14 – Small Talk
The crew deck of the SSV Antwerp put the Shackleton to shame. A full kitchenette, long tables and comfortable chairs, crisp flatscreen screens with some sports playing and probably enough space left over for a jacuzzi or two. Nearby was a plaque, featuring the ship's coat of arms and motto 'SSV Antwerp, Diamond of the Fleet'. Also unlike the Shackleton, it was teeming with life – crew in casual blues chatting, eating, and cheering on either side of the match. There must have been ten people at the queue for the coffee machine alone. Gorman's sight latched on to one marine with a beret, leaning against a pony wall and rising to approach the Commander. It took him a moment, but he recognized her as one of Captain Chen's initial boarding crew. She broke into a quick salute.
"Good to see you, Commander. The Captain is expecting you. Follow me."
Gorman and the marine jostled past several crewmates to round a corner and enter what appeared to be an elevator. The marine punched one of its buttons and they rose up a level. The bustling sounds of lunchtime aboard a fully staffed starship faded. The elevator climbed up in silence. Not one for small talk, this marine.
The elevator doors parted to reveal a curved corridor, and a round entrance directly in front of them, labelled 'CONFERENCE ROOM'. With a professional nod, the marine marched out and opened it. Gorman walked in.
Five people were gathered around a sleek table composed of glass and, in nice contrast to the industrial look of the interior so far, dark wood. All eyes and subsequent smiles met the Commander…assuming the quarian in the room was doing the same. Zaz, Kalu, Blanc and Saal'Inor took up one half of the room – Captain Chen's commanding presence needed the other. Gorman expected either a smile or a scowl, and to his great relief was greeted with the former. His arms still ached, but not enough to stop the Commander from giving his superior a respectful salute.
"Captain Chen. Thank you for letting us on your ship."
In response, the Captain extended a hand. Gorman strode forward and shook it firmly.
"My pleasure, Commander," Chen replied. He reached for the lone object on the table – a small metallic bracelet. The batarian bracelet. He held it up and examined it in awe. "How the hell did you pull it off?"
"Sir?" Gorman questioned. He glanced at what expressions he could from his crew, and received knowing smirks.
"I had my doubts, Gorman. I thought you'd just run off and try your luck at Earth as soon as we left. But no, you not only went to Mavigon, you not only confirmed a criminal presence on that frozen rock…" Chen listed, a mixture of disbelief and amazement in his voice, "…You somehow bluffed your way into the base as Commander Goddamn Shepard and took all of them down. All of them! Does the name 'Fenek' mean anything to you?"
"Fenek?" Gorman recited.
"Only one of the biggest batarian war criminals out there. Nasty piece of work – been on the most wanted list since a raid on a colony twenty odd years ago. And now…" he placed the bracelet back on the table, "Reduced to a bad memory. Good riddance."
Gorman stole a look at Zaz. She pursed her lips. Now he had even more questions to ask. Chen had one more seal of approval to give.
"I've been told I'm a hard man to impress, Commander. But saving a hostage on top of all that?" Saal'Inor gave a nod. "Patching you up is the least we can do."
Gorman was slower to reply this time, as he again scanned through the familiar faces and mask on the other side of the table. There was an extraterrestrial, a living, breathing, talking being from outer space standing right next to them, and they hardly seemed bothered. Perhaps not on first glance, that is. He could swear every few seconds one of them would give the quarian a little curious look.
"I couldn't have done it without my crew," he turned to face the Captain once more.
"I'm sure. And don't worry, I'll tell the Rear Admiral you're alright." Gorman raised an eyebrow. How…nice of Rear Admiral Mikhailovich of all people to have been concerned about his wellbeing. Chen continued. "What's your next move, Commander?"
"You don't have any more orders for us?" Gorman winced, expecting an 'Actually…' to shortly follow. Instead, Chen took off his kepi and shook his head. Gorman gave another glance to Kalu. "In that case, we'll be heading back to Earth."
"I was…afraid you would say that," Chen let out an almighty sigh. "The Antwerp's posted out with the Seventh for the foreseeable future, and as for your ship…"
"The SSV Shackleton," chimed in Blanc.
"Oh, it does have a name. Good. Very good. Still no authorization, I'm sorry to say. Until this whole geth situation blows over, you'd be impounded and grounded the moment you enter the Sol system like any other 'foreign' ship."
Eyes drifted towards Saal'Inor at the mention of the mechanical foes Gorman had encountered on Eden Prime.
"Can't we just take a civilian shuttle?" Kalu interjected, wringing his hands in continuing frustration.
"Possible…" Chen folded his arms. The crew braced for more bad news. "…but as you can imagine, trips to Earth are in extremely high demand after Eden Prime. It could take every credit you have, and assuming you're not a victim of predatory 'travel agents', weeks of waiting for a spot on a ship."
"Sorry, Captain sir," cut in Zaz, "You mentioned we need authorization for the Shackleton? Can't you give it to us? You're high up the chain of command."
"There are channels and procedures for these sorts of things, and the longer you deal with them the more you realize how necessary they are. We're talking weeks, again. There's only one man who can give you immediate authorization for a 'foreign' vessel, and that's Ambassador Udina."
Somewhere in Gorman's mind, a connection clicked into place. Where had he seen that name before, vaguely stretching across a holographic screen amidst screeching static?
"The 'Seat on the Council' guy?" he asked.
"The very same," Chen chuckled. "And even then you need an appointment, and even then you need Alliance docking codes to get on the Citadel. My hands are well and truly tied, Commander."
Gorman rested his fist on his lip, deep in ponderous thought. There was only one option left, and something inside told him that it was the path to take if he wanted answers for the big questions.
"Feros it is, then," he proclaimed. Zaz perked up. Chen looked confused.
"Feros? Interesting choice. Isn't there a human colony there these days?"
"That's right," Zaz explained, "We know someone who lives at the colony." On either side of her, Kalu and Blanc were mouthing 'Do we?' to each other.
"Well nobody's going to stop you going there," Chen smiled, happy to not find any complications…until he suddenly did. "In fact, the colonists could use some help. Feros was one of our highlighted 'grey zone' areas."
"Grey zone?" grimaced the Commander.
"Geth sightings."
An uneasy silence graced the conference room. Saal'Inor shifted uncomfortably seeing everyone's eyes dart briefly at her again.
"And what about you, miss…" Chen began.
"Saal'Inor nar Arkona," the quarian's pride returned swiftly as she stated her full name. "I'm more than happy to go anywhere that's not Mavigon, Captain. I was there because I took a wrong turn on my Pilgrimage. It's sort of like a…"
"That's your rite of passage to adulthood, no?" guessed Blanc. "Leave the flotilla, and then find something of value to bring back to your people."
"Y-Yes! Exactly!" she piped. "I didn't think any humans knew about it!"
The others in the room exchanged looks ranging from impressed to baffled.
"Oh, I read about it in a magazine," the Lieutenant asserted. "Fascinating cultural tradition."
"And which magazine would that be, Pierre?" Kalu gave him a devilish smirk. The color drained from Blanc's face.
"Uh…well…"
"You're more than welcome to join us to Feros," Gorman bailed the pilot out. "Think you can help us out?"
"And fix that rundown ship of yours? Count me in!"
"Glad that's settled," concluded Chen. "Dismiss your crew, Commander. I have one more thing to show you, in private."
Gorman gave his crew and its new addition a nod. They flooded out of the conference room, leaving the Commander and the Captain face to face. Chen whipped out his right arm, and a tap later an omni-tool engulfed his limb. He seemed to notice that Gorman still had astonishment on his face, and was rubbing his own forearm.
"Yes, Gorman, I am left-handed. Incredible, I know."
"Sorry, Chen," the Commander snapped back to professionalism, but not before forgetting rank entirely this time. He tried to make out what the Captain was doing, before he started speaking into the device.
"Yes, bring it up now."
Chen switched off the display, looked towards the door in, and folded his arms again in anticipation.
"Bring what up, sir?"
"Contrary to what some believe, wartime is not a great time to be a smuggler," Chen wistfully began. "High risk, high reward, but when the lives of millions are at stake those responsible for defending them need to make sure supplies get to the troops, and not sold off to God knows who."
"Respectfully, where are you going with this?"
Chen laughed.
"It took a bit of luck and good timing, as it always does, but we uncovered a major operation not long after our last meeting. Weapons, drugs, surplus mods, all being funneled between Eden Prime and as far away as some sleepy McFinley fuel depot at the end of the galaxy."
Gorman's mouth opened, but no words came out.
"I'll spare you the details, but our boys in blue came away with a big haul, and surprisingly…"
A marine armed with an M16 was wholly expected to Gorman's twenty-first century mind, but to see one waltz into the conference room and present it before the Commander almost caused him to faint. His jaw fell.
"…we found something with your name on it. Deal in antiques from time to time?"
"I thought I'd never see it again," Gorman's voice trembled. He was seldom sentimental about his weapons – in fact, he much preferred the newer M4 models or the Belgian FAL rifles – but that particular phrase could be used to describe an awful lot right now. Tears almost started to well in his eyes. He was ready to get on his knees and profusely thank his past self for remembering to write his surname on the sling, but stayed strong and upright as the marine placed it in his open arms. It felt overwhelmingly right to be there. It was home.
"That'll be all, Commander," smiled Chen. "Your crew is waiting. Good luck out there."
With that, Gorman strapped the rifle to his back, gave the Captain a goodbye salute, and strutted out of the conference room to find the same stone-faced marine ready to direct him to the exit. He didn't get a great look at the command center of the Antwerp – it was bright, holographic displays were ubiquitous, staff were hard at work, and somewhere at the far end was a massive curved screen showing a great void full of stars.
One speedy decontamination later, and Gorman stepped onto the Shackleton's bridge.
He took a hearty breath. He hadn't sat down in the captain's chair that stood central out of a feeling that he didn't belong there. Now, armed and improved, he felt confident enough to turn back to the Antwerp and sit in Chen's throne and start barking orders. But his place was here, just as the pilot's place was in the cockpit revving up the engines and retracting the docking port. Noticing the last crewmate embarked, Blanc spun around in his recliner.
"Setting course for Feros?"
"Hit it, Blanc." After all this time, he finally drew the most genuine grin from the Lieutenant for using his actual name.
"Of course, Commander," Pierre cracked out his fingers and swiveled back to his controls. He tapped away and the ship banked to port – once again threatening to throw Gorman to the ground. The pilot giggled and flicked a switch. "Oh, and Gorman? Please remind Kalu that he has something to say while looking our new friend in the eye."
Gorman brushed off his turtleneck and brushed aside his pilot, proceeding down the bridge to its doorway and emerging in the central corridor. He ambled into the crew quarters to see a few new additions. To no great surprise it took the form of crates. Zaz was seated at the table, a transparent mug with a bright green substance in one hand and a transparent screen like the one Dr. Vermeulen had in the other. There was a slick green spill on the table – no doubt a side-effect of the pilot's maneuver. Her eyes widened upon seeing the Commander approach, pull off his rifle and pull up a chair.
"How are you feeling, Kevin?"
"I'm well."
Gorman stared her down. Zaz motioned to deflect attention towards the crates.
"If you're wondering what's in these, our good friend Captain Chen gave us some essentials for the journey, and for the Feros colonists." The Commander gave the boxes a brief approving look, before focusing back on the young woman seated opposite him.
The closest a spaceship gets to silence filled every corner of the room. The tension was immense. It was indeed time to get some answers. Zaz could only handle so much of her opponent's glare before she cracked.
"I was born on Mindoir. Nice place – I remember it being quiet," she started. Gorman leaned in closer. "My parents were engineers." Her voice was different than usual. Calmer, clearer, more methodical…it was probably rehearsed. "I was nine when batarian slavers attacked. Lost them both. You can thank Fenek for that." Gorman shook his head with sorrow. Zaz took the moment to choose her next words. "The next few years were a blur. Shipped away to foster parents on Eden Prime, finding out I was 'special' thanks to an industrial accident involving my mother before I was born, school." She allowed herself a laugh at how little she could recall any of it, intentionally or otherwise. "Then one day, I must have been fifteen or sixteen, I met a man named Peter Szymanski."
The Commander was listening intently. He grabbed the bright green bottle next to Zaz's mug and topped her up, before filling up his own glass.
"He was a biotic, like me. Probably made up that whole 'First Contact veteran' story, come to think of it, but he promised me things any teenager in my position would give anything to have. 'Revenge' for my parents, and the chance to use my…abilities. The day he somehow arranged for me to get an L3 implant…it was the best day of my life."
"So you and him were partners in crime?"
"It wasn't just us. Szymanski was scooping up disillusioned biotic teenagers by the truckload. Said we were 'rebels' against the 'system', that the Alliance only wanted us as disposable weapons of war, that biotic separatism was the future. So yeah, I helped him steal some more implants, more amps. I helped him wreck a conference center in Constant that was due to host a biotic research company."
"Not something you wanted to mention when we first met," Gorman understood. Zaz nodded. The interrogative stare he was performing was producing results. When she had something to hide, Zaz tended to purse her lips and droop her thick brows lower. Now that she was opening up, her expression was much less strained.
"But when he started getting excited to begin 'taking down obstructionists of biotic freedom', also known as murder, I finally got cold feet."
"'Attempted' murder in the end, if I recall."
"He tried to kill me, Commander."
Another deafening silence graced the room.
"Broke both his legs," Zaz continued. "And you know what he said to me, as the colonial police dragged him away? He said Fenek knows who I am and is planning to 'finish the job'. Can you imagine?"
"He was right. Fenek knew your name."
"I guess I should be thanking you, really. To look that monster in the eye…I keep kicking myself that he caught me off guard."
"He got what he deserved in the end."
"That we can agree on."
They each took a small green sip.
"Your parents, what were their names?" Gorman asked.
Zaz predicted Gorman's next move and preemptively raised her mug. Before the toast could begin, Zaz paused and looked her counterpart in the eye. She was met by an all too recognizable sadness.
"Let's toast to your parents too, Kevin."
Gorman allowed himself a weary smile. He followed along, raising his own mug. Zaz continued.
"To Eirene Zakharova and Eduardo O'Donnell. Miss you."
"To John and Mary Gorman. Likewise."
The two downed their apple juice. When the fizz hits all at once, it really hits.
"I should go," Gorman rose from the seat, holding back a tear.
"I'll be here," Zaz sighed, resuming her scrolling on the see-through tablet. Gorman grabbed the M16 and placed it on his bunk. Zaz was giving it a quizzical side-eye, it likely looked like nothing she'd ever seen before. About time someone else felt that for once, thought the Commander. He laid it flat, smiled, and returned to the central corridor. With a deep breath, he braved the stairs, beginning the descent to the lower level. His joints were still not operating at a hundred percent yet – he'd take another bullet for an elevator like the one on the Antwerp.
The cargo bay looked a lot more organized since his last half-awake visit. What weapons the crew had were stacked up against the wall – the sniper clearly towering over the rest – and the suits of armor were neatly organized head to toe on a makeshift rack. Gorman recognized the metal poles that comprised it as being ripped quite literally from one of the upstairs bunk beds. To their side was a workbench made out of what must have been the bed itself, minus its blanket. Placed on it were a few tools, and a familiar company green suitcase. At the foot of the stairs Gorman stopped taking in the new sights to listen. There was a scrubbing sound coming from his left.
The M33 Bluntnose looked as good as a truck dragged through outrageously cold temperatures could. Its paint job had dried streaks from ammonia snow, but the scrubbing was coming not from its sides but its front. Gorman rounded the cargo bay's one vehicle to see Kalu bent forward at its flat bonnet. His sleeves were rolled up, a bucket was by his feet and a sponge was in his hand.
"Omni-tool can't do it for you?" Gorman smirked, taking in his crewmate's progress. There was still a visible blotch of red and yellow right where the truck impacted an unfortunate foe back on Mavigon.
"I wish," Kalu laughed. He dropped the sponge in the bucket and dried his hands on his sides. "How are you doing, Kevin? I won't lie, you looked pretty bad when we lifted you out of there."
"I feel like a new man," Gorman rubbed his left arm again.
"I'm not surprised. There was enough medi-gel on that ship to fix a marriage."
"Good job getting us in contact with Chen…and sorry about Earth."
"Can't fault us for trying, abi?" Kalu replied with a worn smile, giving Gorman's back a wet slap. "I'll find a way," he declared, before thinking a bit more and correcting himself. "We'll find a way."
"Thanks, Kabiru."
"Now," he snapped his fingers with recollection, "I believe before we left, I promised you some answers. Got any burning questions?"