Spartan's Quest - Chapter 19
Author owns no rights to Firefly, and writes only for his own amusement
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All around the 'verse, various teams were looking for Brockman, but not finding him. His organization had, for all intents and purposes, vanished. It was as if they had gone into a hole, and pulled it in after them.
But the hunters were patient. And they had all the time in the world to wait on their prey. So the hunt continued, as they drifted from world, to moon, to world. And the time wasn't wasted. While no one seemed to know where Brockman was at the moment, plenty of people knew who he was, and had run afoul of his crews more than once. And, like people everywhere, they were eager to help anyone who might hurt their enemy.
As a result, the Brethren were beginning to get a clearer view of the crime boss' organization, including numbers. And the numbers weren't encouraging.
By all accounts, Brockman had at least four 'crews' working directly for him, with a total number reaching well over one hundred. And he had at least three others who were 'contract help', adding another fifty to seventy to that tally. There was no way to know how many of them had been turned, but the Brethren were forced to assume that all of them had been.
Worse, it was probable that those individuals had, in turn, created still more underlings. Janos had been right. While they might not have experience, they would have numbers.
All of this figured into the various plans that were developed as more and more information was gathered. It was decided that the best way to approach this problem was to confront the various 'crews' one at a time. While it risked exposing the fact that they were hunting Brockman and his men, it would help reduce the odds to something approaching manageable. Which also meant making the problem of keeping everything as quiet as possible more manageable.
And that was of paramount importance. It wouldn't serve them to eliminate the threat that Brockman posed, only to expose themselves in the doing.
But before they could eliminate the problem, they had to find it. And that was proving harder than any of them would have thought possible.
Still, with patience that grew from knowing that time was irrelevant to them, the hunters kept hunting. Sooner or later, someone would show up, somewhere. When he did, someone would be there to meet him.
Then things would become. . .interesting. Very interesting, indeed.
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Master Bukidao looked at the people before him, and sighed in despair. He had never seen a more worthless group of people in his long and storied life. Even with the money the man who called himself Jamieson had offered him, had he seen the prospective students beforehand, he would have refused to take the job.
"No, no, no!," he nearly shouted, then stopped, took a calming breath, and continued in a more normal voice. "You cannot use a sword as you would a knife, or a gun. It is not only useless, it's. . .well, it's wrong." There was no use in trying to explain to them it was disrespectful the blade.
"I don't see why we have to. . . ." the student began, only to fall silent as Wilson glared at him. He looked to the floor and mumbled.
"Sir," Wilson said kindly, "allow us a few moments alone, if you will. Perhaps I can motivate them to try harder."
"As you will," Bukidao nodded, secretly grateful. Far too few of these people bathed often enough to suit him. "I have another student, waiting. I will return at the end of that lesson." With that the sword master left abruptly, leaving the men with the training room to themselves.
"I'm gonna say this one more time," Wilson glowered at the man who had complained, then to the rest in turn. "We need to learn how to do this, and do it proper like. May have slipped your notice on Idlewild, but them others use these things, and use'em right well."
"And we know it's a sure fire way to kill people like us," he added. "If we want to stay alive, and keep enjoying the benefits of our new. . .lives, then we damn well better be able to defend them against these people. The next one o' you complains, or gives that old man a hard time, I'll kill. If you ain't gonna learn, then you ain't no use ta me, nor the boss, so I might's well put you outta my misery. Ever'body got that?" Heads nodded around the large room. Brockman's own men weren't the problem. They were taking to the instructions like a duck to water, and learning far faster than anyone, including Wilson himself.
Wilson's own men, however, were. . .well, morons. Asking them to learn to use such a graceful weapon was about as useful as asking them which fork to use for salad, and which for dessert. That is to say, none at all.
"Now, pair up," Wilson ordered, "and start practicing what the old man's already showed us. And when he gets back, you better all have a new and improved attitude toward all this."
Reluctantly the thugs broke into pairs, and began fencing lightly, putting muscles that weren't yet used to working to the test, and trying to duplicate what they'd seen the old man do.
Wilson watched them, wishing he were better himself. Sooner or later, he'd have to face Brockman. Only one of them could be 'the Boss', and Wilson meant for it to be him. He looked to where Brockman's own men were working. While they would never give the old man a run for his money, any one of them were worth any three of his, already. And any one of them could kill him, Wilson, just as easy.
With that in mind, the crime boss put aside his thoughts of domination for the time being, and began going through the moves he'd been taught, just like his men. He needed to be ready, when the time came.
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"And you think she'll know where he is?"
Winter, Barstow, Fell and Meadows were gathered around a table in a tavern on Beaumonde. They had met there after Fell and Meadows had discovered that one of Brockman's chief thugs, a man named Wilson, they believed, had a woman there that he visited on a regular basis, and apparently kept up when he wasn't around.
"No idea," Meadows shrugged at Barstow's question. "But it's worth a shot, and it's the best lead we've been able to come up with so far. None of these men have any close ties that we've been able to find. Not knowing many of the men on their payroll hasn't helped us, either."
"I would have thought finding Brockman would have been a touch easier," Winter nodded. "And no one on Osiris knew anything about him. Apparently Neethos didn't share the fact that he'd turned him."
"Are any of them going to help us?" Fell asked.
"Doubt it," Barstow sighed. "They see this as Neethos' problem, which, in their eyes, makes it ours. They have agreed to keep an eye out for him, or anyone that might work for him, and give us a wave if they see them. That's about all we can expect, it looks like."
"Figures," Fell snorted. "Most of'em are pathetic anyway. Lightweights that've let a long life make'em soft."
"Or teach them to mind their own business," Meadows added with a shrug. "Helping us might expose them, and they know it. You can't blame them for not wanting to tip their hand."
"If Brockman is exposed, then there's a greater chance that all of us will be, sooner or later," Winter pointed out. "And once the Alliance is on to the fact that we exist at all, they'll never stop looking."
"True," Barstow nodded. "Which is why all of us are here, looking," he noted. "Very well, then, let's do go and visit this woman, this. . .Evelyn, and see if she knows where we can find Mister Wilson."
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"Hey, bao bei," Kaylee grinned, walking up to where Simon sat, observing the staff of the manor interact with the eight children they had yet to be able to identify. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Just watching," Simon smiled, moving slightly to allow Kaylee to sit beside him. "What have you been up to?"
"Lookin' at Athena's plant," she smiled sheepishly. Simon chuckled at that, putting his arm around her shoulders. Kaylee leaned into him, sighing in contentment.
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" he murmured into her hair, then placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"How they doin'?" she waved toward the children. Simon shrugged, helplessly.
"They're damaged, Kaylee," he admitted. "Broken, as River might say. I. . .I'm afraid they're beyond any help we can give them, to be honest. I've tried everything I know to do. I know how to do. Honestly, I've run out of ideas."
"You'll fix'em," Kaylee declared, confidently. "I know you will Simon."
Simon Tam looked down at Kaylee, who was watching the children playing, and wondered how he had been so fortunate. It was times such as these that he realized not only how lucky he was to have Kaylee Frye, but how much he truly loved her as well. He looked back to the children still milling about on the playground. They were kept separated from the other children for now, as a precaution.
I hope you're right, Kaylee, he thought to himself. The idea that he would fail, again, in repairing the damage wrought by Blue Sun and their. . .associates, caused him true, physical pain.
He really had tried everything he knew to try. The psychiatrist was the last hope, and she was still working with the children, though not as often, since she'd have to be flown out every so often. In the meantime, Simon and the rest of the medical staff worked with them daily, trying to find some way to snap the children out of their mental prison.
So far he'd found no true physical damage, such as he had with River. Whatever trauma had caused their near catatonic state had to have been mental or emotional. Without knowing exactly what had been done to them, he had no way of knowing how to attempt to reverse the damage. Fear of making them worse, rather than better, meant that he and the others proceeded far slower than they otherwise might have.
He sighed in frustration, as he felt the beginning of the headache that always seemed to find him as he weighed the difficulties in helping these children. Kaylee read that, and reached up slowly, caressing his face.
"You'll find a way, ai ren," she assured him softly. "You got the same gift with people that I got for machines. You can hear them tellin' ya what's wrong, even when they can't talk to you. I know you'll find a way."
Simon smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her lightly.
But in the back of his mind, he feared that she was wrong. That he would never be able to help those children escape their mental prisons.
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"What are you thinking?" Prim asked Inara as the two of them walked among the buildings of the compound. She was drifting, her eyes nearly unseeing as she walked in deep thought.
"What?" she turned suddenly, startled from her train of thought. "I'm sorry, Prim, what did you say?"
"I asked what you were thinking," he smiled gently. "Your mind was far from here, it seemed."
"I'm sorry," she looked down as if embarrassed. Prim snorted.
"Inara, dear," he stopped, taking her shoulders in his hands. "I wasn't complaining. I was just wondering if I could help, that's all." She smiled at him.
"I was just thinking about the future," she admitted. "There is a lot to think on," she added.
"There is," Prim nodded in agreement. "What, in particular, where you concentrating on? Perhaps, together, we can come to a solution." Inara looked at him for a moment, biting at her lip. Prim found it adorably out of place for the normally controlled former Companion.
"I wasn't thinking on any one thing," she admitted. "Rather, several things, all at once. Well, not all at once," she laughed, "but as a group, so to speak. Package deal," she grinned.
"I see," Prim nodded. "And can I help, in some way?"
"I. . .I don't really know," she shrugged helplessly. "You help me, just being near by, to be honest," she smiled. "Lately, though, certain things have. . .I don't really know how to say it," she broke off. "It's just that, recently, I've been thinking a good deal about many things. There's been so many changes, so quickly, and this is the first time I've really had the time to allow my mind to consider all of them."
"I see," Prim mused, and he did. "Then let's take them one at a time, shall we? I'd imagine that your first thought is the fact that I'm a good deal older than you," his eyes sparkled.
"Well," Inara hesitated, and Prim realized that, in trying to lighten the mood, he'd hit a tender area. She looked at him.
"That is part of it," she admitted. "I mean, not you actual age," she grinned slightly. "But. . .Prim, I've come to love you a great deal. I think you know that, and I think you feel the same way about me." Prim nodded, but remained silent.
"And I know that as I age, you won't," she shrugged. "And one day, far sooner than I'll like, I suspect, I'll be gone. If you love me as much as I do you, I know that will hurt you, Prim. And I don't know if I can put you through that," she added softly. "I don't think I could stand it, if I where in your shoes."
"I. . .see," Prim repeated, but this time he didn't. Not quite. "What would you have, then, Inara? Would you rather that the two of us parted ways? If so, you can certainly remain here with the children, and I can. . . ." he broke off as Inara's hand raised to his lips, silencing him.
"That's not it," she told him gently. "Not at all. I. . .I just. . . ." She broke off in frustration, unable to find the words to describe her dilemma.
"Inara, I understand your fears," Prim tried to reassure her. "Whatever you decide is best, I will abide by, I promise you." She turned back to him, tears welling in her eyes.
"Yes, you would say that, wouldn't you?" she smiled weakly. "You really are the most amazing man, you know?"
"I'm nothing of the sort," he snorted. "Just an old soldier playing at being a civilian."
"No, you're so much more than that," she leaned into him, hugging him to her, and Prim returned the embrace. "So much more to you than just that."
"Inara, what do you want?" Prim asked. "From life, I mean. What do you want, in the future?"
"I don't really know," she admitted, speaking into his chest. "Everything that's happened has happened so fast, with one thing piled right atop another, that I haven't had the chance, until now, to even consider it. It's been one crisis after another, after another. Now, with the peace and calm around here, I have time to think. To consider what's happened, and what might happen, and where my future might lead me." She looked up at him.
"I'd always thought I'd be a Companion until such time as I was able to become a House Mistress. Now, that's all gone. And I'm glad," she admitted. "But it doesn't change the fact that my future is uncertain anymore, and I'm not used to that. It takes some adjustment."
"Indeed," Prim nodded.
"In my fairy tale world," she continued, "we would be together for the rest of our lives, grow old together, and have a lifetime of memories at the end of our path. But in the real world, that won't happen. I'll grow old, and eventually die, while you go on. I'm not jealous, you understand," she added. "I just don't like the idea of your being alone again, once I'm gone. I want you to be happy."
"That's very kind of you, Inara," Prim said after a moment. "Something no one I've ever known has ever said to me. Usually, they would be jealous, even angry, that I would keep going long after than had passed. Not once has anyone expressed concern for me, for how I would fare, after they had left me alone."
"I don't mean to imply that you won't be okay," Inara told him. "I know that you will. And, in time, perhaps find someone else. I don't begrudge you that either," she smiled. "No one should walk the 'verse alone. But it does concern me that I'd be causing you pain. And what about any children we might have?" she added suddenly. "Would they be like you? Or like me? Or perhaps a cross of. . . .what's wrong?" she asked, seeing his face tense.
"I. . .we will never have children of our own, Inara, should our relationship evolve to that point. We are incapable of producing offspring."
"What?" she asked.
"None of us can create or conceive children," he told her softly. "The very thing that makes us what we are, prevents it. Women cannot conceive because their parasite views an embryo as a threat to survival, and terminates it. With the men, any child conceived with a mortal woman inherits the parasite, which refuses to allow the child to come to term, preventing the development of the fetus. The parasite knows only the environment it's created in, and works to preserve that environment against all changes. Including the changes required in a developing fetus to come to full term. I. . .should have told you before. I. . .I'm sorry."
"Oh, Prim, I'm so sorry," Inara almost whispered. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I have long since accepted that fate, Inara," he assured her. "I fathered children before, and, though I lost them, I knew the joys of being a father. I have missed nothing. I was sorry that I hadn't told you. I should have considered that you might want children, but it's been so long a fact of my life, that I simply didn't think of it. I am sorry."
"Prim," Inara chided gently. "It would not have made a difference in how I felt then, and it doesn't change how I feel now. In truth, it only occurred to me now, because of the question of what they might be like. Let's not speak of it again, my love." Prim nodded.
"You're a rare woman, Inara Serra," he told her, kissing her lightly. "A rare woman indeed. And, yes, I have thought long about how hard it would be when the time for us to part came. I don't like to think of it, in all honesty, but the truth is, whatever time we might have together is a gift, and I will always think of it so."
"So will I," Inara whispered. "So will I."
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Eric looked at Jayne as the two men stood on the second floor balcony. The house sat on a hill over looking the town, and the added elevation gave them a very good view.
"Heard nothing from the others, then?" Eric asked. Jayne shook his head.
"Not as yet, other than Elizabeth's report that the whole outfit has apparently vanished. And that bothers me."
"I should think so," Eric nodded. "They're preparing for war, most like."
"Yes," Jayne sighed, looking once more out over the small valley. It was more like a bowl, he reflected, than a valley. He wondered, idly, of it was the result of a meteor strike, some time long before the terra forming.
"It has to been done, lad," Eric said softly. "Or does it?" he mused, looking away himself toward the view before them.
"What?" Jayne looked at him, Eric's words having sank in slowly.
"Does it need be this way?" Eric repeated. "These ones," he waved to the children below, on a break from their school work, "are safe, Janos. Brockman and his ilk can't touch them, here, and well you know it. Even your mortal friends are safe here, should they decided to stay. What is it that says you need confront this Brockman, and his little band of thugs?"
"Eric, are you saying I should just let them run loose among the 'verse?" Jayne demanded. "How can I do that?"
"I'm not suggesting it," Eric replied calmly. "I'm just pointin' out the obvious. Your goal was to make these one's safe. You have. No one will ever harm them, here, lad. I'll see to that, even after you're gone. With that in mind, what then is your need to battle this man?"
"I can't leave a group of uncontrolled, undisciplined, criminals, with our abilities, free to prey on the rest of the 'verse, Eric," Jayne replied resolutely. "They have to be stopped. And, there's the threat of one of them falling into Alliance hands. Should that happen, and the secret of our existence get out, then what? Will any of us be safe, ever again?"
"They can't find us all," Eric pointed out.
"They don't need to!" Jayne exclaimed. "All they need is to be able to 'turn' people like their operatives! Those kind are dangerous enough as it is. Add in the benefits derived from being like us, and the Alliance gains more power than it has ever had. Enough power," he added softly, "to truly crush anyone who opposes them. They could build an army that simply couldn't be stopped. And you know they would, given the opportunity."
"Aye," the older man nodded. "That they would. I'm not against your takin' the man, Janos," he added. "I just wanted to make sure of what your reasoning was. Running about looking for revenge isn't always the smart play, boy."
"It isn't about revenge," Jayne promised him. "It's about justice. He deserves to pay for what he's done to those children, and we are the only ones who can make that happen. There's no one else to stop him."
"True enough," Eric nodded, satisfied. "Have you decided how you'll handle it?" he asked.
"I have a few ideas," Jayne nodded. "But first, we have to find him, or at least some of his people. Once we do, then we'll see what plans fit the situation best, and move with that."
"I'm glad to see you're thinkin' straight, lad," Eric clapped him on the shoulder. "I did'na mean to push you, really. But I had to be sure."
"I know," Jayne nodded. "You're a good friend, Eric, and a better mentor. But I'm right, in this. Something must be done, and there just isn't anyone else. I just hope we're enough," he added, looking this time to the stars, just beginning to appear as the sun sank below the horizon.
"I just hope we're enough."