right to be with someone who's gonna die … and then spread it.
Deputy: Huhhh …. (considers it, eyes Valentine) … I should probably call the Sheriff or the doctor first.
Valentine: I dunnno, man. The first hour … it's crucial. Or at least, I think that's what she said …. You don't wanna risk that, do ya?

A deep rattling gasp drifts up from the floor.

Deputy: I believe ya … I … (narrow look) … How do I know you don't got it, too?
Valentine: Lemme out!
Deputy: I can't let you out.
Valentine: I don't have the plague! I been staying at … like, a distance … of sorts.
Deputy: Now, hold on. I'll …. I'll go over to your ship. Get the doctor.
Valentine: You better hurry. Get her. Doctor Grace. (shouts at the door) Doctor Grace! Doctor Gra-aaaaaaaaaaaaaace!

The Deputy spares one last look at the woman on the floor and peels out of there. Deep in the cell block, Valentine hears the front office door slam.

Valentine: (sighing) If he comes back with Poco, I'm gonna be really upset.

---

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