155: The Operative vs. Malcolm Reynolds
When it began, he had no idea about the involvement of Captain Reynolds, nor did he know when or where River would react to the subliminal trigger he'd distributed across the cortex. It wasn't until he reviewed the security vid of the incident at the Maidenhead that he was first introduced to the man who would become his greatest adversary. Reynolds' file, while moderately impressive, was hardly noteworthy. But even then he knew that this was not a man to simply be dismissed. No, he was to be a vital instrument in successfully eliminating River and the threat she posed. It would be an additional challenge, but one worthwhile and satisfying.
The Operative, in short, was intrigued. He studied Reynolds' file, memorizing every detail, anticipating every trait, every quirk, every little piece that could be used to his advantage.
Neither of them realized it, but they had set upon the path to war with one another.
Battle of the Wits
He intended for it to be an obvious trap. The companion would think she was being clever, giving her subtle clues about the danger that awaited. But everything he did had a purpose. Lure your prey into their false sense of security; for Reynolds and his crew, it was the illusion of outsmarting the Alliance. So he found Inara, instructed her to contact Serenity and invite them to the planet. He knew she would use her training to give subtle signs of warning to them, but he also knew that Reynolds would come despite it. All he had to do was wait.
Their meeting proceeded as he had expected it to. Antagonizing banter, Reynolds alternating between hero and criminal. When words began to fail, fists began to fly. He had to admit he was vaguely disappointed; it was far too easy to get the better of him, to knock him down and draw his sword ...
He hadn't counted on his own strategy being used against him. As he sipped his tea, still slightly stunned from the flashbomb Inara had disguised as incense, he silently commended Reynolds. While their escape was brilliantly executed - the removal of the pulse beacon, the multiple NAVSAT trajectories - he knew it was simply through improvisation and sheer dumb luck that they had succeeded.
The next time they would not be so fortunate. With a satisfied smile, he issued orders. Reynolds and Serenity would be running now, out to reach a safe haven.
He would ensure that they would find none.
Battle Without Honor or Humanity
He took a certain kind of pride in his work. It was neat and tidy, but gruesome enough to make his purpose clear:
These were not accidents. They were assassinations, and Serenity was next. Only a fool would continue to fight.
Or perhaps a maniac, the Operative had thought as he stared at Reynolds, trembling with anger and grief, on the vid screen before him.
"I don't murder children," Reynolds had said.
"I do," the Operative simply replied. "If I have to."
I also killed that man you called Shepherd, he would have liked to have added. You wouldn't mourn him if you knew who he really was.
"So, me and mine gotta lay down and die so you can live in your better world?" Reynolds asked, trying to play the part of the better man.
But the Operative knew the truth. He had won this time, his victory swift and brutal. The war wasn't over yet, he knew this, but it was drawing to a close. Soon he would eliminate Serenity, River Tam, and the secret she carried. But he would savor the defeat of Malcolm Reynolds above the rest, for he had finally found an adversary worthy of his interest.
Battle at the Ion Cloud
He should have recognized his arrogance, but at the time, he did not believe Malcolm Reynolds to be truly insane. Of course he knew what Reynolds hoped to accomplish, spreading some damaging secret via broadwave using Mr. Universe's equipment. But he'd killed Mr. Universe, destroyed the equipment. Now all that remained was to destroy Serenity as it came through the ion cloud.
"You should have let me see her, captain," he murmured. "We should have settled this as men, not with fire."
The sight of the Reaver fleet chasing the ailing Firefly was a jarring call back to the moment at hand. In that moment, he realized that he had made a fatal error. This would not be the quick, decisive battle he had envisioned. No, it would be a bloodbath that would accomplish nothing. Serenity managed to escape into the atmosphere, making a breakneck run for the surface. The Alliance was taking heavy losses at the hands of the Reavers, but he could not stay.
He had to get to the planet. He had to defeat Reynolds himself for this to finally end.
Battle for Miranda
So, it has come to this, he thought as he raced to the generator and the secondary set of broadcast equipment. One last battle between two men, each dreaming of the better world they know they could never live in. How fitting.
He had no idea just how fitting it was.
It should have been easy. A single blow to the right pressure point, a quick stab, and Reynolds should have been defeated, once and for all.
But the pressure point wasn't there, and even after being run clean through, that man still walked. An elbow to the throat, and he was down, at the mercy of this mad man who was willing to risk everything for a damaged girl and her secret. Gasping for air, his eyes followed the sword, preparing for the end. Like those men of ancient times, he knew he had failed and was prepared to meet his end in penance. Instead he was trapped, forced to witness in horror the reality of his better world, where sin and vice and life itself did not exist.
He still could have emerged victorious. A word from him and Reynolds and his crew would have been eliminated. But there was no point, no honor in that. The secret of Miranda had been broadwaved to the entire universe; killing those responsible for its spread would achieve nothing.
The Operative had lost.
The Operative, in short, was intrigued. He studied Reynolds' file, memorizing every detail, anticipating every trait, every quirk, every little piece that could be used to his advantage.
Neither of them realized it, but they had set upon the path to war with one another.
Battle of the Wits
He intended for it to be an obvious trap. The companion would think she was being clever, giving her subtle clues about the danger that awaited. But everything he did had a purpose. Lure your prey into their false sense of security; for Reynolds and his crew, it was the illusion of outsmarting the Alliance. So he found Inara, instructed her to contact Serenity and invite them to the planet. He knew she would use her training to give subtle signs of warning to them, but he also knew that Reynolds would come despite it. All he had to do was wait.
Their meeting proceeded as he had expected it to. Antagonizing banter, Reynolds alternating between hero and criminal. When words began to fail, fists began to fly. He had to admit he was vaguely disappointed; it was far too easy to get the better of him, to knock him down and draw his sword ...
He hadn't counted on his own strategy being used against him. As he sipped his tea, still slightly stunned from the flashbomb Inara had disguised as incense, he silently commended Reynolds. While their escape was brilliantly executed - the removal of the pulse beacon, the multiple NAVSAT trajectories - he knew it was simply through improvisation and sheer dumb luck that they had succeeded.
The next time they would not be so fortunate. With a satisfied smile, he issued orders. Reynolds and Serenity would be running now, out to reach a safe haven.
He would ensure that they would find none.
Battle Without Honor or Humanity
He took a certain kind of pride in his work. It was neat and tidy, but gruesome enough to make his purpose clear:
These were not accidents. They were assassinations, and Serenity was next. Only a fool would continue to fight.
Or perhaps a maniac, the Operative had thought as he stared at Reynolds, trembling with anger and grief, on the vid screen before him.
"I don't murder children," Reynolds had said.
"I do," the Operative simply replied. "If I have to."
I also killed that man you called Shepherd, he would have liked to have added. You wouldn't mourn him if you knew who he really was.
"So, me and mine gotta lay down and die so you can live in your better world?" Reynolds asked, trying to play the part of the better man.
But the Operative knew the truth. He had won this time, his victory swift and brutal. The war wasn't over yet, he knew this, but it was drawing to a close. Soon he would eliminate Serenity, River Tam, and the secret she carried. But he would savor the defeat of Malcolm Reynolds above the rest, for he had finally found an adversary worthy of his interest.
Battle at the Ion Cloud
He should have recognized his arrogance, but at the time, he did not believe Malcolm Reynolds to be truly insane. Of course he knew what Reynolds hoped to accomplish, spreading some damaging secret via broadwave using Mr. Universe's equipment. But he'd killed Mr. Universe, destroyed the equipment. Now all that remained was to destroy Serenity as it came through the ion cloud.
"You should have let me see her, captain," he murmured. "We should have settled this as men, not with fire."
The sight of the Reaver fleet chasing the ailing Firefly was a jarring call back to the moment at hand. In that moment, he realized that he had made a fatal error. This would not be the quick, decisive battle he had envisioned. No, it would be a bloodbath that would accomplish nothing. Serenity managed to escape into the atmosphere, making a breakneck run for the surface. The Alliance was taking heavy losses at the hands of the Reavers, but he could not stay.
He had to get to the planet. He had to defeat Reynolds himself for this to finally end.
Battle for Miranda
So, it has come to this, he thought as he raced to the generator and the secondary set of broadcast equipment. One last battle between two men, each dreaming of the better world they know they could never live in. How fitting.
He had no idea just how fitting it was.
It should have been easy. A single blow to the right pressure point, a quick stab, and Reynolds should have been defeated, once and for all.
But the pressure point wasn't there, and even after being run clean through, that man still walked. An elbow to the throat, and he was down, at the mercy of this mad man who was willing to risk everything for a damaged girl and her secret. Gasping for air, his eyes followed the sword, preparing for the end. Like those men of ancient times, he knew he had failed and was prepared to meet his end in penance. Instead he was trapped, forced to witness in horror the reality of his better world, where sin and vice and life itself did not exist.
He still could have emerged victorious. A word from him and Reynolds and his crew would have been eliminated. But there was no point, no honor in that. The secret of Miranda had been broadwaved to the entire universe; killing those responsible for its spread would achieve nothing.
The Operative had lost.