Catch Up
"I did not understand that. Could you repeat?"
Chowa's voice is an empty echo in Samus' ears. The emotional whiplash she's experienced in the last hour compounds with her lack of sleep, and she's overtaken by a manic sense of elation.
She turns and marches back up the steps, purpose reignited in her gait. "Everyone, get back on the ship now and prepare for takeoff. We're going to track the trail of that ship."
The atypical brightness in her tone baffles Chowa. "Captain Aran, are you alright?"
"Better now, Chowa."
She reminds herself she can't let herself get too swept up in her feelings. There's still work to do. She doesn't know where Cernan is, or who came to his rescue.
But she's going to find out.
000
Four weeks earlier…
Cernan can hear voices mumbling gibberish all around him. As he drifts through the murk of semi-consciousness, he wonders if this is just his brain finally short-circuiting in the throes of death. Not that it matters. He's embraced it by this point, ready to accept the final darkness. No more hunger, no more struggling. It's almost welcome.
And yet… his thoughts are so coherent… and death seems to take an awfully long time… in fact, even his hunger passes.
A familiar treble jostles his unconscious mind, whispering, prodding, then shouting.
Wake up!
Cernan's bleary eyes open, drawing him out of his purgatorial fugue. He's definitely alive, and somewhere new. As he sits up, he realizes he's in a medical cot. He's only wearing the bottoms of his Zero Suit; the rest has been cut away. Great, one more thing he's going to have to fix at some point. Wait… his chest wound has healed over. He runs his hands over his emaciated torso to be sure, but yes, it's healed. Though there is a scar remaining. Odd… he thought modern medical tech had advanced enough to restore scar tissue.
The construction of the room is alien. Whatever built it really likes purple and green. Metal walls, piping, counters and shelves filled with unrecognizable tech and organic shapes. Cernan finds it garish, but he's not about to complain to the people who saved him. He slides out of the bed and finds his footing, careful as he shifts his weight onto his feet.
Where is this?
Cernan shakes his head. "I don't know."
His movements are unsteady as he leaves the room and explores the area. He uses the walls to keep himself upright. There's more garish organic steelwork, and a reverberating hum he recognizes as the sound of an engine. So he's on a ship. Someone heard his distress call. All his struggling wasn't for nothing. Yet any joy in him is overcome by overwhelming curiosity.
Slowly, he makes his way down a long, empty hall. Up ahead, he thinks he can hear talking. "Hello? Are you the people who helped me?"
The sound abruptly stops. The prolonged silence that follows unnerves him.
There's a rush of movement from around the corner. Cernan panics and falls backward on the ground as he takes in the sight of his apparent saviors; lanky, crustacean-like creatures with bulbous blue eyes and beaks. Hard plates of purple and green run up and down their bodies; he's not sure if it's body armor or part of them. They chirp and chitter in a language he can't comprehend, towering over him. Their heads twitch left and right as they prod and poke at his injured body. Cernan trembles and struggles to keep from cowering before them.
A sharp call at the end of the hall grabs their attention. Another one stands at the end of the hall, clad in silver. The other two walk back the way they came, leaving Cernan alone with this silver alien.
It approaches, and the massive crustacean claw on its arm retracts, revealing a three-fingered hand. It offers it to him, speaking perfect English. "Apologies. My companions are not used to seeing humans."
Cernan takes the hand, staring at the alien, taking in its features. Its fathomless eyes and the sharp, aggressive angles of its body do little to put him at ease. "You… saved me from the space station?"
The alien nods. "We heard your distress beacon and responded. Forgive my crew. They believed it was a trap laid for us and didn't trust you. It took some convincing, but I asked that we land to check things out. A good thing, too. You were close to death."
"Your crew?" Cernan looks the way the other two left.
"Yes. I'm the commander of this vessel. We were traveling to our colony when we discovered you. In the intervening days, we've had you on a diet of high-nutrition paste to help your body recover. What is your name, stranger?"
Cernan appraises his rescuer. He looks terrifying, but he's quite polite. With apprehension, he answers. "Cernan Roan. What's your name? What species are you?"
"You may call me Zhurohl. As for my species… let us say we don't have a name anymore." Something about that rings hollow to Cernan, but he doesn't push it.
000
The vessel they're on is massive, comparable to the Izanagi. Zhurohl gives Cernan a small tour of it, guiding him through its myriad halls. It's more industrial than Federation vessels. Hisses, clangs, clanks, and slurps echo through the halls, and there's a distinct foreign scent that permeates the air. It's just enough that Cernan never feels quite comfortable with the environment.
Other aliens like Zhurohl stare as Cernan passes. He stays close to the commander; something about their gaze feels threatening. There are other aliens among them, notably different in appearance. Some are more insectoid, with massive, chitinous talons and narrow waists, some are more bestial with sharp teeth and discolored, freckled skin. Aside from the crustacean-like ones, there seems to be so little cohesion among them Cernan can only assume they're several species. But one uniting factor is consistent between them all.
They look dangerous. And every single one is armed.
"Why did you save me?" Cernan asks.
Zhurohl glances at him over his shoulder. "Does it matter?"
"You made it sound like your crew wasn't happy with that. So yeah, why bother?"
Zhurohl looks forward again, collecting his thoughts before he speaks. "… some of us are attempting to carve a new path for my people. Part of that includes taking risks we once would have considered absurd or beneath us."
"Beneath you?" Such an odd way to put it.
"Yes. We were not the most friendly sort until recently. We are treading new ground."
Cernan senses a disquieting implication behind those words. "Until recently? What about before then?"
Zhurohl stops and turns to face him. "You needn't worry. You are safe here, you have my word."
An evasive way to answer the question. Cernan doesn't press him. He doesn't want to risk offending his lifeline, especially not when he can't defend himself.
The commander leads him into a massive chamber filled with crates and pedestals bearing objects that stand at odds with the aesthetics of the surrounding ship. Cernan quickly deduces that they're spoils; some of it is Federation tech, put on display and presented like trophies. His apprehension grows with every discovery about his liberators.
"This is a repository of alien goods," Zhurohl says. "It is possible we have some clothing for you here. I know humans feel uncomfortable with their nudity."
Cernan doesn't ask where or how they got these things. The picture is coming together, and he doesn't like how it looks.
Thankfully, there's no one else present to shoot him the evil eye. Cernan searches among the trinkets collected, looking for anything that might work as clothing. However, it doesn't take long before the various treasures draw his attention, getting the better of his curiosity.
"What are these things?" he asks.
Zhurohl walks up beside him to examine the device in front of them; a smooth metal prism engraved with alien writing. "I am not sure. I believe one of my people thought it valuable and picked it up while exploring a world. It's possible most of these things are harmless baubles that simply looked shiny enough to grab their attention. Most of the things here have no discernable purpose. It's fortunate they weren't simply destroyed."
That concerning statement tells Cernan more than he wanted to know. Perhaps it's best to stop asking questions.
He moves past another pedestal mounting a small round stone laden with alien writing. Cernan pauses and looks at it closer… he's seen those particular triangular symbols before somewhere… he reaches out to turn it, to better examine the whole.
Suddenly, the symbols light up, and the stone rises in the air. Cernan and Zhurohl watch with bated breath as its segments slide and move of their own volition, then stop. An array of lights emits from its seams, and a holographic star chart hovers in the air around the sphere.
Zhurohl snatches it out of the air and clutches it to his chest, checking over his shoulder that the door is still shut. He opens his hand and looks at the sphere again; it's stopped glowing. He glares at Cernan, the feather-like protrusions along his ridged back vibrating. "You… are you..?"
Cernan takes a few cautious steps back. "… am I what?"
Zhurohl falls silent. Through his nebulous alien features, Cernan thinks he sees… panic?
"You must go," Zhurohl suddenly demands.
"I- what? What do you mean?"
"What you are… the crew cannot find out. Even I won't be able to protect you. They will kill you."
That spikes his heart rate. "They'll what?!"
"Cease your empty prattle. Come with me, now." The commander grabs a tattered tarp from atop a crate, throws it to Cernan, and turns heel, hurrying out of the treasure room. Cernan follows, wrapping the tarp around his shoulders for the barest cover.
000
This is happening too fast. Cernan just woke up from near-starvation, and now he's standing in front of an alien ship being told to get the hell out. It's shaped like a huge purple horseshoe crab with a long tail. Cernan thinks to himself that it's an awfully unique design for a spaceship.
Zhurohl wanders in and out of the ship, carrying unidentified canisters and boxes back and forth. The hangar bay has several dozen of these small horseshoe crab ships, almost an armada's worth. They line different levels of the massive space, like giant toys on an enormous shelf.
"This ship should have enough food and water on it to last you one standard Earth week. If you can't get to a Federation world by then, you can't be helped. Take this," Zhurohl says, handing Cernan the sphere. "It is no accident that it found you."
"Hang on, this is all too much. I don't even know how to fly a ship! What do I do when I land? Who do I say rescued me-"
Zhurohl snaps back to Cernan, only a few inches from his face. "You will tell no one we saved you! Do you understand?! No one!"
Too intense! "Yeah, yeah, you got it! My lips are sealed!"
The silver alien backs off, nervously glancing around the hanger. Despite having ordered all his men out, he can't help but imagine eyes peering from every shadow. He yanks Cernan into the ship by his arm. "I apologize. You cannot fathom the danger of the situation. I have set the ship's course for the closest Federation planet."
"Wait, I haven't even thanked you! Will I see you again?"
The commander shakes his head emphatically. "No, you will not. I am taking a substantial risk by helping you, Cernan Roan. The best way you can repay me is by forgetting everything about this place. Tell no one. Except…"
"Except?" Cernan asks, waiting just within the door of the small vessel.
Zhurohl steps back. "… nevermind. It would be safer if no one knew."
The door closes. Cernan feels the small ship shake to life and falls to his knees as it lifts and takes off, exiting the hangar at breakneck speed. He struggles up to the pilot's seat, gazing out the bubble-shaped viewport back at the mother ship he's leaving behind. It's an enormous violet vessel, reminiscent of a whale. In the distance, a swirling green gas giant bears witness to his departure, sending him off into the immensity of space.
The experience leaves Cernan in a strange fugue state. He doesn't even know what to call his bizarrely threatening saviors, or how to quantify what just happened.
Even now, he doesn't have time to rest between one experience and the next. Because the instant he sits down and straps in, the enormity of the moment hits him.
The stars extend into infinity before him. Clustered nebulae in gorgeous hues form a sweeping tapestry of unfettered creation. He's seen this view before, more than a dozen times. Through telescopes, in pictures. Aboard Samus' gunship, aboard the Izanagi, and so, so many times while working in Lirahad.
But this is the first time he's been in the pilot's seat. The controls lay before him, tantalizing, begging him to assert his will, to feed his wonder. He looks out to the beckoning stars, waiting for him to uncover their secrets, tempting him with the promise of fulfilling all his childhood dreams.
He reaches forward, taking the control sticks… and sees the emaciation of his hands. His eyes travel up his arms, skinnier than ever. He reaches up to touch his face, feeling the sagging skin beneath his eyes.
Oh. Look at that. So weakened. What happened to that explorer's spirit, Cernan? With a heavy sigh, he sits back, letting his arms fall. Now is not the time.
But he'll gather his strength. He'll bounce back. And then he'll indulge in every single star-bound fantasy he's had since he first opened an old book of Hubble telescope photos in a small library in rural Georgia.
000
Days pass, and the once-liberating ship now feels like a prison. It's cramped; meant for short skirmishes, not long travels. Cernan has no choice but to use emptied food containers for... waste disposal. At least on Lirahad, he could walk around and stretch his legs. He can barely stand in this tiny thing.
But roughly five days into his travel, the ship's course finally tilts directly toward a blue planet. Cernan's relief is overwhelming; all he wants is to actually see another person. Tears run down his face as he finally feels hope for the first time in weeks.
That attitude shifts quickly when he realizes he has no control over the ship. Terror mounts as it plummets past the atmosphere. Systems beep and scream at him, telling him things he never learned how to interpret, and he briefly wonders if the ship can even survive reentry.
Fortunately, that fear gets replaced by a new one; if he'll survive the ship's imminent crash landing. The landmasses below grow larger in the viewport as he hurtles to the ground, body pressed into the back of his seat.
Closer and closer, now he can see a city below, its finer details swirling in the bubble-domed viewport. The ship's automated systems change its angle of reentry, and engines fire, slowing the vessel. Cernan feels his organs resettle in their proper places and takes a deep breath. Finally, it's almost over.
An unexpected blast rocks the ship's hull, and it goes into a spin. Cernan's heart pounds, and he grips his seat in white-knuckled terror, shutting his eyes and embracing the inevitable. All this way, he thinks, All this way just to die here.
The spaceport below has several levels of docks. Cernan's ship slams into the first one, bouncing and tumbling through, down another two levels before crashing into another vessel already docked. Each level slows the descent, until finally the ship comes to a stop on the ground, beaten and broken beyond use.
Cernan slowly opens his eyes in time to see the impact foam the ship deployed deflating around him. He heaves, lightheaded and sore, running his hands over his body, searching for injuries. Somehow, he's fine. Alarms blare and systems spark, but he's fine. He unbuckles himself and fights through the foam to get to the door.
As he opens the hatch of his ship, he's immediately met by several dozen blaster barrels pointed in his direction. A heavily armored GFP unit gives him a tepid welcome. One officer barks at him, "Get on the ground and put your hands on your head!"
Cernan throws up his hands, eyes wide with panic. "Hey, wait a second! This is some kind of misunderstand-"
"Get on the ground now!"
"Okay, okay!" He nervously lays flat on the ground and puts his hands on the back of his head.
He hears their bootfalls rapidly approach. They force his hands behind his back roughly, sending a shooting pain up his arms. One of them puts their boot right between his shoulder blades, pinning him down.
"Hey, I -kaff- can't breathe!"
The sharp boot heel presses deeper into his back. "Shut the hell up!"
His lungs begin to burn as panic sets in. "I… I… agh…" His breaths grow shallower by the second.
"I said shut the fuck up!" the officer shouts at the top of his lungs. He feels a hard strike against the back of his head, and his vision swims.
Cernan's mind races. He's losing air, and soon he'll fall unconscious. At that point, whether he lives or dies depends entirely on whether or not the officers let up. He won't have any control over that.
They're going to kill you.
No.
No.
No.
He survived Lirahad. He survived isolation and starvation. He survived those threatening aliens. He survived that brutal crash. And now? Now he's going to die on solid ground, on an inhabited planet, after all of that?!
No!
Cernan decides then and there that he won't let them make that choice for him. The suit. He couldn't do it back on Lirahad, but damned if he won't make it happen here. Cernan focuses, demanding it answer him.
His body glows, and the officers prepare to fire. "What's he-!?"
The cuffs pull apart like tissue and he forces himself over, throwing the officers holding him in place. He leaps back onto his feet and stretches his hand forward just as they collectively open fire on him. His deflection barrier activates just in time, diverting the wild barrage.
Cernan stands before them in his armor, silver and glorious, whole once more. He doesn't understand how. He hasn't had time to fix it. In fact, at a glance, it doesn't even look the same as before.
But there's no time to get distracted. He tries to wrangle his scattered thoughts to formulate a plan.
What the hell is going on? Why are they so aggressive? Don't tell me they wanna take me in for what happened on Lirahad?!
Did you think you could just escape responsibility for that? Naïve, even for you.
"We can't get a shot in, call in backup!" one officer calls out.
That's no good. He's got to get out of here. Cernan charges the blockade, throwing the officers aside as he bounds over crates and shipping containers.
A few open fire as he runs, but their commanding officer immediately shouts them down, grabbing their barrels and yanking them upward. "Hold your fire, he's moving toward civilians!" He grabs a communicator off his waist and speaks into it. "Put out an APB on our suspect, he has some kind of powered suit! Five-eleven human male in silver armor, Caucasian with blonde hair. He's armed and dangerous!"
000
It didn't take long for it to rain, matching Cernan's despondent mood. He must be in awful shape, because every cold drop that hits his skin stings painfully.
His suit didn't hold for very long, and now he finds himself in a wonderful new crisis. He sticks to the alleys of the city, between monolithic gray buildings that inspire little hope. Loud, annoying ads blare on every street corner, drowning him in noise. Whatever planet this is, he'd prefer not to linger.
He's too scared to approach any strangers. Without repairing his Zero Suit, he's left to wander the streets in just the skintight bottoms of his ruined under armor, looking like an unshaven, unwashed, starving vagrant. One look and someone in this corporate hellhole will definitely call the cops on him, and from there he's right back where he was in the spaceport.
A glint in the alleyway catches his eye, and he notes something uplifting. A shiny, sexy looking vehicle that, if he had to guess, is the modern analogy to a motorcycle. Cernan walks up to it, his current predicament taking a backseat to his engineering curiosity.
It's smooth, shiny, and well cared for. Cernan smiles to himself as he recalls the days of his youth when he first got his motorcycle license. The sheer freedom he experienced, going where he wanted, when he wanted, finding new out-of-the-way sanctuaries. Dive bars, restaurants, museums. It finally put the power of exploration in his hands. He gazes up at the darkening sky, letting the rain soak him to the bone, wondering if he'll ever get the opportunity to take that feeling to the stars. At this very moment, it feels like an ephemeral fantasy.
"Hey! Don't touch that, you crusty old shit!"
Cernan turns around to see a punkish young man with spiky black and blue hair. He's tall and lean, and his eyes burn with an intensity Cernan's not used to seeing.
"Wha- no, sorry, I didn't touch it." His head twitches to the side and he glares. "I didn't!"
The young man marches up to Cernan, jutting a finger in his face. "You fuckin' better not." His face scrunches as he gets close, and he quickly recoils. "Holy shit, man, when was the last time you had a shower? The indoor kind."
"It's been a bit," Cernan admits, watching the young man mount his chrome steed. He kicks it on, and the engine's song graces Cernan's ears. But… there's something off. "There's a G-diffuser on that, isn't there?" he asks.
The young man scowls up at him. "Yeah, and?"
"It's mistuned. Probably use it on this to make it float, right? If you let it stay like that, you could end up skimming the ground the moment you take a change in elevation. You'd scratch up the body and maybe crash."
"S'cuse you?!" The young man stands to his feet and grabs Cernan by his neck. "You think I don't know my own fuckin' bike?!"
"Hgk… check if you don't believe me!"
The sound of pattering rain cuts the air between them. The young man lets Cernan go and activates the G-diffuser. His bike raises a few inches above the ground. "… huh. She is a little low… alright, maybe she could use a tune up." He catches the look Cernan gives him. "I've been busy!"
"I could help with that right now," Cernan offers.
The young man scoffs and raises an eyebrow. "You? What, you gonna pull a spanner out your ass?"
"Do you have one?" Cernan challenges.
He pauses, then grabs a tool from the saddlebags on the back of his ride, offering it to Cernan.
000
The young man restarts his speeder, noting the higher elevation. He whistles, impressed. "All right, all right. You're not just full of talk, old man." He squints at the greasy, scraggly weirdo, giving him a genuine smile. "What's your name?"
"Cer… vo. Servo."
Why lie?
I don't trust him yet.
"Servo?" The young man laughs. "Alright, sure. Bet you have a brother named Piston. I'm Jack. You run a shop or something?"
"No. I'm kinda… stranded."
Jack smiles. "Heh. You and me both, brother." He looks around, then nods to the back of his bike. "Why don't you come with me then, old man? If you're willing to do a little maintenance and the occasional side job for me and my friends, I'm sure we can set you up with some food and shelter. And a bath."
"You're not gonna make me sell my body, are you?" Cernan asks, half-joking.
Jack recoils, looking at Cernan's sorry state. "Ugh. Never ask that again. You getting on or what?"
000
The present…
The rain outside the warehouse slows to a patter. Thick vegetation chokes the sides of the curbless single-lane road, obscuring the easement onto the warehouse lot. The sounds of muffled blaster fire, metal clanging, and grunting come from within the building. Suddenly, the door slams open. Nin Tarmos hoists one of the warehouse punks — the girl with the goth hairdo, he doesn't know her name — over his shoulder, staggering over to his black luxury sedan. He's not gonna go down like this again, no way in hell. Only just avoided serving a prison sentence for the Herelia operation, he won't get that lucky a second time. He won't get that lucky with the boss' mercy either.
The girl is insurance. Armored bastard won't try to run down the car with one of his friends as a hostage. He's not gonna underestimate this one, no way!
Tarmos dumps the girl in the back seat, smearing the rich leather interior with blood just as something tears through the bay doors of the warehouse. The armored punk rides out feet-first atop one of Nin's boys, skidding him along the pavement like a fucking hoverboard.
Tarmos freezes. The armored man pauses, then snaps his gaze onto the gangster. The clouds break, offering a rare glimpse of sunshine that glints off his silver armor. He bolts toward Tarmos.
Fuck this.
Nin jumps in the car and barks a command. "Home! Now!"
He glances out the back window, watching the armored man. He gives up the chase, thank the gods. Not like that last bitch who totaled his ride running after it. Tarmos liked that car.
Cernan watches the black sedan ride off at full speed. Jack, Dim, and Levonne run outside just in time to witness his escape. "Fuck! Levonne, grab my bike!"
Cernan offers her an alternative. "Levonne, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. I'll get Kris."
Raising his left gauntlet as though checking a watch, he taps on an interface only his HUD can see. Inside the warehouse, a rumbling roar signals the approach of his bike. It bursts through the hole he made moments ago, driving up behind him and accelerating. Cernan holds out a hand and catches the handlebars as it passes, slipping onto his ride in a smooth motion.
"Since when can he do that?" Dim marvels, watching the old man speed off.
Cernan tries not to let his satisfaction with that little maneuver get the better of him. He fails. "Did you see that?! Holy shit, that was so cool! I'm never gonna be that cool again for the rest of my life!"
Yes, yes, very impressive. Why do you need to save this girl?
"They helped me! I won't just stand by!"
Forget them. You know where their ship is. Take it and go.
Cernan grits his teeth. He has to focus. The sedan is fast, but it can't outpace a fine-tuned hover speeder. Cernan catches up to it, drawing close to the passenger door.
A mechanical ka-chunk draws his attention to the car's undercarriage. Jets of flame shoot up at him, forcing him back. He checks his shields; that was a nasty little hit.
He adjusts his approach, closing in on the car's trunk. This time he's watching underneath the bumper for any-
The trunk pops open, revealing an array of blaster barrels. Cernan thrusts his hand forward and projects his barrier, narrowly avoiding ventilation by the barrage. He swerves out of the path of their fire, driving into the opposing lane. What the hell made this guy so paranoid? It's like he's prepared in advance to deal with someone running him off the road!
Cernan glances ahead; they're closing in on Titan City, and soon they'll hit the highway. That'll make this fight a lot more public, something he can't afford right now. He knows now that his suit has "healed" in a sense, but that doesn't change that several of its functions got damaged by his little time-hiccup. If he has to take on the police and defend Kris at the same time…
He puts it out of his mind. He needs to focus on saving her, not worry about what-ifs.
Besides… he's not completely out of toys.
Cernan passes the sedan along the single-lane road. In the distance, an opposing vehicle approaches, horn blaring. A device pops out of his thigh plate, and he affixes it to the speeder's fuselage. Just as the opposing traffic closes on him, Cernan activates his Flash Shift, teleporting a small distance back into the correct lane, ahead of Tarmos' vehicle. The device brings the speeder with him.
Good, it works! Cernan thinks, congratulating himself. Could have gotten real messy otherwise.
He triggers his bike's autopilot and brings his legs up, crouching on his seat, and leaps to the car behind him. It swerves to avoid him. He flash shifts again to keep pace with it, but his foot scrapes the hood and he slips off.
In a desperate maneuver, he slaps his hand on the hood, activating his newly minted spider magnet function. His hand sticks in place against the metal frame, his body dangling over the side of the vehicle.
The car drags him along the asphalt, sending up a stream of sparks as steel meets road. Struggling, he slowly climbs up the siding and onto the hood. Looking through the windshield, he sees the driver stare back in disbelief.
Damn. Cernan was hoping for an automated car. He could just hack that and make it stop. Should have grabbed one of the EM bolts. Alright, he'll just have to do this the hard way then.
As Cernan climbs up onto the roof, the vehicle takes the ramp up to the highway, joining other traffic.
Running out of time. Drivers are going to see you and call the police. It's not too late to turn around.
"Have to hurry then, don't I? Stop distracting me."
Cernan gets to the rear of the vehicle and begins bashing at the sunroof. Suddenly it slides back, and he finds himself staring down the twin barrels of two pistols.
Tarmos opens fire point-blank. The shots send Cernan reeling, almost tumbling off the car. He triggers his spider magnet and slams his palm onto the frame, latching him to the side. He flattens against the car as the driver accelerates, nearly side-swiping him into another vehicle.
How the fuck does Samus make this shit look easy?!
You're lucky you're even doing this well.
Cernan pulls himself back up onto the roof and lunges at the open hole, tearing the sunroof panel off in a fit of adrenaline. He drops into the cabin and freezes, wide-eyed.
Tarmos holds Kris at gunpoint, one pointed at her head, one at her heart. She isn't looking good; the goon cut her head open with that slam earlier, and she's still unconscious. Blood crusts on her face.
The gangster's wide-eyed rage makes his intent clear. The fingers of his right hands tense on the triggers. "Leave," he rasps.
Cernan knows what he has to do. He slowly brings up his hands in a calming gesture. "Alright… alright… don't do anything rash. I'm leavi-"
Before Tarmos can blink, Cernan is right on top of him. The gangster squeezes the triggers, but his hands are inexplicably empty. The armored man has them.
He can see past the visor now, at the man beneath. He can see the unrestrained indignation in that gaze. "Hold on-!"
Cernan is not merciful. He unleashes a steel-fisted punch against Tarmos' jaw. Teeth-grit fury takes hold, and Cernan turns that rage on the gangster's stunned body. He strikes over and over, vision going red. Even after Tarmos falls limp, Cernan keeps going.
They're kids. They're goddamn kids! Mother fucker!
As entertaining as this is, shouldn't you focus on more important matters?
That brings him back to his senses. His stiff, aching fingers unclench, dripping with alien blood. The left side of Tarmos' face is a gory mess, his jaw dislocated and eyes swollen over. Cernan peels away. He has to get Kris and get out of here.
He tries to wake her up, scared to move her if she's suffered a neck injury. "Kris… come on girl, tell me he didn't kill you…" Cernan scans her to be sure. He breathes a sigh of relief when he detects a pulse.
Gently, he rubs her shoulders, trying not to wrench her neck. As Kris comes to, the first thing she sees is his blood-spattered helmet. She screams and slaps him hard enough to ding his shields, hissing from the contact with the hard metal.
"Kris, calm down! It's me! It's Servo!" Cernan pulls his helmet off.
"Wha… where are we — oh god, what happened?" She sees Nin Tarmos and recoils.
Cernan shakes his head and replaces his helmet. "Later. We have to get out of here. I don't know where this car is going and the cops will be here any second! Come on!"
Cernan opens the passenger door, triggering a dinging safety alarm from the vehicle. The road whizzes beneath him as the driver continues their route. Tapping his HUD controls, he summons his bike alongside the open door and shifts his weight onto it, extending a hand to Kris and helping her on. He gently brakes, putting distance between them and Tarmos' ride.
Just as it seems they're out of the mess, two shots ring out, striking each vehicle. Tarmos' sedan slows to a safe stop as crackling electricity shorts its engine. The same happens to Cernan's bike, and his bike decelerates.
A voice projects over a loudspeaker in the sky as two GFA hovercruisers drop into view above the highway; massive air vehicles with dual automatic guns and a wide personnel cabin, no doubt carrying plenty of armed soldiers. "You in the powered suit! Dismount your vehicle and surrender by the authority of the Federation Army! Any sudden movements will be treated as hostile!"
Kris panics. "The army? What the hell did you do, old man?!"
"This is new! I thought I just ticked off the police?!"
"Final warning, dismount your vehicle or we will open fire!" The hovercruisers take aim, their powerful cannons fixing on his position. Cernan throws his hand forward, bringing his deflection shield up to full power.
That's the only excuse they need. The hovercruisers open fire, gouging the road with heavy automatic blasts. Cernan has no idea if his shield will hold, or for how long, but it works for the moment. His thigh armor pops open, producing another small device. He grabs it and offers it to Kris over his shoulder. "Here! Stick this on your shirt! Right in the center!"
"What is-?"
"Do it now, Kris!"
She doesn't argue further.
If this doesn't work, she's going to die. It'll be your fault again.
"It will work."
"What do you mean? What does this do? What happens if it doesn't work?!" Kris asks, panicked by his self-talk.
"It'll work! Just hang on to me."
Cernan's free hand darts over the bike controls and he revs the engine, bringing it back to life. Kris marvels the engine is already back online. "Wait… what about their EM bolt?"
"Backup gas ignition generator. Just in case."
"You put gas in this?!"
He ignores further questions; they can wait. Cernan rockets toward Tarmos' car at full speed, popping up on the back thruster as he hits the car's bumper. His G-diffuser treats it like a ramp, launching him toward the hovercruiser. The pilot curses as he scrambles to adjust his aim, and the ship's computer struggles to target the approaching bike.
Cernan makes a slicing motion through the air with his hand, opening a small doorway in space between them and the ship. The shots from the guns get intercepted by the cut in space, passing through and firing into an empty road. His bike sails through the opposite side, landing and sending up sparks as it meets asphalt once more.
They come to a stop just outside the warehouse, the inter-spacial doorway shutting behind them.
Cernan checks on Kris. No rapid-onset aging, presumably no mental degradation. Looks like my prototype was a success!
Though he should check to be sure. "You okay?"
She grips him tightly in wide-eyed terror. "What! The fuck! Was that?!"
He takes that as a yes.
000
Samus obsesses over the trail projection the ship systems compiled, eyes bleary and bloodshot. Her mind is devoid of any thought or feeling as she watches the Crosshair's marker overtake dot after dot of the simulation's path.
Her uniform jacket hangs draped over the back of her captain's chair. It was too heavy, weighing her down. She sits in her Zero Suit and uniform pants, unconcerned with the crew's thoughts on the matter. She's more worried about catching up to Cernan.
Samus ignores the atmosphere on the bridge right now. Adrian, Chowa, and Arrande sit silently, watching the same projection, occasionally glancing at one another in quiet understanding of the unease they're sharing. They slept last night. They don't know if their captain did.
Adam stands beside her, eyes forward, hands clasped behind his back. Not too far off, Dr. Jha watches in helpless frustration. She's already tried several times to approach Samus, but her responses have been curt or nonexistent. No one aboard has seen Samus eat, sleep, or even make an effort to maintain their standard morning routines. The doctor recognizes the hallmarks of self-destruction.
Samus inhales sharply as the line of the trail projection shortens. They're getting close. Everyone else on the bridge feels the tension coiled around them tighten, longing for it to free them from this uncomfortable limbo.
The Crosshair pulls into the orbit of a green gas giant in a middle-of-nowhere system, then comes to a stop. They sit atop the termination point of the trail they've been following all day at full engine blast.
Samus activates the holographic projectors, submerging the entire bridge into a visual projection of the surrounding space. She stands and fervently looks around, searching for a sign, a trail, anything.
But there's nothing.
Her hands ball up into tight fists, her arms trembling and teeth grit hard. In an uncharacteristic display, she shouts in frustration and slams her fists on her console, drawing shock from the crew.
Kaia's had enough. "Samus, stop it! You are hurting yourself!"
"Be quiet!" Samus demands. "They went to a lot of trouble to cover their tracks from here on. Adrian! I want a full-range scan!"
The lieutenant hesitates. "M-ma'am, that will reveal our presence to anyone in this system. We're outside Federation Space right now, we'd be putting ourselves-"
"Now, Lieutenant!" This is not a negotiation. This is her ship, and she's in charge.
As if to challenge that notion the moment she thinks it, Arrande shoots up from his seat. "Alright, that's it! This is garbage and we all know it!"
Samus shoots a withering look down at him, her eyes reflecting the dangerous precipice he teeters on at this moment. "Watch. Your. Tone."
Arrande doesn't back down. "No! Who are we protecting here? What's the bounty?!"
"I told you already, being on this crew means doing the right thing, even if there's no payout!"
"And what is the right thing here? Please, share." He gestures widely to the rest of the crew. "You've had us chasing shadows without explaining why! We ask for elaboration and you say nothing! You go without sleep for literal days, and expect us to just watch you destroy yourself over a job you won't give us any details on! Nevermind if we're getting paid for this detour or not, it's a matter of respect!" He thumps his chest to punctuate the point. "We put our lives in your hands, put our trust in you! That can't just be a one-way street, Samus! We signed up to be part of a crew, a team! Not serve the whims of a… a fucking spoiled princess!"
Samus' face twists into a snarl, and she looms over Arrande, ready to tear into him. But something stops her. She catches Chowa's expression. Adrian's. She glances back at Adam, at Kaia.
None of them refutes what he's saying. Not dutiful Adrian, not honorable Chowa, not supportive Kaia, not loyal Adam.
A deep pit forms in her chest, pressing in, making her feel small. He's right. No matter how she tries to spin it, all these resources are being spent in the pursuit of one man. Exploring the distress signal was one thing, but now she's dragging them through her personal battle.
She slumps back in her seat, staring into the trail projection. The position marker for the Crosshair blinks expectantly, awaiting further information to extrapolate its next destination.
Samus reaches forward, toward the system console. The crew's hearts collectively sink, and Arrande bares his teeth in simmering fury, ready to launch into another tirade.
Then… she shuts the simulation off. "Lieutenant… set our course for outpost 24."
Adrian releases her held breath, tension abating. "… yes, Captain."
Samus covers her face with her hand, fighting back the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She's so tired. Adam places a compassionate hand on her shoulder. She looks up in confusion. The gesture is warm and supportive… so unlike him. The tender expression breaks down the last shaky walls of her emotional defiance, and two tears roll down her cheeks.
When Samus hears movement from the crew below, she shoots out of her seat and strides toward the exit. She won't let them see her like this. She bolts for her quarters in a rapid walk, refusing eye contact with Kaia as she passes.
Samus can hear the heavy footfalls of magnetic boots chasing after her, and tries to make it to her door before they can catch up, but in her effort to hide her shameful tears, her brisk walk fails to outpace their sprint. She feels a firm hand grasp hers just as she makes it to her door.
She doesn't turn around. She knows who's there.
"Samus," Arrande says, "Talk to me." The anger he displayed earlier has vanished from his voice, replaced with aggressive concern.
"I'm going to sleep," she deadpans. "I need to sleep."
"Yes, but that's not why you're running away."
She yanks her hand away. "I'm not running."
He sharply rebukes her. "That's bullshit. You're running from telling us what's going on. Just because we're back on mission doesn't change that we don't know what's happening with you."
"… I'm not ready for that."
Her answer surprises Arrande. Even admitting that is a change for her. Perhaps her exhaustion lowered her inhibitions enough that she's being honest. "… fine. But we're your crew. You're our captain. At some point, you have to trust us."
Samus doesn't want to respond to that. She keeps her back turned to him, clenching her fists. "… I shouldn't have forced all of you into this."
Arrande goes for what he feels at the heart of the matter. "I haven't told the others about Cernan. But I read about what happened. I'm sorry."
She evades the point again. "I shouldn't have kissed you. That was a mistake."
That hits him like a strike to the chest. He chokes on his words, struck dumb by her verbal lash. She takes the opening to unlock her door and disappear into her quarters.
Speaking to no one in particular, Arrande dejectedly mumbles, "It wasn't to me…"
000
The sewage channels under Titan City reflect its truth; miles upon miles of under-funded infrastructure, barely holding on by a thread. Long, round tunnels made from yellowed concrete and steel connect in an underground web, all of it transporting the city's shit directly into the bay, ruining the waters. This town, this planet, doesn't care about anything but profit and appearance. As long as it can bury the shit, all that matters is building upward.
But turning a blind eye to those rivers of filth beneath their feet makes for an excellent place to do all sorts of dirty business. Such as building an illegal starship.
Cernan, Jack, Levonne, Kris, and Dim drive slowly through the channels toward their secret project; an unregistered starship brought up from scrap, put together from years of working odd jobs. Admittedly, Cernan's addition to the crew helped. The tech he created made their heists that much easier to pull off, and they caught some bigger fish in the process. That revenue dramatically accelerated the ship's construction.
The ship sits docked in a cross-sluiceway that empties into a tunnel large enough for the vessel to pass through. They've been ferrying parts through here for months, putting the finishing touches on. This was supposed to be their last month here. Pay off Tarmos, then vanish. Somehow, he got wind of their increased fortunes and wanted to raise rent. Now he's in police or army custody and has to explain his role in all this.
Jack talks to Cernan through a mic in his helmet as they drive. "So why didn't you tell us you had a fuckin' super suit? Mighta come in handy for a job or two!"
Cernan shakes his head, still wearing the powered armor. With the army involved, he won't feel safe until they're off this planet. "It would have only brought negative attention to your jobs. Would you rather evade the police or the army?"
"Touché. Don't know what we're gonna do for the next few days, though. Till we get our ship off the ground, we're stuck down here. Don't think that's gonna be good for me." Jack clutches at his blaster wound with one hand.
"Ship's done," Cernan replies plainly.
"What?"
"Right, you weren't there for that. I wasn't around when those goons roughed you up yesterday, or I would have done something. I was pulling an all-nighter down here. Figured we were close to getting out of here, so I grabbed the necessary parts and did the job. Didn't know Tarmos would move up the timetable on us."
Jack laughs. "Holy shit man, you're probably my favorite homeless guy!"
Suddenly, Cernan holds up a hand ahead of them, signaling to stop. They all decelerate just before the entrance into the cross-sluiceway.
"What's up?" Jack asks.
Cernan reads a notification in his visor. "… proximity sensor. Someone's by the ship."
"Police? Army? Tarmos?"
Cernan shakes his head. "Don't know, but I'm only seeing one. You all stay here. I'll check it out and deal with it." He kicks on his bike and rides out into the sluiceway.
You really are always thinking ahead. I'm starting to see why-
"Shut up."
The cross-sluiceway is a wide, open room with channels in the floor for passing waste water. Several wide yellow wall lamps light the area, bathing it in a sickly hue. In the center of the room is a large circular pad that overlooks the area, with a central walkway leading up to it. The ship waits here; an old model stitched together from patch plating, junkyard parts, and whatever the gang could get their hands on. It's a utilitarian junk heap, but Cernan's skilled hands have tuned its FTL drive to perfection. It will take them where they need to go… assuming no one damages it.
Cernan stops at the mouth of the walkway, calling out to the intruder. "You might as well come out! I know you're here. Just so you know, you've got no chance by yourself!"
A figure drops from atop the ship. Clad in teal chrome armor, a woman steps forward, her gait cocky and self-assured. "I've heard that one before."
Cernan scans her with his visor. Her armor model is unknown, but the scan picks up several booster jets in the suit, and a sophisticated onboard system. A custom GFMC heavy rifle is integrated into the suit systems; she's packing considerable heat. "That's some fancy armor you've got there," he comments, his grin apparent in his tone. "Too bad it's still not as good as mine."
"Yeah, while we're on that subject, I was wondering… where the hell did you get that from?" She sounds relaxed, almost bored.
"I made it."
She scoffs. "Pfft. Fine, lie to me. It doesn't really matter. Suit or no suit… you're coming with me." She crouches into a ready position.
He mirrors her. "I mean it. You can't win," he warns.
"Heh." This bounty is overconfident, but Brinna can't get complacent. His armor looks an awful lot like Samus', and despite her threat visor identifying the entire thing as a weapon, it can't provide further details. It's all custom work, supporting his claim. There's obviously something going on here that she doesn't see yet. Someone with that armor shows up to a Federation world in a Space Pirate vessel?
She can ask questions once he's in custody and decide what to do with him from there. But for now…
The boosters on Brinna's armor prime, glowing hot. Cernan brings his guard up, lead hand palm-forward, ready to activate his anti-mass barrier.
Brinna rockets toward him. The beam bayonet on her rifle sparks to life, and she thrusts it toward him at subsonic speed. Cernan ducks the thrust and flash shifts past her. Triggering the shift several more times, he races toward his ramshackle starship.
Brinna skids to a stop behind him, twisting around as sparks fly between her armor and the stonework floor. Her boosters fire again, and she unleashes a barrage as she races toward him. This guy isn't thinking, turning his back on her like that. Easy catch.
Her burst of fire hits him in the back. He stumbles, turning around to put up his barrier again. Brinna adjusts her position, handspringing off the ground back onto her feet, concentrating her fire while closing in slow.
Brinna's pressure forces him to hold his ground. Adrenaline and anger surge in Cernan, he needs to check the ship, needs to know if she did anything to it.
But she's too fast. He'll have to deal with her first.
Cernan sees her pull something from her belt and takes his opening. He drops his barrier and flash shifts toward her, inside her guard. He can see her shock behind her visor. Now he has her.
He checks her weapon with his left hand before throwing a crushing right hook, right against her helmet. Or at least it should be crushing, but Cernan's still fighting against two weeks of starvation. The suit compensates, but it's clear his force is diminished. The thugs earlier were one thing, that was squishy flesh against metal. This foe is wearing armor.
His strike to her helmet causes her to drop what she was holding; a primed shock grenade. Before he can continue his beatdown, it goes off at their feet. Cernan's vision goes black as his nerves blaze and his body seizes, but Brinna's armor resists her own weaponry. She bashes him in the helmet with her rifle, once, twice, then fires into his chest point-blank.
The moment Cernan regains control of his faculties, he flash shifts back. His shields took a major hit. It was a mistake to underestimate this bounty hunter. If he's going to win, he has to get creative.
He remotely starts his bike. The rumble of its engine diverts Brinna's attention. He drives it right at her, forcing her to deal with the oncoming threat. She sidesteps it, but it circles around, kicking up a wave of sludge and driving right back at her. Brinna somersaults over it and fires into the fuselage. Even a concentrated burst from her heavy rifle doesn't stop the rampaging machine as it circles back around for another charge.
Brinna pops off an attachment on her rifle, pulling a different one, a small rotating barrel similar to a revolver chamber. She locks it into place and aims, firing a salvo of micro-missiles at the possessed bike. A chain of explosions rocks the bike, sending it skidding past her underneath the ship, where it comes to a final stop.
With the distraction handled, Brinna notices her quarry has vanished. "You're pretty clever," she compliments him aloud, trying to draw him out. She surveys the area, sweeping with her rifle, searching for her elusive prey. "But you don't really know how to fight, do you? You're just making it up as you go. You can't improvise everything. Eventually you slip up. Why don't you just come out and make this easy on us both?"
Cernan doesn't answer her, holding his hidden position atop the ship. He does a quick scan; as he suspected, she cut the fuel line. He could repair it, but his attacker won't give him that kind of time.
Think, think. There has to be some way out of this.
You could simply surrender. You know, like you did back on Lirahad. Oh, but Samus isn't here to pick up after you this time, is she?
Shut that out. Focus.
Wait… of course! This ship might be out of commission, but she had to get here somehow! With how thorough she is, her ship is probably close by, ready to chase them in case they boarded. But he's going to have to get her ship key to even work it.
So he's going to have to get risky. He shuts off his helmet's speaker, whispering into its comms link. "Jack, can you hear me? I have a plan. Search the largest tunnels in the area for-"
Brinna suddenly boosts up onto the ship. "There you are!" She riddles the hull with holes just as Cernan puts his barrier up. She charges at him, bayonet extended, boosting into a slash. Cernan shifts away and then into her, tackling her off the back end of the ship. They crash to the ground, Cernan atop her.
Now! He has her pinned, this is his chance! He triggers his suit's hacking suite to break into her armor, trying to be subtle enough the attempt will go unnoticed.
He gets halfway into the download when she corkscrews her boosters, throwing him off and flipping into a ready position. Cernan rolls to a stop by the debris of his bike, his hand dropping atop the engine block.
Suddenly, his armor glows. He and Brinna watch as snaking beams of light flow from the destroyed bike into Cernan's suit.
Whatever is happening, she doesn't want to deal with any surprises. She rights herself and opens fire, but again Cernan blocks with his barrier. As the light fades, his HUD displays a new suit upgrade; Speed Boost.
Cernan stands. The neural link between him and his armor translates everything he needs to know about the new function. He crouches down, armor crackling with energy, and shoots forward. Brinna's boosts aside, missing his charge by a hair's breadth, and she rolls back to her feet, now crouched in the muck of one of the sewage channels.
Cernan crashes into the far wall, cracking the stonework. He pulls himself free and turns to face the bounty hunter again. This new function is intense… but usable.
Brinna assesses her target with wary apprehension… and unexpected excitement. She remembers she's seen this before; when Samus gains some new power-up from a fallen foe. She's always wanted to go toe-to-toe with her, no holds barred; this might be the closest she'll ever get.
Cernan crouches, kinetically energizing his suit. Brinna braces, ready to intercept.
He streaks forward, sending up waves of sludge as he charges the bounty hunter. With two rapid boosts, she evades him, flanking and opening fire. The crackling energy cloaking Cernan's suit renders her shots harmless.
Cernan turns, the arc of his path widening with his increased velocity. He tries to run on the walls of the room to turn around, but his inexperience with the maneuver causes him to fall and tumble to the ground.
Brinna opens fire, hoping to take advantage of his vulnerability, but at his distance she can't group her shots properly. Only a few meet their mark.
He crouches again, then charges. He just needs to establish contact for a few seconds.
Brinna dances around him, activating her bayonet and slicing it through his path. Cernan hisses in pain; that connected. He runs to the far corner of the room and slides to a stop, feeling where the blade met his stomach. There's no mark and his suit registers no wound, only shield loss, but it feels like she cut him. Why does it hurt so much?
Cernan hears her rocketing his way. He can't just charge her, she's gotten wise to that. He takes position and dashes down one of the sluiceways, making her chase him.
Brinna grins beneath her helmet. He's making this fun. If she wants to catch him, short boosts won't cut it. She's going to have to get risky.
Through her suit's neural link, she disengages its booster limiters. Her HUD flashes with a litany of warnings and potential consequences, prompting her to verbally confirm. "Yes!" she shouts, grinning.
Her thrusters glow white as they engage at full power, throttling her after her quarry. The two armored opponents race through the sewer tunnels. Brinna feels adrenaline surge; she's never chased a quarry quite so exciting! She can't help having fun with it, skidding along the smooth tunnels, letting her momentum carry her, stylishly flipping between positions to maintain the most effective pursuit. A path of sparks alights behind her, and the heat from the continual fire of her boosters tints the edges of the plating orange. She laughs, drunk on endorphins, squeezing off bursts of blaster-fire at her target despite knowing it can't harm him.
Cernan thinks she sounds nuts. He needs to end this before she does something dangerous.
He loops in the round tunnel, letting him maintain speed, running right at her. This snaps her out of her euphoria, and she struggles to slow down before-
It's too late. Cernan skids to a stop and lunges at her. In the resulting crash, the two tangle together, settling in a knee-deep sewage channel with him on top.
Cernan immediately picks up his download where it left off, holding her under the discolored water. He doesn't think this will drown her, but he'd prefer not to inflict this unpleasantness on her for long. He's sure she's a perfectly upstanding person when she isn't trying to capture him. That, and his lungs burn. He's not sure how much longer he can keep running.
This bounty quickly went from one of the highlights of Brinna's career to the single most disgusting thing she's ever endured. If he's trying to drown her, he's going to have a hard time while her helmet is still on. If he's trying to nauseate her, mission accomplished.
She presses her rifle into his gut, but nothing happens when she pulls the trigger. Her HUD flashes with a warning that the rifle is choked with debris and needs maintenance.
She struggles with her free hand to pick another grenade off her belt, but finds none. In all her sliding and stylish flourishing, they got knocked loose.
Her anger erupts. She flips out her bayonet and stabs into his stomach.
Pain flares up the side of Cernan's body. He releases her and staggers away. Just as before, his shields took a hit, but the armor remains unblemished. But he's been stabbed in the stomach before. He knows what it feels like, and that was it. He can't fight her and win, not with how far she's pushed the suit's energy reserves.
As the hunter picks herself out of the water, Cernan charges his speed boost and races off again, back the way he came.
"Oh, no you don't!" Brinna snarls. She loads her bolo module into her rifle and shoots after him, but the clogged mechanisms toss it impotently into the channel. Brinna growls and hoists herself up onto the dry path, then boosts after him.
Cernan dashes into the cross-sluiceway, sweeping the area. No sign of Jack or the others. He reaches out to their frequency. "Jack! I'm sending you a keycode. There should be another ship around here, search the largest tunnels-"
But there's no time. He hears the bounty hunter's jets roaring closer and turns, readying his deflectors. She comes to a stop at the mouth of the tunnel, aiming at him. "Alright, this isn't fun anymore! Your bounty only says you need to be brought in alive, not whole!"
She tries to fire again, but receives the same error. Brinna growls and unhitches the bayonet from its mount, then tosses her rifle down. She stalks toward him, energy blade in hand.
Cernan doesn't know how much longer he can run. His adrenaline wears thin, laying his exhaustion bare. He suddenly understands why Samus works so hard to keep in shape; the suit can't do everything. He squares up, bringing his fists up in an orthodox guard.
Brinna laughs scornfully as she closes in. "Sure, whatever."
Suddenly, the deafening bellow of a ship engine booms in the chamber. Brinna's gunship roars through one of the widest tunnels, coming to a hover above Cernan's junkyard ship. It turns its guns on her, issuing several warning shots and cracking the ground at her feet. She sprints to a smaller tunnel for cover.
Levonne's voice calls out over the ship's loudspeaker. "Old man! Get on!" She opens its belly hatch for him. He doesn't argue, leaping aboard.
Cernan moves up to the cockpit. Dim, Kris, and Jack stand on opposite sides of the pilot's seat, cramping the space. He has to push past them to talk to Levonne, who's piloting the ship. "Good, you got the ship key. I was worried for a minute."
"Yeah, Jack figured out what you meant the first time your comms cut out. Found it and waited till you sent it."
Cernan points to the ship they've worked on for months. "Take that out."
Kris looks heartbroken at the suggestion. "What? But… that's our baby!"
"All she did was cut the fuel line, an easy fix with a little time. You want her coming after us?"
Levonne hesitates. Jack places a reassuring hand on hers, prepared to pull the trigger with her. "Babe… he's right. We gotta."
She frowns and turns the guns on their longtime project. She blasts it with concentrated fire, shredding it to pieces.
The gang watches it fall apart in solemn reverence. Months of work. Blood, sweat, and tears put into acquiring every plate and bolt. All of it gone in a brief burst of blaster-fire.
Cernan only lets the moment hold for a few seconds before slapping the ceiling of their stolen gunship. "Uh, guys? This is very sad and all, but there's an angry bounty hunter right outside who wants her ship back!"
Levonne scoffs. "Ugh, fine, ruin the moment. Let's get out of here before the old man has a stroke!" She turns the ship toward their exit tunnel, the shine of afternoon light breaking at its end. Engaging the engines, they fly off to newfound freedom.
Brinna chases after the ship, raging and tossing her useless rifle modules at it. "Motherfuckers!" she screams in impotent fury. "I swear I'll fucking find you! Steal my fucking ship?! You're dead! You fucking hear me?! You're dead!"
000
Samus can't sleep. She lays in her cot, staring at the ceiling, by now intimately familiar with its dull grey plates and all their imperfections and scratches.
All she can think about is how he's out there. While she was wasting time on her little experiment, he was dying. And now he's in the wind, in the custody of strangers who fly outside Federation space. She doesn't know what's happening to him, or if he survived. It's an open wound with no closure.
It's torture. Worse than knowing he was dead.
She just needs some confirmation. Anything that could set her mind at ease.
But every possible comfort has been denied to her. Every reach for some small sign of his well-being has been snatched away just as she tightens her grip around it. She falls back on cold rationalization, trying to explain away her fears.
Cernan's alive. That's what matters. And if she just keeps her eyes and ears open, he'll make himself known. He can't help it. That's just the kind of person he is.
Samus rolls over and opens her bedside drawer. She picks out a small shard of metal, that one fragment of Cernan's armor she held on to, then lays back in her cot, clutching it to her chest and turning it back and forth between her fingers.
Cernan's out there. And she'll see him again. Engraving that on her heart like a promise, she rests her eyes for the first time in two days.
00000
If you have a moment, please consider answering one or all of these questions for me in a comment!
1. Do you feel like the confrontation between Cernan and Brinna dragged on? Is there anything about it you'd change?
2. This is the last chapter for a while that Cernan is a part of. Do you feel like the story has shifted too much toward exploring Cernan's activities?
3. Do Samus' emotions in this and the prior chapter feel well-founded? Does she feel out of character with how she's been shown thus far, or are her reactions understandable?
Author's note: I'll be taking a break for the holidays and returning to weekly posts in January.