Metroid Fan Fiction ❯ Stumbling Toward Elysia ❯ Echoes of the Past ( Chapter 5 )

Chapter 5: Echoes of the Past

 

 

Back at Donovan's that weekend, Gandrayda sat at the bar with a glass of her favorite cocktail, ostensibly enjoying the music of the live band that was performing on the small corner stage, but in actuality searching the crowd for a familiar face. Once again, her thoughts turned to the mysterious private security agent she'd seen here so many times, who now haunted her dreams - and, if she cared to admit it, most of her waking thoughts as well.

 

Gandrayda already recognized that she found Sammy physically attractive. The shapeshifter had never had any hangups about who she loved or how, and with her figure and looks, there were hardly any ideals of beauty in which the blonde wouldn't rank highly. However, she hadn't banked on being just as deeply attracted to the other woman's personality. By turns she was supremely confident and endearingly uncertain, quiet where Gandrayda was boisterous, self-effacing where she would have bragged from the rooftops. Even more intriguing, Gandrayda could never quite shake the feeling that she was hiding some deep secret, something that no one else in the galaxy might be privy to.

 

By the gods, what I wouldn't give to know what you're hiding...

 

Pushing thoughts of the mysterious blonde from her mind, she took a sip of her drink. Scribbled on the bar napkin were a series of one-line thoughts and avenues of inquiry, as she plotted her next moves in her quest to identify the armored bounty hunter.

 

-Who made that armor suit? Check w/ local weapon smiths & tech shops. He has to get it fixed somewhere.

-"Samus" - very uncommon name. Ethnic? Family heritage? Look for others w/ same.

-Call GF licensure dept. Someone has to have seen SA's face at some point. Can't get a hunter license w/o at least a description.

-Birth cert says from K-2L, but was destroyed in Pirate attack "almost 20 yrs ago." SA would have been little kid then if DOB is legit.

--Is he even from there? Could be identity theft. In which case good luck.

--Find other ppl who lived there before attack. Maybe one of them remembers him.

---Are there groups for Pirate attack survivors? Might find K-2L people there.

 

"Looks like serious work," another patron said, sidling up to Gandrayda where she sat at the bar.

 

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to keep you captive for life," the shapeshifter replied with a roguish wink, sizing up the newcomer as she spoke. Like the private security agent, she was tall and lithe, but her eyes were bright green, and she wore her blonde hair pinned back instead of loose.

 

Close enough, Gandrayda thought, signaling to the bartender. "Get my friend here another of whatever she's having?"

 

*****

 

The next morning, Gandrayda headed across town to the tiny offices that housed the Galactic Anti-Piracy League. Disguised yet again, this time in the eclectic dress of the artisans that frequented her neighborhood, she walked into the office and tapped on the desk to get the receptionist's attention.

 

"Can I help you?" the matronly woman said, looking up from her gossip magazine.

 

"Yes, actually," Gandrayda replied, producing a business card from one of the local tabloids. It was a forgery, of course, but the receptionist would have no way of ascertaining that. "I'm a freelance writer, and I'm doing a series of pieces on Space Pirates in the modern era. I was hoping you could provide me with some information. One of the centerpieces of my article is the raid on K-2L, and..."

 

"There have been a lot of ugly Pirate attacks, but that was one of the ugliest," the receptionist interrupted, heaving her considerable bulk out of her chair and waddling over to a filing computer. "Seven hundred and thirty-eight people wiped off the face of the universe in less than two hours. Men, women, babies, the elderly. Even people's pet animals. The Pirates killed every last living creature. And they didn't even take anything of value - they just killed for the fun of killing. That was one of the rallying cries we used to get the Interstellar Piracy Act passed. People have the right to live without being afraid that those murdering thieves are going to drop out of the skies."

 

"You're absolutely right," Gandrayda agreed, even as she wished that the woman would shut up and give her the information. "I know there were no survivors, but I'm hoping to find relatives of the victims or even people who lived there but moved away. Do you think you might have anything like that?"

 

"Sure do," the receptionist said. "Families of K-2L victims are some of our best donors. Most of the colonists sent their money offworld, you see." After poking around in her files for a few minutes, she produced a list from the hard-copy machine. "I hope you find what you're looking for. And please take some of our brochures, we'd love to have you as a volunteer."

 

Fat chance of that, Gandrayda thought, but she smiled politely and thanked the woman anyway.

 

Once on the crosstown transport, she began thumbing through the donor list. Of the three hundred or so names on the list, forty of them lived in New Pacifica, and another dozen in the outlying suburbs. With any luck at all, one of them would be able to tell her something.

 

*****

 

Two days later, she had had no luck at all. All thirty-six of the people she had talked to - the remaining four had either died or moved away - had never heard of anyone named Samus, nor of any Aran family, nor did they recall ever hearing of a K-2L boy who might have had a knack for hunting things.

 

Having exhausted all the names on her list that lived within New Pacifica proper, Gandrayda rented a ground vehicle and headed out of the city. The pensioner whose name appeared three-quarters of the way down her list lived in a residential nursing facility well out in the suburbs, and Gandrayda never would have found the place if not for the vehicle's navigation system. "What is it with all these old folks' homes being in the back end of nowhere," she muttered to herself as the vehicle drove itself into Shady Meadows' parking lot. "Old or not, I'd still want to be in the middle of the action."

 

A second later, back in her writer's form, she waved cheerfully to one of the caretakers. "Yoo-hoo! I'm here to visit Gerald Jonas, do you have any idea where he might be hiding?"

 

"Jonas?" The college student, glad for an excuse to leave the senile patient he'd been trying unsuccessfully to engage in a craft project, pulled a notepad from his pocket and consulted the device's screen for a moment. "He's in 224 North. Down that hallway, take a left at the T and then third on your right."

 

"Thanks ever so much!" Gandrayda replied, with a sunny smile.

 

A few moments' walk later, she stopped outside the door to one of the building's assisted-living apartments, and rang the bell. Several seconds passed, and she debated ringing the bell again before the door clicked open. The man's appearance threw Gandrayda momentarily off balance - from the age listed on the GAPL's donor sheet, she'd been expecting a fairly vigorous if older individual, not the wizened, broken man that hunched in the open doorway.

 

"Hi there, sir. Are you Mr. Jonas, by chance?"

 

"Oh, yes, hello," the man said in a quavering voice. "Are you one of the library ladies?"

 

"No, Mr. Jonas, I'm actually a writer," Gandrayda replied. "Do you mind if I talk to you for a little while?"

 

"A writer? Oh, I'm not sure I could be much help to you, but please do come in. I don't get many visitors since my son moved away."

 

"Well, I'd be happy to stay and talk to you," Gandrayda said as she stepped into the apartment, and the old man's face lit up as he indicated the armchair in the center of the small living room. "Please, sit down. Might I offer you a cup of tea? I'm not sure if you would find this old fossil's stories to be anything worth listening to, but..."

 

"No, I'm fine, thank you," she said, but Mr. Jonas had already busied himself with the tea kettle. "I'm sure my manners are abominably rusty from living here. You must think I'm barely a step from the recycling plant. I'm a lot younger than I look, though. After fifty years of being a mining engineer I don't clean up that well any more, but I'm still fitter than any of the young things they have looking after us. Do you take milk or sugar in this? I tell you, if I'd known what kind of people they send to these places, I would never have left the city, but I broke my hip a year ago and my son made me give up my own apartment. I was managing just fine on my own, the doctors gave me a new hip and I still have my wits about me, but he got that job with the computers on that new Albarino Station they're building out by Sigma Draconis, and it was off to the scrap heap with me..."

 

Gandrayda nodded politely, only half-listening as the old man continued to prattle about life in the nursing home, the infirmities of his neighbors and the juicier bits of senior citizen gossip. Once he'd finally run himself out of talk, she leaned forward with her cup of tea, smiling as she began to pitch her story.

 

"You see, I'm doing some research for a series of articles I'm writing. It's about famous Space Pirate raids, and of course, I wanted to write about the raid on K-2L. I'd heard you used to work there, and I had hoped that I could interview you for background information. What was the colony like back then, and so forth."

 

"K-2L?" Mr. Jonas echoed, his eyes taking on a misty glaze. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in years. Beautiful place, it was, before the bugs came."

 

"I'm sure. It's been really hard finding people who remember it, so I'm so glad I found you." Flattery gets you everywhere, the shapeshifter thought as she pulled a recording device from her purse. "What did they do there?"

 

"It was a mining world. Afloraltite crystals, mostly." Off Gandrayda's confused look, he clarified, "Reactor fuel for the old-time warp drive systems. Nobody uses that technology anymore, though, it's all that gooey stuff now. Anyway, afloraltite was a big deal back then, so everybody who wanted to make a quick credit struck out for the frontiers. Find a good lode and you were set for as many lifetimes as you wanted to buy."

 

"So how did you get involved?" Gandrayda asked.

 

"I was a shift foreman at the main mine, and my wife worked in the general store. Here." He stood and shuffled over to the end table, removing a faded photograph from it. In the image, scores of smiling people stood in front of a large marquee, behind which could be seen an enormous greenish-blue crystal. "This was a year before the... before it happened. We'd just dug out that big crystal in the background - it was the biggest single afloraltite crystal ever found, enough to power a small navy. That's me, and this is Ken Fukuda, and that's some corporate big shot. Over here's Terry Braunwald, Joe Ferris, Rod Aran and--"

 

"Who?"

 

"Roderick Aran," the man repeated. "He was the mine supervisor. My boss's boss."

 

"What a coincidence, I have a colleague with the same last name," Gandrayda said. It was close enough to the truth. "I wonder if they're any relation."

 

"Oh, I doubt it," Mr. Jonas replied, shaking his head. "Rod didn't have any living family by then. I think his wife did, but then they'd be a different name, wouldn't they. No, it was just them..."

 

"They didn't have any children, then? A son, perhaps?"

 

"Son? No, they had a daughter." He pointed to another area of the picture, where a smiling young woman stood with a toddler in her arms. Gandrayda fought not to cry out in surprise as she recognized the woman's face, and it was not hard at all to see the same features in the child's. "Oh, but that little girl was his pride and joy. Always running around, tagging after him on the job. Took after her mother in looks, thank heavens, but in personality she was Daddy's girl all the way. I wish I could remember her name, now. Funny name, it was - not really a girl's name. Sam something..."

 

As quickly as she could, Gandrayda excused herself and made to leave. "Thanks for everything, sir," she said as she gathered up her recorder. "It's been so helpful talking to you."

 

Gandrayda, you idiot, you thrice-cursed idiot, she thought furiously as she departed the nursing home. You've been looking for the wrong man all along.

 

 

 

Author's Notes: Cue dramatic music. Took Gandrayda long enough to figure it out, though. :-)

 

The depiction of the K-2L colony's operations and the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Aran are all from the manga. Amusingly, the manga also seems to indicate that blowing up Space Pirates is a family trait. "That gooey stuff" is fuel gel, which had apparently completely replaced afloraltite as starship fuel by the events of MP3. (Interestingly, though, the afloraltite cylinders shown in the manga look exactly like MP3's energy cells. Similar technology, perhaps?)

 

Thanks to all of you who wrote comments, and thank you for reading.