Loyalties

Despite having been with the crew for several weeks now, Chowa is dismayed to find they still experience much of the same solitude they did prior to joining.

Crewman Arrande and the Lieutenant have both formed something of a bond by now, if maladaptive, but their interactions with Chowa are always short and professional. Dr. Jha is always willing to make time for Chowa, but they find conversations with her… taxing and confusing. And Captain Aran is always so busy. That's reasonable; she's the Captain. She has many responsibilities. Responsibilities that require her to be alone for enormous lengths of time.

But there has been one bright spot, their newest member. Or the oldest, depending on how Chowa looked at it. Crewman Adam.

"How are you handling the flight control changes, Chowa?"

Chowa finds something comforting about Adam's newfound voice. There is a time-tested confidence and certainty that wasn't present in the soulless tones the AI used before. He sounds like an experienced commander, the kind one would be proud to follow. "Excellent, Crewman Adam. I appreciate your modifications to my station. It feels much more natural now."

They steer the ship carefully through a simulated obstacle course of holographic astral bodies. Adam's guidance is direct and helpful. Still, Chowa never was much of a pilot, even when operating alone. They're far more comfortable on the ground. As if to punctuate that thought, they brush a holographic asteroid.

Adam's approach to teaching does not falter. "You're doing fine. Minor collisions happen. Stay calm and focused."

The one thing Chowa finds disquieting about Adam is his smell. All artificial elements and flowing unguents. He's so much like the ship, Chowa can only distinguish him by sight and sound. There are small noises his body makes that differentiate him from the rest of the crew, though the others can't seem to hear them. To Chowa it's as if a small city exists inside Adam, active and bustling. Digital chimes and chords make a gentle symphony of order that moves the lifelike android.

Suddenly, that symphony grows distant very quickly. "Crewman Adam?" Chowa looks over their shoulder just long enough to crash headlong into a virtual obstacle, ending the simulation. Adam has vacated the bridge.

The communications system lights up, paired with a holographic notice of a high-priority tightbeam; the signature is Federation Army. Chowa quickly answers it, as is protocol.

The holo-screen shows the stern face of a GFA officer. Chowa takes in his details; late thirties, salt-and-pepper hair, neatly cut to a regulation standard, a stone-faced expression, and… noticeable disdain for the individual on the other side. "Who are you?" he demands. "Isn't this the tightbeam for Samus Aran's ship?"

"This is crewman Chowa, serving under Captain Aran. Shall I summon her?"

"No need, Chowa," Samus' voice answers as she enters the bridge in a sweeping lock step. "Adam already told me."

Ah. He is quite proactive, Chowa thinks. Now that the captain is here, there is no need to speak further.

The officer glances once more at Chowa, then addresses Samus with a polite nod. "Miss Aran. I am Commander Cress of the Federation Army. I'm contacting you directly because of the pressing nature of a bounty I feel you're needed for."

She takes a seat in her chair. "Unfortunately, Commander, I can't help you. I'm in the middle of another contract." Aside from recent events, Captain Aran is even-tempered, rarely expressing strong emotions and maintaining a steely expression and a calm, serious tone. The rest of the crew may only interpret that surface level stillness from her. But Chowa's sensitive ears pick up the slight differences. Right now, for instance, the way she cuts each word brief reveals tension. She doesn't like this Commander Cress, and wants to end the conversation as soon as she can.

"I'm aware of your mission, Samus. I've arranged to act as a layman for your delivery. My ship is in the Garuda Verge, closer to you than outpost twenty-four. You'll still be paid what was agreed. Certainly more convenient for you. In return, I have an issue that could use your attention." Without giving her a chance to respond, he immediately launches into the mission description. "A faction of Egenoid terrorists claiming to be independent agents is openly making threats. We suspect they plan to target a Federation communication satellite here in the verge. Since it lies within border space, it's no stranger to these sorts of incursions from foreign agents, but we're taking this seriously. We need you to-"

"Hold on Commander." Samus' voice cuts through his barreling sermon, wielding her presence to force his monologue into a dialogue. "While I appreciate the offer, I'm sure there are plenty of other resources along border space you could call on before me. I prefer to finish one mission before taking another."

The way he squares his jaw tells her she just got under his skin. Strictly speaking, no officer of the GFA, regardless of rank, has the authority to force her into a mission. Samus doesn't like the mission the Federation already has her doing; she hardly wants to take another.

"Miss Aran, this is a matter of state security-"

"Which I'm sure you can handle. The Garuda Verge is commonly patrolled space, Commander. I don't think you need a scalpel when you have plenty of hammers lying around."

However, Chowa atypically speaks out of turn. "Captain Aran… I would like to hear more about this mission."

The unusual cut in from them gives her pause. It's not like Chowa to interrupt a conversation between her and a potential client. "… go on, Commander."

He slips back into it with ease, masking his offense at her interruption with the patience expected of a disciplined officer. "We need you to take a team into the jungles of planet Wulgoon. It previously acted as a staging ground for Egenoid troops. It's also a short hop from the communication satellite I mentioned. We intercepted some encrypted transmissions to the surface, but we can't decrypt them from our end. We have to acknowledge the possibility they intend to stage their assault soon. We don't know if it's to destroy or take over the satellite. Find the receiver, decrypt those messages, and determine if this is a rogue cell or an organized incursion."

Samus isn't stupid. She can read between the lines. If this is a sanctioned trespass, it'll get interpreted as an act of war by the Federation. "And if we encounter this supposed terrorist cell?"

"Deal with them as you please. And Samus," he finishes, glancing down at Chowa, "Consider your team for this op carefully." Samus doesn't have to read into his comment. He makes his distaste for Chowa plain.

The transmission cuts out. Chowa looks to their captain for further instruction. This mission is important. They want to be a part of it.

But she gives them no sign of her intent. "Chowa, you're relieved from the bridge until I call the crew for a briefing."

That was not the expected response. Chowa feels a pang of sorrow at that. "… as you say, Captain Aran."

000

The Kull does not yet trust me, Chowa thinks to themself as they sit in the darkness of their assigned quarters, working diligently at a desk that folds out from the wall. Their tetradactyl hands move with a measured and experienced certainty as they deftly navigate the delicate innards of their newest acquisition; the Korizeen magnum. It's not quite ready for use, not until they've checked over its inner workings. A warrior must understand every aspect of their weapons before using them, and the weapons of the allied races are… brilliant, but unusual.

They miss their old wrist-mounted galvanic cannon. It's not that they don't appreciate Federation-designed sidearms, but that would be so much more... familiar. A directed shard of shaved metal cased in super-heated plasma seems so much more efficient than an explosion-accelerated metal slug or pure energy projectile. Federation weapons often seem archaic and redundant.

Though this one is quite impressive. The heavy pistol uses electromagnets to propel a thick, tungsten-tipped needle with magnificent penetrative potential. The backlash of the weapon can be too much for smaller species. In Chowa's case, it fits nicely in their hand.

Chowa reflects on their earlier thought. This Kull does not yet trust them. Or rather, the word they use, crew. Though it doesn't translate quite the same, if their time aboard the Crosshair is any indication. Outside of post-mission celebrations, the crew rarely spend time with each other. When they take shore leave, they all go separate ways. Not like a proper Kull at all. Chowa puts down their weapon and sighs. Fond memories of their old Kull fill their thoughts. It was so much more… unified.

They've tried. By Salvurall's scaled eye, they've tried. Lieutenant Vespen barely speaks to them outside of missions. Worse, she appears the most distrustful. Crewman Santino is much more receptive to their attempts at conversing, but always makes comments about things Chowa gets wrong or misunderstands. While appreciated, it's hard not to feel belittled or patronized by him. And Captain Aran… she doesn't seem to care much about spending time around anyone. There is a marked straightforwardness and sincerity to her words when she speaks to Chowa, but that is merely a necessary quality for any leader.

As of late, she has been exceptionally sharp-edged and distant. There was a brief window of brightness from her when they visited the Virginia Foundation, but the moment they left, her normal state swallowed it back up in a nebulous chill. Something about their most recent mission has made her more taciturn than before. She recedes into seclusion more often, and takes her meals alone.

How can a Kull function if their minds do not align toward the same goals, the same values? Humans seem so bull-headedly independent. It's hard to see how they formed the bulk of resistance during the War of Tides.

The partnership has been fruitful, of that there is no doubt. Chowa is thankful for the opportunity. But… they didn't expect being part of a team again to be so… lonely.

Chowa scratches at their chest over their shirt, an old wound calling attention to itself. There is no going back home. But it's easy to fantasize about.

000

Shortly afterward, the crew gathers on the bridge for their briefing.

Samus finishes the base details and moves straight into team composition. "We don't know what their numbers will look like. It could be a handful of people or a full platoon. Because of this, every member of the fireteam is on deck for this mission. Adam, you'll remain at the ship in case of evac."

There's a noticeable hesitation from everyone on the bridge. Samus picks up on it and addresses it directly. "Is there a problem?"

"No, Captain. It sounds straightforward," Adrian says. "Arrande, help me prep equipment."

"Right." The two leave without further comment.

They're both terrible at hiding their misgivings. While Chowa isn't used to picking up on all the subtleties of the spectrum of human emotion, they're experienced at recognizing the flags of reluctance and mistrust. They understand the rest of the crew's unease… but Chowa can't stand the idea of their captain being the same way.

Chowa stops Samus as she moves back to her chair. "Captain Aran, I am committed to this mission. I want to make that clear."

She looks back at them, her expression impenetrable, her cadence inscrutable. "Of course, Chowa. I know that." Like earlier, Chowa expected the small variances in her speaking tone would betray some hidden emotion. But they can detect nothing now. Is she so guarded that she's concealing her intensions from them?

It would seem there is still much they have to prove.

000

"There's… there's no way Chowa planned this mission, right?" Adrian asks.

"What?"

Adrian and Arrande pull on segments of their armor in the corner of the cargo bay. Two short benches sit before racks of equipment, including nooks and lockers for each member's armor, tools, and weapons. The smell of oil and the ionization of energy cells is heavier in the makeshift armory. Arrande picks his favored rifle out from the multiple options he has. His guns take up the lion's share of the space on the weapons rack. Adrian is fine with this; she only has the one rifle and sidearm.

She continues her thought, securing her gauntlets. "I mean… they didn't want us to be here right at this moment. Right?"

Arrande shakes his head, his expression distant. "Commander Cress reached out to Samus. Chowa had nothing to do with it."

"But Chowa asked Samus not to turn down the mission."

Arrande tightens his boot with a firm tug and cocks an eyebrow at her. "How do you know that?"

"I was listening. I saw Samus rush off to the bridge and I just… stopped at the door."

He glances back at her, incredulous. "You spied on the mission request? Why?"

"I don't know. Something felt off about it. But the captain was going to turn Cress down, then Chowa said they wanted to hear more." She inspects her helmet, staring at her reflection in the visor.

The War of Tides never reached Adrian's family on the other side of Federation space. It was nearing its end when her parents were her age. The concept of a hostile alien empire was easy for her parents to deny, given they never saw one. Chowa is actually the first Egenoid she's ever met, and just seeing them terrified her at first. She had no idea Vorminians were so massive and strong.

Her parents saw the war as a giant lie the Federation was using to hike up taxes and crack down on individual rights. Adrian and her younger brother grew up outside the war; they knew better. If it was a conspiracy, it was too big to manage. Chowa confirmed what she always suspected, that her history lessons were true.

But that confirmation only increased her suspicion of them. She's glad their missions up till now have mostly paired her up alongside Arrande. He's prideful, but it's easy to understand prideful men, and he's acted in her defense more than once. And Chowa could never stage an "accident" even when working directly alongside Samus. She'd be too much for them to handle. But an ambush?

Arrande slips his chest plate on, fastening it. "Alright… so what? What's the master plan here, Lieutenant?"

"Look, all I'm saying is there's a lot we don't know about them. What if there's something going on here? Something we're not seeing?"

"There's a lot I didn't know about you either," he grumbles, still sore over her lack of formal experience. "I'm still following you, aren't I?"

"That's different! I didn't work for an enemy state!"

Arrande knows well the nature of the Egenoid Stratocracy. There isn't a single Federation soldier that's served in the past near-century who isn't. The one thing the Federation military drills into every recruit's head is this; the Stratocracy is not their friend, despite any claims to the contrary. They're constantly waging an unseen battle to undermine the Federation in any way they can. Employing a sleeper agent isn't out of the question.

He hasn't had a reason to suspect Chowa of wrongdoing. They're offbeat, sure, even a little creepy sometimes. But they've never implied that they want to return home, or that they even maintain connections to the Stratocracy.

But they've also openly admitted to their participation in the War of Tides, and their combat proficiency is… well, scary. He's not sure Samus could handle them if they pulled something, especially if the team is about to walk headfirst into a trap.

Arrande tugs his helmet on, pulling down the visor. "Samus trusts them. So I trust them." Yet even as he says that, his eyes are vacant, sifting through his own thoughts. He wants to trust Samus... but recently his ironclad image of her has been shaken. He's tried to brush aside their kiss, but it still burns in his memory. Everything that followed humanized her in his eyes... both in a good and bad way. A field leader doesn't have the luxury of showing vulnerability.

Adrian doesn't appear convinced. "Yeah… about that… I thought we could trust Samus' judgment… but what about last week?"

Arrande tightens a belt on his gauntlet with a harsh tug. "Let it go, Adrian."

"Should we though? I didn't want to say anything and I don't want to sound like I don't still respect her, but… you were right. She put her wants ahead of the crew's needs, and we still don't know why."

Arrande knows why. And despite how frustrating the truth may be, he won't blab about Samus' scars. He turns and locks eyes with Adrian, his gaze uncompromising and steely. "No one is infallible. We all make mistakes. Let it. Go."

000

Samus sits at her station, researching their destination, Wulgoon. Adam stands next to her, wirelessly interfacing with the ship's systems to pull up information about the planet from the extranet. This lets her sit comfortably to read, arms on their rests and legs crossed. His enhanced functions have improved the busywork of her job.

As the commander stated, Wulgoon was an early staging ground for the first waves of Egenoid troops to invade Federation space. The thick jungles in the most inhabitable regions of the planet were so wild and the local fauna so dangerous that the Federation never prioritized trying to colonize the world. It's a blessing that there are so many safe, habitable worlds in Federation space.

Wulgoon now exists on the Federation side of the border, reclaimed after the war, but it's still monitored by regular patrols. Some Egenoid barracks lie dormant and abandoned on its surface. Samus downloads a map of known facilities in the region they'll be inspecting.

Adam stops scrolling through the page, turning to address another presence on the bridge. "Is there something you need, Doctor?"

Samus sees him move and glances over her shoulder. Kaia stands patiently at the foot of the ramp, notably more anxious-looking than usual. Samus didn't even notice her entrance. "Do you have a moment, Samus?"

The hunter spins her seat around. "If it's about today's mission." Her gaze is harsh and suspicious. She's expected an interrogation from the good doctor since her outburst last week and the invasive trip to Khovenia, both events underscoring aspects of her life she isn't ready to share. If anything, focusing on work helps her bury her constant worries over Cernan's whereabouts. Voicing them won't help.

The doctor picks up Samus' attitude. "You don't need to look at me like that. I'm not here to ambush you. I received today's mission assessment and I have concerns."

"Speak plainly, Doctor."

She hesitates, considering her next words with care. "You are potentially heading into an Egenoid military operation. I would simply advise extra caution in this case."

"I'm cautious about every mission," Samus states outright.

"That's not what I mean. Chowa has not been forthcoming in our sessions-"

"You're not supposed to tell me anything about those. Not unless a crewmate is a danger to themselves or others."

"That is what I am trying to say. You were not alive then, but I remember the War of Tides. I served during it. The Stratocracy liked Vorminians for infiltration missions because of their strength and mobility, but also their affability. I've seen many officers meet their end because they were too trusting of the polite, well-meaning giants in their midst. The fact that my sessions with them are difficult may be a ruse for a well-conceived cover. It could be an attempt to evade detection."

Samus challenges Kaia's implication. "Are you suggesting Chowa is some sort of deep-cover agent? Why would they wait to strike until now?"

"You are not incapable or careless. You lock your room at all times and the ship cannot even lift off without your say so. Even if they could somehow strike you down, the rest of the crew could retaliate for such treachery. But down there, all you know is a batch of hostile Egenoid fighters is lying in wait. If Chowa has any desire to turn traitor, that would be the place to do it." Her expression becomes grave. "A Vorminian is a deadly foe to face in combat. Possibly second only to a native Odaviiran."

Samus' gaze is steady and firm. "… I acknowledge your concerns, Doctor." She gives no further justifications or rebuttals. Samus turns in her chair and refocuses on her research. Dr. Jha scrutinizes her response, then nods to herself, gathers the drapery of her dress, and leaves the bridge.

Adam waits for her to leave before addressing Samus. "I don't think she's the only member of the crew worried about Chowa."

"I know. The others weren't exactly subtle." She pauses and looks up at him. "Adam, you… you started your career around the end of the War of Tides. Do you remember meeting any Vorminians?"

The AI didn't even exist during the war. He knows her question is more layered than she lets on. His answer is appropriately diplomatic. "I remember him encountering many Egenoids in his early years with the GFA. He never fought a Vorminian without the backup of his unit. It would have been suicidal. After the war, all he knew were the stories he'd heard."

Her cool gaze holds on him, soaking in the details of Adam's response. He talks about his namesake like a separate entity. She can't tell if he recognizes the difference between the man and the machine. But he's served at her side for years now. It feels odd to question him just because he's taken a new shape.

She refocuses back on the screens arrayed before her.

000

The Crosshair lands in a clearing on Wulgoon's surface, sending waves of wind cascading over iridescent wild grass. A few dozen feet away, a series of short cliffs form a stair-stepped collection of shallow pools fed by a narrow brook that cuts through the clearing.

The fireteam steps out, immediately hit in the face with a blast of humid air as the temperate climate swallows them in its density. Their boots sink slightly into the soft, moss-covered ground, and the rich scent of earth and vegetation envelops them.

"It's gorgeous," Adrian comments, taking in the vibrant ecosystem surrounding them. Hearing that pulls Samus out of her mission-minded focus to actually absorb the environment. Yes… it is exquisite. One of the more beautiful planets she's set foot on. A small kindle of curiosity flickers in her, something she hasn't felt for some time, something she thought smothered by years of cynicism. Perhaps she could take some time… no. The mission comes first.

"It reminds me much of Vormini," Chowa states, removing their helmet to soak in the atmosphere. They breathe deep, the condensation settling like a soothing blanket on their starved skin. Space travel is always a dry prospect, especially on a human vessel. It's refreshing to not have to manage their skin moisture.

The distant rumble of a waterfall draws the crew's attention, and Samus gestures for them to follow her towards the source of the sound. As they walk, the undergrowth becomes denser, with lush ferns and vibrant flowers lining their path. The air is alive with the hum of insects and the occasional trill of unseen creatures.

The crew moves cautiously through the jungle, the lush vegetation around them teeming with life. The exotic flowers release intoxicating fragrances that swirl around them. Samus' suit filters out all of it, keeping her senses on high alert, every step calculated.

Chowa moves with a grace that belies their size, easily navigating through the dense foliage while barely disturbing a single leaf. It's as if they were born to move through this untamed wilderness.

The sound of one of them tumbling to the ground halts the group. Samus looks back at Arrande, muttering curses to himself in Spanish and picking himself back up. "Sorry. The undergrowth is really thick here." Not all of them are used to this kind of terrain.

"We're close to the waterfall," Samus calls out. "From there, we can confirm our position."

Bird-like creatures suddenly cut through the canopy overhead, their colorful feathers catching the sunlight as they call out in warning chirps. Samus and Chowa both look in the opposite direction of their flight, listening attentively.

They don't need to hear what's approaching; they can feel it.

"Everyone find something to hide behind, now," Samus orders.

The crew quickly disperses, seeking cover among the dense foliage as low, rumbling footsteps approach. Samus readies her arm cannon, the familiar weight reassuring in her grip.

Through the thick undergrowth, a massive shadow looms, its heavy footfalls shaking the ground beneath them. A beast plods into the clearing, its scales shimmering in the dappled sunlight. It towers nearly twenty feet off the ground, with long, muscled limbs. The creature resembles a cross between an enormous sloth and an ape, its lumbering movements displaying the power in its body.

Samus narrows her eyes, analyzing the creature's behavior. It's majestic, a testament to Wulgoon's diverse and dangerous wildlife. As the beast draws closer to their hiding spots, tension hangs heavy in the air. It scans about its surroundings, gaze held high, literally overlooking the small creatures hiding in its shadow.

It takes interest in a tree about as thick around as Samus' waist, and with one huge, curved claw, it applies its weight, bending the massive trunk. A rapid sequence of cracks echoes through the jungle as its fibers snap under only one of the beast's arms, and with a great, final thud, the tree falls. The creature's heavy footfalls make the ground beneath the crew's feet shake as it moves to the head of the tree and grabs its fronded top, snapping it with careful application of its weight.

Samus finally understands its prize; enormous, head-sized fruit resting at the top of the tree. The beast takes hold of the entire head of the tree and shoves it into its mouth. She can hear it crunching through fiber and bark. It trudges on from their position.

One by one, the crew steps out from their hiding spots. Samus and Chowa gaze in awe at the massive creature. Neither has to speak to understand their feelings. That… that was a precious experience.

How long has it been since she heard the beckoning call of untouched wilderness, yearned to know every plant and animal a planet offered her?

Arrande is the first to break the silence. "Glad it didn't see us. Don't think we could fit that trophy on the ship." He shoulders his rifle with a flippant smirk.

Samus glares at him. "New rule. If it's not trying to hurt you and it's not in your way, leave it alone."

He picks up on her icy tone, discarding his casual demeanor. "Oh. Yes, Ma'am."

"Let's move. The sooner we confirm our heading, the less chance we have of running into something unfriendly."

They continue toward the sound of rushing water until it's a deafening roar. A break in the trees opens ahead, and they come to a sheer thousand-foot high bluff overlooking a massive, cliff-spanning waterfall. Wild birds soar over the open, misty expanse, and prismatic rays hang in the blue sky above the roaring rapids.

"Dios mio…" Arrande mumbles low, taking in the marvel before them.

The sight makes Samus' heart soar. It reassures her she hasn't lost herself yet. For all her disillusionment, there's still a spark of wonder inside of her that alights when she experiences something like this. The feeling pairs with a new bittersweetness. She glances at her crew, all enraptured, and feels a profound contentment within.

There is the mission, but… she lets them enjoy the moment. She'd almost forgotten.

This is one of the best parts of the job.

000

The waterfall helped Samus confirm their position on the ground. She's able to guide the crew deep into the jungle, toward the bunker most likely to be their target. Chowa walks alongside her the entire time. Their confident movements are undercut by an eagerness that feels out of place for them. It's the kind of jitter Samus recognizes in rookie soldiers, champing at the bit to prove something.

Adrian and Arrande drag behind. Neither are used to wild planets like this; Adrian has worked in colonies her whole life, and the Army defends local space rather than delving untamed frontiers. Arrande's more at home on a ship. Both struggle to keep pace, unaware that the two leading them are deliberately taking their time for their sakes.

The dense foliage gradually gives way to a clearing. At its center stands a structure that seems out of place amidst the natural surroundings. The ancient makeshift bunker exudes an eerie aura, its architecture a stark contrast to the lush greenery surrounding it.

Its shape is a pyramid-like trapezoid, edges worn smooth by the rough weather. It looks large enough to house several platoons. The bunker walls use a material that resembles hardened resin, blending its dull hues into the lush jungle under the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The walls display the Stratocracy's rigid language in specific places, denoting the functions of each area. Its entrance is a gaping maw; dark, imposing, and overgrown with vines, the locks on the doors having failed long ago.

Samus kneels down and examines the ground outside the entry. There are tracks here of multiple sizes, but the mud and damp weather have rendered their shapes inscrutable. All she can tell for certain is whatever left them is bipedal.

"Something is here. Could be our targets, could be animals taking shelter." She glances up at a wide, rusted-out vent positioned above the front door, then stands and turns to the crew. "The bunker is a lot of area to cover. We'll split into two groups. Stay quiet, essential communications only. If you find the enemy, avoid engagement and call for a regroup. Chowa, you're with me."

"Isn't that the way we split the teams back on Pyralis? Why don't we switch things up?" Arrande offers. He poses the suggestion subtly enough, but Samus knows why he made it.

"You can't go where we can. Stay together, clear each room. Be thorough." She turns toward Chowa and points at the vent. Without a word, they climb up the wall and pull the rusty vent cover off. Samus leaps up and grabs the edge, pulling into it and transferring into Morph Ball state in one smooth motion. Like a living flow of ink, Chowa slides in behind her.

Left alone, Adrian tries to reassure Arrande. "She'll be fine. It's her." She clicks on her rifle light and descends into the murky void of the bunker. That doesn't convince him, but has no other choice but to trust Samus to handle herself. Hesitating, he follows Adrian inside.

000

Chowa's movements through the narrow vent are as fluid as water, their massive frame squishing and filling the cramped space but never losing its momentum. Samus rolls ahead of them, her round form easily navigating the confined environment. The darkness within the vent envelops them, occasional breaks of dim light filtering through its rusted metal grates. She stops to investigate each one, moving on when she sees nothing. Their progress is almost soundless, the only noises being the faint grind of metal and skin against time-worn steelwork.

As they navigate through the winding maze of ventilation shafts, Chowa's golden eyes catch a glint of light up ahead. Chowa interrupts Samus' movement, grabbing her spherical body with a single hand, sticky digits holding her firm. Pulling a knife tightly clenched between their vest and the vent, they tap a small, shiny bolthead just ahead of her. A previously hidden emitter reveals itself and sparks with red energy, but sputters into silence.

Samus was inches away from triggering it. She's lucky the bunker doesn't have power. She rolls back, letting Chowa lead their way.

They skim through the vents quickly and efficiently. Samus starts to suspect their targets are elsewhere, but then Chowa doubles back to one of the lit grates. With a subtle hand signal to Samus, she rolls into position alongside them as they push the grate out, their fingers sticking to it, and pull back it inside.

The vent opens into a small chamber, dimly lit by light filtering through a large crack in the wall. Vegetation chokes the breach, spilling in to reclaim the cool, dry space. At the far end of the room, a lone terminal, far newer than its surroundings, hums softly, casting an eerie green glow over the walls.

Chowa cranes their long neck into the room, seeing no sign of its owner. They drop partway into the room, hanging from the edge of the vent and holding out their other hand palm up. Samus accepts the polite gesture and falls into their grasp, and the two descend into the room. She unfurls as she touches down.

Samus immediately tries to scan the terminal, but encryption locks her out. She shakes her head at Chowa, then nods toward the station. They move to it, wary of traps.

If the team consisted only of Chowa and herself, Samus thinks she would be comfortable. No unnecessary words shared. No lack of confidence or experience between them. But she didn't form the team so she could remain comfortable. It was supposed to be a challenge. Yet Arrande inadvertently pointed out something — every time the team splits, she pairs up with Chowa. For this mission it makes perfect sense, but perhaps in the future she should change things up. It may even help the team's apparent trust issues with their lone alien crewman.

Food for thought.

Chowa accesses the terminal, laden with alien symbols and interfaces Samus only partly understands. She recognizes the context of a password prompt on its screen. Chowa presses and holds a specific sequence of keys, which somehow overrides the limp security. Its encryption is no longer an issue. They step aside, allowing Samus to scan the terminal with her visor. The first one dates a few weeks ago.

We've witnessed the mammalian's ships violating our territory yet again. Each time they do so, their ambassadors claim no knowledge of such incursions, blaming independent agents instead of taking responsibility. We know they're lying. We've seen the military vessels. Those above either do not take our claims seriously or dismiss their importance. My team, however, refuses to sit by a moment longer. We must send a message. Our space does not welcome mammalian invaders. By Odaviir's soil, by cold blood.

That doesn't confirm a sanctioned foreign force, but it reveals something unexpected. This operation is retaliatory, or at least presented as such. She needs more.

I have assembled a team of five patriotic souls willing to beat these ya'kesh back into the weakening comforts of their precious core worlds. We all agree, we will tolerate these affronts no longer. There is a communication satellite within jump range of Wulgoon. The soft Federation patrols can't set foot there, and many of the bunkers from the last crusade still stand. It will make an excellent staging ground for our strike back. We will take the satellite and drive it into our space. And if the Federation talkers complain, we will simply recite their claim of independent agents. By Odaviir's soil, by cold blood.

As she moves on to the next one, the smallest flicker catching in the screen's reflection alerts her to movement above her. She glances up just as a massive, hulking shadow descends on her, the glint of a silver knife clutched tightly in its hand.

00000

Author's note: Sorry for the late update, FF was acting weird about my uploads yesterday.

If you have a moment, please consider answering one or both of these questions for me in a comment!

1. Based on the information learned in this chapter, does it feel like the crew's suspicions are well-founded?

2. How does this chapter affect your perception of Chowa?