Routines
Six AM. Adrian's eyes open just before her alarm rings, like fine-tuned clockwork. She gets up and slips into the fresh uniform she left out for herself last night, makes her bed, then it's out into the crew quarters. The ship is quiet.
Good! She's the first one up.
Straight to the bridge. Adam is there, as expected. She finds him here every morning, staring off into space, inhumanly still. And just like every other time, his body suddenly relaxes as she approaches, as though he's reminding himself to move like a person.
"Lieutenant," he says, "Good morning."
"Mmhm, 'morning." She doesn't like talking to Adam more than she has to. The captain might like him, but he creeps Adrian the hell out. His behavior is just uncanny enough that she's conscious of his inhumanity. "I've got the bridge now, thanks, Adam."
He gives her a cursory nod and leaves the bridge to… do whatever it is he does when she's not looking.
Adrian goes about her business, opening a hidden cabinet in the rear wall and pulling out a dusting cloth. She goes over each station, one by one, surface by surface, making sure the delicate controls and projectors are free from accumulating dust.
She saves the captain's chair for last, ascending to its overarching height. Here, she pauses. The control system is more robust here, and the chair more… grand. The arms have myriad controls and encompass the seat, immersing the sitter in the ship.
Adrian glances over her shoulder. No one else here. She restrains her giddiness as she spins the seat toward her and reverently sits down. Turning forward, she activates the holographic viewport, submerging the bridge in the view outside. She performs her system checks from the captain's chair, imagining more weight to the mundane tasks simply from the change in station.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Adrian shoots up from the chair. Samus stands at the foot of the ramp, lips pursed in a subdued smirk. Adrian stammers, "Captain! I was just dusting!" She holds up the dusty rag in her defense.
Samus ascends the ramp and peers through the systems check, then turns to Adrian with a knowing smile. "I see. Well, since you're up here, would you like to give the wake-up call?"
She motions with an inviting hand to the open-PA button. Adrian reaches forward, flinches, then presses down. "A-attention crew, this is your wake-up call. Get dressed and meet in the cargo bay."
They faintly hear a loud, bulkhead-piercing cackle emanate all the way from Arrande's cabin.
Adrian releases the button, several shades redder. Samus glances at the bridge entry, then back to her, still smiling. "That means you too. See you in five."
The lieutenant power-walks out of the bridge in stiff motions, wide-eyed. She passes through the crew deck just in time for Arrande's door to open. The moment he sees her, he laughs again. He has to stifle it for a moment to straighten up, throwing forward a stiff, mocking thumbs-up. "Yes, Captain!" he barks before devolving into a storm of giggles.
Adrian rushes over to the cargo bay, eager to get on with the day.
000
Adrian, Arrande, and Chowa stand in a dusty, dark bunker littered with crates and heavy equipment. Fluorescent lights in the walls flicker, bathing the area in an unsettling aura.
Three markers pop up in their sights, clustered together behind a stack of crates between two pillars. Adrian takes the lead position, followed by Arrande, then Chowa.
Adrian feels the weight of Samus' absence like a tangible presence, the responsibility of leading the fireteam resting heavily on her shoulders. As they move through the dim bunker, she can't help but draw parallels between this and their last mission. A dilapidated bunker, five alien targets. Is the captain unsatisfied with her performance? Is this a test?
The memory of that mission lingers in her mind, along with the bitter taste of their retreat. Their skirmish with the Egenoid squad showed her how inadequate her leadership was compared to a well-trained military unit. The only reason they survived was because Samus arrived when she did. Adrian still feels that sting of that indignity, of not being able to live up to Samus' expectations.
As they round a corner, their first target comes into view; a Zebesian pirate taking cover behind a crate. He hasn't seen them. Adrian's heart races as she raises her weapon, her eyes narrowing to a focus. She holds up her fist, then makes several rapid hand gestures to relay instructions to Arrande and Chowa. They coordinate their movements seamlessly, each taking calculated steps to cover the target's escape options.
She's practiced now, having studied the GFA academy training manual back to front in recent weeks. She understands the terms, the positioning, the tactics. As long as they do this by the book, everything will shake out in their favor.
A shot rings out. Adrian glances behind her; Chowa caught a target sneaking up on them and dropped it. Good, their sharper senses are why she put them in the rear, but-
By the time she looks forward, their first target is already taking aim at her. Shit! She shouldn't have looked away!
Arrande presses down on her shoulder, and she ducks. They both open fire before the target can shoot. Adrian is fairly sure only Arrande's shots met their mark — her barrel was off center when she fired. But that's why she put him right behind her; he'll keep his eyes on the target.
An unsettling chittering echoes from inside the bunker. The other targets are alert now.
Adrian increases their pace. She advances through the maze-like bunker, each step echoing off the metal walls. Her mind races with strategies and scenarios, her focus sharp as she leads the fireteam through the combat zone. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows, heightening her tension as they hunt for the remaining targets.
Arrande moves with fluid grace, his presence a reassuring force at her back. His rifle trains on the end of the hall ahead of them. The moment another Pirate leans around the corner to line up a shot, Arrande's already locked on. He dispatches it with a pulsing crack from his rifle, his movements precise and deadly.
Chowa's long arm reaches over the two and they tap Adrian on the shoulder, pointing into an upcoming open side room and making some rapid hand gestures.
Hear. One. Hiding. Inside corner.
She pulls the team alongside the doorway wall and tugs a grenade from her belt, tossing it inside. An excited chirp calls out shortly before being drowned in a blast of sparks and light.
Four down. One left.
The fireteam glides into a larger room, their firearms sweeping its corners. A thick central spike, an energy generator, sits in the center of the room, descending through the metal-grated floors into the ground beneath. Catwalks surround it, ascending upward to multiple diagnostic stations. Adrian motions to flank it on either side, and Arrande forks in the opposite direction.
But the last target isn't hiding behind it.
Suddenly Chowa yanks her around them, taking a shot in the back from an unseen adversary. As their heavy body falls, they collapse on top of Adrian, taking her to the ground. That's when she spots the attackers… two of them, clinging to the walls. One more than expected.
The second one fires on Arrande before he can draw a bead. His armor locks up, his visor flushes red, and he falls over.
He's dead. And judging by Chowa's full weight on top of her, they're dead too.
But her rifle is still free. It's unsteady, but she aims for one of them, unleashing a burst and dropping it to the ground. Chowa's body shields her from the target's counterfire.
The unexpected extra target leaps toward her, and she tries to follow, but holding her rifle one handed throws off her aim. It lands atop her, unharmed, and her face glows in the light of its clawed laser.
It's over. Adrian grits her teeth and waits for the punishing shock.
Suddenly, the Pirate falls still. The crackling beam shooting toward her freezes in midair. Samus' voice comes from beyond the walls. "That wasn't bad."
The Pirate and its shot dissolve away. The surrounding room vanishes, disintegrating into polygonal blue light as the Crosshair's cargo bay takes its place. Arrande and Chowa's armor releases its electric grip on their nerves, and their bodies relax. Chowa quickly rises off of Adrian, offering apologies and their hand to help her up. She shakes her head, letting herself lie there for a moment to bask in her mistake.
Samus walks up to the crew, disengaging the lead retina link and removing it from her temple. Each other crewman removes theirs. She squats down in front of Adrian as the lieutenant sits back up, legs splayed out and shoulders slumped like a pouting child.
Adrian sulks. "You said there were five targets."
"I said there were five confirmed targets," the captain corrects. "The information we get is incomplete more often than not. We have to adapt on the fly."
"We would have had that easy if you were there with us."
"If I were there, you wouldn't have needed to go in. That's not the point of today's exercise." She pulls Adrian back to her feet, then addresses the crew together, hands on her hips. "We've gotten separated a lot in the past, or had to split up. I had you run through today's simulation without me to test how you'd handle operating on your own. And you did well!"
There's something unspoken in her pep-talk. Adrian knows this test was more for her than them.
Yet Samus focuses her criticism on Arrande first. "You know these targets, Arrande. It's not enough to check corners against enemies that can climb."
He hisses and looks away. "I know. Never seen a Zebesian before, though. Wasn't thinking about it."
Samus' nose subtly wrinkles at the nomenclature he uses for the target. She shifts to Chowa. "They realized you could hear them if they attempted to flank on foot. That kind of Space Pirate likes to employ wall vantage points, just like Haundovians and Vorminians. You may not be familiar with the enemy, but you know their tactics. Stay more alert in the future."
They give her a respectful nod. "Thank you, Captain Aran."
Then finally, Adrian. The lieutenant's disappointment has already primed her for the coming blow. Yet what Samus says is unexpected. "You're a little stiff, Adrian. That infiltration was practically by-the-book. Too much, in fact."
"Wait, what? What does that mean?"
Another voice interjects. "Your movements and tactics are straight from academy training manuals." Samus turns to face Adam, watching the conversation from the juncture to the crew section. "The GFA developed those manuals over centuries of warfare experience, long enough that our enemies are aware of them."
Samus' lips tighten. "Thank you, Adam. I have this." She turns back to the fireteam. "But he's right. If your tactics are easy to identify, they'll predict your movements and outmaneuver you."
Adrian's breath quickens. Her voice raises an octave, and she breaks eye contact with Samus, her gaze skimming the ground. "But that's… those tactics are solid! They're the basics, we have to master them! You're the one who told me I have to train until it becomes instinct. I've gotten better, I know it!"
Samus tilts her head at the lieutenant, brow furrowed. "I'm not saying you haven't. But you're confusing training and protocol for confidence. It is important to keep the basics sharp, and you're good at that. But it's like you're going through the motions, operating from a playbook. Every mission is going to throw something at you that you can't train for. Adaptability is just as important as preparation."
Adrian balls her fists up at her sides. The corners of her eyes sting. She did everything right. It should have worked. "Who would even fight like that?! Clinging to walls and jumping around? No one's seen the Space Pirates for years!"
Samus pauses, measuring her response. "… I would."
"What?"
"I would. If I were trying to kill you, I'd use my superior mobility to outmaneuver you." The captain's answer comes out cold and pragmatic.
Her distant objectivism unnerves Adrian. She tries to argue against the point. "But we'd never fight you…"
"Maybe not me, but I've fought plenty of things like me. And off the top of my head, there are at least a dozen bounty hunters who are as mobile as me. Maybe three of them are decent people. More of them hate me on principle." She nods toward Chowa. "Then there are species like Vorminians. It's not as unlikely as you think."
Adrian falls silent, staring hard at the floor.
Samus glances between the rest of the crew, measuring the mood. Arrande's eyes trail away from Adrian. He empathizes, but he knows Samus is right. Chowa side eyes the lieutenant. Are they… judging her? That's unusual for them.
Samus inhales through her nose. "Alright. That's enough for today. Chowa, Arrande, eat and get to your dockets. And Adam," she shoots over her shoulder, "Stop hovering. Give me the bay."
The others vacate, leaving Samus and Adrian alone. Adrian still won't look up. She seems on the verge of crying. Samus watches her, hands on her hips.
"Hey, quit that. I'm only saying you need to be more flexible. Doesn't need that kind of response."
Adrian's head bows deeper, and her skin flushes red.
Well done. That was helpful, Samus thinks. She knows she should be firm. This is not the career for excess sentimentality. But…
Her chest rises and falls as she takes a deep breath. "You did well today. You're learning. It's okay to slip up in a training exercise."
Adrian squares her jaw. "Is it? Feels like a pattern. Every mission so far, I've drawn the fireteam into dangerous situations. I'm always getting bailed out. If this had been real, they'd be dead, and I couldn't even save myself."
Samus' expression hardens, and she crosses her arms. "This is the nature of the job. We go headfirst into danger. We might not come back." When the lieutenant doesn't respond, Samus adjusts her jaw and shakes her head. "You're still a little tense from the exercise. Get something to eat and think about what I've said, really think about it."
Samus turns for the bridge, eager to escape this conversation. This was the right way to respond, wasn't it? She's gotten into the habit of being too soft on Adrian. It's been months. At this point, she needs to be able to handle the role of field command. Samus can't keep ignoring that.
And if she can't, if she's going to respond to every setback like this… maybe she should step down from that role.
000
Adrian's dejected steps reverberate down the narrow stairwell into the lounge. Arrande and Chowa are already there, chatting over breakfast.
Arrande notices her first, and smiles through a mouthful of red navirek sausage. "Hey there. Captain chewed you out that bad for getting us killed, eh?"
She steels her expression, shooting him a dirty look. Stomping over to the fabricator, she picks out her favorite; hash browns, eggs, and toast. The fabricator knows how to produce roche wheat toast, just what she needs right now. "Fuck you, Arrande."
Her uncharacteristically acerbic response doesn't phase him. He feigns shock. "Oh my, the mouth on you! And to speak so ill of the dead!"
Adrian picks out her fresh plate and moves it to the kitchen countertop, keeping her back to him as she shoves a fork full of eggs into her mouth. Just don't give him the satisfaction.
"Lieutenant, forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I have a concern," Chowa says. Their voice tinges with something atypical that Adrian can't discern.
"What is it, Chowa?" she asks between bites.
"Captain Aran's guidance is a necessary factor in our cohesion as a unit. You were resistant to accept her direction today. This is unlike you. And it is unwise."
She puts down her fork, glaring over her shoulder at the alien. "Where was this when Arrande shouted her down the other day?"
Chowa pauses, then meets her gaze. "Captain Aran was behaving erratically. Crewman Arrande's words brought her back into solidarity with the unit. They were harsh, but necessary." Their golden eyes challenge hers with such intensity it makes her falter.
Adrian turns her back on them again and refocuses on her breakfast. "And where is she right now?" A rhetorical question. She already knows.
"Captain Aran has elected to take her breakfast in her quarters."
She scoffs. "Yep. Real display of solidarity there. She's been like this since that distress call." Adrian barely tastes the gentle sweetness of the roche toast as she shoves it into her mouth. She knows she doesn't actually resent the captain for the way she's been, she's just letting off steam.
"Yes… I have noticed," Chowa says. They pick at their breakfast now. Even the lovely roasted vegetables of their home planet seem unappetizing in light of the crew's shaky status.
Arrande's gaze is briefly distant, but he shakes his head loose of the personal hangups he has with their illustrious captain. He glances between them, cocking an eyebrow disbelievingly. "Hey, guys, what the hell is this? It was one failed exercise! Samus is fine, leave it alone! And Adrian, what's with you? You're usually the first one kissing her ass, why are you reacting like this?"
Adrian tosses her unfinished breakfast back into the fabricator and stomps off, her appetite ruined. "Like you'd understand. You're the perfect soldier. I'm just a rent-a-cop, right?" She mutters the next part under her breath, slipping into her buried accent, "'Course you're sensitive about what she's going through, fuckin' hypocrite."
Arrande just watches her leave, mouth agape, hands tossed upward in total confusion. "… what the hell?" He picks his fork back up, shaking his head. "Didn't think she was that kind of woman. Figured she was better than that."
"I would not know," Chowa comments. "Are human women typically averse to being questioned?"
Arrande nods, wide-eyed. "Yeah, that's an understatement."
Chowa nods sagely. "I see. Then perhaps you should not question them."
Arrande cocks his head up and glares at Chowa, his head bouncing on his shoulders as he chews. The audacity of this overgrown salamander!
000
Adrian has a few minutes to get cleaned up. The rumbling drone of the wall-mounted laundry unit, hard at work cleaning her undergarments, gets drowned out by the spray of her showerhead. She sits on the textured tile, losing herself in the near-scalding water, letting it override her other senses. Nearby, her tidy, pressed uniform lays out on her cot, awaiting the rest of the day. She glances at it from between her knees, evaluating the squared shoulders, the shiny lining.
Even after all this time, it doesn't feel comfortable. Maybe it's too tight around the neck, maybe the badge on the breast feels out of place and uneven. Maybe it still doesn't feel like it's hers. She can't understand why. She's taken good care of it. It's still pristine, newer looking than even the captain's uniform.
Adrian's kept those shoulders squared, kept that fabric wrinkle-free. She keeps her gear perfectly maintained, factory-fresh even. And every single responsibility she has on this ship gets handled, day after day after day. Nothing gets left to bleed over into the next day.
So why does she feel more like a glorified middle-manager than a bounty hunter?
Her eyes wander over to the clock at her bedside. She heaves a heavy sigh and stands, shutting off the water and getting dressed.
There's a knock at her door. Probably the doc coming to check on her after eavesdropping on that last conversation. She yanks her shirt over her head, stalking over to the door. "What- Arrande?"
He leans forward on the doorframe, giving her an evaluating look. "Hey. Got a minute?"
She scoffs and turns around to grab her uniform jacket. "I've got equipment upkeep, engine diagnostics, and a dozen other things to deal with today. No, I don't have a minute."
He stops her at the doorway with a held-up datapad. A schedule on its faintly glowing surface underscores the current time with hand-to-hand with rent-a-cop. She glares as she reads his nickname for her.
Adrian forgot she asked him for pointers a few days ago. She huffs. "Later, Arrande. I've got more important stuff right now."
As she passes him and takes the stairs onto the main catwalk, he calls behind her, lazily adjusting his lean against her doorframe. "Alright. If you're okay falling behind everywhere, I won't force you."
She stops cold, squaring her jaw. She knows he's trying to get under her skin… but he has a point.
000
Adrian and Arrande stand on opposite sides of the mat. The synthetic material of her padded gloves squeaks and creaks as she tightens them. She shoots occasional piercing glares at him from under her furrowed brow, her jaw clenched.
As usual, he appears loose and unflappable. He adjusts his padded helmet and shakes out his arms and legs, pretending not to notice her dark looks. "So, what do you want to focus on?"
"What?"
"You asked me to give you pointers. You know, when you scheduled this little meeting? Didn't tell me what for."
"Oh. Uh…" Her mind falls back to the earlier training exercise — her on her back, pinned and helpless. "… how about fighting from a grounded position?"
Arrande flashes a knowing smirk, subtly shaking his head. "Yeah, we can do that. Let's warm up a bit first."
He brings his fists up and motions for her to tap gloves with him. She forces herself to do so and they both back up into opposite corners.
"So, first rule of fighting from a grounded position," he says. "Don't." He tosses a slow hook, letting her intercept it. She's moving sluggishly, like her muscles haven't woken up yet.
"What do you mean, 'don't?'" Her reply is sulky and low-energy. She doesn't want to be here. When she asked for this session, it felt like a good idea to turn to him at the time — the captain is always busy, and at least with Arrande, she feels like she has a chance at holding her own.
"I mean being on your back is the worst position you could be in. You wanna be on your feet, moving, or you're dead. Fistfight, gunfight, either or." He tosses a straight-cross combination, aiming more for her guard than her face.
Adrian scowls and slaps away his second strike, then tries to grab his shoulder. He slips from her grasp and puts distance between them. "Says the sniper."
"Distance shooting isn't a gunfight. That's all about terrain advantage and staying unseen. I don't wanna let my target shoot back. Haven't seen you without that mass-produced toy rifle, you're gonna be mid-to-close range."
Adrian lunges forward, hooking her arms under his legs. She pushes him down into the mat and tries to transition to a mount, but he slips out from under her and rolls their positions, effortlessly rolling onto his feet and standing over her.
She tries to get up, but he puts his foot on her chest, holding her there. He points his finger at her like a gun. "Bang. What do you do?"
She glares up at him, her lips pulling into a tight grimace. "I don't know, that's why I asked for help, asshole!"
Arrande cocks an eyebrow and steps off of her, offering a hand up. She doesn't take it, clamoring back to her feet herself. They stance up again.
The two trade back and forth for a moment. Arrande throws easy strikes, letting her block and counter. Any time Adrian tries to grab him, he flows out of her grasp. Her frustration reflects in every strike she attempts, getting faster and wilder.
"So what is this, you mad at me, or are you swinging at Samus in your head right now?" he comments, ducking a hook that leaves her open. He gives her a gentle tap on the ribs to underscore her weak defense.
That only gets her madder. "Pretty sure I'm swinging at you, dickhead!" She throws a wild haymaker that connects with his helmet. She feels bone and flesh sting from the force of the impact. He drops to the mat.
Adrian gasps and freezes up. She didn't mean to hit him that hard.
But Arrande is fine; the helmet took the brunt of the strike. He takes advantage of her hesitance and wide stance, hooking his foot around her ankle and pulling her leg out from under her. She topples to the ground, head striking the soft mat, making her vision jitter.
She's halfway off the mat when Arrande thrusts his pointed finger back in her face from his grounded position. She stiffens up.
"Bang," he says with a smirk.
Adrian snarls and slaps his finger away, rolling back to her feet and tearing her protective gear off. "You're just being a prick! I have better things to do." She throws the gear to the mat in disgust. "I only stopped because I thought I hurt you. My mistake. Would have had you if-"
"If you didn't hesitate? Yeah, probably." Arrande pushes himself to his feet and calmly starts removing his gear. "But you did. You did it out of concern, but if someone gets the better of you in a fight and they don't just kill you? You look for an opening. Any opening. An enemy that thinks you're already beaten when you're still breathing is an enemy with a blind spot. So fight like hell to stay alive. Don't give up just because it looks hopeless."
She whirls around and stomps up to him. "That wasn't the problem today! I didn't give up, I just…"
Arrande's eyebrows shoot up as he gives her the space to finish. She doesn't, averting her eyes to the mat. "… look, I'm not doing this to drag you down. Like it or not, I have to rely on you out there. You can't be the kind of person who stops fighting when things look grim."
Adrian doesn't respond. Her nails dig into her palms and she bites down on her lower lip. As much of a jerk as he's being, she can see his point.
"Hey." He calls out to her, pulling her from her distant look back into the moment. They lock eyes. He's never looked at her like that before… so serious. "You and me, we're brother and sister now. I've got to be there to pull your head out of your ass from now on. That's how it works when you serve together."
She looks at him in utter shock. Serve together? That's… that's what this is? Her heart swells with a sense of pride that feels unearned.
The sound of a chime from Arrande's jacket, folded up on the armory benches, interrupts the moment. He trots over and picks it out, flipping through a notification. Adrian sees his body tense up. "… what's going on?"
He grabs his jacket and rushes for the crew deck. "I have to go."
She catches his expression as he passes her; hard-browed, panicked focus. "Arrande?"
Adrian goes to grab her clothes, then runs for the crew deck. She sees Arrande speaking to Samus at her door. Odd… she looks… concerned? They converse in hushed whispers, but Adrian can plainly make out Arrande's agitation.
Samus nods to him, and he actually jumps to the port side catwalk. He only glances at Adrian for an instant as he rushes into the room neighboring hers.
Adrian catches Samus before she can get to the bridge. "Captain, what was that about?"
Before she can answer, Arrande bolts back out of his room and up the stairs to Kaia's, taking them two at a time. His rucksack is slung over his shoulder, a sleeve hanging out of a partially closed pocket.
Did he have that ready to go? And he's still wearing his workout clothes…
He passes the doctor's door and mounts the ladder for the gunship hatch without so much as a look back.
Adrian whirls back to Samus, wide-eyed and searching. The captain evades the question in her eyes. "Clean up the cargo bay and get to your schedule, Adrian." And with that, she turns her back on the lieutenant and enters the bridge.
Adrian is left abandoned on the catwalk, open-mouthed and dispirited.
Do they even trust her?
000
Adrian stares through the blaster parts arrayed on the workbench, going through the motions of cleaning and oiling them. This, this is her happy place. Or at least it should be.
This pistol, her SW75 Aegis, was a gift from her father the day she left the farm. It's not a rare model. In fact, it's an extremely popular choice for self-defense. But it's a solid design, and more importantly, it's hers. So there isn't another one out there like it. This pistol is her baby, her old reliable. Not a day goes by that she doesn't at least lay a hand on it.
Her primary, an AX47 energy rifle, she views much the same. It's not the first one she's bought, but she liked the first so much she hasn't moved on since. It's efficient and easy to repair and maintain. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Arrande's teased her more than once for her choice; let him keep his fancy tactical rifles with expensive ammunition. She'd rather master something simple than struggle with something overly complex.
Some sound carries up from the kitchen. She can hear Samus and Adam… arguing?
"I don't recall giving you permission to make these changes." She sounds annoyed.
"You have plenty on your plate, Samus. I'm doing my part to lighten your load. Are you telling me you don't think the new crew schedule is more efficient?" Adrian really doesn't like hearing Adam's voice. He speaks with a certainty and confidence of a man who has made hard choices. Machines should deliver cold, hard facts, not stalwart rhetoric. His opinions shouldn't matter; he shouldn't have any to begin with.
"No, I do," Samus answers. "That's not the issue. Adam, I know you want to help, but just because you're walking around now doesn't mean you get to go over my head. You are not in command here. I am. You're to consult me before you make changes like this in the future, understood?"
"… understood, Samus."
There's a pause, followed by hushed tones Adrian can't make out. The next clear sentence she hears comes from Adam.
"You're right, they are your crew. I'm sorry. I'll let you handle things like that in the future."
Adrian liked him better when he was stuck in that head.
000
Throughout the day, Adrian deals with more of her daily tasks. She double checks the medical stock, tops off the fabricator's protein stores, does some routine maintenance on the engines, and verifies their course for outpost twenty-four.
By evening, she settles into her shift for bridge duty, ready to put this day behind her as the rest of the crew sleeps. Going through the motions of her routine has helped calm her down. She knows Samus is just trying to help. But that doesn't ease the pressure Adrian feels.
Stay flexible. Can she even do that? Even the suggestion sounds alien.
She's startled from her ennui by Adam. "Lieutenant. Anything to report?"
Adrian jolts up from her seat. "Fuck! Don't do that!"
His eyes narrow. "I may not hold rank on this ship, but I would still advise you to conduct yourself with more decorum."
She resents the idea of having to ask forgiveness from this… robot. So she won't. "Everything is fine, Adam! You don't need to check on me."
He doesn't leave. "… I led a unit myself, once upon a time."
Adrian stares back, dumbfounded. What the hell is he talking about?
Adam folds his hands behind his back, recounting the story of a ghost. "I was fairly young when I received command of a unit for the first time. Back then, the GFA was quick to promote promising talent; they were concerned the War of Tides would reignite, and wanted their best to be ready to jump into action."
She can't make herself look away. His cybernetic eyes bore straight through her, locking her in place. The simulacrum has a force of presence, an intensity that's impossible to deny.
"I was not confident in myself. In our first mission, three of my unit of twelve were killed in a simple skirmish. Command decided it wasn't my fault; we had limited information about the enemy's movements, and they simply caught us by surprise. But I carried the loss of those men and that woman for the rest of my career. Every encounter after that, I understood, keenly, that you can do everything right and still fail."
He leaves a pause, letting Adrian contemplate his lecture. She holds her stare on him, uncertain of where to even begin. "… what are you saying? Aren't you an AI? Are you lying to me to make me feel better?"
Adam shakes his head. "No. I'm not. This is just one simple truth I've learned. Another one I've learned? Samus has good judgment. She makes mistakes from time to time… but I don't believe you're one of them."
He holds her in that locked stare for a few more fraught seconds, then turns and leaves the bridge. Adrian watches him, caught somewhere between contemplative and unnerved by his unbidden moral.
A blinking light at her station pulls Adrian from her self-reflection. Shoot, how long has that been going for? Damn it Adam…
She flips a few switches and checks the incoming transmissions… that's the gunship's code. Is Arrande already back?
Adrian twists a few knobs and presses down on a button. "Hey Arrande, back already?"
She feels the ship shake as the gunship docks with the Crosshair.
She presses down on the button again. "Arrande? You there?"
Adrian waits in silence for a reply… but she receives nothing back. Her throat tightens, and she becomes keenly aware of her own breathing. It could just be he's already walked away from the controls… but that sounds wrong, for some inexplicable reason.
She gets up from her seat and climbs up the ramp to the bulkhead door… then stops. What's that sound? Footsteps… multiple footsteps.
A pulse of adrenaline hastens her movement. She pulls her pistol from her holster and opens the bridge door.
Three people in fitted black spacewalk suits stand on the catwalk next to the docking ladder. Adam lies unmoving on the main catwalk.
One intruder immediately points a rifle at her. She ducks behind the bulkhead just as he opens fire. The shots sail through the air, energy bolts silently striking the floor of the bridge.
Shit. Shit! She let intruders onto the ship! Oh, Arrande is gonna love this.
Adrian spares a peek around the corner, trying to establish what they're doing. One of them is already on their way over to her and ducks down just as they see her. A second one is… breaching the lock on Dr. Jha's door!
The one on the catwalk takes another shot at her.
Adrian ducks back and fires a blind shot toward the one trying to reach her, then pounds on the door control, sealing it behind her. She dashes up to the captain's chair and opens the intercom.
"Intruders on the Crosshair, I repeat, intruders on the ship! Wake up!"
She hears one of them at the bridge door. A metallic hissing starts up, but suddenly cuts under a mix of grunts and weapon blasts.
Ooh, now they're screwed. The Captain is unhappy. Adrian smirks to herself, so relieved that it's ending she's unconcerned with the fallout.
But just as quickly as they began, the sounds of combat cease, ended by a single unintelligible shout. Adrian's smile slowly fades, replaced by worry.
Adrian doesn't move. If Samus is alive, she'll open that door herself. If she isn't… what can she do? If they could kill Samus… what hope does she have?
Samus' voice comes over the intercom. "Adrian… come out." A rushing breath leaves her chest. She trots down to the bridge door, smiling as she opens it.
And all at once, her relief shatters.
One intruder kneels on the main catwalk, holding another one apparently injured by Samus. Chowa crouches at the foot of the rear stairs, pupils narrowed to slits as they stare down another one of them, who holds Kaia in front of him as a living shield.
Samus stands fully armored, holding her aim at the man atop the high ground. He holds up a small, handle-shaped device with a single red button on top, which he depresses with his thumb. Adrian instantly understands the implied threat.
He speaks with the self-assured confidence that he's already won. "Is this all of them?"
Samus' voice grinds out as teeth-grit fury, held in check only by her better sense. "… yes."
One man on the main catwalk speaks up. "Captain, that's-"
"I know who it is, moron. Shut up and let the smart people talk." The "captain" turns his address on the crew of the Crosshair, his tone of smug superiority never leaving his voice. "This," he says, shaking the device in the air, "Is a detonator set to destroy the anchor between our ships at this very moment. As you can plainly see, we have spacewalk gear. You do not. I assume I don't have to tell you what that means."
Samus cuts to the point. "What do you want?"
"Excellent question! Simple answer. We want everything."
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Questions:
1. Does this chapter expand on Adrian effectively, or does it tread too much of the same ground as Mission Failed?
2. Does Adrian's stance on what she finds familiar and reliable come across clearly in this chapter?