2977.347
WAYPOINT STATION
The end of the year, and she was sitting in a damn station cantina, waiting for refueling on her gunship and for her dinner. She got a little more depressed around this time as of late, considering how she used to spend the Terran holidays. And last year, being she had been neck deep in Kromus Pirates up until the New Year liberating Zebes, it was hardly what it used to be for her anymore.
But Samus Aran continued on. Life moved on. She had to move on.
Her order was called. She walked over to the opening by the kitchen, handed over her ticket, and got the plate stacked with what she had read was a fried chicken steak, or something like that, and various Terran vegetables. None of it was going to be particularly fresh, since the station was situated mostly off the normal routes. It was pretty much a floating fuel station for the most part, but the cantina inside at least had human food.
She found herself an empty table, now digging in. It wasn't the best food, but it was also not the worst. Typical "space trucker" meal, and something her body would quickly burn. Something to hold her over until she could get some real food.
A few eyes had turned toward her. Samus knew it was because she didn't look like the typical passerby that came through Waypoint. She wasn't that tall for a human female in this region, and despite her own tightly toned build, she had seen some that were, for a lack of better term, "jacked out". And being that she hadn't been throwing her name around, it wasn't the recent fame she'd acquired. It helped that she wasn't what people expected when they heard her name.
No, when people heard Samus Aran, they were expecting a muscle bound Amazon of a woman, six feet and two-hundred pounds of body building bleach blonde bombshell. Decidedly not the reality of a blonde girl, barely an adult, who was five-foot-nine and weighed just around a hundred and twenty pounds. Mostly muscle, yes, but a far cry from the image created for her by the media. And being she wasn't wearing the infamous armor she was known for, she was able to travel more incognito.
She had that dumb holo-film to thank for that one.
Eating in relative peace, Samus sighed as she checked her mail messages on her data tablet. Mostly media communications, requests for interviews again. And apparently a new "autobiography" had been released. Without her permission or actual input no less. Adam was right; after the holo-film debacle, she needed a good lawyer on hand for this stuff. She'd only been designated a registered Freelancer in the last six months, which afforded her the protections of the Freelancer Accords that governed the legal powers and authorities granted to contracted operatives to the greater Galactic Federation. She hardly needed a bunch of made-up nonsense about her and her past being spread around.
One of those fake biographies had even put out the idea that she'd been a hostage of the Pirates for over a decade, and of weird experiments they'd done to her. Not even the usual vague suppositions, but really bizarre and very explicit stuff that made her pale when she had read it. That had been the point she Adam told her to get a lawyer before her name was even further smeared.
Interesting. A couple private job offers, mostly escort duties that paid some of the bills, but one looked curiously irregular. A request from a "T. STARK" in Iowa. That would take her back to Sol-3, and in particular, where her biological parents had grown up in the American States. The name seemed familiar too for some reason.
She almost ignored it until see saw the attached payment offer. Over five times her usual security job fee, plus board and expenses covered. Who was this guy, and just how rich was he to be offering that kind of money? Attached was a more personalized message. She continued her meal as she read it over, knowing that if she showed it to him, Adam would question the legitimacy of the offer. That was an insane amount of money to throw at a rookie Freelancer, even one whom had single-handedly shattered the Kromus Pirates after a two month siege by Federation forces had failed.
And yet...as she read the attached messaged, her azure eyes went wide. "'We have answers for each other,'" she whispered. A light of realization hit. Did this person know something about her?
The signal that her ship was ready lit. Now hurrying to finish her meal, Samus packed away her tablet in the beat up old backpack she carried with her, slipped her jacket on, and hurried out of the cantina while throwing the cook a small credit chip. She had time before the winter holidays on Sol-3. Maybe it was a good time to go back to her parents home. Adam and his family would be happy to see her, and maybe, if this wasn't some sick joke, she could find out something.
And reaching the hanger where her burnished yellow gunship was berthed and properly refueled, Samus nodded a thanks to the deck worker whom had taken care of her ship, handed the woman a credit chip with a sizable tip, then stepped on the entry lift of her ship once it had lowered. Samus was quick to key the lift back up into the gunship, hearing the hiss of pressure seal beneath her. Her backpack slipped off and set aside the pilot's chair, Samus tapped on the primary console to power up the main drives while awaiting launch clearance. It was then she pulled out her tablet and remembered that she hadn't actually responded to the job offer yet. A tap on the screen, confirming acceptance, and the blonde girl smiled. Clearance to launch had just been given.
"We'll see you soon, T Stark," she mused as she set the tablet aside and took hold of the main controls. With the right course plotted, she could even be back to Terra in time for Christmas with the Malkoviches. That would probably make "Aunt" Aquina very happy. Not mentioned Madeline would be excited. Save for Adam, none of the Malkovich clan had seen Samus since Ian died.
Maybe the holidays wouldn't be so bad this year after all.