46 – Out of the Blue

Commander Gorman zipped up his khakis and made his way to the sink. Just before the crew hit the lights and elevators of the docking lounge, the liberator of the Human Embassy needed a quick pitstop.

As he washed his hands, he glanced at his own reflection. Battered, bruised, but not beaten. He patted down his electrified hair and brought water up to clean the soot, blood and conductive fluid from his face.

The lights of the unisex, uni-species restroom were still weak, flickering off momentarily. There was nobody else around. His drying hands reached in his vest pockets, and pulled out his wallet. When he opened it, he saw the photo that gave him sorrowful joy like nothing else. Tammy's smile, even centuries later, was still contagious. He knew, of course, that he was playing with fire. Clinging to his past was never the way forward. He eyed a nearby trash can. Maybe he should say goodbye.

In the mirror, he spotted another figure approaching. He quickly closed the wallet and folded it back into his vest.

"Commander! There you are!" When Gorman turned around, he saw a man limping towards him in a black t-shirt and jeans. "Looking all over for you, man!" he arrived, bending over for a moment to catch his breath.

"Don!" Gorman exclaimed, "Good to see you in one piece. How's the ankle?" The vidcaster wiped the sweat off his brow. He'd evidently hurried to meet here of all places. Gorman followed up with a different question. "What's with the rush?"

"You're going to want to hear this," Bodewell began. He took a glance behind himself to make sure the door to the restroom was closed again. "I'm just off the holo with my manager. Oh boy, did he have a lot to say."

"I imagine you'll have plenty to cover on your next Phenomenon episode," Gorman presumed.

"It's not about that, man," Don shook his head, causing his hair to vigorously flop side to side, "It's you. My manager wants to meet you. In person."

"Can it wait?" Gorman had zero obligation to go along with whatever this was. His journey was absolutely over. No more reckless adventuring. He'd done the vidcaster a favor by letting him bunk on the Shackleton, not the other way around.

"No," Bodewell was uncharacteristically defiant, "There's a project he and his organization have been working on. Top, top secret. Incredible stuff. It turns out -"

"Slow down," the Commander raised and lowered his palms, "Don…who exactly do you work for?"

"The Phenomenon, of course!" Don chuckled, but his laughter quickly trailed off. "It's one division of a larger extrasolar organization. We've got branches in telecommunications, colonial investment, ship insurance…and cutting edge research and development."

"You don't have a name, do you?" This time, Gorman laughed. He'd served enough years with a shady, nameless intelligence agency to know a pathetically phony corporate cover when he saw one. Bodewell didn't seem the agent type, however…unless he was a really, really good one.

"That's not really – it doesn't matter – look, just listen to this part!" Don deflected, "A team under my manager's personal supervision found something big. Something he believes can get you home."

The Commander laughed again.

"Don, I've got my way home," he smirked, "Ambassador Udina gave me authorization. The Shackleton is waiting. I'll be there soon." Happy, hopeful thoughts filled his mind.

"You don't understand," Don remained tense, "Not just home. Your home. The past."

The Commander's heart skipped a beat.

"What?" he blurted.

"The science went way over my head, but there's a way back, and it really exists. Believe me, I know bullshit – I spout it for a living."

"No, that can't be right," Gorman tried to apply what logic he had to the situation. Don was being genuine, and it frightened him. "It wasn't a fancy time machine that got me here, I was just frozen. Going backwards…it can't be done."

"My manager's ready and willing to tell you how," Don nodded, and tapped his tool-bearing forearm. "I've got the coordinates. You've got the ship. Pierre's already onboard."

"He is?"

Gorman's mind was suddenly spinning – a sensation he thought he'd finally overcome. For the revelation to end all revelations to happen in a Citadel docking lounge bathroom of all places was only half of the absurdity. If Don was telling the truth – still a stretch, granted – this was an opportunity he simply couldn't pass up.

Scenes flashed in his brain of pure happiness, like the polar opposite of the prothean beacon. Somewhere in high Earth orbit, a ship blinks into existence. A tenuous radio connection is established – and a Director answers the line. Somewhere in the Pacific, an aircraft carrier task force sets sail for a capsule containing an exhausted Commander. Hoisted up to the flight deck, Gorman takes off his aviators and shakes hands with his boss. Applause rings out. At the docklands of San Diego, there's a woman waiting for him. Tall, slender, with pixie cut blonde hair and diamonds for eyes.

These dioramas of new promises conveniently forgot a few key details. The rest of Gorman's crew were still dead, the ISS was still destroyed, Dublin was still a crater. Another realization crept up on him. Who's to say he couldn't go back even earlier than when he left? A few days? Maybe a whole year? He presumably would still have the knowledge of future events – could he change things for the better…or, God forbid, for the worse? Nothing was beyond the realm of possibility anymore…again assuming Don was telling the truth.

"I…I…" Gorman stammered, then regained his composure, "…Excuse my bluntness, but I don't believe your 'manager' one bit. I don't know what his game is, and obviously neither do you, but this has to be some kind of ruse."

"I've got the coordinates," Bodewell repeated, "If I was you, Commander, I'd at least drop by and see for myself. You've got a chance to see all your old friends again, to see your old world again! I wouldn't let this pass – my manager doesn't like to be kept waiting, and he doesn't want anyone else but you."

Gorman paused to think a little longer.

The ceiling lights flickered on and off some more.

Eventually, the Commander left the restroom and headed for the docking lounge, around the corner and down the hall. Bodewell, Blanc and evidently Petronis were already waiting on the ship, but the other members of his crew were waiting by the rows of elevators.

He gave them the news.

They were just as shocked as he was.

"Well, we always knew you'd make it home one way or another," Kalu was the first to speak up after a moment of stunned silence. The security guard placed his hands above his hips and hung his head low; from body language alone he was hoping Gorman would change his mind, but it didn't hurt to vocalize it too. "If you ever change your mind…my offer still stands. Elegushi Beach is lovely this time of year."

"Appreciate it, Kabiru," Gorman extended a hand, "Couldn't have gotten this far without you. Say hello to little Prince for me." Kalu shook it firmly, placing his free hand on the Commander's shoulder. Afterwards, Kalu's omni-tool came out and he examined it closely. Not long now until his own long-awaited shuttle to Earth was ready for departure.

"I might even miss you, Gorman," Zaz was next to give her parting words, "But thanks for taking me with you. For letting me fight the good fight. First Fenek, now the geth…I honestly wish I had half of your wild, careless confidence."

"Try to stay out of trouble, alright?" the Commander joked.

"Speak for yourself!" Zaz replied, "Try not to ruin the past for all of us, alright?"

Gorman laughed away what was a genuine concern in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure what was next for her, not helped by the fact she hadn't said a word of any plan to anyone. For someone with her talents, that was a little worrisome.

Sally was once again able to stand on her own two feet, and they bounced towards the Commander to give him a farewell hug. All of these goodbyes were bittersweet…but this one especially hurt – and not just because how tight her arms were.

"Thank you for everything, captain!" she exclaimed, hopping away. "You're the best human ever! Good luck in the past!" Her buoyant enthusiasm was almost enough to distract him from what he was thinking while staring at that opaque orange visor.

"Sorry I couldn't find anything for your Pilgrimage, Sally," he apologized, looking down at his vest to remind himself of anything he could quickly pass off as a gift. "Unless you think the Flotilla would appreciate a BlackBerry, some old dollars, some sunglasses…"

Without a word, Sally reached for her own on-person storage. She opened one of her thin belt pouches, and flashed its contents. There was a small glass vial filled with an unusually-colored liquid. Bright green, almost lime. His eyes widened as she stowed away the secret. He couldn't believe it. Calypsite.

"How did you…" he whispered, but she cut him off.

"I'm a quarian, captain," Sally proudly nodded, "We have our ways."

Gorman proudly nodded back. He wasn't angry, just impressed. However, doubts were suddenly cast on what else she could've withheld this whole time. There was a non-zero chance that Jeong was right all along.

He didn't have any time to think about it any longer. It was T'Lore's turn.

"If you'll excuse us," she turned towards the others, "I'd like to speak to the Commander in private."

The crew obliged. One by one, they exchanged their last looks and waves with Gorman. They went their separate ways, bound for separate elevators and corridors.

He wondered if he'd ever see any of them again.

This left the Commander and the asari. If the expression on her face was anything to go by, she wasn't about to hug him anytime soon. She checked behind her to make sure the others were out of earshot.

"What are you thinking!?" she hissed, "After everything we've been through, after everything you've been through…"

"I don't know if Bodewell's telling the truth," Gorman admitted, "But if there's the slightest chance I can go home, I have to take it."

"You can go home right now!" T'Lore threw up her arms in frustration, "There's no way this isn't a disaster waiting to happen. It'll be just like the simulator, Agarth's all over again!"

"You don't understand," Gorman towered over her, "This is a chance to regain everything I lost! My world, my friends…my family." He couldn't stop himself getting emotional anymore. "I can make things right."

"You were doing so well!" she cried, "You were moving on! You'd learned to live again, earned your new home – but no, some swindler had to give you everything you wanted for free. You know that this isn't right, Kevin! It's unnatural!"

"She's waiting for me, Witta," Gorman's powerful voice trembled, "I…I just know it. I can't let her down. Not again."

T'Lore sighed.

"It won't be the same, Kevin. Trust me."

She stepped forward, grabbing his forearms with a strong grip.

"Stay," she pleaded.

He looked deep into her eyes. Out of the blue came feelings he didn't want right now. Kevin Gorman, the lost soul, couldn't answer. The Commander did.

"I should go," he insisted.

The asari's grip loosened. Gorman marched away, down the docking lounge, and into the elevator. He hit the button. As it descended, T'Lore stood still in defeat until she disappeared from view.

The Shackleton was waiting patiently for his arrival. No docking attendants were standing by, and the view beyond the laser mesh was stunningly beautiful – if slightly clouded by debris.

There were no enemies that needed facing, no beacons to decode, no more allies to recruit, no more fallen to avenge. Nothing was in his way anymore.

It was time to go back.

To be concluded...