3 - Souvenirs

It shouldn't have been so hard to find one man in a station as compact as Tara IV, but no matter where Gorman wandered he couldn't see the French pilot anywhere. Through the cafeteria, fuel pump monitors and employee quarters he ambled to no avail. There was good news amid the frustrating search – after fiddling around to get it over his ear, the translator was doing its job. As a test, Goro asked the Commander how he was in both English and Japanese. To Gorman's delight, it sounded almost identical. To his amazement, there was hardly any delay between speech and translation. To his confusion, it might have been that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but Goro's mouth seemed to mouth the English words both times.

His quest to locate the pilot continued and brought him to his first steps onto the station, the docking bay. The hatch was closed shut…with a nasty burn mark at its top. A tall man in an emerald-colored suit of armor was sitting idly in a kiosk, tapping away at something. He saw Gorman approaching, and rose to greet him with a big smile, shaking his hand while placing his free glove on the Commander's shoulder.

"Kevin, good to see you! The cameras show you covering a lot of ground, feeling better I take it?"

"Feeling better, Kabiru. You can view the cameras from there?" Gorman replied, gesturing at the kiosk.

"Yep, eyes in every room. Someone has to keep an eye out for anything suspicious, after all. Can't have problems when help is light years away." Kalu was quick to notice the Commander's quizzical expression and bitten tongue. "Yes, that means I know all about Ray. The depot's worst kept secret, really. Everyone knows, or at least suspects. Maybe Goro doesn't, nobody here's cynical enough to break his poor innocent heart."

"And you just let Ray…go about his business?" Gorman inquired, half curious, half offended. Kalu went on the defensive, it was clear that this was not the first time he'd been asked.

"Let's say I take action right now, say 'Turns out that's actually not okay' to him and lock him up in a fuel canister until McFinley comes knocking for a shipment. I must remind you, that's months away. Despite his side gig, Ray's a good engineer here, last export of fuel was not only on-time but over quota – and that's with some skimmed off the side."

Gorman was not willing to let this slide. He crossed his arms, sensing opportunity.

"Sounds like it's only benefitting Ray. What do you, or Goro, or Jenny stand to gain?"

"I get something resembling a cut…but not enough, really. That has to stay between us friends, however," Kabiru conceded. "There's a reason I never told you how much it actually costs to get back to Earth. More than my salary allows, more than Ray can give me. Unlike you, I never had my own fully fueled ship. Shame it only had enough to get here of all places." The plan forming in Gorman's head took a sharp turn forward.

"You have family back on Earth?"

"Lagos. Haven't seen them in, what, five years? Five years…that's how old my son is."

That was all Gorman needed to hear – although his sinking feeling got a touch deeper.

"I'm getting off this station on that ship soon," he casually stated, throwing his thumb up over his shoulder to the docking hatch. Kalu's eyes widened. "Turns out there's more fuel left than we thought. Funny how that works out. Either way, I'm heading back to Earth…shame you can't leave the station."

"You fly that batarian ship anywhere near Earth and they'll have to piece you back together with omni-gel," Kalu began, desperate to find any loophole. It was blatantly obvious that he wanted it to work, but he needed to be absolutely sure.

"Not guaranteed – we made it onto this station with…minimal hassle, after all. And I won't be driving – my pilot friend from earlier will. I just need to find him."

Kalu paused, then made for the kiosk, and beckoned Gorman to follow. The two were presented with a half dozen impossibly flat screens, each presenting a crystal-clear image of somewhere around the depot. Kalu tapped a florescent button a few times, cycling through locations, until he stopped when a particular screen showed what – or rather who – they were searching for.

"Follow me," he said. Gorman obliged, and the two made for the hallways.

Around a few corners, up a ladder, and down a narrow passage. Gorman could have sworn he'd already looked around here in vain until they reached what looked like any other wall panel. This one was different, and had a small green circle flashing in its center. Kalu waved his hand before it, and the wall parted.

They came upon a larger window in a secluded corner, and a lone man, hands clasped behind his back, peering out at the beauty of the cream-colored gas giant suspended in the great darkness. If one gazed long enough, they would be able to see the seemingly gentle motions of its clouds. Down there, of course, 'gentle' is as laughably inadequate a term as you could get. Normal wind speeds would be twice that of a category five hurricane back on Earth. Inside this viewing area, the air was unnaturally still by comparison.

"There you are," remarked Gorman. The man's outward pose remained. "Hell of a view, isn't it?"

"Ce n'est pas Rennes, mais c'est beau quand même."

Gorman stopped in his tracks. He reached up to his head and gave his earpiece a few taps.

"Good to see you again, mister," said Kalu with a knowing smile. "You mind turning your translator on?"

The Frenchman sighed, before turning around to face the two men and putting a hand up to his own ear. No earpiece could be seen, but with but a tap of his own, he slipped effortlessly into fluent, if accented, English.

"Is there something I should know?"

"Wait, the translators are two-way?" blurted Gorman.

"Yes, both parties need to have them on for it to work," said Kalu.

"And he still chose to have his translator off? That's…I suppose that's the most French thing I can think of." The pilot cleared his throat. Gorman regained his composure. "Oh, yes, sorry. We need your help. We're taking the batarian ship off this station, and I don't know about Kabiru but I have no idea how to fly it."

"The batarian ship?" remarked the pilot. "Great idea, if you consider freezing in deep space to be therapeutic. There's essentially no fuel left in it, and there's no fuel left for us in this fuel depot, if you can believe it." Gorman and Kalu looked at each other. The Frenchman tilted his head and folded his arms in front of him. "That's what you told me…right?"

"Give the ship another look, perhaps?" Gorman replied. The pilot's eyes lit up like a rocket engine. He turned back to the window, craning his neck to try and spot the batarian vessel docked to the station's side. It was there, complete with its lower captive-holding deck and rusted orange color that made it look like a brick. With the new addition of an angular pipe from its stern to somewhere else along the depot, it was definitely being refueled. Gorman's words rang true. The Frenchman gave his two visitors his attention again, before extending a hand and an overdue introduction.

"Lieutenant Stone White," he declared, "Alliance Navy….retired." Unbeknownst to Gorman, a spark flew out of his earpiece. He could only think about what an unusual French name the pilot had.

"Kabiru Kalu."

"Commander Kevin Gorman," Gorman automatically responded, shaking the pilot's hand.

"Alliance?" questioned both Kalu and White in unison.

"Uh…yes. Back on Earth," Gorman stammered with as much false confidence as possible. Instinct had made the decision for him this time. He could now only hope it wouldn't bite him too harshly when the time came. This 'Alliance' crowd seemed to carry some respect with everyone he'd met – some sort of military? Finding out who they were would be put on hold.

"Well, what are we waiting for? An eclipse?" White exclaimed. "Let's see how much juice is in the ship, and I'll have us jumping across the Verge in no time." With that he practically sprinted from the viewport and down the hallway. Gorman made to follow, but Kalu pulled him back briefly.

"Let me know when you're going – I need to get some things ready…Commander."

Gorman nodded.

Back down he went, passing now-familiar sights by until he came to a logical destination – not the docking bay but the cafeteria's coffee maker. It was here where Gorman's greatest nightmare yet came to fruition. This machine was a menagerie of complexity. Holographic buttons, screen interfaces, transparent mugs – why couldn't anything be simple?

"Who designed this thing?" Gorman exhaled. Suddenly, a hand emerged from his side and pressed the buttons in the astonishingly correct order. The Commander almost jumped, but looked left to see a toothy smile and a big mustache.

"I've seen the best fuel technicians humanity has to offer struggle against that beast, you're in good company," Ray laughed. Hot liquid started to drip from the machine. It smelled as good as coffee should, if a bit decontaminated. "The mug's not the only thing filling up at this depot, of course," he continued, giving Gorman's elbow a nudge.

"You've been a big help, Ray. Believe me, the sooner I get to Earth the better for all of us."

"There's just…one more thing, Mr. Gorman," Ray seemed to have snapped out of his M16-induced trance. His usually booming tone was dialed down significantly, sounding more methodical. "You see, if you're heading off in a nice big slaving ship to the nice big galaxy, it would be an unforgivable waste if you didn't bring along some…souvenirs from your time here on Tara IV, wouldn't it?"

"You want me to take something back to Earth? I thought you told me the last delivery was only three days ago."

"You saw what my locker looked like. I'm not short of stock. I'm also a busy man, Gorman. My clients are busy people. We put up with waiting, but a speedier delivery than usual would really make us both look like professionals. They're happy, I'm happy, you're happy, you understand?"

Such flagrant corruption was making the inner cop within Gorman stir with discomfort. He couldn't help but notice something resembling a remote in Ray's hand. The refueling process itself was resting between his fingers. If this deal was the price of a return trip…so be it.

"What's the cargo?"

"You needn't concern yourself with the details, in fact I've already taken the liberty of neatly placing it all in your ship's…quaint storage section. Won't hinder you in the slightest. It's the destination, however, that is my last request."

"It's not Earth, is it." Gorman did well to hide his growing frustration.

"I'm doing you a favor, buddy. Eden Prime is a lovely planet, fresh air and sunshine I wager are just what you need after being hassled about by batarians for who knows how long. All you need to do is touch down at the spaceport – let them know you're coming in a batarian ship, of course – and ask around for Powell. Drop off the cargo, and then you're free to go tear up the galaxy like the dashing commando you are." Ray reached out to Gorman for one last handshake. "Do we have a deal?"

"Eden Prime? Is it far?" The silent smile was all he would get for an answer.

It wasn't long before the Commander was back at the docking bay. The station's bright lights had dimmed, engineers could be seen making their way to the employee quarters – whatever passes for 'night' on a deep space depot had arrived. Gorman wondered how many hours of sleep the McFinley corporation would allow before the fluorescents would give them all an abrupt awakening. Leaning against a wall by the hatch was White.

"You weren't lying about the fuel. How did you manage that? Anything to do with our new…cargo in the holding cells?" he questioned.

"Well…" Gorman began, but before he could answer, White flipped out a cigarette and a lighter from his pockets. He put it up to his mouth and lit it, lighting up his gaunt face in the false night.

"We all need our souvenirs, it seems," he gave a soft laugh in between drags.

Suddenly footsteps were heard from the doorway. Gorman turned to see Kalu approaching. He was carrying one of those arced rifles from earlier on his back – not by any sling like Gorman's old M16 but somehow fixed to his shoulder blade as if taped there, and in a compact, travel-friendly state. In his free hands was a bulky company green suitcase.

"You all set?" Gorman asked.

"Essentials packed, rifle dusted, station lights off, security cameras…also off."

"You're awfully eager to get out of here," casually remarked White.

"You have no idea," was Kalu's answer, accompanied by a weary smile. "Let's get moving." With that, White faced the hatch and began to prod at its neighboring controls. Steam and blinding brightness flowed from the opening, which extended enough to let the men through. The pilot was the first to enter, followed by Gorman, and finally, Kalu took a breath before clambering in. Without warning another voice was heard from the other side of the bay, and the doorway Kalu forgot to close.

"Kabiru? What are you…" was the groggy voice of Jenny, peering through the hazy light. In that moment, she paused to consider the situation. She could make out three figures in a narrow corridor between the station and the ship, and a familiar face making an expression that could best be described as desperation…or pleading. She made a decision. "Say hello to little Prince for me." Kalu was able to give one more smile before White pressed another button and the hatch slammed shut. A laser beam sliced through the corridor and its occupants.

"Decontamination complete," declared a voice from the ceiling. White pushed hard against the next hatch, and slowly it hinged open to reveal the insides of the batarian slaving vessel. Kalu swiveled his head and started to pace around to take in the unfamiliar surroundings – the pilot took a more direct route to the cockpit's seat. Gorman closed the hatch shut, and just like that they had taken their last steps on Tara IV.

"Setting course for Elysium?" the pilot loudly asked, tapping relentlessly on various controls and switches like it was second nature to him.

"The…what did Goro and Jenny call it? Mass relay," was the Commander's delayed reply. "From there, we'll head to Eden Prime. You know where that is?"

"Consider us there." The ship jolted to the side, sending Gorman and Kalu stumbling over themselves. The Commander almost spilled his mug of coffee, and promptly realized he had more than likely brought onboard one more piece of company property. "Ah, there's the motion dampener," White chuckled, flicking another switch.

Kalu pushed himself off the ground, picked up his suitcase, and thrust himself dangerously close to Gorman's personal space.

"Eden Prime? Mind telling me why?" he growled.

"Quick pit stop. Won't take long," Gorman asserted. Kalu didn't budge. Between the armor and his height he could be quite imposing when he needed to, a far cry from the smiling, jovial man at the docking bay. White chimed in for defusal.

"It's not a waste of time," came the voice from the cockpit. "I doubt batarian slaving ships are designed with heat safety in mind, and Eden Prime's a good a spot as any to discharge this ship. Too much red tape on Earth from governments and aurora tourists."

Gorman didn't quite comprehend what the pilot was talking about, but it worked in his favor. Kalu backed off with a huff, and upon seeing no good space for his stuff grumbled his way down the stairwell.

Gorman brushed off his khakis and came to one of the portside window slits just in time to see the depot slide further and further away. The massive metal complex and its tubes down to the gas giant were less imposing the more speed the ship started to gain. In mere seconds it became a vague off-white shape, then a dot, then a speck, and then it vanished. Tara IV, the depot's namesake, was ever-present in its mind-bogglingly large scale, but then White thrust a lever forward. Like closing a camera's aperture, the beige planet started to shrink as the ship leapt forward at ludicrous speed. As it did so, it appeared to be…distorted. It looked rippled and fuzzy, like the Commander was viewing it through a several glasses of water.

It too disappeared from view, leaving only stars and, interestingly, a blue-tinted haze that seemed to wrap around the ship's exterior. However, even the stars were acting strangely. Some were popping out of view, and some bright objects were appearing out of nowhere. Gorman rubbed his eyes and gave his coffee another sip. The humming sound from underfoot intensified as he thought about how he hadn't seen the ship's engine throughout its travels. Down into the depths of deck two he stepped.

Kalu was seated by a table, busy diving through the contents of his suitcase. He had peeled back two wall-side compartments to reveal a bunk of beds, and placed a lot of the clutter off into a corner to make room for his suit of armor. Underneath was an olive jumpsuit.

"What's in the case?" Gorman amicably asked.

"What's in the canisters?" was Kalu's response, gesturing to the other end of the deck. The doors of the 'cages' were ajar, revealing a collection of moderately sized cylinders. Ray's precious hoard, no doubt. "More fuel? Planning a long-distance trip, are we?"

"Earth not far enough?" Gorman tried to distance the topic from the canisters. "I thought the relays cut travel times by years."

"It's always just been out of reach, until now that is." Silence then lingered in the air for a moment, aside from the unfindable engine's constant buzzing. Gorman took a closer look at what Kalu now had in his hands – a picture taken somewhere extremely far away but extremely close to its holder's heart.

"Is that Prince?"

"My precious son."

"You'll be seeing him again soon."

"Who are you, my psychiatrist? Sit down, let's talk." Gorman obliged, placing his mug down before falling into a chair opposite Kalu. "You're a strange man, 'Commander'. Pop out of nowhere from this…pleasant ship without a translator, knowledge of batarians or fashion sense, determined to immediately get to the homeworld. I'm not complaining, the opportunity you've given me to go there has saved another five years of my life on that station, but you must surely understand that I'm feeling somewhat confused about…you."

The truthful thing for Gorman to say would instantly crank up Kalu's confusion to eleven. The cool thing for Gorman to say was something like 'I'm just a victim of circumstance' but the situation demanded something much less needlessly vague, and much more friendly.

"What do you want to know? I'm from Boston, I'm thirty-one, I like cars and coffee. Spent time with the police for a few years."

"You said when we met that you needed to get back to Earth. Urgently, if I remember," Kalu redirected the conversation. He tilted his head. "…Why?"

"Well," the Commander started, but was definitely unsure of what to say. He sighed. Confusion be damned, it was time for the real reason as opposed to some flimsy excuse. "I was on a mission with a team in Earth's orbit just before I wound up on this ship." Now he had Kalu's attention, who leaned forward in his chair. "It went bad – fast. Lost some good friends that day." It brought Gorman a great deal of catharsis to finally be recounting the events leading up to the motive for his haste. As he often did subconsciously, he made great use of hand gestures to aid his descriptions – a holdover from his days in the SWAT team where a few fingers held up in a certain way would mean the difference between 'hostage' or 'sniper'.

"Just when we had this interstellar terrorist defeated, there was something there, a tall obelisk of sorts. It had a certain…aura around it. Almost like it was wanting you to direct every bit of your attention towards it."

"Wait, back up for a second," Kalu tried to interject, but Gorman was in full flow now.

"This weird pillar was able to grab me like a doll, lift me up from the ground, and subject me to…indescribable horror. I wasn't being hurt in reality, but I could feel the pain of millions…or billions. Death on a grand scale. I was frightened beyond all sense, but it just kept going and going. Scene after scene of bloody terror, the sounds of machines, and the worst part…it felt like it was slowly coming towards us. Not just me in that suspended, dream-like state, but all of us…in the real world."

There was a lengthy, silent pause. Kalu's unconvinced guard was starting to break.

"That's why I have to get back to Earth," Gorman concluded, "Whatever it is, I just know deep inside that it's coming. I need to tell Director Whyte about what I saw. If Whyte's still there, that is."

"This was all in orbit around Earth?"

"I can count on my fingers the amount of people that knew about the mission. You're among them now."

"Who was the terrorist?"

"Jury's still out on that one. Had a big spaceship and a swarm of henchmen, called himself Jacob. Went down a vent and out an airlock, that's the last I heard of him. Still managed to destroy the city of Dublin. I wonder what the news made of that."

"Commander…" As Gorman took another sip of coffee, Kalu was performing some mental math. For him, everything was starting to make something resembling sense. The choice of clothes, the outdated handgun, the now-supposedly catastrophic 'nuclear accident' that levelled Dublin he'd learned about in history class. Kalu knew for a fact that Gorman had lied about being Alliance. He also, unlike Gorman, knew Director Whyte wouldn't be there when they arrived back on Earth. "Commander, what year do you think it is?"

"2013," Gorman said, and the sinking feeling caused his heart to plunge. He began to feel light-headed. He had to put the mug down because his hands were shaking profusely. Faces flashed across his spiraling mind. His parents, his sisters, his girlfriend…

"Kevin, 2013 was 170 years ago."

The Commander noticed he could no longer make out the concern on Kalu's face. Were the lights in the ship always so dim?

"Oh," he chuckled, before falling out of the seat and onto the floor.