Too Pretty To Die Chapter 5 - Interrogations

[miri1984]

Title: Interrogations
Words: 1400
Characters: Carver Hawke, Saoirse Hawke, Rolan
Summary: Carver wants an ear.
Title Art by Uminoko

Carver Hawke was never one for complex situations. If you couldn't shoot it, eat it or screw it it wasn't worth the effort. And doing any of those things (for him) usually took money.
 

Most of his life he'd spent with his mother. His sister - older, better, more capable, helped their father with his business while his mother looked after him and Bethany.

When they'd joined the revolution, Saoirse had shouted at them. For a good long while. Then she'd handed him a gun and started giving him orders.

He liked to think he'd adjusted to that.

Bethany never had.

After Serenity Valley he'd run. Not stopped to see where Aveline and his sister went. He just wanted out, away from her away from the woman he'd never really known and sure as hell never cared for.

When she'd turned up four years later he'd laughed, and taken her offer to go with him again. He liked to think he was wiser now than he had been back then, and that was why he'd decided flying around on Serenity was a better deal than beating up idiots for cash.

Not that he minded being the muscle in an operation, but Saoirse had given him a better offer, his own bunk, a rack for Celene and his other guns and the promise of money, sometime in the future. The money thing… never quite came through, but he figured the rest of it made up for that. Mostly.

The best thing about it was, every now and then, he still got to beat up an idiot. Saoirse was perfectly capable of doing the same thing, of course, but while she was sturdy for a girl, she didn't loom quite as well as six foot six of solid Carver did, and she liked to use the tools she had available.

He'd tied up Rolan in one of the guest's quarters, under the watchful eye of the preacher, who had objected when Carver had tried to pull the ropes a bit tighter than was strictly necessary, demonstrating a knowledge of the proper way to do things like that that made Carver wonder a bit about what they taught in preacher school these days or whether Vael was one for extra curricular studies. He hadn't even let Carver give the guy the backhand across the face he richly deserved and Carver was itching for another chance at the guy.

His sister was going to give him one.

There were days when he loved his job.

Saoirse ripped the duct tape off the fed's mouth and gave him a cheerful smile.

"I'm in a tricky position," she said, straightening up and letting the grin fade. "I guess you know. Got me a boatload of terribly strange folk makin' my life a little more interesting than I generally like. Chief among them, an Alliance mole who likes to shoot at girls when he gets nervous." The fed looked down at that - guilt, real or feigned, Carver didn't particularly care. He'd shot Merrill. If Carver had his way at the end of this he'd be a puddle of red slime on the deck.

"Now I gotta know how close the Alliance is," Saoirse was continuing. "Exactly how much you told them before Bell scrambled your call. So. I've given Carver here the job of finding out."

Carver's grin was the same as his sister's as he pulled his knife. "She was unspecific as to how," he said. The fed's eyes focused on the metal of his knife as it caught the dim light of the cabin and his sister squeezed his arm as she turned to go.

"Now you only got to scare him," she said softly.

"Pain is scary."

There was that slight twitch of her lips that he could never tell was amusement or contempt, before she shook her head. "Just do it right." She left with a warning look and he stopped himself from rolling his eyes before turning back to the fed - Rolan is name was. Sanctimonious piece of shit alliance mole, Carver wanted o do some damage to him, especially as he seemed determined to fix him with the most patronizing of glares.

Carver wasn't stupid. There were some things he knew better than anyone, and he could smell cowardice from miles away.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

Carver sat, looking at the man. They'd done a good job of making him look insignificant. Just like his sister, Carver had pegged the doctor as the one most likely to be a plant, although he'd also had a sneaking suspicion about the preacher that hadn't entirely been laid to rest. "Gee," he said. "I've never been in trouble with the law before."

Rolan's eyes narrowed. "Not like this you haven't. You think this is just a smuggling rap? The package that boy is carrying…"

Carver raised an eyebrow. "It's a man. Guess he's a good lookin' one too, if you like that sort of thing." He paused. "Not that I do. But I guess he's just your type isn't he?"

The fed's nostrils flared. He didn't like that implication, that was clear enough. Carver tucked that thought away for later. "That man is a precious commodity. They'll come after him. Long after you bury me they'll be coming…"

Carver grinned and tapped the man's knee with his knife. "Huh… I'm not gonna kill you, Rolan… What's your first name?"

He pursed his lips, looking uncertain."Lawrence."

"Lawrence? No." Carver leant forward so he could just about smell the man's breath - protein and tomato - the guy had sat at their table and eaten their food and he had enough of his mother in him to think that was just plain rude. "Just gonna cut on you tell you tell me how much they know…"

The fed rolled his eyes and spewed out a stream of babble. "They know everything, they know every name every record, they know how many nose hairs you've got."

In the back of Carver's head, wheels were spinning - slowly, granted, but they were still spinning. Nothing about this situation was normal. Nothing about it was good or easy and Merrill was stuck in the infirmary and there was no knowing if she'd pull through and Carver didn't want to look at that thought too closely - there were girls and there were girls and Merrill was their engineer and the most damned cheerful thing that he'd ever met and it wasn't right that she was the one who was paying for something she couldn't control…

The Captain should have been the one to get that bullet. The doctor. His goram crazy assed, naked, brother. But Merrill was the one paying the price and she hadn't done anything worse than take a job offer from his sister to get off some shithole moon where she'd be under her father's thumb forever and it…

…wasn't fair.

Carver knew fair.

He didn't think this fed knew much at all, though.

"Uh, see now they don't know a damn thing - it's all over your face and I ain't…." he sighed and shook his head. "I was gonna get me a ear, too." The fed winced and Carver grinned. "Aren't you an officer of the law? Well don't they teach you how to withstand interrogation? You can't even tell a damn lie!"

The fed looked down. Scared now. Carver had him. "Ok," hesaid. "I can see you're not an idiot."

Carver laughed. "Wish I could say the same Lawrence, but this…." he shook his head and clicked his tongue, "this is as disappointing as hell."

The calculating look that crossed the fed's face meant Carver pretty much knew what he was going to say next and he smiled in anticipation. "Let me speak a language you will understand," he said. "Money. This man is worth a lot of money, I mean a lot. You kill me? There's nothing. But, if you help me out, you'll have enough to buy your own ship." His lips lifted in a sneer of contempt and Carver pursed his lips. "A better one than this piece of crap."

He was lucky Saoirse wasn't here. Or Isabela. They didn't take kindly to people insulting Serenity. They also wouldn't take kindly to alliance moles giving him job offers, but again, they weren't here.

"Does helping you out mean turning on the captain?" The captain.

My sister.

"Yes it does."

Well now. There's a thing.