Roots
The sunset on Saleni Beta is idyllic, light glinting off the gemlike towers down in the city. The many police vehicles and emergency responders that choked Haught's estate have vacated, leaving the Crosshair as the sole remaining vessel.
Chowa uses a maglev cart to move the corrupted norium shipment into the cargo bay. A sturdy security crate holds what remains of Haught's contaminated supply. Once secured in place, Samus places a hand on a scanner pad embedded in the crate's surface, locking it to her unique biometric signature. From here on, no one can open it except her.
Arrande watches on with the rest of the crew, his lean frame now supported by a sleek ebony cane. Despite more advanced support options being offered, he chose the most cost-effective one, insisting on toughing it out. "Is that the norium? Why aren't the GFP confiscating it?"
"They were about to," Samus replies, "But word came in from higher up the chain. The Federation wants us to transport the corrupted norium to one of their research stations. They want to study it so they can develop a countermeasure for future incidents."
She doesn't speak her concerns aloud, but she was hesitant to take the offer. How many times has she witnessed unfathomable horrors spring from this exact beginning? To her, it's all too familiar a story. But they made it clear the alternative was letting someone else handle it. She figured it was better to be ahead of a potential disaster than several steps behind it.
Samus tries to distract herself from those worries. "Before we go anywhere, though, we've been moving from one mission to the next without a break. I'd say you've all earned some shore leave."
She doesn't get the reaction she expected. Adrian seems unenthusiastic, Arrande surprised, and Chowa... disappointed? It's harder to tell with them. Vorminian expressions are subtle compared to human ones. Dr. Jha is the only one who seems happy about it.
"Huh..." Adrian contemplates aloud. "I mean, yeah, that makes sense. I don't know what I'm going to do, though. How much time do we have?"
"I have Mr. Haught working on our bonus for the next few days. He says the longest it will take is five."
"Five days?" Adrian doesn't know how she'll fill the time.
"Well, I know what I'm doing first," Arrande assures. "I'm calling a cab and getting out of Haught's glittering palace of shitty artistic taste. Maybe there's a museum still open down in the city. I can get my palate cleansed of this all this trite self-worship." He shambles up into the guts of the ship, toward his quarter.
Dr. Jha is quick on his heels. "May I join you, Arrande? If you would be so kind as to escort an old woman, I would be happy to find us somewhere nice to eat afterward."
Surprisingly, he smiles and offers a chivalrous arm to her. "Of course, Kaia. That sounds like a lovely evening. As long as you promise not to psychoanalyze me."
"I knew I could count on you to be a gentleman. I will avoid the compulsion," she promises, taking his arm. The two move into the crew's quarters together.
Adrian looks lost. "Well... I guess I'll go downtown too." She meanders off the ship's loading ramp without changing out of her uniform.
Samus looks to Chowa, still standing there aimlessly. "Chowa? You know what I mean when I say you have shore leave, don't you?"
"I do, Captain Aran. It is time in which the crew may freely explore the port we are situated in. However, I believe I will stay here on the ship. I should make sure my equipment is in order." They move over to the worktables behind them, gathering some of their mission gear and setting it out.
She can hear the particular cadence of Chowa's voice; the weight of disappointment and sadness combining. She pauses. Now would be an excellent opportunity to speak with Chowa in private, get more insight into their thoughts, but approaching them feels more daunting than Adrian, or even Arrande. She tries to push through it, but hesitates midway to them. Adrian was so easy to approach as another human woman, but Chowa...
Samus takes a long look at them, then convinces herself that if they don't want to open up about whatever is going on, she can't make them. She moves toward the bridge, looking to make her next mission log so she can enjoy some downtime herself.
000
As Adrian walks through the bustling city streets, she can't help but marvel at the diverse array of alien species that populate every corner. The people passing by bear vibrant feathers, shimmering scales, and exotic exoskeletons, creating a tapestry of colors and textures that she's never experienced before. The air fills with a melodic blend of languages.
Adrian finds herself captivated by the rhythm of the city. Pristine walkways lined with ornate architecture, gleaming structures reflecting the city lights in a dazzling display of opulence. The lively bustle is a stark contrast to the turbulent missions she's recently found herself embroiled in.
However, as she delves deeper into the heart of the urban landscape, a strange undercurrent of anxiety rises in her. Every façade is polished to the point of artificiality, every street corner is too clean. This utopia feels... stagnant. Fake.
Perhaps it's only her unfamiliarity with her surroundings, or that she feels like a minority in a city bursting at the seams with other sapients. She finds herself with an overwhelming sense of homesickness.
Instead of seeking new experiences, Adrian searches for a public communication terminal. She finds them; small booths built alongside the street with sliding doors and polarizing windows. She shimmies into one, closing the door behind her and tapping her handipad to the payment plate. The windows go opaque, offering her privacy. Skimming through the available planets she can call out to, she finally makes her selection; an out-of-the-way colony world on the rim of Federation space named Nebraxis. After punching in more specific information, the system sends her call through.
The large screen in front of her goes cloudy, then lights up as someone picks up the other end. An older woman with long chestnut hair and well-settled wrinkles appears on screen, very similar in appearance to Adrian. Her expression lights up. "Well hell girl, finally sent a transmission our way! To what do I owe the occasion?"
Adrian smiles. "Hi maw! I was just missin' you." Her voice goes through an immediate transformation, reverting to a colonial drawl she learned to cover up over time.
"Uh-huh," her mother replies with mock-suspicion. "How much do you need?"
"Maw, I'm not callin' bout money! I just wanted to see you, that's all. I'm doin' real well with money right now."
"Issat so? Well, that's a change. Did you jump jobs again?"
Adrian freezes for a moment. "Eh... yeah actually. New job out in... Salenia Beta. Makin' a lot more now."
Her mother's eyes narrow. "Ain't that a core Federation world? You be careful now, don't let them sing you into buyin' the Federation's lies. I'm sure they got all sortsa ways to make you feel comfy before they twist the knife."
"Maw, I'll be fine," Adrian deflects. "I know how to handle mahself. Is paw there?"
"You called at a bad time to see him. He's out in the field right now. Robbie's out too, claims his band has a gig at some dive bar on the edge a' town. Still thinks he's gonna catch some record deal if he just keeps tryin'."
"Is his music any better?"
Her mother laughs, then makes a pained face. "It's... not to my taste, personally. But as long as he still helps out on the farm from time to time, I got no problem with his extracurriculars."
Adrian sinks into the conversation, her tensions and pretenses melting away. She loses track of how much time she spends chatting, secure in herself for the first time in months. She can almost smell the waving fields of roche kernel stalks swaying in the warm spring air, feel the ruddy dust of the back country roads clinging to her skin. Talking to her mother, if only for a moment, brings her back home.
000
Hours later, Samus steps into the cargo bay, finally free from her responsibilities for the evening. Ophidia glimmers on the horizon, like a silver crown nestled in the velvet darkness of the sky, beckoning to her. She's not sure what she wants to do tonight, but she's certain she can find a way to get herself in trouble. Her cyan blouse and matching midriff bearing jacket complement white, hip-hugging pants. As she finishes affixing some plain stud earrings, she notices Chowa is still there in the storage bay, the same equipment in front of them that was there hours ago. By now they've had time to look over it ten times.
She can't ignore this now. She musters her compassion and walks over to Chowa, who only glances at her before again turning their attention to their repetitive maintenance. "I'm about to head out, Chowa. Did you want to join me?"
They shake their head, their golden eyes never shifting away from their task. "No, Captain Aran. I have much to do."
"Is something wrong?"
Again, they shake their head. "Not at all, Captain Aran. Your concern is appreciated."
She thought Chowa might react this way, and considered ahead of time what she might do. She moves to pluck a secured datapad off the wall, flicks through some files, then brings it over and sets it down on the table. "I have a list of maintenance tasks I've been putting off for a while now. They could use some attention. If at any point you get bored or just want to stop, you can."
Chowa stops what they're doing and finally pays direct attention to her. They pick up the datapad and look through the list. Samus thought she was hard to read, but she can't tell at all what's going through the Vorminian's head. After a moment, they lower the datapad and gently bow, eyes closed. "Thank you, Captain Aran."
"Don't thank me yet. I want something in return."
"Please render your order," Chowa assents.
"It's not an order. Just a request. Tell me why you want to stay here on the ship. Please."
They pause thoughtfully. "This is a core Federation world."
A simple answer that speaks volumes. "You're concerned about how people may treat you."
"I am an Egenoid race. Most would assume my presence to be nefarious in purpose. Not an entirely unfounded suspicion, given current tensions between both supernations."
Samus wishes there were some kind of reassurance she could give that Chowa has nothing to worry about, but she'd be lying. She's well aware of the tensions Chowa speaks of, they've persisted throughout all her life. The Federation's conflict with the Stratocracy was before her time, but she's versed in the long and bloody history of the War of Tides. She's often considered how her priorities might have to change if the cold war between the two sides were to grow hot.
"Are you lonely, Chowa? Do you miss home?" Samus asks. While she appreciates her solitude, she also knows the difference between that and isolation.
They grimace somewhat in response. "I welcome loneliness, Captain Aran. It is a far greater comfort than what I had at home."
Samus isn't one to pry into people's lives, but she can't deny her curiosity. However, she can feel the weight of Chowa's self-imposed seclusion. She's been looking for an opportunity to discuss their exile... but senses now isn't that moment.
Chowa regards her with another bow. "Thank you for your consideration, Captain Aran. I will see to the ship while you are away." With that, they take long, striding steps out of the cargo bay, venturing into the heart of the ship to tend to the list Samus left for them.
She watches them leave, then turns toward the city skyline, ready to enjoy her night to herself. A chime in her pocket interrupts her before she can start. She pulls out her handipad.
Strange... a notification about one of the sub-accounts tied to the crew expenditures account. Those are supposed to be for the crewmember's costs. One was just used to cover a shuttle ticket off of Saleni Beta to a non-Federation planet. Notifications like this get sent out to warn public transit users of the dangers involved on trips outside Federation controlled space. In reality, it's just a means of covering the Federation's ass if something happens to the shuttle and its riders.
The account is Arrande's. The planet he's going to is Worfane; close to the edge of Federation space, and J-VS 67, where she recruited him. So if he wanted to go home for his leave, why not just book a trip there?
Suspicion rises in her mind. Their relationship has been tumultuous recently, filled with highs and lows. She wants to extend trust to him.
... but if she gets to her gunship now, she can beat his shuttle there.
000
Arrande walks out of the shuttle and into the transit terminal. Worfane is a far cry from Salenia Beta; yellow dust from the planet's surface and carbon waste choke the air thanks to the lax terraforming and anti-pollution policies the local government employs. Litter clusters in the dirty, dingy corners of the industrial, utilitarian transit terminal; the shuttle that brought him here is shiny and unblemished, out of place amongst the grimier, older transports present.
He breathes deep of the toxic air and smiles. It feels like home. Despite the cane, he walks with a jaunt to his step as he proceeds out of the terminal and onto the dingy streets.
000
Worfane is ripe with a culture all its own. Street vendors and food stalls line the walkways, all put up each morning without a care in the world about permits or health and safety standards. The first people to claim a space at the start of the day are those who get to use it. Only the vigilant and prepared get to take advantage of the most ideal positions to hawk goods and services at passerby. Despite the cutthroat environment, every vendor looks out for one another. In a place like this, pulling a weapon will end with you surrounded and severely outgunned.
Arrande takes it all in, yawning as he battles his ship lag. Occasionally, he glances over his shoulder. He's a cautious sort by nature. That quality has kept him alive. He's most comfortable at a distance, watching the world around him through the confines of a scope. Out in the open like this, he can't help but feel exposed, like he's on the other end of the barrel.
But something feels different in this case. He's almost certain he's being followed. Either someone is doing a spectacular job of keeping themselves out of sight, or he's too used to the soft comforts of the Federation worlds and just being paranoid in an altogether different environment.
He dips into an alleyway between stalls, approaching a man in a white and yellow hooded jacket. Arrande has never met the man, but recognizes him as the person he needs to see. The younger man clocks Arrande's entrance and the way he moves... he walks like he's here for business, but the man has to double check. "Long way from Salenia Beta," he enigmatically comments.
"Not long enough," Arrande responds, fighting another yawn. "I was hoping to get a full rest before we landed. You got the stuff?"
The unknown young man nods, noting Arrande's cane and gesturing to his injured leg. "I got some variety on me now. You need something for that?"
He shakes his head. "Nah, just here for what I asked for." Arrande reaches into his pocket and pulls out a store-bought credit chit. In an era without hard currency, these 'gift chits' were often the easiest way to exchange money with minimal oversight, as long as you kept their value low enough.
The hooded man reaches behind a dumpster next to him and pulls out a small paper bag, and the two trade off at the same time. The seller takes notice of something behind Arrande and exposes a blaster holstered at his side. "Hey, beat it! This is a private conversation!"
Arrande looks behind him and curses. Samus stares back hard. "What is that?" she demands.
The seller starts to pull his weapon, but Arrande places a firm hand on his arm, keeping the gun in place. "Don't bother, man, I know her. You're done here, go."
The younger man scowls at him. "If you can't lose a tail, we're done. I'm not losing my job over this." He yanks his arm back and turns, scoffing and mumbling to himself.
"Mierda cobarde," Arrande mutters under his breath, turning to Samus. "And what are- hey!"
She's already closed the distance and yanks at the paper bag. Arrande resists, and it tears open, dropping several rattling bottles of pills onto the ground. He drops his cane and falls down on his knees to keep track of them. He can't grab them all up before Samus picks one up for closer inspection.
It's a prescription bottle labeled reztylcysteine. She doesn't recognize it. "What is this? Some new designer painkiller?"
Arrande glares up at her, still gathering up the scattered bottles. "I know you and I haven't always gotten along, but tailing me? Like one of your bounties?! I thought by now I'd have earned a little trust!"
"Answer me," she demands. "There's enough here to last half a standard year. What. Is. This?"
He stands abruptly, shouting in her face, "It's for fucking liver failure! Alright?!"
She pulls back, then looks at the label again. She looks down at the strewn bottles as Arrande kneels again to gather them, wincing as his ankle flares with pain.
Watching him, a man typically so prideful, gathering every bottle with fervent desperation and checking to make sure their seals are unbroken, she's overcome by a wave of guilt. "... why do you have these?"
He gathers the last one and staggers back to his feet, using his cane to support himself. "Since you're here and you ripped up my bag, you might as well make yourself useful. Hold some of these and follow me."
000
The two hail an automated cab, and Arrande speaks an address into the receiver. The bay doors close them in, and they sit opposite one another in silence. Arrande doesn't speak to her, sulking and staring out the somewhat grungy window.
Samus looks through some of the pill bottles. She recognizes one of the varied medications as a heart attack deterrent. "Arrande... who are these for?"
"I'm still angry with you, let me seethe," he grumbles.
000
Half an hour later, the transport stops at a residential home in a suburban area on the outskirts of town. It's a decent area. Homes with somewhat overgrown or spotty lawns of their own, kids outside and playing in the open. Idyllic, in a way. Samus notes a little girl playing pretend with her father as she exits the vehicle.
Arrande steps out beside her, face stern. He glances back and forth between the front door and Samus. His shoulders drop and he gestures to the house with a tilt of his head. "A fair heads up before we go in. Don't let anything mom says get under your skin, alright? She's old and opinionated."
"Mom?"
They walk up to the front door, and Arrande gives it several swift raps with his knuckles. About a minute later, the door opens a crack, then slides open.
"Mijo, you finally come to visit! It's been weeks since I saw you. Oh my, what happened to your leg? Come in, come in!" An older woman in a nightgown with gray streaks in her hair and a leathery complexion greets the two of them at the door. She pulls Arrande's head down to kiss his cheek, then ushers them in. She hobbles around old, mismatched furniture, a hand on her bowed back while the other manages a cane. Samus is the last one in and closes the door behind her as Arrande's mother turns back around to take stock of her guests.
She squint at Samus as though she only just saw her. Arrande notices and opens a palm out toward his captain. "Mama, this is Samus. She's my-"
Before he can even finish the sentence, his mother whacks him in the shin with her cane, causing him to cry out in pain and flinch back. "You'd better not say wife! If you went and got married without telling me, I'll cut you out of the will! Ohhh, and look at her. Taller than you, stronger than you, and I'm willing to bet older." She pokes him in the chest with her cane. "You'd better not have picked this one up hoping she'd take care of your lazy ass. Chingada..."
"She's not stronger than me! And she's not my wife, she's my boss!"
"Oh, I'm absolutely stronger than you," Samus insists. She offers her hand to the woman with a smile. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Samus. Your boy is serving on my ship now." Samus addresses her respectfully, already liking her just because one of the first things she did to Arrande was hit him.
"I apologize for the stupidity you must have to deal with every day then," the woman apologizes, hobbling over and resting her cane on her hip so she can take Samus' extended hand in both of hers. They're thin and boney, but warm and kind. "He likes to think he's a charmer, and knowing him, he's already tried to hit on you, like he does all the pretty girls."
Samus smiles. "He has."
Arrande's mother responds by picking her cane back up and whacking his thigh. "¡Idiota! Don't shit where you eat!"
"She wasn't my boss when I flirted with her! And hey, she-" He spies the look on Samus' face, radiating menace. "-has been a consummate professional. Despite my charismatic nature."
"Feh! I am so sorry about him. He is still a young man, and I'm sure by now you know how foolish they can be," she says with a motherly smile at Samus, resting both hands on the dangerous weapon she uses to support herself.
"Mama, focus. I brought your prescriptions."
"Ah!" Her demeanor toward him shifts, becoming instantly more familial and friendly. "Good, I've been out for a few days and kept forgetting to go pick them up."
"What?! What is wrong with you?! Mama, you need these! Sit down!" Now his attitude goes through a shift. He stands straight and stares down at the bent old woman. She grumbles and follows him over to a recliner. Her arms shake as she struggles to lower herself. Samus watches Arrande as he sets his cane aside and takes his mother's weight to help her into her chair, briefly grimacing in pain from his injured ankle, but burying the expression just as quick. She takes a seat on an older couch with sunken cushions across from them, observing the exchange in silence.
As he measures out the medication, reading the labels, his mother mumbles to herself. "How much were they? I'll pay you back for them."
"You absolutely will not," he retorts. "I've got you on the best insurance plan money can buy now. It didn't cost me a thing. This wouldn't be a problem if you'd just live in primary Federation Space. My veterans' benefits would help you."
"Eh, and be subject to those socialist fascists and their rules? No. How much was this plan?"
He ignores her question. "I used to work for those socialist fascists and they treated me pretty well. You'd have access to a basic level of medical care on J-VS 67, too. Now shush and take your pills, woman."
Samus watches in silence as Arrande dotes on his mother, though she seems intent on fighting his every question and demand. When was the last time she ate, when did she see the doctor last, has she been recording her blood pressure? He's like a different person. It's... endearing.
000
The hours pass as the three of them visit with each other. By the time they're ready to leave, it's already sunset, likely early morning back on Saleni Beta. Samus holds a container full of food Arrande's mother insisted on sending them off with. The old woman stands at the door, waving goodbye to the two of them and calling after them. "You be on your best behavior! If you get fresh with her and she kicks your ass, I'll laugh about it!"
"Mama! Enough! I'm a grown man now!"
She laughs. "No man is ever truly grown, only pretending. Just make sure he comes back alive, Miss Samus!" she calls out.
"That depends on him," Samus says with a smile, walking backwards as she waves to the most entertaining person she's met in some time.
As his mother closes the front door behind her, Arrande lets out a massive sigh. He feels Samus' eyes on him. "... what?"
"You lied to her about the insurance."
He huffs. "I did no such thing. I do have her on good insurance now. It just doesn't kick in until the end of the year, so I had to come up with a short-term solution."
"... you're a good son."
He groans and looks away, his cheeks flushing red. It's kind of cute. "Oh, shut up. I just..."
He stops for a moment as the two of them get back in their car to head back to the docks. "You just what?" Samus presses.
Arrande is resistant to reveal more, but Samus has already seen everything he wanted to hide. "She's my mama. Papa isn't around anymore to take care of her, so I have to step up. It's the only reason I'm signing up with you instead of just going on another assignment. The GFA doesn't exactly let you take a vacation mid-assignment." He smiles at his own joke, but it fades. "I moved to J-VS 67 because it's a Federation planet, so my veterans' benefits covered housing, and it has an express shuttle to Worfane. I would have moved here, but living outside of Federation space strips you of any entitlements you earn serving. Trying to maintain my own life and make sure she's taken care of... honestly, I was close to drowning in debt. But now I don't have to worry about that. Working for you changed everything."
She'd already guessed as much, witnessing all of this. "You're going through all of this for her sake?"
He nods, but doesn't meet her eyes. "You only get one set of parents in life. Once they're gone, you miss the time you could have had with them."
Samus' forehead wrinkles in quiet consideration, a familiar pain rearing its ugly head. Arrande notices the shift in her disposition.
"When was the last time you talked with your parents?" he asks, trying to divert attention from himself.
She hesitates. She resists answering immediately, but in that gap, she can see Arrande pick up on her reluctance. No point in holding it back now. It's already awkward. "When I was three."
That answer leaves the cabin in an awkward silence. He doesn't have to work hard to fill in the blanks of her statement. "Ah... I'm sorry." She's not surprised he didn't know; it's not information anyone would, even those who know her well.
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I didn't know it was... you know what, nevermind."
The cabin falls quiet.
After a moment, Samus speaks again. "You can borrow my gunship for these trips from now on. Just let me know for how long."
He's stunned to hear that. "Wha- you mean that?"
"Did I stutter?" she replies with a raised eyebrow.
"... understood. Thank you, Captain."
They don't speak for the rest of the ride back to the docks.
000
The next three days on Saleni Beta pass uneventfully until Samus gets a message from Vernon Haught. It's ready. Samus picks up an extra uniform from the cargo bay and descends into the estate.
Haught escorts her into his workshop, which is still recovering from the battle that transpired here only days earlier. He's scrapped the other works-in-progress that were here previously. Their parts, sans the norium cores, have been set aside to be recycled.
Only one android body remains now.
"Admittedly, I faced an unexpected amount of resistance pulling the AI out of that ghastly old head," Haught meanders, motioning to the crumbling Torizo guardian head on his workbench. "It fought me every step of the way. But that's what happens when you try to marry antiquated technology to modern innovation!"
He brings her to the port Adam's new body occupies. Samus takes in the details. It's just what she requested. "Is he conscious?"
"Not yet. I called you down here for his first boot-up. Would you like to do the honors?" He extends a technical datapad displaying diagnostics of the android to her with an eager grin. A large prompt sits in the center of the screen reading "boot up?" Samus takes a deep breath, looking at the artificial body one more time, and selects "confirm."
A low, rising tone emanates from the lifeless body, then fades out. Its eyes flicker open, glowing a bright blue. It takes stock of its surroundings, then the tactility of its form, looking down at its body. It takes a first, testing step into a bold new world, focusing on the one anchor it recognizes. "Samus..."
As Adam speaks, Samus feels her chest tighten. She subconsciously raises a hand to cover her mouth, her eyes reflecting the melding of years of buried sorrow and unbridled joy at their reunion. The voice has the faintest tinge of artificial reverberation, but it's uncanny just how accurate he sounds. It throws her back into a world of promise and optimism she's long since left behind. His face, hair, and body are a perfect match, save the visible paneling of his skin.
It's him. It's Adam Malkovich.
"Adam... you're..." Samus remembers herself and corrects her emotional display, though her true feelings still tug at the corners of her expression. "What do you remember?"
Adam, for his part, can't stop taking in the new physicality of his body, poring over every detail, flexing every joint. "... we did battle against a hostile AI on Giran's moon. I sent you to escape and held it back. Everything beyond that point is unclear." His cadence maintains the AI's typical monotone, though with Adam's voice it makes for a strange combination.
Despite the poignance of the moment, hearing the odd blend of the two voices unsettles Samus. She places a concerned, familiar hand on his bare shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"I believe so. This is an unexpected development."
She takes the uniform she has in her arm and holds it out for him. Tentatively, he grasps it, staring intently down at its pristine seams.
Samus gives him a genuine smile. "Welcome to the crew."
Despite her smile, her eyes betray her unease. She didn't make this choice in haste. Even now, questions swirl in her mind, judging the end result of her actions.
As she looks into Adam's eyes now... she still doesn't have answers to those questions. And that scares her. But despite the risks, she knows for certain this is what she wanted.
For good or ill.
00000
Chapter notes
If you have a moment, please consider answering one or both of these questions for me in a comment!
1. Do you feel like something new is learned about each member of the crew in this chapter?
2. If you had a favorite member of the crew previously, has that changed?