Spartan's Quest – Chapter Five
No ownership stated or implied, no infringement intended. I just want to keep Serenity flyin' a while longer. For me, and everyone else:)
--
"My God," Simon breathed, testing the last of the samples. He turned a bewildered look to Prim.
"You're right," he said quietly. "Every blood sample I've checked, so far, shows at least three points of similarity to your own. And that's only with what I can see with our equipment. On a cellular level?" Simon shook his head. "There's no telling what we might find."
"Can you tell if it has affected the children?" Prim asked, worry in his voice. "Simon, we already returned most of them to their families. If. . .I mean when. . ."
"We can't let this get out," Simon nodded, his voice almost a whisper. "If it does, there are people who would stop at nothing to get their hands on one of those children."
"And we sent them right out into the 'verse," Inara choked a little. "What do we do now?"
"I don't know," Prim admitted, slouching in defeat. "This is. . .I never imagined this was so complex. Until tonight, I had always assumed that Neethos was simply trying to make others like Lady River. This," he pointed to Simon's microscope, "never entered my mind."
"Okay, let's think this through," Simon said, trying for calm. "We know who the children are, and where they are. Many of them were from core worlds, yes?"
"About half," Prim nodded absently. "I don't recall the exact breakdown."
"The rest were from poorer families?" Simon pressed. "Rim worlds?"
"Mostly," Inara nodded. "Some, like Amanda, were orphans."
"I'd say it's a better than even bet that the core children are safe," Simon declared, standing, and beginning to pace. "Once restored to their families, and the families aware of what was happening, they should be well protected."
"Probably," Prim nodded. "But it's a large assumption."
"I know, but it's the best we can do," Simon nodded. "We have to think in terms of what we can do, not what we want. The orphans, those under age, what became of them?"
"Most were returned to. . ." Prim started, then stopped. His eyes closed.
"Children's Services," Inara groaned. "The very monsters who gave them over in the first place."
"Then we get those children back," Simon declared at once. "Immediately."
"How?" Inara asked. Simon's face hardened.
"Any way we have to."
--
"Harry, take us home," Jayne ordered as soon as he and River were aboard. "Best speed."
"At once, My Lord," Harry scurried to the bridge.
"What will we do when we get there?" River asked.
"I don't know yet," Jayne admitted. "We'll see what the others have come up with, and you and Simon will need to discuss what you plan to do." He looked down at her.
"It isn't strictly necessary for you to see your mother, you know," he said softly. "I can go, alone. I doubt she will refuse a visit from Lord Janos," he smiled.
"No," River shook her head. "By now, word will have reached out to here that you and I are to be married. She'll want to know about that. And," River said thoughtfully, "I'm curious what her reaction will be."
"And your father's?" Jayne asked, a slight grin on his face.
"And my father's," River nodded firmly. "But I don't want to reveal Simon's whereabouts unless he says to. I don't feel I can make that decision for him."
"I understand. Well," he smirked, "it's a three day trip home. Might as well use that time to put you in your place on the mat." His eyes were dancing with amusement, and River's face pinched at that.
"One of these days, my egotistic suitor," she growled, "I will best you."
"But not today, I bet."
--
"What?" Mal looked at the screen in shock.
"It's the best we can come up with, at this point," Prim told him. "And it makes sense. Not to mention the blood tests. I need you back here, Mal." Prim looked off screen a moment.
"We're preparing to retrieve the children from the Child Services, right now," he said quietly, looking back to the viewer. "Once they're here, we'll need you to transport them safely away. We should know where, by the time you arrive."
"Seems like this is awful quick, Prim," Mal mused. "Sure we ain't jumping the gun, so to speak?"
"No," Prim admitted. "But Mal, if those children are taken, we may never find them again. Someone out there probably knows exactly what Neethos was doing. Maybe even a partner. Maybe," he pointed out, "another of our kind. When they find those children, they'll try and take them back. I'm sure of it."
"We'll head that way, right now," Mal assured him. "Be there in a couple o' days."
"Thank you, Malcolm," Prim said softly. "I know I'm asking. . ."
"Hey, you're the boss," Mal raised a hand. "You're the paying customer. You cry, we fly. We're on the way." He cut the connection and looked at Neera.
"Well?"
"It's. . .scary," Neera admitted. "I was thinking, while Prim was talking about this. The. . .gift, I guess, is known to enhance natural abilities, Mal. Like Amanda's. Neethos may have been trying to enhance natural reader's abilities with infusions of his own blood."
"This guy was a real sweetheart, wasn't he?" Mal growled.
"Janos told me about him, long ago," Neera said softly. "He wasn't always like that, Mal. Once, he was a good man. Dedicated to working for peace. To combating evil among mankind."
"It's a problem we all must face," she went on, looking out the bridge window. "As we age, but do not die, our minds. . .immortality is as much a curse as it is a blessing. More so, in the long run. Have you never wondered why Janos had so few people like me, like us, around him?" She faced Mal again.
"He turned very few people in his time, Mal. All were dying. All were people he thought could help him to fight the same evil that Neethos once fought. He only once, he told me, offered it as a true 'gift'. To a man who was crippled in a fall from a horse."
"He killed that man, years later, when he misused his ability. Violated Janos' trust. He swore to himself, then, that he'd never do so again."
"I was so busy hatin' him," Mal told her, voice full of emotion, "I never thought o' what all he'd been through, over the years. He was such a hundan while on my crew, you know. Always trying to take over, always fightin' and arguin'."
"He's like that, when he's 'playing'," Neera laughed. "He'd been a soldier for so long. He had grown weary of it. Decided he'd play the part of a mercenary, and just 'walk-about' as he put it."
"If it helps," she looked at him, eyes soft, "I know that he was very impressed with you. Thought highly of you, even though he didn't always like you very much," she teased. "He would never have really turned on you, you know. He does. . .did, those things to try and influence people."
"Well, my life would have been a lot easier if he'd just come right out and said that," Mal chuckled. "Not to mention I'da slept better at night."
"He wasn't known for making things easy," Neera laughed. "Not his style."
"Well, he was true to it," Mal nodded. "We're off to Londinium again," he changed gears. "Best call Willie, get her up here."
--
"My Lady?" Prim answered the wave from River.
"We're on our way home, Prim," River said at once. "You will need. . ." She hesitated a moment. "You will need to tell Simon and Kaylee that Janos is alive. We'll be there in three days."
"My Lady, Serenity will be here in two days," Prim told her. He went on to explain what they had developed.
"Very well," River smiled. "We too, have developed information, but need a bit more time before following it up. Wait on informing Simon and Kaylee about Janos until we have discussed it." She briefly explained.
"That is. . .interesting," Prim allowed, trying not to smile.
"You should see it from where I sit," River grumped. "We'll see you soon." River walked back to the exercise area, where Jayne waited for her.
"Mal and the others may be there when we arrive," she told him, smirking. "You are about to return to the living, Jayne." He shrugged.
"It would have had to happen eventually." He gave her a smirk of his own. "Meanwhile, I have found a place on the mat I don't believe you've met before. Shall I introduce you?"
--
"What do you want, Solson?" the man known to Chester F. as 'Brockman' snarled. "I told you, the Project went belly up. It's finished."
"I wanted to warn you," Solson told him flatly. "Some people were here yesterday, asking a lot of very pointed questions about you. And the Project."
"Investors?" Brockman asked. "Because that's your job, dealing with them."
"No, they weren't investors," Solson fought a shiver. "If I had to guess, they were private investigators. Or Mercenaries. They knew a great deal about things, and they're looking for more. And they don't much care how they have to get it."
"What did you tell them, Solson?" Brockman's voice was ice.
"What could I tell them?" Solson shrugged, though his heart was hammering in his ears. "They already knew my involvement. Everything. And that's all I knew, anyway."
"Who were these people?"
"No idea," Solson shrugged again. "They didn't give me any names, and I really wasn't in a position to make demands. But they had a girl with them," he added. "A reader."
"No such thing as a reader," Brockman replied at once, and Solson thought it sounded like a canned response.
"Well, she damn sure acted like one. But, like I said, just thought you'd want to know."
"Just because you're a swell guy?" Brockman smirked.
"Because I'm smart enough I don't want to cross someone like you," Solson shot back, pointedly. "You believe it or not. Doesn't matter to me."
"Thank you for the information," Brockman said, his voice a bit softer. "I'll be in touch." The wave broke.
"Not with me, you won't," Solson smirked, heading for the door. He had decided to travel. A long way. Like to the rim.
Whatever was going on, he wanted no more visits. From anyone.
--
The man known as Brockman pursed his lips, considering what he'd just been told. The destruction of the facility has come as a shock. So had the probability that his teacher had died there.
He'd had no word from Neethos in these three, nearly four months. That meant, in all likelihood that the old one was dead. Brockman shrugged at that. It merely saved him the trouble.
The old one had envisioned a world of peace. Fine. Brockman had allowed him to dream. But he was smart enough to know that people would never simply roll over.
True, if the old one had managed to perfect his 'pacifier', then the majority of people would likely be reduced to automatons, and there would be little violence. But Brockman had never believed that it would work.
The other experiments, however, where tools that he could use. Tools that would place him in a position of power unlike any other. Power that could be used to create vast wealth, among other things.
And, thanks to the old one, Brockman would have centuries to enjoy it.
All that remained of that project were the children. They would have to be enough. Several of the 'students' had re-appeared in orphanages on Londinium. Plans for their 'adoption' were already moving forward. Soon those children would be back in his hands.
After that, he'd see to collecting the rest. Some, regrettably, would remain out of reach, as they were members of rather prominent families. But many of them were not. And he would get them back.
He had details of the work accomplished so far, save for any developments over the last week or so before the 'accident'. The work would continue. Slowly, at first, to be sure, but it would go on.
He would have the power he desired. One way, or another.
--
"Mal?" Neera was lying atop him, in their bunk.
"Hm mmm?" Mal murmured, not quite asleep, but not fully awake.
"Mal," she repeated, "do you love me?" Now he was fully awake.
"What?"
"Do. You. Love. Me." Neera bit off each word. Her voice was soft. There was no demand in it. Just curiosity.
"Before I answer," Mal looked at her, pulling a strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, "what makes you ask?"
"I don't know," she admitted, after a moment. "I know you. . .I know you don't really like our kind," she said hesitantly. "And I guess I can understand that. You know, you and your crew are among very few non-brethren that know of us. It's. . .unusual."
"Well, I guess I'm flattered, then," he smiled up at her, and she laughed quietly. "Neera, I. . .I don't want to say that I do. Not because I don't," he hastened to add, "but because I'm. . .I'm not sure," he admitted.
"You make me feel like I'm on fire," he told her quietly. "I've never felt this way with any other woman. Ever."
"Not even. . ." Neera broke off.
"Not even Inara," he smiled. "Never. And while I'm starting to feel inclined to believe that I love you, I'm afraid, I guess. I know that you'll be here long after I'm gone. And, at some point, I guess I'm afraid you'll grow tired of me, and move on. So, I'm afraid. Afraid to be in love with you. Afraid that it would hurt too much, when you did move on."
Neera looked at him for a long time. She understood that fear. She had seen it before.
"Neera used to be the only name I had, you know," she said suddenly, propping her head on one hand. "I was married, long ago. On Earth. Before the exodus. To a mortal named Clay Trivett. We were married for fifty-three years. When he died, at the age of eighty-eight, that's when I left him."
"Did he know. . ."
"Yes," Neera nodded. "Knew when he asked me to marry him, in fact. Loved me anyway," she smiled fondly. "He had the same fear that you have, Mal. That I would leave. But," she looked at him, eyes warm, and soft, "I'm not that kind of girl."
"I'm not trying to pressure you, Mal," she continued. "I. . .I just wanted you to know that. Because," she lowered her lips to his, "I'm pretty sure I love you."