Chapter Text
2083. Humanity has long since transcended the stars and found new homes out in the black expanse. Earth has found allies awaiting them, eager to embrace a unified goal of galactic peace. Xenophobic fears of conquering invaders were a rarity as the sentient species of the galaxy came face to face with one another. Despite this, its many mysteries and horrors still challenge these joint species and the Federation they have built. This has built a new, intrepid breed of adventurers and glory seekers; bounty hunters.
And no hunter is more synonymous with the profession than Samus Aran. She sits in the cockpit of her hunter class gunship, dressed only in the skintight cyan bodysuit that serves as the base of her techno-organic power armor. Neon pink alien glyphs on the chest, hands, and back of the suit pulse and glow in time with her breaths. Having just completed a minor mission, she plots a course to the nearest inhabited planet, which lies several nebulae away.
Samus' sapphire eyes, complemented with a subdued, neutral eyeshadow, take one last glance over her ship systems before slowly shutting. She relaxes and reclines in her seat, taut, disciplined muscle at ease after a long job. Her golden ponytail flows past the headrest, gently pulling her head down into the cushioning. Her tall, powerful body is her most valuable asset in surviving the life-threatening career she's chosen; she has to prioritize rest just as much as training.
The silence of space is comforting to her, and clears her mind. This solitude, this... peace. She cherishes it. Floating out in the endless void alone, she acts as her own island in a galaxy often too chaotic to withstand for very long. She lives for these moments between hectic missions just as much as she lives for the missions themselves. Her ship is her private oasis that allows her to collect and reflect, disconnected from everything and everyone else; a solitary confinement of her own choosing.
A claxon from her ship shatters that peace, alerting her to an oncoming threat. She brings up her sensor array systems, which notify her of a fast approaching cloud of unidentified gas. So fast moving, in fact, she only just kicks the engines into gear before it rocks her ship.
As the anomaly shakes the gunship, a sudden, splitting headache pierces Samus' mind, causing her to cry out in pain. She clutches at her head as images she can't understand flash in front of her eyes. A screen, numbers and formulas, some kind of machine in the distance. A woman's face, repeating over and over and over again. The images pair with overwhelming sensations of regret that feel so real she swears they're her own. More than that, a desire.
Help.
The sudden mental attack stretches out to infinity in the span of seconds, and the bounty hunter tries to reach out with her mind, tries to send something back. Then, as though she can feel something grasped in her hand, she pulls back.
And she's back on her ship again, the waking dream abruptly over. She shakes off the ebbing pain in her head and struggles with the controls of the ship before bringing it back to a calm, smooth flight.
The cloud has passed, however the alarm doesn't stop. She taps several controls, searching each system for the source of the alarm. Nothing on her radar, scopes, cameras... it makes no sense. What's causing it? She cycles through her different systems from the pilot's chair, looking for the issue before she comes to the last one she would expect... the internal security systems. Her eyes shoot wide and she jumps out of her seat, drawing a pistol from her thigh, expecting an intruder. It hums to life with an audible electric crackle, priming itself to fire a stunning bolt.
And there she sees... nothing. She turns back to her controls, trying to discern if the ship is malfunctioning or if the warnings are accurate. Taking all precautions, she mentally summons her Power Suit, an advanced alien armor that serves as her greatest weapon in her line of work. White, red, and orange plates materialize around her out of the ether, as organic golden sinew stretches and binds it to her body. It's a perfect extension of her form, so natural to her she slips into it like a second skin. Even the powerful cannon that surrounds her right forearm is intuitive to use.
The security sensors don't report any errors, and now she sees why. The intruder is in the small kitchenette tucked behind the boarding elevator behind the cockpit. Samus rises to her full height, left hand resting on her arm cannon and pointing it forward, expecting an ambush. She rounds the elevator, assessing the doorway to the dining area. She doesn't understand why anyone would board her ship and hide there. The cockpit would make sense for a sudden sneak attack, the engine room for sabotage, the med bay for supplies, even her quarters would make more sense. Why the kitchen? All that's in there is a small table, some minor dining implements, and the food fabricator.
As she turns the corner, she points her cannon forward, charged and ready to fire... only to find an unconscious man sprawled out on the floor of the cabin. She sizes him up; five-ten in height, probably around 150 pounds. Adult human male, blonde hair not far in tone from her own. The food fabricator built into the wall sparks and smokes, likely damaged from contact with the cloud. She makes a mental note to run a ship wide diagnostic when she next gets an opportunity.
But right now, that can wait. This stranger is more important. "What the hell?" she whispers to herself, lowering her weapon and kneeling down next to him. She inspects him closer with a scan from her visor.
The man stirs, and she raises her cannon again. He rasps out a name. "Veronica..."
Then he falls still again.
000
2080. Mankind has taken its first tentative steps toward colonizing the rest of the solar system. Two years ago, a high-speed shuttle lifted off from Earth, bound for Mars. Now, Earth has finished constructing its first self-sustaining colony, bringing new hope for a rising space age. Scientists from all over the world have banded together in the shared cause of reaching past the solar system and into the greater galaxy. One such individual is astrophysicist and engineer Cernan Roan.
He toils away in the lab he shares with his team, tinkering away on his engine prototype. Tall and lanky, he stoops over his work, back bent, his mess of blonde hair greasy from the hours he's gone without bothering to groom himself. A scraggly shadow of facial hair covers his face and neck, the watermark of today's labor. An unremarkable wrinkled long sleeved button up and gray slacks are his attire of choice today, sans his lab coat which hangs draped over a nearby desk chair. Inquisitive eyes of jade absorb every detail before him, working out every kink, ignorant of the dark bags beneath them. Long nights working away at his pet project have left him with fewer hours of rest than his coworkers.
But he has so little time. Generations that came before him were spoiled by the bounties of their cradle planet, and their hubris has come to toll. Natural disasters are frequent and bring enormous death tolls with them. Land, sky, and sea choke with the debris of their endless consumption. And every year comes with some new economic or social crisis, and the same never-ending cycle of finger pointing with no reliable results produced from the charade. Where the statesmen have failed, he will not. He sees a solution in the stars and seeks humanity's path there.
He stands at his workstation, staring intently at a strange metallic box affixed with a handle to the side. It's a small, dull gray cube with a screen on one end and a large coil on the other. A sound at the doorway to the room draws his attention. A middle-aged woman with a tight bun of auburn hair approaches him, paying more attention to what he's working on than him. "Dr. Roan, burning the candle at both ends, I see. Your staff has gone home for the evening. Shouldn't you?" She says this with a smile, despite her concern.
"I have an update to work on, Dr. Zee," he responds, not tearing his eyes from the box as he fiddles with a few more knobs and buttons on its surface.
She saunters up to his workstation, looking at the nebulous mechanism before him. "Is this part of the tachyon engine drive?" she asks, motioning to a much larger contraption behind some safety glass on the other side of the lab.
"Yep," he yawns, motioning down at the device. "The additional parts I ordered with the grant came in. I've been assembling them on a capacitor that can handle funneling tachyons into something usable."
"Oh?" Her eyebrows rise in interest. "Any promising results?"
He heaves a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Almost in a position to find out. Once I'm done with these final tweaks, I'm going to install it."
Dr. Zee's expression shifts from curiosity to judgment. "I hope you're not planning on running any tests without your staff again."
Cernan holds his hands up defensively and chuckles. "No, no, not this time. I don't think I'd be able to run any tests right now, anyway. I'm too tired to take data accurately."
"But not too tired to tinker," she jokes.
"Ha! No, never too tired for that."
They banter back and forth for a moment. "Remember that it's close to morning. I'm sure your fiancée would very much like to hear from you every now and again."
"I said good night to her just a few hours ago when she called me," Cernan states matter-of-factly.
Dr. Zee clicks her tongue in disapproval. "She had to call you, though. Take it from someone who has been doing this half as long as you've been alive, hotshot. Work-life balance doesn't work unless you attempt to actually balance."
"Hey, she knew who she was marrying. Besides, when our names get written into history, I think she'll understand."
Zee shrugs. "Well then, I'll let you get back to it. See you at lunch?" she asks. He grunts an affirmation, and she leaves him alone to his work. He thinks to himself that he's almost done, then he'll get lunch and head home for the weekend. Just a bit more.
Four hours later, he finally finishes his modifications. The programs look clean. Cernan smiles to himself, wipes the oil from his brow, and picks up the finished capacitor and brings it over to the engine. A few bolts to hold in place, a connection here and there, and then...
Perfect. The engine should be ready for a test after the weekend.
Cernan pauses. The end of the weekend is a long way away. Maybe he should just power the thing on once just to be sure it will be ready come Monday.
His movements are languid as he drifts over to a nearby console behind the safety glass and activates it. The screen on the capacitor lights up, and he types in a few commands before reading the results. His elation soon turns into worry. He thought he had done everything correctly, but the numbers displayed on the screen tell a different story.
He puts in the command to shut off the engine... but it doesn't shut off. Thinking the command must have been mis-input, he tries it again and the engine refuses. Suddenly, the capacitor glows hot.
"Shit-"
Cernan dashes over to a red button in a glass case on the far wall. He shatters the case with a mounted hammer and slams down on the button. A siren rings out throughout the facility.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
He stares at the screen, watching as the readouts of the machine continue to rise. He knows what's going to happen next. In a panic, he types at the console in a frenzy, hoping to contain the chain reaction.
A voice crackles over an intercom in the ceiling. "Dr. Roan?! Something tripped the emergency alarm in your lab, but your tracking tab says you're still there! What are you doing?! You need to evacuate!" It's Dr. Zee.
"Cynthia, just get everyone out of here! I'm working to reverse the meltdown now."
"Meltdown?! Cernan, get out of there now!"
"If I don't turn this around, none of us are going to get far enough away for an evacuation to matter! Let me do this! I'll shut it down!"
"Just... just hurry alright!" Cynthia finishes before the intercom goes silent.
For twenty-three minutes, Cernan Roan strives to reverse the meltdown. For the next eight, he works to stall the inevitable. He realizes he's not leaving this lab. He pauses between lines of codes and commands, wondering if he's bought enough time for everyone to have evacuated, but then pushes those thoughts down, opting instead to keep pushing the detonation back further and further.
When the computer finally locks up on him, he smiles. His efforts will reduce the blast radius of the engine, at the very least. He rests his palms against the screen and watches as the energy building up in the machine charges the capacitor even further.
"This isn't how I wanted to leave my mark on history," he ponders aloud.
As the low roar of the engine reaches its peak, he speaks a name.
"Veronica-"
Then everything goes white.
000
Cernan's eyes pry open, his vision swimming beneath a set of high powered fluorescent lights above him. His head sways from side to side, but can't seem to move his arms or legs.
"Be still." The voice that greets him is commanding, deep, and firm.
"Where... where... what happened?" he dryly chokes out.
"You don't remember?" the voice asks, its tone probing. He strains to look around.
Then he sees her. Some woman in some crazy-looking spandex suit. She's one of the most gorgeous women he's ever seen, but her expression makes it clear she isn't to be trifled with. She stands near some kind of table he's restrained to, one hand carrying what looks like a toy futuristic pistol.
"Who are you?" Cernan asks.
She approaches, her eyes narrowing. "You don't know who I am?"
"Should I?" Cernan returns, confused.
She sighs, shaking her head. "How did you get on my ship?"
"Ship? What? How did I get on a boat?"
The woman cocks an eyebrow. "A... really? Okay, let's try this one. Give me your name." Definitely more of a command than a question.
"Cernan. What's yours?"
She doesn't answer. "You and every other kid with idealist pro-colonization parents."
Cernan doesn't understand that comment. "Wha... wait, but who are you? And why are you dressed like a superhero?"
"Cute. Let me be a little clearer about how serious you need to take this." She points the strange pistol at his temple. Cernan smiles incredulously; does she think she'll intimidate him with that toy? His attitude changes quick when it lights up and makes an electric crackling sound.
"Whatwaitno! I don't know what you're talking about! Who are you!? How did I get here!?"
She walks around to the other side of him, an unimpressed look on her face. "You tell me."
"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" His anxiety peaks. The situation is less and less funny as time passes.
The unnamed woman looks away and approaches a console nearby. She taps away at it for a moment, then frowns. She speaks to Cernan as though he's barely a presence in the room. "My name is Samus Aran. I just finished up a mission on Turing 6 and I'm guessing you were there for some reason. Might have worked out for the best that you stowed away; the planet is gone." Cernan swears he hears her say something under her breath like "what's one more on the scoreboard," but he can't be sure. "Strange though... I didn't think there were any sapients living there. What were you doing?"
The scientist draws a sharp breath. "I'm sorry — Turing 6? What are you talking about?"
Samus glowers at him and steps forward, prodding the end of her pistol into his head again.
"I really don't know! Don't shoot me!" If this is an act, he does a good impression of genuine panic. She backs away, no less skeptical.
"Fine. Be that way." She approaches a small table extending from the console and picks up what appears to be a scalpel missing its blade. She presses a switch on the side of it and a thin blue light appears where the blade should be.
Cernan panics and struggles against his bonds. "Waitwaitwait don't stab me-!"
The bounty hunter takes a slice of fabric from Cernan's shirt, glares down at him, then promptly moves out of the room. The automatic door shuts and locks behind her, and Cernan takes a deep, slow breath.
"Where the hell am I?"
000
Samus doesn't believe a word of what this "Cernan" says, but she can confirm some things about him herself. She takes the scrap of fabric to the cockpit and brings it to a console on the left side of her seat. A few deft button presses cause the console to open and extend outward, revealing a scope like device. She places the fabric sample on the device. Lines of thin blue light waver over it several times, and a small holographic screen displays information.
She mulls over what she sees. Polyester blend... carbon dating says three years old... traces of tachyon radiation? More than traces, it's soaked in them... what does this guy do all day, hang around shipyards?
She pauses. There were no shipyards on Turing 6...
Samus frowns.
The device folds back into her seat and she returns to the med bay she's using as a makeshift interrogation room. She walks in to find Cernan frantically trying to rub his wrists free of the restraints.
Samus doesn't pay his escape attempt any mind; he's too thin to possibly break free. Without a word, she approaches the medical console and runs a basic health scan. An overhead device Cernan doesn't recognize hovers over his body, whirring as it takes in information. Nervous and helpless, he watches on.
The device slows to a stop. Samus reads over the information collected. "Unremarkable health for a human your age... subpar, if anything... minor allergies to common foodstuffs... no injuries or illnesses of note... except... interesting..." She glances at him. "You show signs of a neurological abnormality that was eradicated centuries ago."
"What? You can't eradicate a genetic disease, that's absurd," he counters.
Samus holds a quizzical look at him for a moment before returning to the screen. "You sound like you've been living under a rock. The human genome has been malleable for..."
Something clicks in her mind.
Her expression turns disbelieving, as though the idea is too ludicrous to entertain. "Cernan, you said?"
"Yes."
"Where were you born?"
"Atlanta. Moved down to Houston to get my masters in astrophysics and engineering, then earned my doctorate."
Samus' brow furrows. "Where is Atlanta? Or Houston, for that matter? I've never heard of those."
Cernan holds back a laugh. He doesn't want to antagonize her, but he's surprised at her lack of geographical knowledge. "Uh... Atlanta is in Georgia? And Houston is in Texas? You know, 'Houston, we have a problem,' as in NASA?"
A searching look crosses Samus' face. "NASA?"
"National Aeronautics and Space Administration. The government agency that runs the space program and explores other planets... among other things." He squints at Samus. "I mean, I'm assuming you're American since you speak perfect English."
Samus' eyes light up. "Wait... America as in Earth?" she asks.
"Wha... yes, as in Earth! What else... Look, I've got my wallet in my back pocket, I can feel it. Just look at my work ID. It will confirm everything I'm saying."
Samus presses a few buttons on the medical station and one of the wrist bonds opens, freeing his hand. She fails to notice a highlighted section of his medical report flashing red on the screen before closing the file and archiving it. "Retrieve it and drop it on the floor," she orders. Cernan fishes it out and does so, confused why she wouldn't get it herself. "Now put your hand back in the restraint." He hesitates, causing her to reach for the paralyzer at her side, then he relents. A single button press latches the bond around his wrist.
Samus picks up his wallet and opens it. She has trouble understanding what she's looking at. A bound flap of leather with plastic cards stuffed into it. She's seen nothing like it before.
"That's a pretty old ID. I've gotten a new one since then," Cernan explains. On the left side is a picture of his face. On the right, a variety of texts in various fonts and colors.
She reads over it, and her eyes widen as she goes. "Cernan... Cernan Roan?"
"Yes, did I not say my last name before?"
She stares back at him hard. "Dr. Cernan Roan?"
He smiles a bit. "I mean, I didn't earn my doctorate for nothing, so I appreciate the respect for my title."
Samus ignores that comment and flips through the other identifying items in the wallet. A cold realization hits her. "I... no... I mean, I've seen weird things in the past, but..." She stares down at him, processing her thoughts.
"... what?" Cernan asks, his anxiety mounting.
Samus goes back to the medical station and presses some buttons. Cernan's bonds release him. He sits up and glances back and forth between her and his hands, making furtive glances at her build to size up how strong she might be now that he's free, but the difference between them is clear. The skintight blue bodysuit she's wearing makes it abundantly clear that she's taller, leaner, and meaner. That, and she's armed. Probably not a good idea to try to overpower her.
"Come with me," she demands. "I have to show you something."
"Is it the exit?" he asks with an acquiescent smile.
"No, you need to see this," she says, a more serious tone in her voice. She stalls in the doorway. "Come on, don't drag your feet." Her tone brooks no argument.
Cernan follows behind her. The drab, short metal hallway is lit by lines of LEDs in the walls. It's sterile and futuristic, but cold and uninviting.
Samus brings him to the cockpit in short order and sits down in the pilot seat. Pulling a lever above her head, she opens the blast doors before her. Cernan freezes in place, mouth agape, as he looks out into the cold, inky void of space. A massive, swirling purple planet takes up the entire viewport.
"W-what is that?" he mumbles out.
"Planet KI-91," she says. "A gas giant in the Horse Head Nebula I'm orbiting around while I plan my next jump."
"The Horse Head Nebula is over 1500 light years away! That's not possible!" Cernan exclaims.
"It is that far... from Earth," she answers.
Cold realization crosses his face. "I'm in space..." he mutters. He stumbles back and falls to the ground, staring in total disbelief. "Are you an astronaut? An alien?"
Samus gets up from her seat and drops to one knee to meet his gaze, trying to help him stay grounded. "No, I'm human. And astronauts are scientists. I'm a bounty hunter. I take missions for pay and operate on my own."
"You mean you're a civilian... and you can travel through space... alone?! How... when did..." Cernan's eyes rattle around in his skull, shifting from the consoles around her chair to the design of the room and her suit, unable to process everything presented to him.
Samus speaks her next words with considerable weight. "Cernan Roan... this is the year 2083."
"W-what?! The explosion... I got knocked out for three years? We progressed this much in three years?!"
Samus pauses and cautiously considers her next words. Better to tear this bandage off now than later. "No. From what I know of my history, you were in an accident in the year 2080... AD. The year now... the year now is 2083 of the cosmic calendar. It's been over two millennia, if you are who you say you are."
Cernan's entire body shudders as he realizes the truth of what she just said. "You're lying! You have to be lying!"
"I'm sorry."
Tears fill his eyes as he comes to grips with his new reality. His mind locks up, trying to process everything at once and unable to process anything at all. Wonder, fear, and grief pulse through his system all at once, and then... darkness.
000
Samus looks at Cernan's unconscious form on the floor and curses to herself. She doesn't want to try moving him again. The first time was already risky. She waves her hand dismissively and gets up, opting to plot a course for the nearest populated world with a bounty reporting system.
Fighting things and stopping intergalactic threats is her business... not whatever this mystery is. A small part of her feels empathy for Cernan, but she can't let this be her problem. Having to deal with another person in a cramped ship for a long trip is something she isn't comfortable with. Pushing him out of her mind, she sits back down at the pilot seat to plot a course.
000
Cernan awakens some time later, still on the floor of the cockpit. He groans and rises into a seated position. Samus looks over the side of her seat, then with apparent indifference, refocuses on the terminals and readouts in front of her. "You're awake. Sorry I didn't move you somewhere more comfortable. Figured you'd be fine where you were."
Cernan doesn't respond. He's still in shock.
"We're a week or so out from the nearest Federation planet. I can't promise you'll come to grips with your situation by then, but I can help fill in the gaps. We can take things at your pace." In her experience, a calm tone and supportive words often go a long way when dealing with panicky scientists.
Cernan doesn't answer. Initially, he's stunned speechless. But in a moment of adrenaline-fueled clarity, he finds his faculties and grits his teeth. "What can you tell me about how I arrived here?"
"Not a lot, but I'll answer what I can."
He scoffs. "Not exactly instilling confidence, but fine. When did I appear on this ship?"
Samus elects to ignore his dismissive statement and focuses on his question. "You showed up right after a space-borne gas cloud passed over the ship. Maybe just before. I'm not sure. I responded by making sure you weren't a threat first, then I took you to the medical bay and waited for you to regain consciousness."
An artificial voice speaks up in the cabin. "Samus, internal sensors first detected a secondary lifeform aboard directly after the unidentified cloud passed by."
"What was that?" Cernan asks, looking around for a source.
"That's Adam. He's an AI that provides mission support," Samus answers.
Cernan looks up and increases his volume a bit. "Adam? Can you tell me what this cloud was composed of?"
No response. Samus chuckles to herself. "I've never seen him interact with someone else. I don't think he likes you. Answer the question, Adam."
"No. As I already stated, the cloud was unidentified."
Cernan frowns and rolls his eyes. "Nice. They give AI attitudes in the future."
Samus gives him some side eye at that. "I didn't program him that way. Besides, you're acting pretty similar right now."
"Fine. Adam, where did this cloud come from?" A moment of silence follows.
Samus sighs and presses her face into her open palm. "Adam, unless he asks a sensitive question, just answer him. I don't want to play mediator every time he needs something from you."
"Acknowledged. The cloud appeared at the edge of the solar system, traveling at near light speeds. It encountered the ship before reasonable human reaction times could avoid it."
"I tried-" Samus begins, but Cernan cuts her off.
"Were there any properties about the cloud you could detect?"
Samus growls under her breath and glares at Cernan, then stands abruptly, grabbing his attention. She strides up, looming over him and crossing her arms. He isn't used to being looked down at, and stumbles back half a step, trying to hold his ground as much as he can. "When I speak on this ship, you are silent. Understood?"
To her surprise, he stands his ground. "I want answers! For all we know, they could be vital to my understanding of this situation!"
Samus' eyes narrow. "I'm losing my ability to care about the how and why of you being here, Dr. Roan," she responds, her voice dripping with icy venom. "Keep this up and the best you can hope for is getting dropped off at the first refueling platform I come across."
Cernan realizes he's not helping himself by agitating her. Samus stares daggers at him, unblinking. "S-Samus - Miss Aran I mean... I need as much information as I can get about why I'm here. I may be able to do something about it. I apologize for being... rude. This is a lot to take in, and I need to hurry. Every second lost is potentially valuable data I can't get back." He tries to remain as assertive as possible without being disrespectful.
She doesn't break her gaze, locked in a fraught silence with him, but after a brief pause she relents. "Fine. I want these answers, too." She sits back down and operates the surrounding consoles. "But I'm going to say this again and I need to hear acknowledgement from you this time; on my ship, when I speak, you are silent."
He sits down on the floor and fights back a dry swallow. "Understood," he squeaks out. He finds himself somewhat cowed by her presence.
Samus' mouth twitches in the barest hint of a smile before returning to her standard taciturn expression. "Good. As long as you do as I say, we should get along fine. Once you're off my ship, you can say and do whatever you want. By the way, there are some emergency fold out seats on the back wall of the cabin. You don't have to sit on the floor."
Sensing the end of this conversation, he moves over to the back of the cabin and seats himself.
After a moment of work, a metal bordered transparent rectangle pops out of a slot in a console on her left side. She picks it up and holds it over her shoulder. "Here. This should have information for you."
He leans forward and takes the datapad from her, powering it on. A program window opens, displaying various functions of the ship. Finding a readout of systems before the cloud hit, he goes over what little information is available about the situation in silence. Samus is content to let him read in silence, but it isn't long before he breaks that peace, muttering to himself as he goes. She sighs and turns around. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable in the med bay?"
Without a word, he gets up and leaves the cockpit, leaving Samus to her solitude once more.
000
She's able to enjoy her seclusion for only a few hours before Adam interrupts it. "Samus, Dr. Roan is vandalizing the med bay."
That snaps her out of her doldrums. "What? What is he doing?!"
"It appears he is formulating complex equations relating to quantum mechanics."
That doesn't sound that bad. "How is that vandalism?"
"He is writing on the walls."
She grumbles to herself and pushes out of her seat, running over to the med bay. The door opens to the sight of Cernan hastily scribbling long, drawn out equations all over the med bay walls with an ink pen he must have had on him when he arrived.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Samus demands.
He turns toward her, running a hand through his wild, manic hair, eyes wide. "I can go back."
"Back where? And that's not what I meant. Why are you writing on my walls?!" As he moves to continue his work, she marches up behind him and wrestles his pen away from him.
"Back home! I just need to figure out how I got here! Give me that!" Samus holds it above her head, outside his reach. He tries several times to jump for it, but she places her hand firmly on his chest to keep him back.
"You don't need to deface the walls of my ship! There are plenty of programs on that pad I gave you that you can use for this. Where is it?"
He becomes irate and tries to push her down. "Give that to me!"
She catches herself and grits her teeth. "That's it!" she shouts, shoving him with one hand so hard he's knocked off his feet. His back hits the wall, and he collapses on the ground. Samus looms over him, anger cracking through her typical controlled stoicism. "You show up uninvited on my ship, start demanding things from me, and now you're going to lay hands on me?! You're done! You're getting dropped off at the nearest fueling outpost. I don't care what you do from there!"
She throws his pen at him and marches out the med bay door.
"Do what you want. I'll just get it all cleaned up after you're off my ship!" she growls over her shoulder.
Cernan sits there, looking down at the pen, but not taking it. "I don't... I don't know what to do..." he mumbles to himself.
Returning to the cockpit, Samus drops into her seat hard. She's practically fuming as she does a navigational search for the nearest fueling outpost.
Adam's voice chirps over her intercom. "Samus, I believe you may find Dr. Roan's most recent extranet searches to be relevant to his current condition."
"I don't care," she snips, discovering the nearest outpost only half a day's travel away. She sets a course. The ship's FTL engines ease out, and the gunship slips back into normal space while it calculates her new route.
"Samus," the AI repeats. "This is your ship, and it is your choice, however based on what I know about you, it is my strong recommendation that you see what Dr. Roan was reading."
She stops her inputs into the nav computer and rubs her temples with one hand. "Fine. Show me."
Adam brings an article up for display. Cernan's picture, singled out among a group of other scientists, takes up one column of what appears to be an encyclopedic entry about him.
Dr. Cernan Roan. 2051-2080 AD. Creator of the galaxy's first tachyon engine drive, the precursor to the modern FTL drive. The design flaw that led to his death ended up being avoidable and provided a valuable breakthrough needed to finish production of the engine.
The finished engine was installed in the first unmanned probe sent on a full return trip to Alpha Centauri, which took just over ten years. While it only provided one answer to the multitude of questions needed to secure intergalactic travel, its creation was undoubtedly pivotal to modern space travel.
Her eyes widen in realization as she finishes the entry.
Dr. Roan was survived by his fiancee, Veronica Norton, and their then unborn son, Henry Norton.