7 – Black and Blue

The sun's equivalent had finally set over Eden Prime's spaceport. Reprieve for everyone's nerves, time for counting the fallen and mourning their losses. The small band of Alliance marines had been remarkably efficient – dozens of geth troopers and their human slaves lay eagle-spread everywhere they looked. Interestingly, the geth foot-soldiers had shriveled up like withered flowers, disintegrating in some sort of robotic self-destruct mechanism. To stop anyone from recovering their weapons, perhaps? That was Gorman's only guess.

Powell and Dave had split, heading to unlock one ship and raid the other. As such, White and Kalu broke off to assist them respectively. This left the Commander leaning ponderously over the cargo terminal's railing, watching the last daylight fade. Next to him, the smoldering remains of what was once a prothean beacon. Approaching his side, a confused Zaz, trying to see herself what Gorman was seeing out in the distance.

"You know Ray Toner?" she inquired.

"Talked with him once or twice," Gorman replied, half listening, half wistfully taking in the view. "Almost killed me."

In the back of his mind, a sobering thought – millions from orbit, and all that were at the spaceport were three survivors. Dave had insisted there were more farther afield to the dig site where the beacon was excavated, and a whole lot more along the route to the 'constant' population center, whatever that meant. It was definitely felt by all that Eden Prime would never be the same again.

"That sounds like Ray," Zaz began. "He can blab on about the most pointless things for hours and hours. You see that building? The tall one right there," she started pointing to a tower down the hill. The very tower Kalu and Dave were heading towards…and the tower conspicuously missing a large chunk off its top. "That's where he lived."

A brief silence passed, interrupted only by the rustling of trees and an occasional spark from the beacon. Gorman stifled his sudden guilt. Oops, he thought.

"Where are you going once they bring the ship around?" she continued.

"Earth. Or, at least that was the original plan."

"You're not sure?"

"Someone on Earth needs to know about the beacon. It gave me – and whoever else used it, marine, turian, geth – a warning. I just don't know what it means…or that anyone will believe it."

Zaz nodded her head in a last-ditch attempt to show understanding. Failing that, she shook it and looked towards the beacon's remains. Whatever 'warning' it bestowed upon the Commander was long gone.

"You need to find who to tell about the beacon?"

"I need more than that," Gorman lamented, "I need proof, actual evidence besides a…vision. That's twice now this thing has blown up on me." In his mind, he finally had time to start putting together the pieces, a cosmically-charged version of how he used to spent many coffee-fueled nights at police headquarters during a case. He thought about what the obelisk could be, and what he just found out it was. A prothean beacon. Built by the protheans, same guys who built the mass relays. Suddenly he had an idea. "I need to find a prothean!" he exclaimed. "They made the beacon, they can tell me what it means, right?"

Zaz gave, in response, a sigh like that of a disappointed parent.

"They're all gone. Extinct. Forty – no, fifty thousand years ago. Left us behind a great deal, sure, but they're no more."

Gorman slammed his fist on the railing. Damn, there goes that idea…but sometimes from the ashes of a great idea a half-decent one may emerge. Following the trail of a prothean was off the table, but following the trail of something he knew definitely existed…

"I need to find another beacon," he proclaimed. Zaz snapped her fingers, happy for the Commander perking up. "Where can I find another beacon?"

Their smiles faded – a hurdle surpassed, a hurdle encountered. It was Zaz's turn to have an epiphany. She snapped her fingers again, wagging her hand excitedly.

"If you want to find a prothean beacon, it would make sense to go where the protheans were all those thousands of years ago, right?" she started, forming an idea as she went. Her newfound enthusiasm was so great, Gorman could almost swear that he saw a hint of blue energy emanating off her. It was easy to forget that she could probably snap the Commander's spine with a wayward flick of the wrist at this distance.

"They spanned the whole galaxy. Blows your mind if you think about it. So, you'd figure anywhere is a good place to look. Well, it turns out, I heard that Dave's brother – well actually his cousin, and from his ex-wife's side at that, that there's this planet, right, and-"

"Slow down, Zaz. There's a planet where the protheans were?"

"Feros! It's called Feros. Prothean ruins as far as the eye can see, apparently. Dave's…relative works for a research company there. Small human colony as well. There simply has to be a prothean beacon there, or my name's not Zephyr Antigone Zakharova-O'Donnell!"

Gorman's grateful elation was briefly put on hold.

"That whole thing's your name?"

"Parents were Brazilian-Irish and Greek-Belarussian. That's an approximation. Don't even get me started on my grandparents." Gorman just stood there for a moment, mouth slightly open. Zaz proudly folded her arms. "Besides, 'Zaz' is nice and short. 'Zazo' sounds like a clown."

The Commander managed a laugh.

"Bet visiting all your relatives on Earth costs a small fortune! I hear it's expensive enough just getting there these days, anyway."

"Never been to Earth, actually."

If the Commander had a drink in his mouth he would have spat it out all over the railing. Two and two should have come together long ago, when Jenny on Tara IV first told him that she was born on another planet, or perhaps later, when it was revealed that millions of people lived on a human colony deep in space, but now he was forced to come to terms with the fact that there are humans out there that have never once even vacationed to the only home humans ever knew for millennia.

"You've got to be kidding-"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two men approaching from behind some crates. They looked exhausted – and trundling in front of them were a wheeled bundle of fuel canisters. Dave and Kalu had returned. With one final heave they pushed the cans against a wall.

"All in one piece, Commander," cheerily reported Kalu. "Left some of the less essential supplies behind. You wouldn't believe some of the junk in there. How many Blasto movie posters does one man need?"

"I had my doubts, but there's some seriously helpful stuff in these," chimed in Dave, giving the canisters a knock. "And it was real smart of you to keep it in a crashed batarian ship – last place the geth would check!" Gorman and Kalu exchanged a look. Dave did a few stretches on the spot. It must have a been some effort to hoist the cans up the hill, but Kalu seemed spritely by comparison. Gorman had a sneaking suspicion that Kalu's armor does more than just shield him from the odd bullet. "So," Dave resumed, "I take it you're just waiting for the ship then?"

"That's right, we're ready to go!" beamed Zaz.

"You're going too?" questioned Dave in disbelief. Gorman and Kalu were thinking the exact same thing. Zaz turned to look Gorman in the eye. This was as direct a request as she could give. There was a longing in her face…but out of a spirit for adventure, or something more like desperation? Gorman immediately got the sense that even if he turned her down, he'd find a stowaway on the new ship sooner or later.

"Why not?" casually said Kalu.

"Just because she's a biotic, you shouldn't…you can't just requisition her like some battle tank! Her home is here!" Dave raised his voice.

"I want to go, Dave," Zaz barked back. Her fists were clenching, and just for a second a blue haze could be seen around them. "Look at our 'home' now! Geth! On Eden Prime! There's something bigger going on here, and Commander Gorman's off to figure it out before it happens again, right?" She again waited for Gorman's reaction. The Commander opened his mouth, but Dave was quicker.

"I get it, you're going into the unknown and need a biotic," Dave stated. Here came his compromise. "Why don't I introduce you to Peter Szymanski? He'll gladly get off this planet."

"Peter who?" rang Kalu.

"I've seen biotics in action before, and no offense to you, Zaz," Dave started. Zaz rolled her eyes. "But Peter's a league above. Strong, fast, can shoot a pinhead from the next farm down or blast a crop-duster into geosynchronous orbit with a karate chop. Should have seen him in the local bowling league."

"He's also a convicted felon," Zaz finally interjected. "For a planet as peaceful as Eden Prime…was, this guy stuck out like a sore thumb. Assault, destruction of property, theft of a military-grade amp, attempted murder, the works. Took the whole colonial police force to bring him in about five years ago. Peter's a dangerous, dangerous man."

"Dangerous? Sure, but he was one of the lucky ones. Fought in First Contact, the works. Once the Alliance was done with him, he used his biotic powers for literally any other purpose. Granted, most of those purposes were illegal, but when you can move objects with your mind, being violent and intimidating is no longer a choice."

Zaz looked ready to throw a punch. The Commander speedily raised his arm in front to stop her.

"Let me get this straight," Gorman attempted to summarize, "There's a criminal by the name of Peter somewhere on this planet who's a ridiculously strong biotic, like we're talking serious power. You want me to recruit this guy from a prison somewhere, and bring him with me – despite his history of unrelenting violence."

"Correct."

"What kind of idiot do you think I am? Come on Zaz, Kalu, let's get out of here."

Not a moment too soon, a great rumbling soon came underfoot. All eyes glanced to a wide, flat metal clearing on the other side of the terminal. The floor panels shifted with a clang, then parted to reveal a long, ship-sized opening. Slowly, a new craft rose from underground. The last inkling of power in the spaceport flowed into the floodlights around the ship as it rose like a phoenix from ash.

In terms of starship design it brought Gorman great fascination to see the variation between models. Of course he only really had a sample size of three – batarian, geth, and now presumably Alliance – but it piqued his interest the same way a fancy sports car would have in his youth. This vessel bore little resemblance to the 'alien' designs other than having a discernable front and a rear. From the side profile it was hard to tell how wide it was, but it was long and at a distance, bulky. Its top and bottom were graceful arcs, contrasted nicely with the blocky fixtures at its sides and angular engines thrumming away at the stern. If bird analogies were apt (if birds even existed on Eden Prime) perhaps it was the curved beak of a toucan with the flat wings of a seagull.

Describing the ship as 'black and blue' would be very fitting in every sense of the phrase. It had a nice pattern of black with blue stripes – nothing tacky – and yet it was visibly dented, worn and bruised. Along its underbelly paint had chipped off to reveal a stark metal exterior. If the once-proud ship had a name it had long been scratched off the side, all remaining being a lengthy blue smear. At the bow of the ship, a tinted window like a visor. Gorman wondered if White was waving at him from within.

The ship swerved on its downward thrusters, pirouetting towards the huddled group. It was a good thing the obelisk had been reduced to ruins – the ship veered fast and low. Gorman and company had to take a good few cautious steps back. The ship's rear came apart, giving them the first view at a quaint cargo compartment and an approaching ramp. The Commander's reaction was the same as if a helicopter was landing nearby, something he'd encountered many times over his career. He covered his ears…then cautiously uncovered them.

For something so massive, he was pleasantly surprised to find it wasn't as deafeningly loud or blowing gale-force wind into his face. It was by no means quiet, however – over the sound of the ship's engine roaring to life a loud horn blared. Twice. It was definitely White at the helm.

With a hop, Gorman and Zaz took their first embarking steps onto the craft. Kalu gathered his strength and heaved as many weapons as he could from the canister's collection up before tossing them into the bay. He left some behind for the spaceport crew, just in case, but Gorman and Zaz slid them further along. Organizing them neatly on a shelf would have to wait.

Powell emerged from the building next to the closing hangar hatch. He looked thoroughly out of breath, flights of stairs were likely a nice change from the problems of the day past. He glanced up at the duo aboard, quickly joined by Kalu as they pulled him up.

"I take it you're all ready to go?" he called out.

"I won't forget this, Powell," Gorman responded. "You're all right in my book."

"Your luck doesn't end there, it seems. Comms are back up and running. Heard from Corporal Novak of the 213."

"Thought he was dead! That's a relief," smiled Zaz. "How's he doing? Wants to tag along?"

"No, but he says reinforcements are en route…and to be careful out there. Shot down a batarian ship earlier, so he says. Batarians! On Eden Prime!"

Dave laughed.

"Checks out I'm afraid. Novak normally couldn't tell the difference between an Alliance ship and a batarian one even if he was sober." He raised his hand, finally waving goodbye. "Do try to stay alive out there, alright?"

Zaz gave a wave of her own, and with that, the bay doors started to close up.