Spartan's Quest - Chapter 13
Author owns no rights to Firefly, and writes only for his own amusement.
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Mal watched Hera growing in the view screen of the Artemis, feeling a twinge in his belly. He had done his best to avoid this place since he'd been evacuated after the battle. This was one time he couldn't do that, however.
"It's okay, Mal," Zoe said softly, standing beside him. He looked at his oldest and best friend, and smiled weakly.
"It's just a place, right?" he asked, attempting a joke.
"Right," Zoe nodded, her own eyes never straying from the view. "Just a place, sir."
"You know," Neera said softly, seeing how Mal and Zoe were acting, "Julio and I can go and get the people we're meeting here. No need for the two of you to get off the ship." Both looked at her as if she'd grown an extra head.
"No need for that," Mal told her firmly. "Just a lot o' memories. Bad times, long gone nowdays. We're good." He looked at Zoe. "We good, Zoe?"
"We're good," Zoe nodded, looking away at last. "Just a place."
Neera shrugged in understanding. She had places like this too.
"We've been cleared to land," the pilot announced, having missed the by play between the other people on the bridge. "Everyone settle in, please."
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Once they were on the ground, Mal and Zoe seemed to shake off the effects of being on Hera once more. Mal met with the ground team in the cargo bay.
"Here's a list of the folks we're looking to meet," he told Jerl McCann's team. "And the right phrases to establish our bonafides. I want to collect these folks and get them loaded with a minimum of fuss, if at all possible. We got a long ways still to go."
"Are we expecting trouble?" Jerl asked, brow furrowing.
"When aren't we?" Zoe snorted in dark amusement, and everyone chuckled slightly.
"That's right enough," Mal nodded. "Neera and I will head out to the terminal. Zoe and Julio will take the waiting area. I want you three," he pointed to Jerl and his team, "to hang here, close by, just in case. The crew know they're responsible for the ship, but I'd like to see trouble 'fore it comes, if we can. And," he grimaced, "we may need help, things turn bad. So be alert."
With that, everyone headed out on their assignments. Neera slipped her hand into Mal's as they walked.
"Everything will be fine," she smiled. He returned it wanly.
"I'm sure you're right, but so long as we plan for things to not be right, we won't be surprised."
"Makes sense," she allowed.
Zoe and Julio walked the other way, eyeing the waiting areas for people with an unusual amount of baggage, then comparing those people to their list. Julio hesitated at one family.
"I think this one is one ours," he didn't quite whisper. Zoe looked at the family, then at the sheet, and nodded.
"Robert Basset," she murmured. "Daughter named Essie, is the target. Let's go." The two walked casually over to the family.
"Mister Basset?" Zoe smiled, keeping her voice low. "The Doctor sent us."
"What doctor?" the man asked, at once on his guard. Zoe noted how the family, three boys and two girls besides Essie, shifted around the younger girl.
"Doctor Tam, sir," Julio replied. "We have a ship waiting. Do you need help with your things?"
"Tam who?" Basset wasn't going that easy. He'd learned the hard way not to trust people where his family was concerned.
"Simon, sir," Zoe answered. "The same man you spoke to on the wave. And Inara is the name of the woman who made your travel arrangements. You are among friends." This was the simple code phrase that Inara had worked out. Easy to remember, yet unlikely to be spoken by accident. Basset visibly relaxed.
"Okay," he nodded. "Yes, we're the Bassets. Where are we going?"
"We'll tell you once we're on the ship, sir," Julio assured him. "Not here, in the open. Just in case," he added at the look of alarm on the man's face. "We're not taking any more chances, after what's happened."
"Well, okay," Basset relented. "We could use some help, if it's no trouble," he added.
"None at all," Julio smiled. He picked up two solid looking trunks as if they were nothing, hefting both easily, while Zoe grabbed two of the smaller bags. Basset eyed Julio closely.
"I work out a lot," he smiled easily.
With that, the group set out for the ship.
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"Mal, we may have a problem," Neera said softly. "I see that one of the ships we were expecting has been delayed. No reason given," she added, pointing to a board cataloging arrivals and departures.
"Well, of course," Mal grimaced. "Why wouldn't it be late."
"It's probably nothing," Neera told him. "By problem, I just meant that we'd be delayed."
Mal nodded in understanding. He noticed a family standing by the board, looking out. He checked the sheets in his hand, and nodded toward them.
"That's the Wilson folks," he murmured. "Let's get them on board, then we'll see about the Gleeson's." Neera nodded in agreement, and the two started over.
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Dawn was still an hour away on Londinium when the hangar doors opened, allowing the cool ocean air to wash over Prim and Inara. The children were being escorted to the ship, another Asgard class ship by the name of Apollo.
Thought the children were still in poor condition, they were able to walk under their own power, and responded to simple instructions from people they had established a bond with. It would be a long time, if ever, before they progressed to the point where they were able to function independently.
"I wish there was more we could do for them," Inara said sadly, watching the file of despondent looking children.
"We're doing all we can, Inara," Prim reminded her, holding her close to him. "If there is a way to help them recover, we will find it. No matter what it takes, or how long."
"You always make me feel better," Inara smiled up at him.
"Part of my job," Prim smiled. "Let's get aboard, shall we?" Inara nodded, and the two of them walked up the ramp, arm in arm.
Kaylee and Simon were already on board, along with two full teams of security. Special security, that was. There was also a full squad of 'normal' security troops, making the trip to strengthen the security at Nightside.
"Are we ready?" Prim asked the pilot. The man nodded.
"We are, sir. Pre-flight is finished, all systems green and nominal. We're ready on your order."
"Then let's be off," Prim ordered quietly. He returned to the small cabin that he and Inara would share for the trip, where he found her unpacking the things they would need during transit.
"We're lifting," Prim told her. As he spoke, the ship began to hum as the engines warmed, and a slight shudder let them know the ship was airborne.
"Good," Inara smiled. "The only thing that worries me is that someone will know, and they'll try something during the trip."
"This ship is capable of taking down an Alliance cruiser," Prim assured her. "And there are three long range shuttles escorting us that are strong enough to discourage any smaller vessels. We'll be fine. And once we've reached Nightside, we'll be perfectly safe. The entire moon is loyal, and surrounded by a defense grid capable of withstanding a siege."
"The real battle," he frowned as he continued, "will be when Janos finds Brockman and his ilk. We have no idea how many people he may have turned in the time he's had available."
"You're concerned," Inara stopped what she was doing, looking at him thoughtfully.
"I am. . .cautious," Prim corrected finally. "The thing is, ones such as I, we have been the way we are for long centuries. We have experience that Brockman, nor any of the people with him, can have. We are more comfortable with our. . .abilities."
"Brockman, however, and those who work with him, will be flushed with power. It is entirely possible that they believe there are no others like them. That they have something no one else does. They will be arrogant, even careless. But they may be many."
"An old earth saying says that 'quantity has a quality all it's own."
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"Where are we going, Jayne?" River asked, looking up as he walked into their small office.
"Nightside," Jayne replied, settling in beside her. "Prim is already on his way there, with Inara, Simon, and Kaylee, and the other children." He looked at her closely.
"So are several friends of mine. Old friends," he grinned. "People who are unhappy that their existence is threatened with exposure by Brockman and his little business venture."
"Once everyone is safe on Nightside, then we start hunting Brockman. And anyone he's turned. We won't stop until they're all dead, either."
"How will we know?" River asked.
"Well, someone's gonna tell us, that's how," Jayne smiled. "We can't afford to have these people running around like this. If they are discovered, then the 'verse will know of our existence. We cannot, we will not allow that to happen. For centuries we have remained safe by guarding our secrets with great care."
"By forgetting that, Neethos has endangered us all. Had I not killed him, he would be hunted to the ends of the 'verse for this."
"So there's a code of sorts, for people like us," River asked, curious. Jayne had never discussed things like this with her before.
"Yes," he nodded. "Generally, one who turns another is ultimately responsible for them. When they violate our codes, then it's his or her responsibility to set things right."
"In this case, Neethos is already dead. Even if he were not, he would be unlikely to reign Brockman in. So," he sighed, "it falls to us. All of us," he looked at her pointedly, "to make sure that this problem is taken care of."
"How many are we talking about?" River asked. "How many like us are there, Jayne? I hadn't thought about that, really, until now. I sort of assumed, I guess, that the majority of them were in your employ." Jayne laughed at that.
"Not even close," he replied. "I don't know that anyone knows how many of us there are in the 'verse. And this isn't the only system, either," he told her softly, eyeing her carefully.
"What?" River's shock was evident.
"River, not all of the people who left Earth settled here," Jayne explained. "Many of them went in other directions, something that's not generally known. Until some type of faster than light travel is developed, only someone like us can travel the distances between the systems. Thanks to our long lifespan," he added.
"I had no idea," River murmured in wonder.
"Few do, and it must stay that way," Jayne warned her.
"Have you ever been to any of these other systems?" River asked. Jayne looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
"And I've been back to Earth," he said simply. River's shock only grew.
"It's still there," he grinned. "The damage that mankind wreaked on the planet has begun to heal. I was there almost two hundred fifty years ago, now. The world was once more teeming with life, believe it or not. Pristine wilderness has replaced endless cities, with clean water and clear skies. It was a most remarkable thing to see," he added, his eyes now far away.
"I'd love to see it," River remarked in wonder. Jayne looked at her.
"Then you shall, one day," he said simply. "But not for some time to come, I'm afraid. We have too much to do here."
"I have time," she grinned suddenly. "All the time in the world."
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"Do you understand what I want?" Brockman's voice grated with impatience.
"Yep," the man called Wilson replied casually. "You want these kids back, and you want these folks, this Reynolds and his crew, eliminated. Got it."
"Don't take this so casually, Wilson," Brockman warned. "They've shown a great deal of ability and resilience so far."
"Only take'em so far," Wilson shrugged. "Don't worry about it, we'll get'em."
"I don't want any survivors," Brockman stressed. "And none of your men are to talk to any of these children. I want them treated well, but kept in isolation. Do you understand?"
"What's so special about these kids, anyway?" Wilson asked.
"That's my business," Brockman replied, his voice rumbling with menace. Wilson shrugged, unimpressed.
"Whatever. Any idea where we should start?"
Brockman fought hard to reign in his temper. At times like this, he regretted turning Wilson. The man was a complete psychopath, unafraid of anything, feeling or caring for nothing. Brockman was stronger, but not decisively so. And Wilson, damn him, had figured out that Brockman's warning that Wilson himself couldn't 'turn' people was just so much smoke.
Before Brockman had realized it, Wilson had infected his entire crew. And they were far worse than any of Brockman's own people.
"Start with where Peter's was killed," he said as calmly as he could.
"Okay," Wilson nodded. "We'll get right on it." With that Wilson walked out of the office. Brockman counted to ten, trying to contain his rage. When that failed, his giant fist crashed down on the desk in front of him, breaking it two. The outburst helped to channel the rage, and Brockman sat down, feeling more in control of himself again.
Just remember the payoff, he reminded himself. Once he was in power, it would be easy enough to deal with Wilson and his lot of losers. In fact, Brockman mused, he'd need someone to experiment on, when all this was done.
And he'd be just perfect.
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"That's our ship," Neera pointed with a nod of her head, as a small liner eased into dock. Mal nodded.
"Any word on what kept them?" he asked.
"Apparently, their take off was delayed due to extra passengers," Neera shrugged. "Could have been late, waiting on the Cross family."
"We'll know soon enough." The two walked toward the ramp just now descending, looking for a family of three. A woman with one daughter, and one son. As they watched, group after group descended from the ship. As the flow eased, then stopped, Mal and Neera looked at one another in concern. They hadn't seen their clients.
Just as Mal was about to decide there was a problem, a slender woman with two small children appeared in the door, walking timidly down the ramp. Marcia Cross, with her son Jeremy, and daughter Katrin. Mal sighed in relief, and started for the ramp. They met her and the children at the bottom.
"Mrs. Cross?" Mal asked politely. "My name's Malcolm Reynolds. This is Neera Trivett. We're supposed to meet you here, ma'am. And carry you someplace safe."
"I'm afraid you have me mixed up with someone else, Captain. . .Reynolds, you said? My name is Maria Roberts."
"No ma'am," Mal smiled again. "You name was Roberts, 'fore you married. Marcia Roberts. You married the late Hiram Cross. You two children are Jeremy, aged eleven, and Katrin, aged nine. Relax, Mrs. Cross. You're among friends."
Marcia Cross sagged visibly in relief as Mal spoke. She had been so afraid.
"I'm sorry, Captain," she smiled weakly. "I have to be careful."
"I know, ma'am," Mal assured her. "But you let us worry for you, now. We have a ship waiting, and ready to go. Once we get you where we're going, you can relax completely. I promise you," he added firmly. "Ain't no one gonna hurt you nor your young'uns no more."
Marcia decided that the walk to the ship was the longest of her life, for all that it was only a half mile.